#destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up

[take-note-of-this]

Where God Dwells: Understanding Temple (Part 4)

Photograph by K. Mitch Hodge. From unsplash.com This is the fourth part in an ongoing series exploring the significance of temple in the Bible and in our own modern culture. Thus far, we’ve covered the significance of temples, the form and function of ancient Near Eastern temples, the distinctive aspects of the temple of the Lord in Jerusalem, and the historical development of the theme of…

[cmcsmen]

Catholic Man Moment: What do churches mean to men?

March 3rd, 2024 Third Sunday of Lent

Year B, John 2:13-25: Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.

The Gospel is from St. John 2:13-25.

Gospel Jn 2:13-25 Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” His disciples recalled the words of Scripture, Zeal for your house will consume me. At this the Jews answered and said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered and said to them, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking about the temple of his body. Therefore, when he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they came to believe the Scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.

While he was in Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, many began to believe in his name when they saw the signs he was doing. But Jesus would not trust himself to them because he knew them all, and did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well.

So, what do churches mean to men in this context?

To men who have been blinded by their own earthly pursuits, churches may seem like mere buildings or institutions with little significance.

However, to those who have had their eyes opened to the truth of the Gospel, churches represent a place of worship, community, and connection with God.

They provide a space for individuals to come together and grow in their faith, to receive guidance and support from fellow believers, and to find solace and comfort in times of struggle.

Churches serve as a reminder of the presence and power of God in our lives and offer a spiritual home for men seeking to deepen their relationship with Him.

They are a tangible expression of the love and mercy of God and a source of hope and strength for those who seek it.

Ultimately, churches represent the bridge between humanity and the divine, and their significance to men cannot be overstated.

What do churches mean to men?

In St. John 2:13-25, there's a clear message for us today. Just like the priests and Pharisees in Jerusalem, many people today are so fixated on earthly pursuits that they overlook the incredible opportunity to embrace faith. It's like missing out on a breathtaking view because we're too engrossed in our phones!

Let's take a moment to reflect – what distractions are preventing us from seeing the bigger picture?

[hollandsfavbabe]

Heart Over Hooves

pairing: tyler owens x reader

synopsis: in which you and tyler recount to the wranglers how exactly you began dating at a local rodeo in your home state

warnings: established relationship, cliche mean girl, cowboy charm, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 6.8k

masterlist

I just saw Twisters in 4dx and I know I'm late to the trend, but I have finally joined the Glenissance!! Please send me all of your Tyler Owens requests, I literally can't stop thinking about him. Here I present to you the fruits of a sleepless night. I hope it's decent!

The Oklahoma air was unusually chilly for a summer night as you felt a light breeze brush against the skin of your bare arms, raising rigid bumps in its wake along any part of you that wasn’t concealed by your tank top and denim jeans. But it didn’t matter how much of your body was covered; in all honesty, you could’ve been in your favorite bathing suit. The cool air was no match for the warmth of the toned arms of your husband that wrapped around you, keeping you glued tightly to his lap so that he too wouldn’t fall victim to the cold. Your cowboy, Tyler Owens, could never inhabit his own chair alone so long as you were around.

“You doing okay, baby?” he whispered into the cusp of your ear as the heat from his breath spread all the way down to your neck. Though a cluster of goosebumps had sprung from a patch of exposed skin on your forearm, it wasn’t long before the discomfort was extinguished by the gentle caress of Tyler’s wandering hand and he leisurely traced the length of your arm in an attempt to keep you content within his embrace.

“I’m just fine, thanks.” you smiled, though the summoned words weren’t nearly as effective at communicating your gratitude for him as your attempt to snuggle closer to him despite the fact that it wasn’t physically possible. Tyler got your message all the same, the clear sign that you couldn’t imagine a place on Earth that would fill you with an equitable amount of enjoyment.

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture Tyler’s grin more clearly than the speckled tile bottom of a shallow pool before his lips met your hairline to place a soft kiss near on your temple.

“Alright lovebirds.” Lily stated abruptly, interrupting your moment of intimacy as you were suddenly reminded that you and Tyler were not the only two people gathered around the dim glow of the small bonfire.

It had been a long day of chasing storms for all of you. In Tyler’s case, he had been the leading man in three Wrangler live streams that day as EF1s and EF2s sprouted from the clouds like flowers in the spring. His team had worked just as hard, aiding in each chase and keeping all channel content at its peak. While there were occasions when you enjoyed joining Tyler in his pick up as a special guest, the reason for your exhaustion was not quite as intense as chasing after tornados, though the role you assumed was equally as vital.

Lacking in Tyler’s lust for natural disasters that was very much necessary in order to tackle twisters head on, you became the team’s marketing expert instead. While it was considered more of a bench seat compared to the other Wranglers duties, you had proven yourself to be most useful during the recovery process once the storms had vanished in something you liked to call the ‘After Effect’. Backed by your wit and Bachelor’s degree in psychology, you maintained the channel’s engagement levels and ensured that there was more international visibility for your cause as well. The numbers added up overtime and you were proud to boast that you had managed to raise thousands of dollars from online donors that went entirely towards helping the people of Oklahoma rebuild their destroyed homes.

Such a busy day had left all of you much too tired to make it to the nearest motel that was more than a couple hours away and instead you resorted to gathering around a bonfire in the dirt ridden clearing of a wheat field. It wasn’t ideal, but you were all more than used to camping together after years of being as close as a family.

Traditions had formed after countless nights just the same. Tyler always placed his chair directly beside yours as it was never long before you gave in to sharing with him. The other Wrangler’s sat further away from each other scattered around the fire, but always in the same arrangement. The seat next to your discarded one was occupied by Dani, with the next supporting Dexter, and the one after belonging to Lily who was eagerly leaning towards you as she brought her can of beer back to her lips. Boone completed your inverted circle as he planted his chair dangerously close to the fire in between Lily and your husband who doubled as his longtime best friend.

Usually your group consisted of only the six of you, but tonight you welcomed an extra guest into camp. Ben, a British investigative journalist, had been traveling with your crew for months now and though he preferred to linger behind as an outlier, you could tell from the way he sunk into his seat that he had grown to be very comfortable with you all. You weren’t sure if he would ever leave at this point, but none of you minded his extended stay.

“Something wrong?” you asked Lily, lifting your head to gaze at her as the flames seemed to lick at the sides of her face from your perspective. You worried the team had grown tired of Tyler’s need to share his seat with you (as well as your reluctance to turn him down), but of course no one paid any attention to your couplish antics.

“I just can’t go on one more minute without knowing the story,” she explained.

“Story?” Tyler repeated, sharing your befuddlement.

“What story?” you asked.

“Your story,” Dani clarified, pointing to the foreign man that had settled just behind her outside of the circular formation. “Ben here wants it for his tornado piece.”

“It’s just intriguing,” Ben reiterated, his stumbling British accent a stark contrast from the southern you were so used to. He cleared his throat before continuing, eyeing you and your husband. “Everyone else here met while you were forming your chasing team. Everyone except you two.”

“And me!” Boone shouted, raising the hand that wasn’t occupied by his second beer of the night. “I knew Tyler before any of you.”

“Easy Boone, no one’s forgotten.” Tyler laughed, not bothering to point out the inaccuracies in his best friend’s claim. While Boone had befriended Tyler decades before you’d shown any interest in him, the three of you all grew up together in the same tiny Arkansas town.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to your paper.” you pointed out as Ben had made it clear that he wanted to write only about Oklahoman tornados and the recent uprise in storm chasing tourism that was a direct result of your husband’s online presence.

“It isn’t,” Ben admitted. “But it would be helpful for context. Just so my readers can better understand your dynamic. It frames how your team operates.”

“And I’ve always been dying to know!” Lily added with such enthusiasm you would’ve guessed a tornado had suddenly formed right behind you.

You sat up from your nestled position on Tyler’s lap to look back at him, delighted as you discovered an expression matching the one upon your own face: a knowing smile. He was more than happy to share how the two of you ended up together. All he needed was a signal of your approval, one you gave him with the loving squeeze of your hand against the taunt muscle of his bicep. 

“Alright,” you agreed, turning your head to face the group once more. “But I get to tell it.”

“Fine by me.” Tyler nodded to your condition.

“With help from me at least!” Boone interjected to which you sent him a playful glare.

“You best not.” you threatened as Boone broke out in laughter beside you.

“Fine,” he grinned. “Woo, y’all are in for a real treat!” he hollered, already very well versed in the tale as he was there to witness its unfolding.

“Just start already.” Dexter demanded as he spoke for the rest of the group. Even with the whole night ahead of you, there was no time to waste.

You thought back to the moment at once, recalling the fateful day as if it had only happened just yesterday rather than several years ago. You sighed happily at the memory, collecting your thoughts enough to be able to share it justly.

“It all started in our hometown,” you began setting the scene as you rose from your husband’s lap, standing beside the fire so that everyone could see you. “Y’all know that Tyler and I grew up together, but we had what you might call a rocky start. He liked to bull ride and I was too busy caring for my horses to pay any attention to him. I used to barrel race back then and I got so into it that it was all I ever thought about. It wasn’t until much later that we finally got together, during the biggest rodeo in all of Arkansas…”

“Whoa, Cyclone!” you shouted to your horse as you yanked back on his worn leather reins. Your mighty steed, a chestnut brown stallion that had been racing at his fastest gallop, halted at your command just in front of the last yellow barrel. Dirt flew from the power of his mighty hooves and at once he neighed in protest to the sudden loss of speed. He was just as bothered as you were when the sound of nasally cackling came from outside of the practice corral, your head turning in sync with your horse towards the disturbance even though you already knew who it was.

Propped atop her luxury racing horse and adorned in a custom made, spotless, metallic pink riding outfit was your arch nemesis, Addisyn Claire, with a wicked smirk so evil it could wilt rose petals and an ugly laugh that echoed even out to the hills that surrounded the rodeo set up.

“Looking rusty out there!” she called out to you.

You scoffed at the remark, narrowing your eyes at the girl before clicking Cyclone towards her.

“I’d rather look rusty than like I skinned a pageant girl for my clothes.” you nodded at her sparkling get up though really you wished you had enough money to buy new clothes for every competition. At least you didn’t waste so much money on something so needlessly tacky.

You and Addisyn had been in competition since you were old enough to stay on a saddle, your hatred for her bubbling at just eight years old from the first moment you had suffered at the hands of her ego. It only got worse as the years ticked by as she transformed from a bratty little girl into the spoiled bitch she was today and now as a young adult, you weren’t sure how much more of her classic mean girl attitude you could take. It just wasn’t fair. She had the money and the privilege to buy her way into winning most of your past races with horses just as prissy as she was. But even so, you hoped that this year everything would be different.

You had happened across Cyclone by complete accident during a storm that eventually became his namesake. After saving him, you’d searched endlessly for his owner, but as luck would have it, he remained unclaimed.

Your family joked that it was almost as if he had been gifted to you, pushed into your life by a deadly storm so soon after the tragic passing of the horse you had grown up riding. You didn’t plan on riding him, not after all he had been through, but after his minor injuries and habit of being spooked by the very non-threatening barn latch had cleared, you discovered that you didn’t really have a choice. He was the sweetest horse you’d ever cared for, never ornery and always affectionate. It was curiosity that finally convinced you to saddle him up for a morning ride.

Much to your delight, Cyclone was a natural at taking commands and so morning rides turned into teaching him how to barrel race. He was quick for a stray, so much so that you were sure he was the fastest horse in the whole state. But of course with such a gift, he had the only stipulation that prevented you from beating Addisyn in so many previous races where her professionally trained horses always stole the blue ribbon. He struggled with each turn.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, such a feat was hard for the average horse to pull off. With Cyclone’s super-speed, it became damn near impossible. Regardless of the facts, you trained every chance you got and without fail, your horse was forced to slow to a losing time in order to make the tight turns.

”If I had known it was gonna be so easy to win, I wouldn’t have bothered training this one at all. You can’t even make it to the last barrel.” laughed Addisyn as she flipped a handful of long blonde curls behind her shoulder.

“That’s funny coming from a gal who doesn’t even know how to use a coat brush.” you shot back. Cyclone snorted and tucked his head down as if he had understood your come back.

“Mark my words,” she snarled with gritted teeth. “You’re going to regret speaking to me that way. There’s a lot more on the line today than some flimsy ribbon.”

You hated that she was right. Not only did the winner of each rodeo event get massive bragging rights, but the first place spot came accompanied with a large sum of money this year. While Addisyn had enough cash to fill the colossal space inside her skull a million times over, you weren't as fortunate living off a small farming family’s wage. After a long two years out of high school, you finally had the longing to continue your education, but even admission into the local state college came with a tuition that was too big for you to pay all on your own. You needed the prize money to cover the rest.

You bent over to stroke the white stripe that covered Cyclone’s nuzzle, attempting to calm him knowing that he could feel the animosity steaming from the blonde. “Don’t listen to her,” you whispered. “You’re gonna do just fine.”

“Petting your horse ain’t gonna make it any better.” Addisyn smirked.

“And talking at me ain’t gonna make you any smarter, but you’re still trying.”

Addisyn huffed as she took hold of her own pristine white horse's reins, kicking it hard in the side until it was facing the direction of the rodeo arena.

“Whatever,” she spat, tossing her perfectly styled hair in retort. “You know you’re not going to win.”

Your steel glare faded as she trotted away, resting in a hopeless frown as you realized how right she was. You hopped off your horse and led him to the edge of one of the wooden fences to tie his reins to. “I know.” you mumbled sadly.

“Hey, stranger,” sounded a deep voice from beside you, in fact it was the same voice that had plagued you since your first acquaintance long ago. “What’s with the frown?”

You turned to face him, the only person you'd ever avoided at the rodeo besides Addisyn. The cockiest bull rider to walk on Arkansas dirt, Tyler Owens. And while the hatred you felt around Addisyn didn’t bubble through your veins around Tyler, you considered him just as annoying. The worst part about him: he never could leave you alone.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” you asked, commenting on the impending closeness of his event as you guided Cyclone’s head to the nearest water trough that was only a few inches from Tyler. He shrugged as he answered.

“My event’s not for another hour,” he paused to check the time on his nonexistent watch, something cowboys never wore for fear that it would break under the pressure of the thousand pound beasts they endured riding. “I wanted to stop by and say hello.”

“I hope you don’t mean to me.”

“Of course not. I meant your horse,” Tyler grinned as his hands tickled beneath Cyclone’s ear forcing the horse to lift his majestic head and give a hearty neigh. You never understood your horse's bond with the man as, though it sounded insane, Cyclone tended to reserve the same opinions about people as you. Even so, they got on so well for a cowboy and an animal that didn’t even live remotely close together.

You rolled your eyes at the pair.

“C’mon, you better leave us be,” you climbed over the fence to shoo Tyler away, ignoring the sign of discontent from your horse. “We’ve got a big race today and Cyclone has to be in the best condition possible.”

“Well, if I’m being honest,” Tyler began, holding his ground. “- there might be another reason for my coming here.”

You waited for him to explain, leaning on the nearest fence post as Tyler sent you a signature grin.

“And?” you prompted.

“I’d like to propose a little wager, just something to help motivate ya.” smirked Tyler.

As annoyed as you were by his cocky grin and suffocating charm, you couldn’t lie, his proposition intrigued you.

“Explain.”

“I know you’re really fixing to beat Addisyn today, even more than usual, but I don’t think you have enough on the line. I was thinking maybe I could help raise the stakes a bit.” he explained.

While you and Addisyn’s rivalry didn’t qualify as even partially a secret, you weren’t sure how he found out about the significance of today’s race. You sent him an expression of confusion as you tried to figure out how he knew. Tyler seemed to understand immediately.

“Boone.” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes.

“Of course.”

Other than being Tyler’s best friend since middle school, Boone harnessed the talent of figuring out people; their likes and dislikes as well as their desires and motivations. Though he was a few years younger than you and Tyler, he preferred your age group over his own.

“So how’s about this,” Tyler started as he pulled off his sunglasses to stare you down with daring eyes of emerald, briefly wetting his lips. “If you win today, you can ask me for any favor. And nothing’s off the table. I’ll even leave you alone if that’s what you’d want…”

You tried to imagine a world where Tyler Owens didn’t pester you at every waking moment.

“Okay,” you agreed. “And if I lose?”

You were sure that no punishment from the brilliantly smooth brain of the cowboy before you could ever be bad enough to motivate you to win. Boy, were you wrong.

”If you lose,” Tyler repeated as he paused to lean in closer to you, pulling on the tension between the two of you like a rope around a bull’s neck. “- you have to kiss me.”

You backed away with wide eyes disgusted by the grin that seemed to stick on Tyler’s mouth like dirt on a dew drop.

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Tyler shrugged. “If Addisyn beats you today then you have to kiss me. A long one too, mouth to mouth.”

“And why on Earth would I ever do that?” you asked, forcing the urge to gag at the mention. You couldn’t even think about voluntarily kissing Tyler, not to mention being forced to do it after a devastating loss.

“Simple. I know you hate me and I know that you want this more than anyone else here and he’s good enough to win it,” Tyler nodded towards Cyclone who was loudly drinking from the water trough. “But I know from experience that as badly as you want it, you‘ll never try hard enough if you’re not risking more.”

“I don’t think you understand how much is on the line already.” you glared.

“Sure I do,” Tyler argued and you knew that he was telling you the truth. While the Owens family owned the property neighboring your farm, they had as much as your family did. Everything they earned went back into their crops leaving nothing for Tyler or any of his siblings to go to college, if that was something he even wanted. You doubted he ever would. “Losing the money alone would be tough, but it’s just not enough.”

“Why are you doing this?” you couldn’t help but question.

“I thought that was obvious,” he chuckled softly. “I want to see you win today. And if I’m being honest, I’m sick of seeing Addisyn win on her professionally trained horses. Lord knows you deserve it more than her.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew from casual eavesdropping that your worst enemy had a terrible crush on Tyler, one so bad that she had nearly begged her father to pay a dowry for him until one of her cronies informed her that purchasing people was very much unethical and illegal.

It was one of the reasons you couldn’t stand the cowboy. Any man that caught the attention of a brat like Addisyn wasn’t worth more than a second of your time. If you had known that Tyler shared your disliking for the blonde, perhaps you would’ve grown up closer. But the past was in the past and changing it was a feat best left unattempted.

“If I win,” you began, crossing your arms and staring him down. “- then starting tomorrow, you can never talk to me ever again.”

You thought you saw a hint of regret in Tyler’s eyes as remorse bloomed in your gut, but he hid it behind acceptance before you could comment on it.

“Fine,” he nodded, holding out one of his hands for you. “Shake on it?”

You took his hand in your own, taking in the leathery calluses on his palms that matched your own before you let go to jump the corral fencing once more and untie Cyclone’s reins for another round of practice.

“What about your event? Why aren’t we betting on you too?” you wondered aloud.

“Oh darlin’,” Tyler smiled which caused you to flush into a heated fury of both annoyance and embarrassment as the name slipped from his lips. “I’m gonna win. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You need a boost?”

You glared at him as he held out his hands in a makeshift step exactly in time with you as you expertly mounted Cyclone, snapping his reins so he would return to the start of the course, dodging all three barrels as you called back, “Good luck Owens!”

As promised after a long hour of anticipation, Tyler Owens had taken first place in bull riding by a landslide, not only earning him a ripple of cheers from the giant crowd (along with a few girl’s numbers), but also his share of the coveted prize money.

You had taken a break from the more and more dreary barrel practice to watch him do it, sitting in one of the nosebleed seats surrounded by far too many girls who couldn’t have been there for any other reason besides to see Tyler. Still, you were amazed by his talent. More surprised still when he had a whole arena of girls screaming for him and his roaming eyes still managed to find you clapping quietly near the back. He sent you a grin as soon as he caught sight of your unenthused scowl, brushing the dirt from his chops and sending a wink your way as if to playfully say, told ya.

It was then you noticed another woman in the audience jumping for his rewarding gaze, though it was never won. Tyler was simply too busy looking at you to pay any attention to swirling Addisyn.

Heat blossomed in your chest as you felt a sensation like a swirl of wind blow throughout your stomach, a feeling you horrifically identified as affection.

It wasn’t often that people chose you over Addisyn; you were confident that most of her friends were hired. And while there was no doubt that Tyler was the cocky bastard you couldn’t stand, perhaps you had judged him too harshly as there was evidently more that lay beneath the surface. As much as you hated to admit it, the charm he had been using on you for months was starting to work.

You fled the stands, not wanting to delve into your change of heart any longer. That was one of the best parts of barrel racing; training Cyclone served as a great distraction. And you had much to figure out before he could compete.

It was the same problem over and over again, Cyclone’s speed being both his greatest asset as well as his worst setback. He would build up so much speed that by the time he had to round the barrel, it was virtually impossible for him to slow down enough to finish the race. There had only been two outcomes during practice, both of which were not nearly good enough to win. Your horse was forced to either stay at a slow, but steady pace or face flipping over a barrel, both of which kept you from winning the title by making you too slow or disqualified.

You felt hopeless as you walked your horse to the arena, as no amount of practice could cure your dilemma. You had only managed to sire one good run out of Cyclone, but even then, it wasn't nearly fast enough to beat Addisyn past times on her purebred horses that were bought at the highest price with intent to win.

She and her horse were just before you in the lineup, sending you dirty looks as you sunk glumly into your saddle. The line was moving too fast for your spinning head to keep up with, the dread pooling in your gut intensifying by each lost second. You and Cyclone were going to be the most disappointing finale act in history, this you were sure of. A horrid ending for what had been a fantastic rodeo. At least until this point.

It was by pure chance that you found Tyler in the crowd.

He was all the way on the other side of the arena from the entrance closest to you, seated at the front with a big blue ribbon pinned to his button up flannel shirt. Despite the distance and the spectacle playing out before him as Addisyn began her race, he only had eyes for you.

Though he was too far away for you to make out his grassy green irises from the deep black of his pupils, he acknowledged you with a simple tilt of his head that was neither patronizing nor teasing. The cocky bastard you thought you knew was nowhere to be found. Comfort swirled around you like a gush of warm wind in the field by your farm. Familiar, yet something completely foreign all the same. An indescribable mix between encouragement and understanding that you didn’t think a cowboy like him was capable of. It sent a wave of excitement through your spine, a damper on the constant anxiety you had been suffering from, that he knew you were suffering from. Maybe your race wasn’t hopeless after all.

If Tyler Owens thought you could do it, certainly the win was well within your reach.

His motivating expressions were so distracting that you had nearly missed Addisyn’s fatal move if not for the large gasps that erupted from the arena crowd. Her horse, so pristine and primed to be absolutely perfect, had turned just slightly skewed too far to the right, kicking over the last barrel with its hind legs as it attempted to recover into a sprint. But there was no coming back from the five second penalty.

As Addisyn finished, her time shone above the dirt arena in the digital shine of red numbers and it would’ve been perfect if not for her mistake. You could hardly believe it as the bitter sting of karma finally bit the girl who deserved it the most.

You fought the urge to cackle as Addisyn exited the arena, sending her a taunting smirk instead. It was as if she was waiting for it, shooting you a scowl so nasty that you were certain all she wanted was to hurt you. Her face had turned so red that even the expensive power couldn’t hide her reaction and her premium pick riding gear started to seem much less impressive.

“Hard to beat, Addisyn.” you joked. While it wasn’t like you to poke fun at the people going through the worst of times, you didn’t exactly count Addisyn as human. Only equal to the devil with too much money for her own good.

“Can it,” she hissed as she hopped off her horse to drag it back to the corral, dirt scuffing up her shiny new boots as she stomped away.

“C’mon, boy.” you whispered to Cyclone, a wave of new motivation washing over you. Even if he didn’t win, at least you couldn’t do much worse than Addisyn. No matter what, you'd walk away victorious over her. “Let’s show her.”

Steadying your foot in the stirrup, you swung over him and pulled his reins back before leading him a lengthy distance away from the entrance of the arena. You knew what would happen as soon as you crossed it, the Cyclone would instantly set off the motion sensor and officially begin your time. While many liked to build as they raced, you found starting in a sprint to be more efficient. That is, if Cyclone could make every barrel.

You tried to block out any last minute doubts that tried to claw through your mind as the announcer called your name and your hometown.

“The duo from Atlas, she’s riding her trusty horse Cyclone!”

Eyes fluttering closed, you searched for any last second serenity as you sucked in a breath, the last before you would find out the results of the competition. There wasn’t anymore time for you to obsess over everything that could go wrong and you tried to not let that bother you. A sudden flash of Tyler’s face popped into your mind forcing you to grin as you were reminded of his faith in you. With no more inhibitions left to act as a hurdle between you and your goal, you tightened your grin on Cyclone’s reins and gave them a hearty tug. He was off at once, soaring through the open gate and into the arena.

Everything felt like it spun by in a flash as Cyclone rounded the first barrel. It was as rough as expected, but he was able to recover faster than before, no doubt motivated by the pressure of the competition and encouraged by your commands that were accompanied by guiding kicks to his side.

Focused on your race and entranced by Cyclone’s quick adaptation, you didn’t think to look over to Tyler as you rounded the second barrel. He was up from his front row seat, hollering for your success and beaming with pride as Cyclone sped up again, an even steadier repeat of his last.

“Cmon Cyclone!” you cried as he galloped towards the last barrel, utilizing every skill you’d taught him during practice to the max. He’d only lost some of his speed and not an ounce of his momentum as he steered straight for the last.

It was as he began the final loop that you realized he was going too fast, speeding into the circle so quickly that there was no sustainable way for him to complete the turn without flipping the barrel. You braced yourself for the mistake, heart skipping a beat as your horse nudged the orange plastic with his flank. Though it all happened in a flash too quick for you to keep up with, you swore the sound of it toppling into the dirt echoed through your mind and you couldn’t bear to look back.

“Fast!” you commanded, hoping to end on a high note despite the fact that you had failed. The fact that you weren’t any better than Addisyn anyhow. You hadn’t proved yourself. The least you could do was lessen the losing time as Cyclone sprinted for the finish line at your command.

The deafening beat of your heart pulsed so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear the cascade of cheers in the arena you had left behind. You turned Cyclone around, collapsing upon your saddle as you saw it. The last orange barrel had miraculously stayed in place. You couldn’t believe it. You’d actually done it.

“And it looks like we have our winner!” the voice of the announcer boomed from the speakers. “With an Arkansas State Rodeo record of 13.62!”

“We did it!” you screamed in disbelief as you dismounted Cyclone, turning to the horse with a wide grin and new found energy. Your exhaustion faded away like the moon with the sunrise. Every hour put into training, all the hard work for the best of outcomes. You were going to be able to afford your education. “You won, boy!”

Not only had you won, but your horse had run a state record time. It was almost like a fever dream, but the pang of your heart in your chest was all you needed to know that it was all real. Now all that was left was to remedy your bet with Tyler.

You were obligated to be honored with your prizes before you could search for him. He seemed to appear out of thin air as you tied up Cyclone back in the corral with a wide smile on your face, turning to find just the cowboy you’d been searching for.

Tyler Owens didn’t have his usual confident swagger as he approached you, the loss heavy in his two booted feet. While he was proud and rooted for win, it seemed the weight of the cost was starting to get to him. He hated that you wanted him gone, but if that was the price you wanted him to pay, he’d do it solemnly and willingly.

“Good race out there.” he congratulated your success, his face tinged with the slightest shade of pink. It was a strange sight for you to see, a cowboy blushing at the thought of your loss.

“You too, champion.” you grinned.

“That’s nothing to a record holder. You could go pro with a time like that.”

“True, but I have some bigger dreams.” you admitted as you started to picture how Tyler could fit into them.

 “You’re not gonna stick around another season to torture Addisyn come more? I just know she’d be devastated.” he jested.

“As much as I love the sound of torturing her, I’m afraid my calling is elsewhere now.”

“Right,” Tyler nodded, his smile dipping. There was no doubt he was wrapping his head around the outcome of your bet, how as requested, he’s no longer be allowed to speak to you once the sun would set down on the grassy horizon. Dusk was already upon you as the lights around the arena shone a little brighter, casting an artificial glow on the darkening sky. “Well, I guess this is the last time I’ll see you.”

Unlike Tyler, your grin only intensified, but not for the reason he must of suspected. The more you started to ponder the prospect of him truly never speaking to you again, the longer you wanted the day to last. You weren’t ready to let him go, and maybe you didn’t really have to.

“Uh huh, because I won,” you stated with a knowing smile, stepping just a hair closer to the cowboy.

“You sure did. And now I’ll leave you alone like you wanted. Just like I promised.” Tyler agreed, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

His discontent reminded you of what he had requested from the bet had it turned in his favor. At the time you thought it was all one big joke, another way to motivate you by making fun of you. But now, seeing him trying to hide the tears in his soul from the thought of leaving you increased your certainty that it was more than that. Perhaps the consistent years of harmless teasing and never leaving you a moment of peace were in lieu of the words he really wanted to say.

“Right.” you took another slow step closer, leaving only inches of space between the two of you.

You thought your excitement had made your intentions obvious, but as Tyler pointed back towards his truck, you realized he was completely misinterpreting the message.

“So I’m just gonna do that now…” he stumbled over his words, waiting for you to give him a reason to stay. Just like in your race, you didn’t waste another second.

“Just kiss me already,” you ordered, watching as his folded features brightened at the invitation.

“Thank god.” he breathed as he finally closed the gap between the two of you, sealing his lips to yours with a searing kiss.

“That’s when I knew Tyler was my home,” you finished your story, looking away from the camp of your friends and towards the cowboy who had captured your heart. “We went to college together the next year, sharing a couples dorm and when Tyler proposed moving to Oklahoma, I knew I’d follow him wherever he wanted.”

Tyler reached out for one of your arms from his chair, pulling you in to press a kiss into your knuckle, touched by your interpretation of the story.

“Even if it meant facing God's wrath everyday,” he chuckled, referring to the storms you chose to spend your life chasing alongside him.

“Where’s Addisyn now?” Ben inquired, looking up from the scribble of notes he had jotted down in his worn notepad. You doubted much of it would make it into his article with all the rush of storm chasing that was intended to be the focus, but it was a flattering gesture nonetheless.

“Exactly where you’d expect,” Tyler shrugged, answering for you. “Housewife to some politician. She quit racing after she failed to beat Cyclone’s record time.”

“She even tried to buy him off me the season after we’d left for college,” you explained. “It was more than 15 times the prize money amount, but I couldn’t sell him. He still lives with my folks back home, happily grazing wherever he pleases.”

“What did you have to do with any of this?” asked Dani pointing at Boone who had moved onto his third beer of the night.

“Who do you think gave Tyler the courage to make the bet? I orchestrated the whole thing.” he claimed, smiling with such pride, you would’ve thought he was in on the whole thing.

“Did not!” your husband protested. “There would’ve been nothing to orchestrate if I hadn't liked her in the first place.”

“Yeah and it was my decision to kiss him in the end.” you added.

Boone only rolled his eyes. “Sure, take the credit,” he groaned drunkenly. “-that’s what they all say.”

Shaking your head at the display, you couldn’t help but chuckle as you found your seat again in Tyler’s lap. No matter who the credit went to, a better outcome to your’s and Tyler’s childhood feud was impossible to imagine.

“Last time I saw her,” Tyler began, changing the subject back to your past arch-nemesis. “- was when we invited her to our wedding. She wasn’t doing too hot, nearly had to kick her out for all the trouble she caused.”

“That reminds me!” Lily straightened in her seat. “Y’all have never told me the story of how Tyler proposed. I’ve been wanting to hear it for ages!”

“Well, that’s definitely a story for another time.” you laughed, as a whirlwind of memories played in your head from the day you two got engaged.

“How about instead, Boonie shares the time he got so plastered that he woke up backstage at a Dolly Parton concert.” Tyler suggested.

“Oh c’mon, you know I hate telling that story.” Boone sighed.

“No you don’t.” you and Tyler argued in true couple unison.

“Ahh who am I kidding. It’s the coolest thing that ever happened to me. It all started when we were pregaming in Dallas…” Boone began rambling, recounting the event with such detail and focus that it was difficult to tell that he had been drinking.

You and Tyler were silent for your best friend’s story, though neither of you were really listening as it was an event you had been present for. Instead you held your cowboy close, grateful that fate had thrown him so far into your path that you never couldn’t pass him by.

[noobiestnoober]

No One Touches What's Mine (Leon x Reader)

Victor only brushed your back when he handed you the dossier. Leon saw. Leon ended him.

After a bullet to the skull and a whispered "no one touches what's mine," you see the version of Leon no one else does—the man behind the mission, unraveling quietly for you. His love isn’t hearts and roses—it’s blood on the walls, shredded intel, and promises whispered like oaths: "I’d gut God if He looked at you wrong."

You should be scared. You’re not. And that’s the most dangerous part.

Read if you like: 🖤 dark obsession 🖤 possessive, unhinged lovers 🖤 heavy tension & blurred morality 🖤 watching your sanity fray under his gaze 🖤 “I killed for you. Now let me prove it.”

It started with a gunshot. One clean pop. A single breath of thunder.

The bullet punched through Victor’s skull like a secret whispered straight through his brain. Right temple in, left temple out—crimson mist sprayed across the wall behind him, a wet signature of death. The silence that followed wasn’t silence at all. It was a moment held hostage. A tension strung so tight it could snap bone.

Victor crumpled. Twitch. Collapse. Nothing. And Leon stood there, arm outstretched, pistol still raised, body calm. The muzzle smoked lazily in the dim hallway light, like the ghost of rage was still drifting off his barrel.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Your breath caught in your throat, not from fear—but from something far more dangerous. A dark understanding. A terrible, irreversible truth.

He turned to you. Leon Kennedy. Not the clean-cut operative. Not the golden boy of Raccoon City. No—this man wasn’t tactical, wasn’t stable, wasn’t safe. He was the monster that crawled out of the wreckage and learned to love. And you were the only thing keeping him from going feral completely. Or maybe the only thing he wanted to destroy himself for.

“You okay?” he asked, voice like steel wrapped in silk.

You didn’t answer. Your body swayed, but he caught you. Of course he did. One strong arm coiled around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the scent of smoke and blood soaking into your lungs.

“I warned him,” Leon murmured, thumb brushing your cheekbone with disturbing tenderness. “Told him once—no one touches what’s mine.”

Three Days Earlier

You’d been gearing up in the safehouse locker room when Victor slid a dossier into your hand, his palm grazing your lower back. Too casual. Too comfortable. You brushed it off, as usual. Leon didn’t. From the other side of the room, he watched. Quiet. Unblinking. Not a man. A weapon.

That night, the same dossier showed up shredded on your cot. Ripped down the middle, soaked in what smelled like scotch and spite. You confronted him, teeth bared.

“Did you seriously destroy a mission file because you got jealous?”

Leon didn’t look up from cleaning his knife. Just kept polishing the blade like it was a fucking mirror into his mind. “This isn’t jealousy.” He finally spoke, low and deliberate. “This is what I look like when I’m being merciful.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the fucking Punisher, Leon.”

He stepped forward, close enough that your back hit the wall. The tension snapped tight, so thick you could taste it.

“No,” he said, almost gently. “I’m worse.”

Present – After the Shot

The blood still clung to your boots. Still warm. Still glistening like fresh paint. Leon’s fingers pressed into your hip with bruising force, holding you against the cold concrete wall. “I didn’t want to scare you,” he said quietly, forehead resting against yours. “But I’m not letting this happen again.”

His breath dragged across your lips. “No more near touches. No more stolen glances. No more of that fucking smirk he gave you.”

You opened your mouth. He pressed two fingers to it. “You think I’m sick?” he asked. “You’re right.”

His mouth found your throat. One soft kiss. One scrape of teeth. “I don’t want normal. I don’t want peace.” His voice broke. “I want you. Every part. Even the ones you’re afraid to give.”

You didn’t push him away. You didn’t stop him. You should have. Instead, your head tilted. Just a little. Just enough. And that’s all he needed.

Safehouse Bedroom – Later

The sheets were rumpled. Your gun holster hung from the bedframe. Leon sat at the edge of the mattress, shirtless, scars on full display—each one a love letter from hell. His hand rested over your bare stomach, fingers splayed, warm and heavy. Possessive. “You’re not afraid anymore,” he said, almost in awe.

You turned your face toward him. “Maybe I should be.”

He leaned down. Kissed your jaw. Your throat. “But you’re not.”

You weren’t. And that scared you more than the gun in his holster.

The obsession grew like a mold in your life. Leon watched you when you spoke to others. Sometimes said nothing. Sometimes stared hard enough to burn holes through them. You found your necklace once—one you’d lost weeks ago—tucked into his vest pocket. He never told you how he got it. And then the note. Folded into your glove like a secret.

“Don’t trust them. Don’t even smile at them. They don’t see you like I do. They don’t deserve you.”

You burned it. But not before reading it three times.

You stood at the edge of the safehouse’s old balcony, moonlight cutting across your skin. He stepped up behind you, arms caging you in, chest against your back.

“How far would you go for me?” you asked softly.

Leon didn’t miss a beat. “I’d gut God himself if He looked at you wrong.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were wild. Raw. Real. He cradled your face in both hands, thumb dragging over your lower lip.

“I’d burn the whole world,” he whispered, “just to make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again.”

His kiss that followed wasn’t a promise. It was a possession.

[buggee22]

Underworld Family!

Okay so- My lore will make sense I promise. This will be a massive lore dump, but just trying to get all the basic info out of the way. I’ll go more into character/lore detail with further posts because this family has utterly consumed me…

For one; Persephone’s hair changes depending on the season, usually around these colours.

Since it’s winter during her 4 months in the Underworld it’s white! It slowly starts fading back to pink for spring nearing the end of her stay.

Here is some of my Hades/Persephone Lore summed up to the barest of bones. They have a very slow burn which I will get into but essentially how they met/ended up.

Hades had always been wary of having children. He feared what happened to him with his father Kronos, the titan who attacked and nearly killed him when he was young, would happen to his son. After many MANY years he and Persephone agree to have a child. Zagreus. His first born son.

Unfortunately, Persephone had to leave shortly after Zag was born and Hades was left to raise him essentially alone, with Cerberus of course!(Gods age quicker to me)

Hades loved his son. But what he feared came true, as Hera and Kronos arrange for Zagreus’ death by titans. This utterly destroys Hades, he doesn’t even realize that Zeus, who saw potential in Zagreus, had taken his heart for himself.

Osiris (the egyptian gods exist in my lore but I will get into that another time.) offers to aid in a “Rebirth” of sorts, Hades is not in his right mind to refuse the chance of his son returning. Using Osiris’ blood and Zagreus’, Serapis is created.

I will lore post about Serapis another day, but he was raised away from the Underworld, his family, and gods entirely in Egypt. (He eventually reigns over Tartarus, and he is very efficient in torture, and WILL take his anger out on your soul!) Think beautiful, kind, respectful cult leader who promises peace to your soul, when actually he is tricking you into eternal damnation.

Zeus, with the heart of Zagreus, rebirths Dionysus. Who is raised without knowing who he truly is, Zagreus is hidden entirely from him. He grows up not really feeling like he truly knows himself. Which he hides through all his various theatrics and masks.

He doesn’t have any memories from Zagreus, only feelings. He feels closer to Hades than anyone else in the Overworld/Olympus, he just doesn’t know why. All his various tricks and jests against Hades are just him (Zagreus) subconsciously trying to get his attention.

It’s not for MANY many years until Dionysus finds out about his past as Zagreus, his father Hades, his life in the Underworld which was long forgotten and buried. Hades will always see Dio and his son, even if he is not truly ‘Zagreus’ anymore.

Eventually Hades and Persephone, now living in harmony with Dionysus again and Serapis to a certain extent. Decide to have another child, being Melinoë! Whom they all raise and live happily for a brief time.

Until Kronos returns. Who had been imprisoned in Tartarus since being overthrown. Taking over the Underworld and imprisoning Hades.

Luckily Persephone was in the Overworld, Dionysus able to escape only just, Melinoë was taken away and hidden, spending her days in a corner of the Underworld and her nights wandering the Overworld.

She was raised mostly alone, until she is able to find scrying pools in temples to view her past. Focusing on mastering her powers with the help of Hecate and on occasion Nyx, Melinoë can hide herself entirely as a shade and visit Hades. He’s not able to speak so as not to alert Kronos, so they learn to communicate silently.

Cerberus had been separated into three souls for his safety and each one remains with each child of Hades.

Serapis, who held a lot of resentment towards a lot of things, particularly Hades, joins Kronos. Melinoë, on Hades intrusion, told her how to seek out Dionysus and in turn Persephone. While Fio and Serapis have sort of a Dante and Vergil dynamic respectively. This is where I cease my natter natter natter of my lore!

Thank you so much for reading this far! Love this messed up family a lot and in some universe they are all happily living together, not this one tho.

I will definitely be posting more about this lot!

[prettymfwrites]

CaitVi Streamer Headcanons pt. 2

Streamer CaitVi x female reader

Uses they/them pronouns though

Summary: More moments of our favorite streamers and their muffin

(Sorry for any mistakes! )

What I pictured you to look like:

Feel free to imagine whatever though!

---

Award Ceremony Night

The award ceremony was a dazzling time. glittering chandeliers, the hum of chatter, and a red carpet teeming with streamers and influencers. I lingered near the bar, cradling a drink in my hand, feeling slightly out of place amid the extravagance. But then I saw them.

Caitlyn walked with effortless grace, her navy dress shimmering under the lights. Her confidence was magnetic, every tilt of her head and flick of her wrist commanding attention. Beside her, Vi exuded a rugged charm in a perfectly tailored suit, her short pink hair slicked back. She carried herself with a swagger that screamed, I know I look good.

They were breathtaking, and I couldn’t help but stare.

Caitlyn’s sharp blue eyes found mine first. A soft smile tugged at her lips, and she raised a brow as if to say, Caught you staring, darling. She winked, and my heart skipped a beat.

Moments later, Vi turned her head, following Caitlyn’s gaze. Her smirk widened as she locked eyes with me. She gave me a mock salute, her playful expression making me feel like I was the only person in the room.

They approached me like magnets, Caitlyn sliding her arm lightly around my waist while Vi draped an arm casually over my shoulder.

"You clean up well, love," Caitlyn murmured, her voice low and warm.

Vi grinned, leaning in closer. "Not bad, huh? Though I think you could’ve coordinated with us. Navy would’ve looked killer on you."

I laughed, realizing her gaze was stuck on my chest, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I didn’t realize there was a dress code. But by the way you're staring I can tell you don't mind."

Caitlyn leaned in slightly chuckling, her lips brushing against my temple. "Don’t listen to her. You look perfect."

Vi tilted her head, feigning hurt. "Hey, I just said they looked killer. Stop trying to one-up me, cupcake."

"Then stop making it so easy," Caitlyn quipped back with a smirk.

The night was filled with moments like these—stolen glances, light touches, and the unmistakable tension between the three of us. At one point, as they both received an award for "Best Co-Stream of the Year," they pulled me into their celebratory hug, Caitlyn pressing a kiss to my cheek while Vi’s lips brushed my temple.

"I don’t know if I should feel lucky or overwhelmed," I teased as we walked back to our table.

Caitlyn’s hand lingered on mine. "Hopefully both," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

---

Streamer Rivalry

Sitting in Caitlyn’s streaming room felt oddly intimidating. Her setup was pristine, every wire and light perfectly in place, a sharp contrast to the chaos that was Vi’s usual domain.

"Ready to destroy Vi?" Caitlyn asked, handing me a controller as her chat flooded with excitement.

"Ready to try," I replied nervously, adjusting my headset.

The game loaded, and almost immediately, Vi’s voice cut through the headphones.

"Hey, babe," she said, her tone dripping with mock confidence. "You sure you wanna team up with Cait? She’s all strategy, no bite."

I laughed, and Caitlyn shot me a playful glare. "Don’t listen to her. Stick with me, and I’ll have you wiping the floor with her in no time."

True to her word, Caitlyn’s instructions were impeccable. She leaned in close, her voice soft in my ear as she guided me through the game. Her hand occasionally brushed against mine, her proximity making it incredibly hard to concentrate.

"Focus, love," she murmured, her lips dangerously close to my cheek.

By some miracle or Caitlyn’s genius—we won. Vi groaned loudly in defeat, her voice crackling through the headset.

"Betrayed by my own favorite person? This is a dark day," Vi lamented dramatically.

"Maybe you should stop underestimating me," Caitlyn replied smoothly, her fingers grazing mine as she leaned back with a victorious smile.

"Rematch," Vi demanded.

"Only if you behave," Caitlyn shot back, her hand resting casually on my knee under the desk.

---

Jealousy Prank

The prank started innocently enough. Chat had been egging me on for weeks to mess with Caitlyn and Vi, and I couldn’t resist.

"So, y/n," Vi said during a group stream, her voice teasing. "What’s got you smiling like that? You’ve been suspiciously giggly today."

"Oh, nothing," I replied, glancing at chat for backup. "Just... someone I’ve been talking to. They’re really sweet."

Caitlyn’s brows lifted ever so slightly, though her calm expression didn’t falter. "Oh? Anyone we know?"

"Probably not," I said with a shrug, pretending to check my phone.

Vi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "What do you mean probably not? Who is this mystery person?!"

The chat exploded with laughter and emojis as I dodged their questions, making the two of them squirm.

The final straw came when I pretended to take a call mid-stream. "Hey," I said softly, turning slightly away from the camera. "Yeah, I miss you too. Maybe later?"

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line as she leaned back in her chair. Vi was less subtle, throwing her arms up. "Okay, what the hell is going on here?"

I burst out laughing, and chat lost it with me. "Relax, you two. It’s a prank. Chat’s been in on it the whole time."

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking her head with a smile. "You’re insufferable."

Vi pointed at the camera, glaring playfully. "Chat, you’re all grounded. And you’re not getting away with this."

---

A Quiet Moment

After the stream ended, Caitlyn lingered behind, her touch light on my shoulder as we tidied up.

"You’re really enjoying being the center of attention, aren’t you?" she teased, her voice low.

"Maybe a little," I admitted, grinning.

The door opened, and Vi walked in, leaning against the frame. "Am I interrupting something, or can I join?"

Caitlyn sighed but didn’t let go of me. "You never don’t interrupt."

Vi stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me gently toward her. "Hey, I don’t hear y/n complaining."

I laughed nervously as Caitlyn’s hand slid down to my other hip, her eyes locking with Vi’s in a silent challenge.

"Should we give them something to complain about?" Caitlyn murmured, her lips brushing lightly against the corner of my mouth.

Before I could answer, Vi’s hand tilted my chin toward her, and her lips met mine in a kiss that was both playful and surprisingly soft. When she pulled back, Caitlyn claimed her turn, her kiss slower, more deliberate, leaving me breathless.

"You two are impossible," I whispered, my voice shaky.

Vi smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "You love it."

Caitlyn’s lips quirked into a smile as she leaned her forehead against mine. "Admit it, y/n. You wouldn’t have us any other way."

And they weren’t wrong.

---

Having insane writers block 😔

Send requests!

[xoxochb]

“percy! stop doing that!”

though despite your protests your laugh it utterly uncontrollable. in an attempt to peacefully brush your teeth— well, frankly, nothing is really peaceful as long as percy is awake.

he’d begged you for twenty minutes to join you in your nighttime routine. he usually did, but you’d banned him from brushing his teeth with you after he had made innuendos about your toothbrush and his genitals.

today he was not making sex jokes. he was brushing your face instead. with his toothbrush. which has toothpaste on it.

and you’d just bathed with him only fifteen minutes ago so your cleaned skin has now been destroyed.

you quickly finish up brushing your remaining teeth before bending over and spitting into the sink. percy drops his toothbrush onto the counter and grabs a towel for you to dry your face with.

“I thought you only bent over for me.”

you glare and take the face cloth, beginning to wipe your mouth first before the rest of your face which he had wiped his toothbrush over.

you suppose you’re extra clean tonight.

“not anymore. I’m breaking up with you. I’m engaged to this sink now.”

percy takes the towel out of your hand and loops it around the hook before swiftly encircling his arms around your middle and tugging you up to carry you.

you throw your own arms around his neck incase he decides to drop you. which, once, he had done by accident. but after he had cried for ten minutes for hurting you, and another half an hour of cuddling he was okay.

“perce.” you lean down and kiss him once. “please don’t drop me.” a second kiss. a third. a fourth. “I want to go to bed now.”

“what’s the magic word?” percy wears a smirk upon his lips.

you sigh. “will you, my… generous, insanely sexy, godsend of a boyfriend take me to bed pretty please?” you kiss him again just to seal the deal.

but it’s only a millisecond because his smile grows too wide to continue. you mirror his expression as it’s contagious.

“well since you asked so kindly.”

without another word, percy carries you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom portion of cabin three, dropping you down on the bed before flopping right beside you, nearly covering your body with his own.

you laugh at the mere action, shoving him to the side before he crushes you. “you’re going to kill me someday!”

reluctant to stray far from you, percy takes your waist back into his arms and tugs you to his side of the bed. he rests his head tucked into your chest, dark hair tickling your chin.

you tangle a hand into that hair, soft as ever beneath your fingertips, smelling like salt water on a warm summer day in late august.

“sing me a lullaby.”

“no.”

“pleaseeee! I like hearing your voice, sweet girl, it’s like… when you wash the blankets and they smell like dryer sheets.”

“is that an insult or a compliment?”

“a compliment.” percy raises his head and kisses your chin, then peppers pecks along your jaw. “I like the smell of dryer sheets.”

you take his face between your palms, making him face you entirely. his smile is soft and sleepy, though his sea-green eyes twinkling tell you he won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

your thumbs rub over his cheeks in a soothing manner before you begin placing kisses over each inch of his pretty face.

“my sweetest girl.”

“hmm.” you kiss his nose three times.

percy pinches your waist lightly. you squirm but do not move anymore than this. “speak.”

“say please.”

“if you wanted—” you kiss one corner of his mouth, cutting of his sentence, before kissing the other and moving to his cheeks. “I would get on my knees and beg to hear your voice. even if it’s to cuss me out.”

you smile against his temples before pecking each. “I love you.”

“say it again.”

you repeat it between each kiss, ten times, and once more for good luck before pulling away. percy’s once bright green eyes have become hazy, awestruck with the most sappy grin you’ve ever seen.

“perce.”

“hmm.”

he’s so gorgeous you want to physically hurt him and then cry into your pillow. you tightly wrap your arms around his shoulders and tuck his head back beneath your chin.

“you said my name,” he mumbles into your skin.

“I didn’t have anything to say. just wanted to say it.”

he kisses your clavicle before closing his eyes, basking in your warmth as if lulls him to drowsiness.

“I love you too. by the way.”

“I love you also.”

percy hums once more. and not long after falls peacefully asleep.

where he remains for an hour at most.

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Prologue

Tommy offers Joel help one last time. The prologue to The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Grief. Mentions of child death. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 1.3k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Next Chapter

“If you think I’m not going to fight for what’s mine, you’re insane!” 

Joel remembered the woman on the screen. She was young, beautiful, her perfectly made up face snarled in rage. He remembered her. He always remembered her. 

He remembered the scene, too. 

Sarah had loved this show. She was obsessed, one of her friends at school put her onto it and she watched it all in a matter of weeks on Netflix. 

Joel had hated this show. There were drugs and sex and Sarah was just 13 when she watched it but he’d been such a sucker for her that he let her. He’d always been a sucker for her. He always gave her whatever she asked for. 

Maybe that had been wrong.

Maybe if he’d stood his ground more, maybe if he’d been a better father instead of just giving his daughter whatever she wanted, she wouldn’t be dead. 

“Mr. Miller?” 

Joel looked away from the television, reminded that he was in the hospital and that it must be after 3 a.m. by now. The nurse stood in the doorway, an almost pitying look on her face. 

“Your brother is here to see you.” 

Joel just went back to watching the TV. The woman he remembered was still there, beautiful face streaked with tears.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered. She was a good actress, he thought. Convincing. She sounded like she was in pain. He doubted someone like her even knew what that would really feel like, what that would really sound like. He did. He knew. 

“Joel.” 

He looked to the door, his brother standing there, the early morning beginnings of a beard on his chin, in athletic wear instead of the suit he saw him in so often these days. He looked back to the TV. 

“You can’t keep doing this, man,” Tommy said, coming in and standing beside him. The woman on the TV raised a gun. “You can’t keep beating the shit out of people you don’t like, I can’t keep trying to buy them off, Maria can’t keep talking you out of trouble with the cops… Hell, I only really talked Maria into it this time because it’s the anniversary of the day she… we know it’s hard but you’re this close to ending up in deep shit with an actual rap sheet, man.” 

She screamed and sobbed as she pulled the trigger. 

“Joel.” 

The woman panted for breath before lifting the gun to her temple. It cut to commercial. 

“Sarah loved that show,” Joel said, looking away from the TV to see Tommy close his eyes and shake his head with a sigh. 

“I know you’ve been strugglin’,” Tommy said, crossing his arms and looking at him again. “And I don’t blame you, alright? What you’ve been through… I’d be a wreck too. I know it ain’t the same but it killed me too, for a while, losing her that way. Can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. But Joel… it’s been three years now. You can’t keep destroying yourself like this, you just can’t. It’s killing me to watch you do it but I don’t got it in me to keep saving you. I cannot let you drag me down with you, not now, not with…” 

He clenched his jaw for a moment, looking back toward the door and back at Joel again. 

“Maria’s pregnant.” Joel’s heart clenched. “She’s my focus now. I want to be there for you, Joel. Lord knows I owe you after everything you did for me but I can’t do it at the expense of myself or my wife and my kid. You understand?” 

Joel nodded slowly, looking to his boots. There was a dark spot on the left toe, the leather never really clean from the blood. 

“Here,” Tommy held out a business card.

Joel frowned. 

“Think I know how to get ahold of my own brother.” 

“This ain’t for me,” Tommy said. “It’s my hiring manager. This is the last thing I’m doin’ for you, Joel. Come and work for me. I can help you that way, make sure you’re not out there on your own. You don’t got the formal training of the other guys but we can handle that. Christ knows you got the raw skill, just ask the asshole whose face you rearranged…” 

“He’s lucky that’s all I did,” Joel snapped. 

Tommy ignored him. 

“Once your hand heals up, we can get you started,” Tommy said, card still out. Joel took it, running his fingers over the embossed lettering. “I want to help you, Joel. I want to be there for you. This is the last way I can do that. Understand?” 

He just looked at the card, Miller Security in large letters, Military Grade Personal Protection in smaller ones below. The email address was for someone named Marlene. 

Joel had probably met her at some point but he didn’t remember her. Joel had been to a few company BBQs and happy hours for the private security company his brother had founded about six months after his daughter died. 

Tommy used to work alongside Joel, the two of them taking contracting work together. If wasn’t easy work but it was satisfying. Joel liked building things, liked working with his hands and seeing the physical manifestations of his labor. It wasn’t a bad life, in hindsight. Not since he’d blown it. 

After his daughter died, Joel couldn’t keep working. He tried, after a few weeks, to get back to it but he sometimes showed up drunk, sometimes didn’t show up at all. It wasn’t long before he was fired and word spread. Soon, he got shot down for every job he tried for. He’d screwed over not just himself but Tommy, too. 

That’s how Tommy came to create the security company to begin with. He had a few old special forces buddies move back to town looking for work and Tommy realized he had a lot of highly trained men with time on their hands at his fingertips. What better way to put them to use than to start a security company?

The business took off. Joel was proud of him. Or, as proud as he could be while the rot of guilt gnawed at him for letting down his then struggling brother so badly he needed to start his own fucking business to fix it. 

And now his brother - six years his junior, the kid he’d promised his mother he’d look after when she was on her death bed - was offering him a job after bailing him out at least a dozen times in three years. 

“I want to help, Joel,” Tommy said. “Please let me. Work with me, get back on your feet, have a support system. I want to help but you have to let yourself be helped. Please.” 

Joel tucked the card into the pocket of his shirt and looked at Tommy, a pleading look in his eyes. Eyes that reminded him of Sarah. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll email in the mornin’.” 

Tommy closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” he said as a nurse came in around him. “I’ll be out here, give you a ride home…” 

“We’ll have him out quick,” the woman smiled kindly as Tommy turned to go. “I’m here to handle discharge. Can you confirm your name and birthday for me?” 

“Joel Miller,” he said. “September 26, 1982.” 

“Oh!” She looked up from the chart and smiled at Joel. “Happy birthday!” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Welcome to The Savage and the Sanctuary! I like to introduce my new fics as I'm finishing up an existing one. This likely won't get chapter one for a few weeks yet but you never know what might happen! I hope you're excited to go on this journey as Joel learns to find himself again after surviving the loss of Sarah. There's a lot of angst and excitement and smut ahead! Fingers crossed you enjoy the ride.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen

[ot3]

tagged by @huayno !

last song:

this was one of those music league submissions i hear on the playlist and im like oh thats nice :) and then end up looping on and off for like weeks. thank you music league

favorite color: we are #blueheads over here.

currently reading:

i really tore through the first three books, but between moving/car/health stress i've been too braindead to get more than a chapter or so in. looking forward to reading the rest of it though!

last movie:

my mom loves action movies so we watched this one with my sister + her fiance when we were at their house for labor day. not reinventing the wheel or anything but a fun time for watching various henchmen and goons get maimed

last show:

i have been watching xwp on and off for months now and not really paying much attention to it because its fantastic background television for working or gaming. our last plot beat were 1. gabrielle killed someone which 2. raised an evil god who destroyed the temple they were all in and turned it into stonehenge and he also 3. impregnated gabrielle who 4. gave birth to a potentially evil baby that she is super obsessed with but xena suspects to have bad vibes. much to think about really.

last obsession: its critiquing neopets pet art assets because crow showed me today's new pet day release and it made me circle back to the big document i've been writing about various neopets colors. im sort of almost done with it kind of.

ummmm ill go ahead and tag @blrdnames since he already has a cameo. @legs-are-just-for-show @leefi @faerieyuri @counttwinkula ^_^

[chosaraki]

The Mountain that Doesn't Move.

—————————————————————————

Shintaro Yamazaki x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

It was an observation mission.

Shintaro Yamazaki did not usually personally engage in low-level combat. But the name of the woman who had appeared in the reports caught his attention for days: an agent hired by the enemy, unknown, of unidentified origin, but with a history of absurd physical strength and unusual behavior.

"She doesn't fight like someone trying to win. She fights like someone trying to protect."

The phrase of one of his informants intrigued him.

That's why, that night, he watched.

————————-

The combat took place in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, taken by armed henchmen who tried to capture civilians from a dissident group. The place already smelled of blood, gunpowder and fear.

Shintaro watched from the shadow of the upper floor, hands in his pockets, immutable expression.

Then she came in.

Y/n.

Tall, imposing, hair stuck in a long braid that looked like an extension of her erect spine. He wore reinforced but simple clothes, and carried steel chains wrapped in his arms - not for style, but as tools.

The eyes were closed. Not out of arrogance, but out of conviction.

And then... she moved.

⸻——————-

- The Fight

Three men advanced with weapons. She didn't hesitate.

The currents moved with millimeter precision, reaching the exact points of the wrists and elbows, disarming with a dry sound. No fatal blow. No unnecessary move.

She was a dance of strength and restraint.

At every step, the ground trembled. With each blow, a deep breath. She seemed... to pray while fighting.

Shintaro didn't blink. I've never seen someone like that.

She wasn't violent. She was unshakable.

Even when one of the men tried to hit her with an iron stick from behind, she turned with a precise hip movement and disarmed him in the blink of an eye - without even opening her eyes.

She fought as if she were on another plan.

Like a living mountain that just refuses to give in.

When the fight ended and the civilians were safe, she remained kneeling in the center of the deposit. He breathed calmly. There was blood in the arms, but no tremor.

Shintaro went down the stairs without making a sound.

He stopped a few meters from her.

- "Do you stop killing for mercy... or for faith?" - he asked, with a cold and calculated voice.

She raised her face slowly. The eyes, now open, were dark and deep like the sky before the storm. There was no fear. Not even subservience.

- "For respect for life. Even those who got lost."

- "Do you understand that saving can cost more lives later?"

- "The punishment belongs to time. I'm just the wall between the innocent and the blade."

That phrase shut up the world inside him.

Shintaro, who read people in seconds, couldn't read it.

She didn't try to please. Not even confront. It just... existed firmly.

——————————-

-Days Later

He told her to be called. She refused.

He sent a gift. She returned it.

He sent it himself.

He found her in a ruined temple, cleaning the altar, firm hands, rhythmic breathing.

- "Don't you fear me?"

- "I only fear what lives inside man. If he doesn't fear himself, he's not reliable."

- "And what lives in me?"

- "Too much silence. Pain contained. A hunger that is not physical."

He laughed for the first time in years - a dry, almost unrecognizable sound.

- "And what would you do with a man like that?"

- "I would sit next to him. Until he remembered that he doesn't need to destroy to be strong."

⸻————————

- Brief epilogue

Shintaro never looked at another woman after Y/n.

She was not a conquest, nor a servant. It was constancy.

The only person he didn't try to dominate - because she was land where he would sink without care.

She didn't change him.

But it gave meaning to what in him already asked for redemption.

—————————————————————————

Shintaro Yamazaki sees Y/n for the first time during a battle. She fights with her eyes closed, guided by faith and precision, using chains to incapacitate enemies without killing them. He, cold and analytical, is intrigued by his serene and spiritual strength. When confronting her later, Y/n disarms him with firm and calm words, showing that he is not afraid of his presence or his reputation. For the first time, Shintaro feels something he can't control - respect, fascination... and the beginning of something deeper. She becomes the only woman capable of standing next to him, without bending down.

—————————————————————————

[lovely-amora]

Mission: Accidental Matrimony

Several Weeks Ago – The Paperwork Incident

Naja was only half-listening when Price slid a stack of papers in front of her.

“Just some standard documentation,” he said, tone too casual. “Nothing complicated. Sign where needed.”

Her mind was already three steps ahead, focused on mission reports, weapon inventories, and the latest recon data.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” She grabbed a pen and started signing without a second glance, flipping pages as fast as her signature hit the paper.

A box was pushed toward her.

“What’s this?” she muttered.

“Ring,” Gaz said smoothly. “You need one. We got matching ones.”

Naja barely registered his words. She picked up the simple band, admired the weight of it, and—without thinking—slipped it onto her finger.

“I like rings,” she murmured absently before moving back to her work.

Soap grinned like a madman.

Ghost’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Price simply chuckled. “Good. That’s settled, then.”

Present Day – Reality Hits Like a Truck

Naja stood in the middle of the training yard, hands on her hips, glaring at a group of rookies who weren’t meeting her standards.

“Again,” she barked. “And this time, try not to look like a pack of lost children—what?”

One of the recruits—a wide-eyed kid who looked barely out of his teens—hesitantly raised a hand.

“Uh, Sergeant?”

She exhaled. “What?”

The recruit motioned toward her hand. “Your ring…?”

Naja blinked. Looked down.

“Oh,” she said absently, turning the band on her finger. “Yeah, the team got matching rings.”

Silence.

A long, awkward silence.

Her brain FINALLY caught up.

Matching rings. Paperwork. Smug looks from the team.

Her stomach dropped.

No.

No.

No fucking way.

Her fingers froze on the ring.

Her breath hitched.

“Everyone! Take a break!”

She turned on her heel and marched out, her movements stiff, mechanical, very much in the middle of an existential crisis.

Straight to the source.

Straight to her so-called teammates.

She stormed into the rec room where the squad lounged, far too comfortable for a group of men who had done something heinous.

“Which one of you absolute degenerates married me?” she demanded.

Soap looked up, grinning ear to ear.

“Ah, love, you wound me. It wasn’t just me.”

Her eye twitched.

Ghost leaned back in his chair. “She finally noticed.”

Gaz smirked. “Took longer than I expected.”

Price chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. “And here I thought you were the observant one.”

Naja felt heat rush to her face—equal parts fury, shock, and sheer, agonizing embarrassment.

She was supposed to be the manipulator. The one always ten steps ahead. The expert at psychological warfare.

And yet—

She rubbed her temples.

“You lot tricked me into marriage,” she muttered, utterly defeated.

Soap slung an arm around her shoulders. “Aye, but look on the bright side—you’re stuck with us now.”

Naja groaned.

“Someone’s getting stabbed for this. No. All of you are getting stabbed,” she grumbled, even as the team cackled around her.

Naja had made a mistake.

A huge mistake.

A monumental, catastrophic, life-ruining mistake.

She had accidentally SOMEHOW married the entire team.

And now?

Now they were milking it for all it was worth.

The Briefing Room Incident

She should have known something was off the second she sat down. The team was too relaxed.

Price stood at the front, going over mission details in his usual no-nonsense tone. Everything seemed normal.

Until—

“…and for infiltration, we’ll rely on Naja. She’s the best at slipping in unnoticed, isn’t that right, honey?”

The entire room went still.

Naja’s brain stalled.

She snapped her head up, eyes wide with horror.

“Wanna say that again? Captain.”

Price, the traitor, just kept talking like he hadn’t just destroyed her reputation.

She could feel Soap shaking with suppressed laughter.

Gaz looked like he was having the time of his life.

Ghost? Completely silent. But she swore his mask twitched—he was enjoying this.

The other soldiers in the room? Confused. Intrigued. Living for the drama.

Naja sat there, fuming, mentally calculating if a court-martial was worth strangling her own captain.

The Training Incident

She stormed out of the meeting, determined to put this nonsense behind her.

Then Ghost casually laced his fingers with hers.

Like it was nothing.

Like they were on a casual stroll instead of heading to beat some discipline into recruits.

Naja stared at their joined hands.

Then up at him.

“Ghost.”

“Hm?”

“What. Are you. Doing.”

“Holding my wife’s hand,” he said calmly. “Is that so bad, Mrs.Riley?”

She ripped her hand away so fast she nearly dislocated her shoulder.

Ghost just stuffed his hands in his pockets like nothing happened.

The Hug Incident

She made it ten steps toward her barracks before Gaz intercepted her.

With a hug.

A bear hug.

A lift-her-slightly-off-the-ground, inescapable, spine-cracking hug.

“Gaz,” she growled, trapped against his chest. “Let me go.”

“Not until you accept your new reality, Mrs. Garrick.”

“I SWEAR TO GOD.”

She struggled. She flailed.

She even tried to kick him.

Gaz did not budge.

By the time he finally let go, she was ready to throw hands.

Gaz just winked. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

She nearly threw a knife at him.

The Final Straw

She was done.

She slumped onto the couch in the rec room, exhausted. If I ignore them, they’ll stop, she told herself.

Then Soap walked in.

Grinning. Dangerously.

He grabbed her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles with dramatic, lingering slowness.

“Good evening, Mrs. MacTavish. I found your ring on the grass.” He put the ring back on her finger.

Naja’s soul left her body.

Her face erupted in flames.

Soap winked.

Gaz cackled.

Ghost leaned over and patted her head. “You’re handling this well.”

Price? That traitor?

Just sipped his tea.

Naja groaned into her hands.

[modelbus]

Teacherbur :,)

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur soot x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 15 - Nine To Five

“Knock knock.” Every head in your classroom—including yours—swivels to the door. Wilbur leans against your doorframe, sporting a grin and offering a wave to your students.

“Everyone say hello to Mr. Soot.” You tell the kids, and they all chorus it together.

"Hello Mr. Soot." You manage to catch a few grinning at each other, nudging and pointing. You and Wilbur were the topic of quite a bit of gossip between the students.

“Hey kids. Just stopping in to ask your lovely teacher a question.” He winks.

You sigh, standing up from your desk. “I’ll be right back. Don’t get into trouble, I’ll know.”

Wilbur guides you outside of your classroom, smiling. “Just wanted to confirm that I’m still good to use your classroom for guitar club after school?”

“Of course.” You nod. “I have essays to grade, too, so I’ll be there to make sure you don’t destroy it somehow.”

“When have I ever destroyed your room?”

In response, you simply raise an eyebrow. Last Halloween you were decorating your room and he had offered to help hang things for you, only to bring half the ceiling down on your heads. And you can’t forget the time he taught his music kids to make paper flutes, which promptly ended up all over your floor.

“If you need some help with your kids, this is my conference hour.” He offers. Unfortunately for you, today has been the only day your students are actually half-decent. Not that he needs to know that.

“I’m not putting Just Dance on.” You warn him.

“That’s alright. I’ll teach them the Cup Song instead.”

“Wil-“ he vanishes inside your classroom, leaving you to chase after him before he can wreck havoc.

Every student loved him—and you went home with him—but good Lord was he a handful.

-

You rub your temples, trying to focus on the words on the paper in front of you. Either you had just misread the same sentence for the fourth time, or it really was this bad.

The clattering of guitar strings wasn’t exactly helping you focus. You were fairly certain there was even the distinct sound of out-of-time ukele chords, although this was Wilbur’s guitar club.

When you had decided to let his guitar club use your room for today, you hadn’t realized they’d be so… bad. Maybe you were spoiled, being able to hear Wilbur play daily, or maybe you were just an idiot.

Warm hands land on your shoulders, fingers massaging into the muscle.

“I probably should’ve mentioned they’re not the best, hm?” Wilbur hums quietly.

“Not the best is putting it lightly.”

“They’re learning.” He insists. “We’re over in ten minutes, though. I’ll help you grade any remaining essays. I swear.”

“It’s fine.” You raise your head to look up at him. “I got myself in this one.”

“I’ll still make it up to you.”

“Mr. Soot?” A young girl asks, approaching your desk. Her eyes flicker between Wilbur and you. “Are you two… dating? Do you like like each other?”

Wilbur laughs, and you grin.

“No, Tally, we’re not dating.” He sighs. “We’re married.”

She shrieks, turning around to face three other girls who all have too-big guitars on their laps. “They’re married!”

“Oh, God.” You laugh. “Wil, you just opened a can of worms.”

“They’ll forget it by tomorrow. Hopefully.”

[nyamadermont]

Tell Me the Whole Story

See notes, below

@flashfictionfridayofficial - Happy 300 prompts!

and @chaos-company - Day 11: If Things Were Different

“We are not alone,” Pema noted as she worked on the tension in Lin’s left foot. Beside her, Tenzin looked up from his attention on the other foot when Rohan stepped over to the low table at the end of the bench where his original parents sat. The youngster stepped behind his father, and draped his arms around Tenzin’s shoulders, leaning against his back.

Lin looked up to see his face scrunched in thought, observing how the three of them were arranged: Lin flat on her back in the grass, with her feet in the laps of the other two, each of them holding one of her feet. 

He shrugged, turned around, and sat on the ground at his mother’s knees, beside Lin. 

***

It looked like Lin was barely breathing. Her eyes had that look of someone who was remembering something terrible. He was so focused on her face, he almost missed it when she started talking again.

“We had barely gotten away from the Island, and Oogi was flying as fast as he could. Without an airbender or water bender, we couldn’t make the clouds cover us. When the net came at us, I knew I had to delay the airships. But I wasn’t sure he would let me go.”

He stared at her, trying to picture the scene in his mind. His father guiding Oogi, him in his mother’s arms. Lin, who still hated his mother, sitting in the saddle having promised to protect them all.

“Lin,” his father choked out. “Don’t. Please.”

Rohan twisted around to look up at his dad and saw the tears streaming into his beard.

***

Rohan adjusted his posture, still draped across his father’s shoulders like he remembered doing as a very small child. His mothers held his dad’s hands, and he pulled them into his chest, bringing everyone closer. The shoulders in his embrace shook, and he almost couldn’t hear what his father said next.

“I was frantic. Korra was missing. We were separated from you and your mother, I had no idea where Lin was, and the girls and Meelo were so helpless. I honestly thought that Amon would destroy the Temple. Burn it down.”

They covered him with their arms, holding each other around him as he sobbed.

***

His mother pulled his arm around herself until he came around to face them. He knelt in front of her, and she caressed his cheek.

“It was the first night on the ship that I knew you would be a waterbender.”

It was uncomfortable, the way she looked almost sad. Aunt Kya had explained once that his mother had hoped to have at least one non-bender child, but that she would never say that herself. She never wanted her little baby to feel unwanted.

“How did you figure it out, Amma?” he asked.

She let out a puff of amusement. “You shouldn’t have been able to see so far, but I watched you follow the rise and fall of the waves. When I got cold and tried to go inside, you started fussing until I turned around so you could see the ocean again.”

***

“She was so cold the whole time. I tried to stay beside her as much as I could, but by the time we got to Gran-gran’s clinic, she started growling at me each time I got too close,” his dad said with a side-long glance at Lin. 

She shoved him with her shoulder, but he just wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her against his chest. She scrunched up her face and crossed her arms tightly, projecting an air of offended dignity. But when Rohan reached up to rub her knee, his father leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of her head.

Lin sighed and relaxed against him, uncrossing her arms so she could reach across his dad to take his mother’s hand. She took a deep breath and pulled away enough to be able to look at his dad.

“When Tenzin brought Mako back after letting Korra go, he hugged me. Right there in front of everyone.”

They looked deeply at each other. She raised her hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone.

“He promised to bring me back in the spring, to take me out into the tundra, where the flowers grow. So that I would have happy memories again.”

She pressed up to give him a kiss.

“And that’s why we go back each year.” She pulled his mother’s hand up, and kissed it.

***

In the west, the sun’s light began to tinge to gold as it emerged from a darkened sky on its descent to the watery horizon.

His mother stood and walked around them to come up on Lin’s other side, her arm joining his father’s across Lin’s back.

Lin reached down to take Rohan’s hands again. When he looked up, she had another faraway look in her eyes. She rubbed the back of his hands with her thumbs, her strong fingers soothing him.

“When I looked up to see her in the Avatar State, it was like I could see Aang there, too,” she whispered. She leaned back into his parents and looked up to the sky.

“Little did we know that all of her invisible guests would be gone within months.”

***

This time, Lin’s gaze focused on his mother.

“It was your letter that made me wonder what it could be like if things were different. If you were reaching out to me like that, maybe I could learn how to reach back.”

He smiled when he saw his mom reach across his dad to wipe away a tear from Mommalin’s cheek. The three of them curled in together, and Rohan knew that they were letting him see something special. 

With a tug, his dad pulled him up to his feet, and the three of them stood, too, pulling their precious child in close.

“Rohan, thank you for letting us tell you the whole story. You deserve to know what we went through, why there are nights we still have nightmares.” His dad cupped his neck, and bent their foreheads together.

“But as awful as that day was, we have you. And you are worth everything.”

So, about this clip show from a story that doesn't exist yet...

FFF137, Billowing Smoke was a story I liked so much it turned into a fic of its own (now titled Give Us Your Hand). And that was so much fun, I wrote another to go with it. And then someone gave me a nasty comment, so that had to be dealt with appropriately. With more stories. Not long after, Angstpril 2022 came around, and suddenly, I chained 30 stories to take this family from antipathy to love. And FFF keeps handing out prompts that run from funny, to touching, to heart-breaking. And now, I get to combine the two events in one outline.

Once I've conquered a few other projects, I look to expand this into the complete story it needs to be.

Thanks to all of the admins in both events!

[manynarrators]

Thought of the day: Armand has spent more time in France than Lestat by several orders of magnitude. Lestat is born and raised there, but leaves when he’s around 20. While he does come back, as evidenced in moments like the trial, he spends a long time away. Meanwhile Armand was the leader of the Parisian coven for like… 250-300 years, and then the Theatre for another 150. Armand’s spent most of his life in Paris.

I just feel like the amount of time he’s spent there is something I never properly considered, especially when compared to the Frenchman.

How does he feel about watching the city itself changing around him? About the fact that Les Innocents no longer exists? French was fourth and poorest of his languages once, I’m sure it isn’t anymore (speaking of, French, Italian, anyone want to weigh in on what languages three and four are?)

When does the Theatre become an institution on the Boulevard du Temple? Does it as the neighbourhood changes in its entirety? Are there old bones of his former coven members preserved in the Louvre alongside the paintings with him in them?

Is there relief or grief when Les Innocents is destroyed? How about when the theatre goes up in flames? Does he read the news articles talking about its destruction?

Like we all know there’s Venice shaped traumas and rose tinted lenses some days, but tell me more about Armand in Paris. Can he really live somewhere for the 4/5th of his life give it take and then walk away with barely a backward glance.

If he ever returns, what is that like for him?

[yumiko-shigaraki]

Prayers To A Forgotten God [Ch.1]

Touya Todoroki/Goddess!Yumiko Shigaraki (though I will be posting a Touya/Reader version!)

No warnings as of now

—

Thousands of years ago, it was said that deities walked the Earth. The first and oldest; Kurogiri, the God of wisdom, formed from a violet cloud hanging over the center of the desert. He had formed long before man, though not long after him, formed Bubaigawara and Shuichi. Bubaigawara, God of night and day, formed in the core of Earth itself, and emerged from a crack in the sea. Shuichi, the God of nature, came from the grassy plains, and watched over animals and plants alike.

As the stories go, Shuichi formed during a time when the Earth could hardly sustain itself, and had to assist it in becoming stable. Then, once the planet was where it needed to be to sustain complex life, man formed. With man, three more deities came. Akaguro, God of bloodlust, and the keeper of souls was the first of the three. None of the stories specify how he came about, however. Then, there was Atsuhiro, the God of luck and stealth, formed from a patch of four leaf clovers. Finally, Magne, Goddess of beauty, formed from pearls and veins of gold beneath the sea.

Long after, there was Tomura, the God of destruction, and Yumiko, Goddess of love and fertility. They were siblings born of the sun and moon.

Tomura came from a spot in the sun, and he was Hellbent on destroying man and their creations on Earth. None of the stories agree on who created him or how exactly he formed, but they all agree he ruled the land for a full six decades before Yumiko emerged from the moon. By then, Tomura had nearly wiped out all of mankind; it had taken five hundred years of battle between the siblings and minor deities to subdue Tomura, and another four centuries for Yumiko to help her followers rebuild humanity. Though even then, Tomura ‘blessed’ mankind with powers, each one unique to the specific individual in hopes that mankind would eventually wipe themselves out.

During this time, Yumiko created the Goddess Himiko from her own blood and hair. Himiko was the Goddess of attraction and marriage, and helped Yumiko restore humanity.

The nine main deities are collectively referred to as the League. In the modern age, worship of the League has died down, only having a few hundred people across the globe who still worship them. Yet, their temples still stand tall and proud. The last worshippers say that the reason the temples haven’t fallen to ruins is due to the Gods themselves inhabiting them. There is only one original temple that was built in what’s now modern Japan, and that’s where the young man stood at the bottom of the steps.

Touya isn’t sure if the stories are true of course, but as he stands outside of one of them, he doesn’t think it matters much. His thumbs brush over the raised letters on the cover of the book he stole from a library in preparation for this. He looks down at the dark blue cover, A Beginner’s Guide to the Goddess of Fertility in gold letters across the front. He opens it, and flips around until he finds the pages covering what to bring for offerings. He has what he needs, a bunch of clitorias, wine (down to the specific type the book listed), and a bag of blueberries.

He takes a deep breath and steps forward onto the stairs into the temple. It’s made of some sort of black stone, shiny and cracked in places. Nature has taken over in several spots, but it’s still in considerably good shape. He slowly walks up the steps and enters the temple, old bookshelves lining the walls and collecting dust.

There are gold artifacts scattered around, and a few animals sleeping in pairs. Mostly small mammals such as bunnies and varying rodents, though he does notice a few blue and purple lizards here and there. He looks down at the book, struggling to find the page where he had inserted a stray piece of paper containing a map of the temple.

As he walks with his face buried in the book, he stumbles over a vine, falling flat on his belly. The clumsy act sends the book flying out of his hands and skittering across the stone floor, the stray paper finally revealing itself and slowly floating to the ground.

The torches in the room suddenly lit themselves, bright blue flames engulfing the ends of them and giving the room a baby blue hue. Though the flames are the same color as his own, Touya is sure he didn’t light them. He has more grip on his quirk than he used to, and he would have felt his body heat up with his quirk if he had used it, even in a panic.

He shakily stands up, looking across the room before his eyes land on one torch in particular, the flame dancing in an abnormal way. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that it almost looks like two people dancing like they do at weddings. Two lovers made of pure heat and fire embracing each other adoringly and paying him no mind. He keeps his eyes on them, soon walking over to the torch and momentarily forgetting about his book or map.

He approaches the torch, and raises his hand to try to correct the flame, but once his hand comes within only a few inches of the fire, he notices it’s ice cold— enough to send a shiver down his spine and cause him to yank his hand away in confusion. The fiery couple turn their heads to him, completely faceless, though even without the expressions he feels as if he had interrupted something sacred as the flame was suddenly snuffed out.

It then relights itself, still ice cold, but this time the flame dances normally. No couple. No embrace. Just the lonely flicker of a normal flame.

He steps back, and turns his head to the other torches, all of which were still lit. He releases a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and walks over to grab his book and map. He picks up the piece of paper, and furrows his brows. The paper is cold to the touch, and there is no longer a map on either side of it, simply a few words that shoot another shiver straight down his spine.

I do not get many visitors anymore. Are your intentions pure? Do you seek advice? Or have you come to steal? Come child, tell me what your business is in my temple.

The words were burned into the paper, though the edges, which normally would have been black and easy to crumble even by mistake, were frosty. As if somebody had written the words with the coldest ink one could conjure.

Touya’s heart races in his chest, and any other normal person would have left screaming, but he felt a sense of calm as he read the words over and over again. Until another sentence showed up below the last.

I will not ask twice.

Then, the paper went back to its original state. Almost. The map he had seen before was now changed. Now the map had more rooms and passageways marked on it, each one labelled, and some with a little comment about how some people were so foolish as to not write down an accurate map of her temple.

Touya’s hands shake as he places the paper over the cover of the book, and he slowly follows the map into a long corridor and down a flight of stairs, certain rooms and paths being marked with a small heart.

After what felt like an hour, Touya finds himself in a large room, more bookshelves, animals in pairs, and artifacts lying about. The only difference between this room and the rest of the temple? This room was much more orderly. Not a single crack or vine in sight, almost as if it had been built and decorated just earlier that evening. In the center was a circular pool of water, said to have been where Yumiko would bless those struggling with fertility or love.

There are varying fish swimming around in the crystal clear waters, and in the center he sees a much larger version of the flowers he had brought as an offering. He stares at it for a long time before looking in the book, soon finding a pedestal near the pool of water, where the book instructed him to set his offerings and say a prayer.

He sets all three items on the pedestal, first the berries, then the flowers, and finally the wine.

He reads the prayer over and over again before he sets the book down and sits on his knees, clasping his hands together and looking out towards the giant clitoria floating in the water.

“Oh, loving Yumiko, hear my prayer and heal my body and soul, for I seek aid in my journey. I call for your help, great goddess, as I am looking for a path I cannot find. Hear my prayer, and present yourself to me, for I need to speak with you.” His voice is loud and confident, even if his legs and hands are trembling, hoping he hadn’t gotten the prayer wrong despite double checking the book every so often.

Then, the temple began to shake, causing him to brace himself on the ground and press his palms into the cold stone beneath him. The water in the pool splashed around, and the animals began making a lot of noise, though it didn’t sound like they were panicking, rather just helping call out to the almost forgotten goddess.

He closes his eyes tightly, and the next time he opens them, a loud scream erupts from his throat before he can stop it. There, laying on her belly in the center of the clitoria, was the goddess he sought. Her hair is long and black but somehow flowing as if there was wind deep in the temple.

“What do you seek, child?”

[myremnantarmy]

𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥

Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome

Jn 2:13-22

Since the Passover of the Jews was near,

Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves,

as well as the money-changers seated there.

He made a whip out of cords

and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen,

and spilled the coins of the money-changers

and overturned their tables,

and to those who sold doves he said,

"Take these out of here,

and stop making my Father's house a marketplace."

His disciples recalled the words of Scripture,

Zeal for your house will consume me.

At this the Jews answered and said to him,

"What sign can you show us for doing this?"

Jesus answered and said to them,

"Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up."

The Jews said,

"This temple has been under construction for forty-six years,

and you will raise it up in three days?"

But he was speaking about the temple of his Body.

Therefore, when he was raised from the dead,

his disciples remembered that he had said this,

and they came to believe the Scripture

and the word Jesus had spoken.