#which is traumatizing and painful in its own way

[trans-cuchulainn]

having complicated feelings about how my current read approaches disability and it's very tied up in my own feelings as someone with chronic pain who would take a cure in a heartbeat but also doesn't see my recent wheelchair acquisition as a tragedy

i am neither in camp "disability is purely social and I'm proud to be disabled" nor in camp "disability is purely medical and is a tragedy to be cured" because let's be real. "disability" is too many things to put neatly in a box like that. the fact is that an accessible world wouldn't make being in pain all the time fun, even if it might make it easier to cope with that. we should make the world better and continue working on medical research that might make my fucking body actually work one day

so now we're on the same page you can see why i have complicated feelings about a story in which a former dancer sees an outcome that might leave them unable to walk and therefore "in a wheelchair" (a turn of phrase not quite as grating as "wheelchair-bound" but with a similar lack of agency) as the worst possible scenario. because i was a dancer and not dancing is pretty fucking tragic for me actually and knowing I was losing dance made the whole experience of injury-turning-into-disability much worse. and also the chair is not the problem, stop making the chair the problem, it's not a symptom, it's not a condition in and of itself, it's a tool ahhhh——

like. becoming disabled has been pretty fucking traumatic for me over the last eleven years actually! i get it! and also at the same time there's something uniquely unpleasant about your life – your actual human existence, your everyday reality – being somebody else's worst case scenario, essentially torture, possibly worse than death kind of situation

especially when the bit they focus on is the bit that signifies you accepting your body's limitations and finding a way to do stuff another way, and not the part where you wake up with your hip literally not in its socket, or whatever. my wheels are a pain in the arse sometimes but they are the improvise/adapt/overcome part of this situation (not in an inspo porn kind of way). they are not the symptom or the condition to be feared

#néide has opinions about books #painblogging

[starleska]

i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why

many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.

let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:

‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?

let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?

of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.

but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?

it’s money.

when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic. 

let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning. 

it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.

still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:

a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)

a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)

poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)

a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)

remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it? 

hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity. 

now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage. 

the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.

in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise: 

The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories. 

Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him! 

Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.

there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?

it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous. 

it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by. 

and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!

thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰

#big jack horner #jack horner #puss in boots: the last wish #puss in boots #shrek #disney #puss in boots: the last wish spoilers #starleskatalks

[jaspvids]

The Diagnosis Of David

Disclaimer: I am by no means a mental health professional. This is just a meta-analysis.

What do we think of when we think of David?

His values of kindness. Optimism. Hope. Conviction. Passion. His drive to do his best every single day. The way he always makes an effort to reach out to others.

But also:

Attachment issues. People pleaser. Rose-colored glasses wearer. And at times, though the fandom doesn’t want to acknowledge it — Selfish. Unstable. Rude. Hypocritical. Kind of a dick.

See this video I made;

He’s complex, so let’s try to unpack him, and figure out what he’s got going on under that floof.

On David’s Childhood

David has been through a number of traumatic events in his childhood, most notably:

Witnessing Jasper fall to his near-death.

Finding Jasper, and being almost mauled by bears during the escape.

Clown school was apparently very bad, given the flashback-like reaction he had when it was mentioned. I’m unsure of his age when this occurred, however.

The fight with Jasper at the cave before they parted ways.

Losing Jasper. He says Cameron told him he was picked up by his parents, but I’m not convinced it’s not just his mind trying to erase painful memories.

As far as what we don’t necessarily see in the show, but can infer, David’s father was either not present or not great. He dreamt Cameron was his real father, as seen below.

And we all know Cameron is an awful father figure to begin with.

Yet, that’s better to David, apparently, than whatever he had at home. Which implies it was likely a pretty bad situation.

This can also be backed up by his attachment to the camp — growing up (and even now) it seems to be more of a home to him than his actual home.

That’s a home that hasn’t ever been mentioned, by the way. Contrary to Gwen, we know absolutely nothing about his family. He hasn’t talked about them once, if I recall correctly.

David is often open with emotions, if not wearing his heart on his sleeve. So why would he never mention his family and home?

We know why.

Even as an adult, he has retained this attachment to Cameron (who has in turn, continued to use this attachment to his benefit). He gets very excited about helping Cameron change in “keep the change” — because he needs to believe people who hurt him can get better. Otherwise, it’s too painful to bear.

The Loss Of Jasper

Part of his childhood, but significant enough to warrant its own section.

Jasper and David had a very interesting relationship. We’ve seen in the past that David was pessimistic, foulmouthed, and hot-tempered, directly compared to an optimistic, peppy, popular Jasper.

But then Jasper saw Cameron’s real self, and David received a modicum of praise for what was likely the first time based on his reaction. And so, they basically did somewhat of a switcheroo.

(David takes on many traits of Jasper after this experience, showing that he does admire him at the end of the day. I believe these traits are the foundation of David’s many masks.)

Despite the whole shebang, further episodes show us that they form a strong bond (or maintain one, we don’t know what happened before the first Jasper and David episode.)

What makes this friendship especially crucial in David’s development is that I believe Jasper was the first person to truly stand up for David.

David is, as we have seen, easily manipulated. Jasper picks up on this, and knowing Cameron’s just trying to use his best friend, tries to take Cameron down.

Jasper essentially died trying to protect David.

If Jasper hadn’t died, I don’t think David would have ended up as gullible and dependent as he is. If he had the more rational and realistic Jasper by his side during the rest of his developmental years, I believe things would have ended up much, much differently.

With Jasper’s death, there seems to be nobody else at camp who knows of Cameron’s crimes, or possibly, doesn’t want to speak out about them. Nobody to stand up for him. Nobody to redirect him.

So there’s nobody to stop the unhealthy-attachment-train from picking up speed.

Cameron And David’s Relationship

Cameron is manipulative and abusive towards David. This even becomes physical:

Despite this, David continues to idolize him as is seen in many cases of abuse. He works his ass off maintaining Cameron’s camp. Cameron’s approval makes or breaks him, because this is the man he sees as a father, unfortunately.

In addition, David is unable to let go of the hope that Cameron can change, because he’s convinced himself that deep down Cameron is still “good”, based on his skewed perception of him. And we all know how that ended.

But as Diane from Bojack Horseman once said —

And that is David’s problem — he wants so much for there to be a “deep down”, that there will be a day where Cameron showers him with praise and throws signed adoption forms at him, etcetera.

He judges Cameron not on who he actually is, but who he wants him to be. And so, the unhealthy attachment remains.

(Which is, of course, incredibly destructive to his mental health.)

Other Things We Know About His Mental Health, From Canon

We know he takes meds.

We know he has (sometimes dissociative) panic attacks.

We know he has been seen to suddenly snap, even to the point of violence.

My Final Conclusion: C-PTSD

(As the trauma has been not just one event, but many over the course of his life, and among other reasons, I believe CPTSD fits better than PTSD.)

David meets much of the criteria, most notably:

Lack of emotional regulation

Dissociation

Flashbacks

Anxiety

Guilt and shame

Distorted perception of abuser

Relationship difficulties

Okay this was long I’m tired good night.

#camp camp #camp camp david #cc david

[chiyoso]

“THE MARA'S WILL”

someone as fragile as you shouldn't have to reign the bloodied fields of cloudford, along with raging war against two powerful factions—as well as an internal presence that invaded your mind that started all of this mayhem.

content warnings; oneshot · female reader · honkai impact 3rd inspired · takes place after xianzhou arc · canon universe · manupulation · mentions of depressive tendencies · declining mental health · war · death · traumatic events · mentions of blood · fighting · sensitive descriptions · dead dove: do not eat.

author notes; an open ending is an open ending. i appreciate all your of love for this oneshot, but i won't be making pt2. ty.

The Astral Express.

A widely known faction of celestial mysteriousness that traverses across the galaxy, they dedicate themselves to the ways of trailblaze and adventure, an enormous train conducted by a rumored fluffy creature that travels through vast worlds with its starry residers.

However, you didn't expect to meet the faction like this. The time that you yourself encountered the famous members of the Express— or rather, they bumped into you.

A memorable impression, leading their hearts and minds to waver in complete uneasiness, fear and curiousity.

It was one of those moments. Moments of tranquility, replaced almost immediately with unsightly chaos, and screeching horrors.

And they weren't coming from you.

2:49 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

NOW PLAYING ♪ TOT MUSICA

11 minutes until eruption.

ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ

ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ

“F- Fu-aahh.... Haah...” You groaned in pain. The sounds of alarms, crumbling and a voice of elegant dread echoed inside your mind, chanting unfamiliar, incomprehensible sounds that you were unable to understand nor fathom its sound waves.

Your flesh continued to crack as gold seeped out from the insides, bright lightning marks all around your form, accompanied with your heavy eyelids, struggling to keep your consciousness as you panted heavily. Your thoughts fogged viciously with memories of all kinds, your mind had felt like a mix between ice and fire. A flaming vortex along with an Icy storm that seethed inside, causing a severe throbbing that had you wailing in pain in heaps of volume consecutively as you grip your head.

“M- Mr. Yang!” A high pitched voice trembled, struggling on her feet while a grey haired female helped her up to stabilize her balance.

“Go. Call for reinforcements. I'll take it from here.” He says, gripping his cane while the other hand hoists his frames up to his nose bridge, returning his gaze towards the sight of you.

Reinforcements?

“H-hhgk—” You coughed up gold. Your face stained with your aureate tears, gasping for air as you clenched the area of your heart, which was beaming light, pulsating with the same color as the liquid that stained your whole being.

What was happening?

You screech, lower limbs suddenly at work, executing swift dodges that your untrained body couldn't handle physically, stretching and tearing your muscles.

Something was fighting for survival, and it wasn't you.

Your actions lowered the morale of determination from the Cloud Knights that had stationed on the sidelines, now replaced with a panic and fear from your ever so visibly increasing strength and agility, etching negative emotions into their wounded states that you have inflicted previously.

The man with the glasses, distance away from you clicked his tongue in frustration, he had summoned a multitude of black holes, raining hellish orbs of gravity towards you in such high speeds and velocity, but you... despite your poor state of self, you've managed to avoid them all.

But,

Even you weren't aware of your own skillful sequences.

ᛗᛁᛖ ᚾᛖᚷ ᛟᚾ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ

ᚾᚨᚺ ᛈᚺᚨᛋ ᛏᛖᛉᛉᛖ ᛚᚨᚺ

“P- Please... shut... get out of m—”

Feeble attempts of retribution, cease your resistance.

Play into submission, child of Lan.

You cocked your head to the skies, letting out gutteral sobs to the heavens, screaming and pleading your heart out while your own nails dug into your skin, your eyes weeped in gold, blurring your sense of sight.

Your thoughts were a sea of fragmented memories, bad ones, the negative ones that only fueled your transformation and the thread of your consciousness that you desperately were holding onto, was now being threatened harshly.

The man in glasses gripped his cane, firming his hold while witnessing your overwhelming presence and what was happening infront of him.

You were talking to yourself. You were visibly in pain, you were weeping, and the mara that was supposed to overcome you right now was... being barely resisted. Resisted. Resisted?

That's impossible.

You can't resist the Mara.

Beads of sweat formed trickled down along his jawline, his eyes diluded towards the sight that was all too familiar for him.

Someone- or something was talking to you, and he felt nothing but the sensation of dread swell inside him.

He didn't know what to do. Based on your own visible actions, it was clear—you didn't mean to do any harm, you were struggling more than anyone in this dire situation.

You brought your tainted hands that was darkening onto your face, trying to hold onto what's left of yourself, your consciousness.

“PLEASE! L- LEAVE M—” You choked out.

You were stumbling on your feet, drowning in pain as you sobbed your pleas of desperation.

His face scrunches, biting his bottom lip, frustrated over his hesitancy and lack of determination into going all out against you.

You reminded him of a state that reminded him of his past companions from another world, a state that only led to an upbringing of a powerful force, leading to the destruction of humanity and civilizations, a state that almost destroyed his homeworld.

But he had to remind himself repeatedly, you were just... Mara-strucked. A man-made work from the schemes of Sanctus Medicus, their work, befalling to an unfortunate character before him.

But... why the hell were you talking to yourself? Why were you pleading? Crying? How were you still able to talk? And most importantly, how were you still able to resist your supposed inevitable demise?

You peeked through your digits, your eyes pierce to the man with glasses, before lowering your hands to your sides in idle, continuing to pant heavily in place.

Your stance had your staggering legs slightly bent, your chin upwards—but your stained eyes remained on the figure infront of you.

His eyes diluded upon meeting your sorrowful gaze, his hand tightened around his cane further, seemingly ready to take on any action you will commence, but he wished you didn't engage, he wished for your attacks to cease. He didn't desire to harm you at all—You were in obvious pain, emotionally, physically and mentally, and only his veteran observations can see that.

“M- Miss—”

“Kill me.”

You said breathily with your burning throat, your voice had been accompanied with a second, mixing with your original tone with a now deeper, and sinister chord that showed the fruition of the transformation you were currently experiencing.

Your hands find their way to your throat as you coughed out more gold, along with the taste of iron that mixed with the aureate liquid that had turned into an morbid shade of color from your blood.

Your legs gave in, bringing you to your knees while you continued to choke on your own secretes, sobbing continuously from the sensations you were experiencing.

“BENEFACTOR! SHE HAS FALLEN!”

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

“END HER LIFE BEFOR—” “Gghk-... Nngh...”

“Reinforcements are on their way.”

“I- It hurts.... It HURTS!!!”

“Call for further units! At ONCE!”

“P- Please tell me I'll live...”

“BENEFACTOR ITS YOUR CHANCE!”

“M- Monster!” “M- MY ARMS!”

“KILL HER!” “HER STRENGTH IS ONLY-”

“KILL HER!” “KILL HER!”

“KILL HER!!!!”

“KILL HER!”

The man with glasses was overwhelmed with contradicting emotions, hindering his wavering will to use the opportunity of your vulnerability.

The cries and pleas of desperation from the several Cloud Knights that have fallen from your battle, ring through the bloodied field, along with your genuine—sorrowful filled sobs that only haunted and hesitated him much more.

His own thoughts were only mirroring the mess that you were in, having to be filled with deep memories of a life that was filled with death and torment, reminding him of his sins once again.

The child of the Hunt, hopelessly clings onto the wretched humanity, only to be shunned out and betrayed by your own race.

I feel their sea of desperation, their desires for your lesser existence to perish without a trace in the galaxy.

Give into the sensations of truth, let it embrace your poorly sculpted soul, for I will accept you without fail.

You were already on the floor arched, your hands had continued to hold your head, gripping your hair as you wallowed in your pool of tears, gold and blood that soaked your once beautiful skin.

“Sss-top... Stop... Please...”

You've already hurt your own kind.

“I- I... Hgk— Ahh-Haah...”

You've already inflicted enough despair and chaos to the point where these lowly humans cling onto their life in a feeble attempt of living.

“Th- That's not...”

Savor their pleas and screams of anguish as they call upon your death. You aren't wanted, you aren't needed.

“THAT'S NOT TRUE—”

The floor beneath your shaking body began to crack, the density and force around you had only drastically strengthen, creating a growing crater below you.

You are only inducing fear in your surroundings, and you are more than aware of what you're causing.

Hatred. Anguish. Despair. A need for violent measures. A selfish greed of clinging onto life from their grave wounds you placed upon them. This is all you.

All you.

Mindlessly in pain, your body unwillingly helps itself up despite your own injuries. You took a heavy step forward, only ceasing the noises that surrounded you as they witness your hauntingly beautiful yet bloodied form, but there was no attraction, they were now instilled with a new type of fear.

2:55 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

5 minutes until eruption.

You were a golden death. A victim.

A new dreadful existence that was unintentionally yet successfully created by Sanctus Medicus.

The golden liquid had already burned the rest of your outfit. Your body only continued to pour gold from the rifts on your skin, your heart—or your now crystalized core, pulsated with consecutive glows, as if your former heart, and the rest of your biology had changed, in which case, it did.

That's it... Embrace it... Your perfected, honed and better self.

Shut up.

The voice chuckles, continuing to fog and envelope your whole essence.

The unwavering, unbearable pain was now released, replaced with the sensations of your skin, healing slowly. The paleness in your face had become warm once again along with your body.

Your hair only grew longer, luscious and free, your eyes glimmered in high self esteem once more, while previous cracks all over your body had almost disappear as if nothing was there in the first place.

You will never admit it, but you felt more healthy, you felt beautiful, you felt confident, you felt...

New, refreshed and reborn, and you grasped control of yourself once again.

Your newfound vigor and vitality only brought unease and curiousity to the Cloud Knights who loathed your existence being a supposed child of Yaoshi the Abundance now.

The man with glasses couldn't help but be reminded of his weakness from your newfound growth, he had hesitated until now, witnessing your upbringing and his own actions had left a sour feeling on his drying throat, unease had surrounded the man, in fear of what will commence. He doesn't know how much longer he can fight, accompanied with the knowledge of his two fatigued Astral companions seeking out help of any kind, but another question lingered in his thoughts;

What were you?

You weren't a mindless Mara-strucked individual that they've previously continuously dealt with, nor you had the appearance of golden leaves that battered and grew out of you. You were just a woman, at what he assumes to be your very prime, the high peak of your health, appearance, physicality and mental state, and your curiousity and confusion about your own state confirmed his assumptions.

“I-...” Your senses interrupt you as your instincts come into fruition, tilting your head to the right, only to reveal a Cloud-Piercing spear infront of your vision that had thrusted forward from behind. The light, horizontal slit from your left cheek which the Cloud Knight slightly grazed, begun to heal almost quickly, as well as suddenly realizing your hand was already around the unfortunate Cloud Knight's neck, lifting them up in a chokehold as their air supply begins to be cut off.

With widened eyes, you immediately loosened your grasp upon becoming aware of your actions, retorting your hand while guilt pumped into you.

“It- It was... It was instinct I-” Your voice cracked, bringing both of your hands to cover your mouth as your once blurred vision finally had a good look to your surroundings, grasping the situation and your hellish surroundings at bay.

Remember the sight.

Your mind throbbed once again, yet your nerves find ways to soothe the pain, but... even then, it will never be able to heal your aching heart and the damage you inflicted against the soldiers of the Xianzhou Alliance.

Instincts went into play once more, feeling a sudden familiar, pulling force behind moving towards you in a faster, denser velocity, only for you to barely dodge a faster orb of gravity that you had previously, went up against.

“W- Wait! I-” You turn your face quickly towards the man whom attacked you just now, only to be met with a bright, icy blade that moved quickly towards you, but both of your hands had already instinctively raise to your face, piercing both of your palms instead, grasping in the side of the bloodied tip of the cold sword that pierced you.

“FUCK!!! NNGH—!” You whimpered in pain, feeling the sensations of burning that sourced within your palms, along with the skin and nerves that was already healing, your own rejuvenating flesh, pushing out the icy sword as a 'CLANG' follows suit.

“Hmph. You're lucky I didn't throw it with too much force, otherwise you wouldn't be able to survive that!” A voice of a young boy graced the battlefield, turning the red sea into a cold, thundering storm of snow and ice, putting the injured Cloud Knights at ease and discomfort from the coldness that surrounded the environent.

“L-Lieutenant Yanqing!” A Cloud Knight gasped at his arrival, alerting the rest with jarred cheers erupting, while your gaze dilutes back and forth to the man with glasses—and a child who happens to be a lieutenant that had arrived.

“P- Please- I-”

“Save it servant of the Abundance!”

A continuing, cold breeze of snow enveloped the young boy, his aqua colored swords flying towards you once more.

Now equipped with newfound, engraved instincts that you have begun to get use to, your body- that had not tasted the ways of war and battle, danced its way around elegantly and flexibly from the skillful wrath of ice that relentlessly continued to attack you.

Despite your consciousness and having a sense of control once again, you felt another sensation, one that felt like another presence, another soul, tangled with yours, tugging at your essence, and it was most definitely the reason as to why you were moving in such a way, that continued to inflict fear and uneasiness to the Cloud Knights, and the man with the glasses whom continued to witness your dance of agility and grace against the right hand of the Arbiter General.

...

...

Why me...?

Imperfect.

There are many others.

...

The embodiment of failure and success.

Wh- What does that even mea—

A host of purity and defections all in one. All suited for me.

A canvas of the purest, warmest of soul, painted with absolute grief, sadness, regret, pain — yet harboring no anger, rage, hatred. A non-existent need for revenge.

Something a certain diciple of mine lacked, thus her inevitable defeat from the subjects of Akivili.

And you are mine to break and reconstruct. I can finally fathom why the Hunt had their arrows set on you.

The words gnawed your logical, racing thoughts, leaving you in a moment of disarray, visibly seen from your relentless opponent.

The Hunt... The... Reignbow Arbiter? But—

“Hhgk—!”

Tch. So flawed.

You felt another burning sensation to the left side of your waist, looking towards a deep cut that split your flesh into two from the icy blades that hailed like the rain against you, yet once again, it had begun to heal slowly, as sounds of your flesh and cells crickled, halting the young boy in his trained steps for a moment.

“What... What are y—” The young boy gets cut off.

Your gaze suddenly returns to the boy, with your left iris flickering into a golden color, replacing your original shade.

“Your demise.” The voice took over your vocals for a moment.

“N- No! you will NOT HARM ANYONE FURTHER!” You grit your teeth, holding your curled fists into each other, retraining yourself and letting the voice solely focus on avoiding further attacks.

How unpleasant.

Why do you continue to resist, child of Lan?

The sight of you... talking to yourself? No... Your voice had continued to change back and forth, only confusing him further.

Something was amiss, but the young boy and his youth couldn't fanthom the uniqueness of the situation before him, he had only one thing in his determined mind, the solution of exterminating a being that threatened the peace for the Xianzhou Luofu; You.

The boy took his stance, his flying swords once again stationed behind him, but a sudden deep voice emerges from behind him, only startling the whole battlefield in his appearance.

“Yanqing. Well done in keeping the adversary at bay.”

A commanding presence immediately intensified the trickling air of tension, only leaving sounds of sharp breaths and your continuous argument with yourself.

Hush.

Huh?

You fall into silence to its bidding, only to look around to the young boy, who was now accompanied with the famous Arbiter General, holding a glaive that had a threatening presence, along with the General himself.

“I apologies for my tardiness Mr. Yang. I had matters to tend to.” The strong presence spoke, his eyes hovering upon your naked, yet coated state, assessing the situation with an unknown gleam in his eyes.

“Where of Stelle and March?” The man with glasses walked beside him, mirroring his gaze upon the beautiful woman before their sights.

“I sent message to the High Elder Vidyadhra medic to tend to their wounds, not to worry, they will be back.” He said faced to him with a knowing smile, only causing goosebumps to your skin, he was taking in this stage you set lightly, only irritating the voice in your head slightly.

“Now... What of the contexts of this fascinating situation?” The Arbiter General's penetrating gaze returns to you, eyeing your undeniable attracting form. You were oblivious, but the voice wasn't.

Leave the premises, now.

Wha? W- Who are you to tell me what t—

The throbbing had begun once again. Their conversations sealed upon noticing your actions as your hands gripped tightly around your head, whimpering in place.

“S- Stop...”

No. If you perish, I-

...

Leave, woman.

“Is she...?” The Arbiter General looks towards the man with the glasses, his eyebrow raised slightly in speculation.

“She's... She had been at this state for more than a few minutes since earlier...” He frowned, gripping his cane, being reminded of fragments from his life that whispered evily to him.

“Who cares? Let's extinguish her presence already General!” Impatient, the young boy firmed his grasp around the hilt of his sword of ice, pointing the tip of the sharpness towards you, his sky filled eyes sending daggers to your direction with determination.

“Patience little lieutenant. One does not rush in unknown, trifling matters.” The General warns with a faint smile that doesn't reach to his eyes, and without a choice from the tone of command, the young boy's will wavers with a sigh, lowering his blade in defeat.

“P- Please, end me...”

Your words grasped the attention of the trio, while your tears began to flow, taking note of your willingness to submit in defeat.

“See?! Even—” The young boy gets cut off once more, earning a serious glare from the General that hushed him almost immediately.

“Please I-... I'm sorry for causing harm...” You continued to sob quietly, gritting your teeth while your head continued to throb mercilessly with ruthless, familiar pain.

I said leave now, and I'll cease the pain.

The Arbiter General takes a step forward, his left hand holding the body of his glaive, no words left needed to describe that despite his aloof hold around his weapon, he was more than ready for any attempt of violent assault.

NOW.

Mirroring the gesture of his, you took a step back abiding the voice's word, your glistening, heterochromic eyes lock with the readied General, only fascinating him further from your saddened, alluring gaze. Noticing your hesitancy for closeness.

“...My lady, if you escape this very moment, I will make sure that every inch of the Xianzhou Luofu will be well guarded, awaiting your presence in every corner you find yourself in to hide away from our— from my grasp.”

A silence from him ensued for a few long moments, following a faint warning smile from earlier, his gaze unwavering towards you while you weeped, assuming you aren't able to grasp his own chords.

“I- I do not... wish to harm anyo—”

“You're right my lady, I won't allow it.” He came closer, moving towards you with delicacy in his footsteps.

“ ... ”

...

...Stubborn child.

“Don't go, my lady.”

“It- It hurts... My head... General I-”

“Our High Elder Vidyadhra apothecary will assist you.” The General says firmly with undertones of softness, taking another step forward, but you remained still, weeping in silence from the continuous throbbing and regeneration of the nerves that seethed you repeatedly.

He manipulates.

S- Stop the—hhnghk... Please...

His experienced words, eons worth of vocabulary, coming into fruition, laying the power of syllables onto you. Do not—

I DON'T- I CANNOT CARE FROM THE UNBEARABLE PAIN YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE ME SUFFER IN!

A befitting punishment for your unwilling soul.

“I- I didn't mean to... General I- Hnnhk—...” Your form staggers, suffering from the internal turmoil that resumed, collapsing in place—but before you hit the floor, the sensation of warmth arrived behind your lower back and waist.

You found your crystalized golden core, your bare, coated chest pressed up against a man with command, towering and holding your suddenly weakened state that matched a situation one again in prior events.

“Jing Yuan.” He said, lowering his own golden to you, his expression, hidden with enthrall from your weakened state.

You hear the voice click its tongue.

“I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so—”

“Hush my lady,” He said in his low, husk voice, holding your weakened body, his hand firming against the soft, coated and warming flesh of your waist, stirring a once familiar sensation that rooted in his stomach.

“General Jing Yuan—” The young boy averted his gaze with a slight flush in his cheeks. Jing Yuan had not heard him, lest deciding to tend to the injured Cloud Knights instead, grumbling under his breath.

The man with glasses came closer to the two of you, his gaze feigning ignorance on the display.

“Miss... What—” He gets cut off, both men alarmed from your sudden intense grip around his biceps, your golden, crystalized core beaming, pulsating rapidly along with your quickened breath.

A golden ray of light erupted from you surrounding you vertically in a circle, sending the light up towards the sky endlessly, alerting everyone who bore witness to the intense display.

So be it.

A powerful, echoing screech escaped your mouth, tilting your head up to the direction of the clouds that welcomed your gaze as rubbles of cement from the previous struggles of the battle began to levitate the surroundings.

”ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ”

I claim your soul, little child of the Hunt.

You will be my host, my pure, imperfection of despair.

Only I shall intertwine with you, body, mind and soul eternally.

And this mortal, blessed with the lightning guardian spirit, shall be your first prey.

3:00 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

The eruption commences.

how ironic, this fic being my first successful hsr fic ended up being the reason why i got my ppl pleasing tendencies back pfft. anyways, reblogs help my audience reach, thank you!

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai impact 3rd #hi3rd #hi3 x reader #welt yang #welt yang x reader #welt yang x you #welt #welt x reader #welt x you #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #female reader #anime x reader #anime x you #dead dove do not eat #▶PLAY: chiyosohubpremium.com

[peeweekey]

Sebastian likes frogs. Emphasis on the word likes.

He appreciates them, they do good for the environment. They eat up all the nasty flies that buzz around the mountain lake, too. He doesn’t have to worry about mosquitos snaking on his blood while he smokes. It’s just a plus that he finds them cool and interesting.

Which most people find weird. Sebastian thinks it’s weird that they find it weird. Frogs aren’t going out of their way to bother people.

Yes, he likes them. They’re his favorite animal, certainly.

But favorite is not enough for him to want to smooch a frog.

“Sam, I’m not gonna fucking kiss a frog.”

“C’mon! It’ll be like the movie!” Sam teases, insistently shoving Sebastian to the frog innocently sitting on a park bench. “Who knows, maybe it’ll be your very own froggy princess—”

“Didn’t the girl turn into a frog when she kissed it,” he shoots back, elbowing Sam backwards in the gut. The blond lets out an overdramatic hiss of pain, bent over and clutching his stomach. “Abby, back me up here.”

“I never watched that stuff,” Abigail shrugs, watching with amusement. She makes no move to help at all, comfortably resting against the wide wooden posts of a fence. “Watched a lotta cartoons though. Phineas and Ferb is my jam.”

“Not about the movie,” Sebastian grits exasperatedly. His brows knitting together in frustration “The frog.”

“Mhm, go on,” a cheshire-like grin on her face. “Kiss it, Seb. A big smooch right on its slimy mouth.”

Sam eggs him on, the pain of being elbowed magically disappearing. “Do it! Do it!”

Sebastian presses his lips tightly together. There’s no use resisting once Abby and Sam band together. They’re a force to be reckoned with like this—demanding and overbearing. Sebastian exasperatedly wipes a hand over his face, shooting the poor frog a sorry look.

Sam pushes him one more time, he gives him a stony glare in return. “Fuck—alright! Stop being so damn loud, you’ll scare it away.”

The frog in question croaks slightly, like it senses the trio talking about it. He gives it a wary glance.

As he slowly approaches, Sebastian can hear Abby and Sam’s satisfied sniggering behind him. They roped him into doing another stupidly outrageous thing for the umpteenth time.

He sighs, he really needs better friends.

Mustering up all his courage, he bends down, almost eye level with the frog, resting a hand on the wooden grain bench on where it’s perched upon.

He screws his eyes shut and goes for it.

Sebastian’s lips connect with the frog’s slimy, almost rough skin. So fast and featherlight that it can barely be considered a kiss. Cold against his lips. He pulls back immediately after, wiping any residue off his lips with the back of his hand.

The frog jumps, croaking with,what he assumes is, alarm.

“See?” Abby laughs, ruffling his hair good-naturedly. “No princess in sight. You didn’t turn into a frog either!”

“Man,” Sam snickers, patting him roughly on the back. Sebastian groans with every smack. “It would’ve been cool though, if you turned into a frog. We’d have a frog drummer in our band!”

Sebastian shoves his unruly friends off. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s get going. The frog is probably traumatized.”

“You can check that off your bucket list,” Abby teases, a smirk playing on her lips. “Kiss a frog before I die. We’ll tell the story for generations.”

Sam howls with laughter, Sebastian feels absolutely mortified.

Before the trio could make any move out of the park, a cloud of green smoke curtains the frog, so thick and so unusual. Sebastian unconsciously backs away from it.

“What—woah,” Sam says, more mezmerised than shocked at the green smoke pouring out of the frog Sebastian kissed. “What is that?”

“The fuck if we know, Sam!”

“Boys, boys, shut the fuck up. Look.”

Abigail points at the fog. It grows and grows, stopping and dissipating once the whole bench is covered with the green mist.

The frog is gone—disappeared into thin air. Instead, a not-so-frog shaped person sits. You blink up at Sebastian slowly.

Woah, woah.

He feels his heart accelerating—for all the wrong reasons. An unusual thumping sound that vibrates all throughout his body—his fingertips, his stomach, his toes. Where there should be fear and panic and definitely fear, Sebastian feels exhilaration.

You’re pretty.

It’s also pretty horrifying for him to think—and feel.

You blink slowly—a frog-like trait that cement his suspicions. You’re staring up at him as he stares back down at you, curious meets bewildered. “…”

His eyes are wide, scanning each and every part of your now not frog-like features. Sebastian feels cold sweat dripping down his forehead—a stark temperature difference to the heat in his cheeks. “Oh—oh shit.”

“Uhm… ribbit?”

-

Another thing he blames on Sam and Abby—his horrifying attraction you; the person, not the frog.

He checks that off his metaphorical bucket list, too.

#i don’t know what came over me #sebastian x frog #CANON #HAR HAR #the magic of the valley is just limitless #stardew valley #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv abigail #sdv sam #sdv #sebastian stardew valley #sam stardew valley #abigail stardew valley #stardew writing #x reader #drabble #cw swearing #stardew valley writing #sdv ocs #sdv writing #sdv farmer #sdv oc #sdv 1.6 #frog #fanfic #sdv fanfic #fanfiction

[flowercrowngods]

yearning hours (b-side) — in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone (or: bravery, despite everything)

🤍 also on ao3

Steve comes to the quarry when he needs to think. He comes to the quarry when he needs to not think. When he needs to feel this rush of adrenaline that feels so much like monsters are real and the world has turned upside down. Except he isn’t going to die here, sitting on the cold ground, legs dangling over the abyss.

He’s not going to die, but life stops for a moment all the same. 

And Steve relearns how to breathe. How to think. How to not think. While the darkness below him swallows it all. The pale light of the moon is not enough to reach the ground hundreds of feet below, or to chase away the complete and total darkness that meets his eyes when he looks down there. 

It’s all-encompassing, this darkness, the vastness of it; Steve sometimes feels like he becomes part of it. Just for an hour or two. Just for the night. 

The cold air that hits his face makes him shiver for a second, and reminds him that he used to think the darkness at the bottom of the quarry had a life of its own. Hell, maybe it does. With what they’ve seen, what they’ve fought, who’s to say there’s nothing down there? Maybe that’s what draws him here so often. 

Does the living darkness know his secrets like the darkness in his room does? Does it listen to him, does it care? They’re stupid questions, Steve knows. But they carry a hopefulness he wants to preserve. Something that survived the Upside Down, that survives the nightmares and the flashbacks and the post-traumatic stress, as Hopper and Owens call it. 

There’s something primal about sitting on the edge of such vastness, so much so that it makes his heart beat faster, his breath come shallower, like he is just a second away from falling. Like he has to savour this; this second, this moment, this life, because beyond it, around it, below it, there is only darkness. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it all out until his lungs ache. The silence is absolute. He feels like the only person on the planet — but not in the bad, painful way that’s been hiding in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember. 

If he only breathes like this for a while longer, lets the feeling settle, lets the thoughts come and bring emotions with them, he knows that soon the tears will fall.

Tears, because he shouldn’t have to sit at the edge of the quarry in the dark of night just to be able to feel. Tears, because he forgot how to be a boy, how to be a person, about three years ago. Almost to the day. Tears, because they all did; but he’s Steve. He can’t let them see. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to. 

And tears, tonight, because just hours earlier, Eddie fell asleep while Steve made dinner. His arms were curled around the pillow Steve had leaned against all afternoon, and Steve just stood there in the doorway to Eddie’s room, the smell of fresh pasta mixing with that of leather, paperback books, tobacco and laundry detergent that is so purely and wonderfully Eddie that Steve just wants to catch it in a mason jar and open it whenever he needs a dose. 

Eddie had fallen asleep, and all Steve could do was look at him. Smile on his lips, ache in his heart that only grew in ferocity until all he could do was leave. Because friends don’t watch their friends sleep. Not like this. Not with their hands twitching by their sides, curled into fists to stop them from reaching out and trailing over soft, warm skin. Friends don’t… They don’t. 

So Steve left, pasta untouched. Heart unravelled. Words unspoken. 

He left and sped off until he reached the quarry, a safe place to piece himself back together again — but he doesn’t have the heart to leave out Eddie. So every time he comes here and puts the pieces of himself back together, he puts Eddie in the centre. He always does. It’s what keeps getting him in this mess. 

But it’s still the closest he’ll get to bravery after the Upside Down; admitting, if only to himself, that he likes a boy. Allowing himself to cry about it. To breathe in and breathe out and have the truth unchanged, unchallenged, undoubted.

He’s still breathing when the all-encompassing silence is interrupted, joined by the unmistakeable sound of tires on gravel. Seconds later, headlights illuminate the night, his arms, the edge of the quarry, but still not reaching beyond that. The car comes to a stop but Steve still doesn���t move, doesn’t turn around, just hopes that whoever it is will just leave him alone. 

Lights go out, the engine is killed, followed by the sound of a car door opening and being closed far too gently. 

Steve isn’t too surprised when steps approach him slowly, nor when they come to a stop beside him, chasing away some of the cold that’s been resting over him like a blanket.

Instinctively, he knows it’s Eddie. He just doesn’t know why. 

“How’d you know I’m here?” he asks into the void, still unmoving. 

“Just knew,” comes the reply, and it sounds so soft, so gentle, so understanding that Steve fears he might fall apart and have to rebuild himself once more. Twice in one night. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last. “Why’d you leave?” 

Because otherwise I’d have crossed the distance and fallen to my knees, brushed a kiss to your forehead and told you dinner was ready. Because otherwise I’d have slid down the doorframe and watched over you, watched you, and the firework of a person that you are even in your sleep. I’d have fallen in love and I’d have fallen, fallen, fallen. So I needed to go where falling is not an option. 

Instead of saying any of that, Steve only shrugs. “Just did.” 

It’s lame and unfair, he knows, but talking to the darkness is so much easier when there’s not an audience, and Eddie just… he can’t know. Any of that. 

“Can I join you?” Eddie asks then, and Steve can hear it in his voice that he would leave if Steve said no. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t; just nods and scoots to the side a bit even though there’s enough room for Eddie to sit just anywhere. 

But he doesn’t sit just anywhere, no. He sits down rather clumsily — for which Steve can’t blame him, it is a little scary in the dark, and one wrong move could be your very last — and ends up with his arm and shoulder pressed to Steve‘s, their legs so close he can feel Eddie‘s warmth through the denim.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s dangerous, so close to falling, and Steve scoots to the side, breaking contact. Breathing carefully.

Eddie‘s eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t react. It hurts, his entire body aches with how close he wants to be. But it’s too much, even for himself to bear. Putting all that on Eddie would be enough to take them both down to the bottom of the quarry, and lower still.

So he swallows. All the words he cannot say, all the thoughts that lump together and clog his throat.

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs again.

“Sure.”

“Right,” Eddie whispers, then sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh or a judgmental one, but it makes Steve flinch all the same.

Too much. Too fucking much even unknown.

Silence falls over them, the quarry working its magic — or its curse — even on Eddie Munson. Steve wonders if it suffocates or liberates him, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It would take too much explaining for the question to make sense, too much revealing himself, too much of… Just too much.

He wants to ask. To say something. To scoot back over again, closer to Eddie, and lay his head on his shoulder, bask in his warmth and withstand the magic, the curse, the darkness.

Withstand it, because that’s what Eddie does. He is brave, despite everything.

And Steve is just the boy who sits with darkness at night because he doesn’t know how to be brave anymore, not when there’s no question of life or death. He forgot all about everyday-bravery.

But Eddie didn’t. He’s still there, still smiling and laughing and teasing his way through life and into Steve’s heart and soul.

And Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what he can do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask.

It’s no surprise, then, that it’s Eddie who does.

“What are we doing, Steve?” He sounds a bit resigned about it, and it makes Steve hide away in himself even more, focusing on the darkness beneath him rather than the light beside him — they both leave him blinded at equal measure, but one of them doesn’t ask him questions to which he doesn’t know the answer.

“What do you mean?” he asks after a while, his voice a little off. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Apprehension, maybe. Caught. Uncovered. Exposed.

Beside him, Eddie sighs again, just a little bit, but Steve has always hated that he keeps making people sigh. Makes him feel so fucking small, so incredibly useless.

He raises one leg from the abyss to rest his chin on his knee, because suddenly he feels so heavy that he needs the physical reminder that he’s not about to fall. One foot on the ground. Steady, secure, a great illusion for now.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, because Eddie hasn’t said anything, has only sighed and created a silence that’s so loud it can probably be heard at the bottom of the quarry, and Steve feels like the silence is his fault this time.

“What for?”

“Dunno,” he confesses, lies, concedes as his house of cards begins to crumble for some reason. The heaviness wanders from his throat down to his heart and settles there, making a home for itself, casting out all the lightness that usually comes when he’s around Eddie.

But it seems he’s reached his breaking point. It seems he can only pretend to be okay for so long, pretend not to yearn and ache and long for intimacy and tenderness. It seems he can only put himself together again, rebuilding himself around Eddie at his centre, until it would break apart for good. Burst out of his heart, dismantle him piece by broken piece until all that’s left is a broken boy, yearning.

And so he can’t stop the tears even if he wanted to. They’re kind in their silence, streaming down his face without demand for sobs or sniffles. Just breaking free, a simple displacement reaction. Following the physics of emotions.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. There’s that warmth, that touch, that gentleness he’s been craving — and there’s that sob he’s been suppressing. “Hey, Stevie, it’s okay. You’re okay. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head into the warmth of Eddie’s neck, wiping dejectedly at his tears.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, sighs, groans, annoyed with himself.

“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”

Both. Neither. All at once.

He shrugs again, still leaning against Eddie.

Eddie, who turns his head slightly and brushes his lips over Steve’s hair in what can only be described as a kiss. Except, it can’t. It couldn’t. It isn’t.

Steve begins to shiver against him — maybe he’s cold, maybe he’s overwhelmed, maybe he’s both and neither and everything all at once.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

And then Eddie kisses his head again, and he stills.

“You can’t kiss me, Eddie,” he says, voice still thick, but steadier this time. No more sobbing, no more whining. Just a broken boy, yearning. Always, always that.

Eddie freezes where he’s holding Steve, only his arm still moves in soothing, rubbing motions — warming him, holding him, saving him. Always, always that.

“Sorry,” Eddie says this time. Except it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, and Steve leans back to look at him. It’s impossible to make out his expression in the darkness, but he tries nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “Just…” He gestures vaguely, not quite sure what the just entails. Just mean it. Just do it right. Just don’t do it out of pity. Just leave me alone until I’m over you even though we both know I never really will be.

“Just?”

Steve shrugs. Whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide, Stevie.” Be brave, Stevie. Be brave like me.

God, how he wishes. How he longs. How he aches.

“You don’t have to hide, not from me.”

Steve huffs and says, before he can stop himself, “Especially from you.”

Eddie pauses and Steve freaks out a little bit, even before Eddie asks, “Why?” He sounds wounded. Small. He shouldn’t sound like that. Never.

“Because you’re gonna see otherwise.”

“See what?”

That I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Besotted. Enamoured. All the big words you like to make fun of. All of them and more.

“Me.”

There’s a beat where nothing happens. Maybe time stops, maybe reality resets itself, settling in more comfortably in anticipation of vulnerability’s fallout.

And then Eddie takes his hands, reaching for them in the darkness and finding them with ease. Like he’s done it many times before. Because he has. Just never like this.

“Steve,” he begins, and Steve wants to run again. To hide, to confess to another void, and make Eddie forget this conversation ever happened. “I think I already do.”

What? No. No, you can’t.

When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie continues, seemingly gathering himself and his thoughts as he goes. Always so much stronger, so much braver than Steve.

“I already do see you. The way you smile at me, light up the whole room with it. The way you hug me, always a little too long, but never long enough if you ask me. I see you blushing, I see you going out of your way for me, and… And I think, if you knew how to look, you’d see the same in me. Because, uh. Because I like seeing you. And I like… I like you. Not in a friends kinda way. In a way where I wanna sit beside you all night and talk about deep shit, but I wanna run my fingers through your hair when we do. I wanna play with your fingers when we do. I wanna kiss you when we do, because there’s deep, heavy, traumatic shit everywhere, but there’s also you. And I don’t want one without the other. I want you. In that exact way that I see you looking at me, wanting me, too.”

Eddie swallows, a little breathless beside him like Steve’s not choking on emotion himself.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eddie whispers then, pressing and desperate and knowing. “Tell me you don’t like me in a way you think you shouldn’t. Tell me I don’t see you.”

He shakes his head, slowly, frantically. “I can’t.”

“Because it’s true?”

Steve’s nodding now, just as frantic, leaving him disoriented and falling, only anchored to Eddie who’s still holding his hands.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, rasps, whispers. “It… I’m. I don’t.” It’s he who swallows heavily now, needing a second or an eternity to process Eddie’s words. “You really mean that?”

Eddie nods. He can feel it, somehow.

“I don’t know what has you so scared,” Eddie begins. “Except the obvious, of course, but I feel like that’s only a small chunk of it. But you gotta believe me when I say that I mean it. I like you. So much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Steve huffs, but it’s a smile this time. A real one. Tinged with sadness and heaviness and disbelief still, but a real one nonetheless.

“I wanna tell you. All of that. Everything, in my own words. And I will, but… Eddie, I’m—“ Steve starts with a quivering voice but shuts himself up before he can ruin this.

I’m broken. I’m not sure if I can let you. I’m just Steve. I’m bullshit. I’m…

“I’m tired.”

It has a double meaning, here at the quarry — but he doesn’t mean it like that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t.

“Can you just hold me?” It is perhaps the closest to bravery he’s going to get. Tonight, or always. But it’s enough. It can be enough.

Eddie hums and Steve can hear the smile, can feel how some of the heaviness inside him dissipates with it.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve shivers again as he shifts, lying back so it’s only his legs, bent at the knee, that dangle over the abyss now. Eddie joins him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and rearranging them so Steve rests half on top of him. It can’t be comfortable, but Steve doesn’t mention it.

They lie there in silence, and Steve allows himself to let go of the tension in his bones as he feels Eddie’s hands travelling across his back in a tender caress. He doesn’t quite believe it’s real, doesn’t believe he’ll get to keep it beyond this moment, and can’t quite savour it the way he wants to because surely he will lose this, too. Surely Eddie will realise and come to his senses and—

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning up slightly to brush his lips over Steve’s temple. “Yeah, Stevie. I really, really mean it.” And then, after a while, “Will you come back home now?”

Back home. Home to Eddie and Wayne. Home, because Eddie cares and wants and bravely, bravely asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Another kiss to his forehead. “And will you stay?”

It is Steve now who leans up, hovering above Eddie to meet his eyes through the dark. “I will. I do.” And then he slowly, carefully captures Eddie’s lips with his own, sealing the promise and receiving one in return.

Kissing Eddie is a lot like falling, he realises. But there are arms wrapped around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go — so maybe it isn’t falling after all. Maybe it’s flying.

At home in his bed, Eddie holds him some more, running fingers through his hair long after Steve has fallen asleep.

They’ll make it work.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio words #idk how to describe the mood of this so uh feel free to tell me if you find out #in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone #they need so much therapy your honour #i keep wanting to write this one steddie at the quarry scene but it always gets derailed :/

[yanderenightmare]

I have an honest question and I don't want to sound rude or anything at all but what's so interesting about CNC. Like I see people hype it up but to me it just feels like romanticizing r4pe..I'm not really into CNC so I can't talk bad or downplay whatever they do but I'm just asking because I want to understand it better.

A question I, by no means, can answer perfectly. However, in the spirit of philosophy and amateur psychology, I will lay unto you, ye who have keen ears, my theories.

Now, I am in no way a psychiatrist. However, as I am a woman who does a great deal of fantasizing and further thinking of what I fantasize about, I thought I might assume the role of a sexologist as it is no protected title.

I’ve long wondered why we (women) fantasize about things that would appall us if manifested in reality. It makes little sense that an act so ruining in practice should make us feel fulfilled when the mere thought of it is humored.

In the vast complexities of psychology, no matter how much I drink of its depths, I can’t seem to get my fill enough to understand it. Trying to figure out female arousal is like pulling hair from a clogged gutter and trying to undo all the knots. It’s a web of contradictions.

However…

First theory – there are cultural reasons. If we accept the inbuilt instincts of old and the instincts we adopt through media while growing up – all in all, the great history of aggressive men dominating passive women – we are conditioned to accept that this is what romance looks like.

Second theory – there are the emotional reasons. The "Beauty and the Beast" motif – featuring classic co-dependency. Women submit to abuse because we have an inbuilt need to nurture others – so when we love men who require to abuse and own us in order to love us, we somehow forget to protect ourselves in favor of loving them, which in this case means allowing them to abuse and own us. It's warped.

Third theory – there are psychological reasons. In fantasies and writing or viewing, we get to reframe traumatic experiences in a positive light or rework traumatic experiences in a safe environment – a form of psychological self-defense, much like Stockholm Syndrome or a type of self-inflicted Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Fourth theory – research has also been conducted regarding physiological reasons. Here, we have another inbuilt self-defense mechanism – a seldom talked-about phenomenon – which shows that women tend to become physically aroused when they sense any possibility of sexual aggression in their environment – in order to lower their chance of injury if they are raped.

Through all this, I believe one can narrow fantasies of rough or non-consensual sex into something as paradoxical and polar as having a wish for control and a wish to relent oneself of it. And coming to this conclusion, I realized that such is the pursuit of many, even in endeavors not of the erotic kind.

Humans wish to have control just as much as humans disdain having control. This is why BDSM (bondage, domination, sadism, masochism) kinks and fetishes are found in some shape or form in nearly every romantic or sexual relationship in existence. You’ll have the dominant partner wishing to achieve control over a submissive partner wishing to relinquish control through such means of domination, humiliation, pain, and pleasure.

But it’s more complex than that, isn’t it? 

Yes. Because, contradictory – a submissive partner may wish for control, and a dominant partner may wish to lose it. Human beings are an unyielding paradox where we flex across contrasting aims with no means to an end.

Yes, we wish for control, yet disdain having it. Perhaps we find the answer to this paradox in maintaining control by losing it?

Moreover… how does this relate to nonconsensual sex fantasies?

Here, we get a fifth theory containing the ego – a spin-off of a kind from the third theory. Here we find the wish for control, where, in the lustful fantasy realm, non-consensual sex bolsters a woman's feelings of seductiveness and desirability in the way it has the power to make a man lose his decency and self-control, driving him to commit crimes of passion despite ill consequences of losing his pride and honor as a man – also, ultimately, risking getting sent to prison. 

Put simply, some women enjoy the idea of being irresistible enough to drive even a good man crazy. The thought of being attractive enough to make a man love-sick and the power and control that follows it is, in this case, a turn-on.

A sixth theory – another spin-off from the third theory – is that fantasies of rape allow women to reduce the distress associated with sex, as they are not, in this scenario, responsible for what occurs. Moreover, the logic here states that when one is forced into something, they’ll have a lesser need to feel guilt or shame about acting out their own sexual desires.

Put simply, some women wish to maintain their innocence despite having carnal desires only satiated by means of sinful acts. 

This begs another question.

Is this a lingering feeling of guilt and shame around female sexuality?

Of course! Women are constantly met with disdain when open about their sluttiness.

So, are fantasies of nonconsensual sex a type of projection they do because of this?

In some cases, yes!

Transferring our own sexual desires unto another gives us permission to act them out without feeling guilty or dirty – because, inside this fantasy, it isn’t us committing the indecencies.

... Okay then...

Summing up theories five and six:

Control. To feel wanted, lusted for, obsessed over, and coveted by others. The power of driving someone to lovesick desire, a frenzied state, where they would do anything, even illegal, to have you. Additionally, despite such harsh cases of ego, wanting none of the responsibility for it, wanting to be free of sin, to maintain innocence and purity in light of such dark desires.

Or is there a seventh theory? One found in our idyllic construct of freedom – this aimless goal of ours to make ourselves appreciate breathing – done by balancing the electric powerline between having and losing control.

Is it this act of switching places, the attraction and pull, the stimuli and response, the attack and retaliation? In the chaos of contradictions and uncertainty, we find a thrill that occupies our otherwise hibernating minds – bored to the degree that we become machines in our daily programs. 

Is it simply that we need a little extremity as a remedy for our dull lives?

Do we fall in love with illegal things simply because we are denied them? Simply because they’re illegal? Self-harm, drug use, gambling, murder, rape…

Are these things a part of us? And are we, without them, left feeling unfulfilled? Is The Purge perhaps onto something vitally important? A cure for boredom, this mediocrity that leaves us feeling so blue?

I think, if I were to find a comparison, it’s quite similar to the blind bounds of excitement others ascend to in the midst of playing violent video games. The rush of falling in and out of enemy territory, of danger and safety, from being a predator to becoming the prey, of victory and defeat, of chasing death only to be comforted by one’s remaining life – because in reality, you're safe and sound in front of a screen.

Also, in other cases - rollercoasters, horror movies, extreme sports, etc...

Yes, the wish to trip in and out of control isn’t limited to the realm of lust but is present in most aspects of life. We find it in extreme cases such as drugs, gambling, gaming, relationships, and in other subtle cases of professions and work.

If you don’t like it, that’s your business, and I wish you the best of luck in lust elsewhere.

On another note – and such another warning and disclaimer – I want you not to accept my tales of lust as love stories. Personally, I think hints of toxic displays such as jealousy, obsession, and possession in a partner are natural – but – a difference is made when such feelings become restricting to a degree you no longer feel free. I implore you to make such distinctions for yourself when regarding yourself – and, in extreme cases, when regarding others.

In said regard, I do not condone the events nor the actions of the characters in my stories – neither offender nor victim. Don’t allow yourself to fall prey to toxic partners! The signs are always there – keep a weathered eye out for them.

And no, I’m not blaming those who’ve allowed themselves to stay in toxic relationships. I, myself, am guilty of that. But I won’t excuse my poor judgment either. You know when something doesn’t feel right. We shouldn’t blur the lines of right and wrong in the name of love – or whatever else we may lend our self-control to – such as religion, culture, family, societal pressure, etc...

You are in control. Don’t forget it. And don’t allow anything else to become the case.

#nightmare rambles #discussion

[greenthena]

Buck up, Hamlet!

***Trigger warning: Death and taking your own life in the context of Shakespeare***

Aziraphale likes Hamlet. Likes the play so much, that he bats his eyelashes at Crowley until the demon performs a miracle to make the mopey Prince of Denmark more popular. Well, good job, the both of you, because four hundred and some odd years later, you still can't get through repertory auditions without some bugger hoisting a skull and starting that monologue. Not that I don't appreciate Hamlet from a structural and analytical perspective. And the Prince of Denmark is a character most actors would sacrifice several toes to play. But it's dark. It's not a fun one.

So why does Aziraphale like it so much? Why's this fluffy little angel so Hell-bent on one of Shakespeare's tragedies? Join me, friendly Good Omens scholars, and let's suss some shit out.

Crowley adamantly dislikes Shakespeare's tragedies. "This isn't one of Shakespeare's gloomy ones, is it? Arghhhh. No wonder no one is here," he complains, wilting like a floppy noodle. Of course, it doesn't take much for Aziraphale to weasel the demon into miracling more people into the audience. But Crowley makes a point to say that he "still prefer(s) the funny ones" as he's leaving The Globe.

Crowley, I would argue, goes to the theatre to escape his real-life situation. He's a bloody demon who, when he's not stationed on Earth, literally goes to Hell. And it's not a nice place. Crowley's everyday life (particularly when he's not around Aziraphale) revolves around pain and suffering--whether its his or someone else's is insignificant. What matters is that regularly sees and experiences tangible, visceral representations of tragedy in his actual existence. Of course he prefers Shakespeare's funny ones! They're a reminder that the world and the human race that he's accidentally become so attached to is full of more than torment and affliction. Crowley doesn't appreciate Shakespeare's tragedies because they're an extension of his own suffering, with which he's already intimately familiar. For Crowley, attending a Shakespearean tragedy is like picking a scab. You already know you've been injured and fussing with the damned thing only makes it worse.

This is not the case for Azirapahle. As an angel, he's not allowed to have any scabs, much less pick at them. Like Crowley, he sees suffering in the world. He knows that humanity is constantly facing difficult odds, and even the most wonderful of human lives eventually ends in death. But unlike Crowley, Aziraphale works within a system in which there is no gray space--and therefore, no room for an angel, an agent of the side of righteousness, to experience doubt in the Ineffable Plan. The Heavenly model is to deal with problems by pretending they don't exist. Heaven has an image to maintain, after all. Like, the sheer amount of repression we see amongst the Heavenly Host is honestly terrifying. I'm thinking about the way in which The Metatron frames the Fall and damnation of a third of the angels. "For one Prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem." It's so cold and removed because to process something so traumatic would not fit the image of Heaven. So it's neatly boxed up and packed away into a soundbite that better fits Heaven's corporate brand.

Aziraphale's suffering is certainly no less than Crowley's. The angel's trauma is repressed. It's cloaked in shining bright hallways of pure angelic light. It's hidden behind false words and tight smiles. It's communicated passive-aggressively by abusers who still have the angel caught in their web of control and manipulation. At least Crowley's trauma is visible. When he fell, the demon took on a new appearance that physically demonstrates his suffering. He has access to feelings of anger and frustration and he's allowed to express these things because he's a demon. He doesn't have to be good.

Since Aziraphale is not permitted to own his emotions and his trauma, he outsources them. He enjoys Shakespeare's tragedies because they give him the opportunity to achieve second-hand catharsis. He may not be able to admit that he's suffering, but he can experience Hamlet's pain vicariously.

***Reminding you of that trigger warning, folks!***

And this is where we get to the question, "To be, or not to be?" This is the moment in S1 E3 when Aziraphale interacts with Richard Burbage, and shouts out, "To be! Not to be! Come on, Hamlet, buck up!" He says this with this coy little smile, obviously trying to get a laugh out of Crowley. But it's indicative of a more serious dilemma that the angel, himself, must parse out. In Shakespeare's play, Hamlet's query is expressed as he wrestles with the choice between life and death. Essentially, it's a contemplation of suicide--a dark part of humanity that Heaven manages by eternally condemning those who would risk it. However there's another way to read this question, not as life and death, but as agency and the lack thereof. We think of "to be" as the choice for life and "not to be" as the option for suicide. But the only way in which Hamlet can express his agency is by taking control of the one thing that truly belongs to him: his own life. So when asking this question of an eternal being, what exactly does it mean, "To be?" What does it mean for Aziraphale to express agency in his immortal existence?

In Western thought, we tend to divide things into binaries: right and wrong, black and white, good and evil...to be or not to be. Back in the Garden if Eden, Crowley first introduced Adam and Eve to the idea that they had a choice. The serpent presented two options, obey or disobey God's authority. Though I think a better way of looking at it would be to say, passively accept your role or have agency in your fate. This is Crowley's method. He never pushes temptations upon you. He just wants to make sure you know all your options.

Like Hamlet, Aziraphale is presented with the choice of, "To be or not to be?" He can sign on the dotted line and follow Heaven's authority or he can be an angel with agency, an angel that goes along with Heaven as far as he can. And though Aziraphale still struggles with how exactly free will pertains to angels, Crowley shows him time and time again that he has options--he can make his own choices. From the very first interaction between the angel and the demon on the wall of Eden, Crowley (ever the optimist) knows there is hope for some meaningful connection with Aziraphale, because the angel makes a choice for himself: he gives away his sword. And from that moment, Crowley realizes that this angel might be just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

It's no wonder Aziraphale gets attached to the tragedy of Hamlet. It allows him to observe and process the darker and more difficult emotions that he, as an angel, struggles to manage. And perhaps more importantly, the Prince of Denmark's famous soliloquy mirrors of Crowley's method of temptation, wherein the demon simply reminds him that he has a choice and that, even as an angel, he can find ways to express his agency.

#good omens #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #hamlet #shakespeare #free will #our side #ineffable #just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing

[chirpsythismorning]

Mike's character regression can be explained in large part by one emotion in particular: guilt

Just want to preface this by saying that, this is not Mike slander. I love this dude. In fact, I think what makes Mike such an interesting character is that a lot of his behavior throughout the series can be explained in part by previous moments, and after really looking at all these moments together, what you end up with is a pretty fucked up story.

So while some might want to take this as Mike slander, these points I'm making are a part of Mike and things he has done and said and whether they were intentionally harmful or not, it's Mike. It's all shaped him and his role in the story. The fact that we're seeing a visible shift in his behavior at all, with plenty of moments from the show to back up what brought us here, makes it compelling enough to talk about.

So, without further ado, back to our roots:

Ah yes, the infamous canon proof disputing Mike's I think my life started that day we found you in the woods, claim during his monologue. Not only that, but in this original scene from 1x02, it turns out Mike actually intended to send her away the next day (all of which El could hear Mike saying from the open bathroom door).

Mike outright calling El a weapon, again telling the others they need her because they stand no chance at getting Will back otherwise.

I wont elaborate on this now, because there is way too much to unpack that'll honestly be more worthwhile discussing further on.

For now, this is a secret tool that will help us later.

These next couple scenes right here though, are pretty painful if I'm being completely honest. The way its shot, specifically El's very visible exhaustion, accompanied by the varying priorities of others around her, leaves me feeling pretty unsettled upon rewatches.

I obviously can't remember how I felt when I watched these scenes for the first time, but I imagine I viewed them as this huge romantic moment for Mike and El (I was tricked by heteronormativity, okay?). But, again, upon rewatching them since then, I've realized I get this sort of sad feeling by the end. You'll see what I mean.

El obviously just went through something extremely traumatic. She tried to go find Will and Barb in the void, only to find Barb dead and Will presumably alive, but then slipping through her fingers at the last second (no, literally).

We then got a moment where Joyce held El while the others sat by quietly because she clearly needed a moment of comfort given what she just endured.

Then in this scene shortly after, everyone is leaving to get ready for their final attempt at saving Will.

Now, notice how not only Lucas, but also Dustin make the effort to reach out to El to comfort her affectionately after that traumatic event, with those twos' actions specifically being showcased in sequence?

Lucas, who spent the better part of the season being critical of El, is now ending the season rubbing El's shoulder to warm her up, literally soothing her to make her feel better.

Then there's Dustin, who right after Lucas' gesture makes a gesture of his own, putting his hand on her knee reassuringly, to show her he's there and he's happy she's okay.

And lastly there's Mike, who is so kindly allowing El to rest her head on his shoulder. This placement of Mike and El here is definitely a testament to the fact that Mike has vouched for El this whole time in contrast to the others and so, understandably, she put her head on his shoulder for reassurance, because out of the three of them, he's the one whose been looking out for her the most. (Right?)

Now you might be thinking that this sequence's only purpose was to show Lucas and Dustin's development with El, and that it wasn't intentional that they focused on Lucas and Dustins' priorities in this moment in contrast to Mikes'. And I raise you, this next scene.

Here we have a focus on Mike looking on to where everyone left, while the others beside him are presumably just processing what went down and taking a rest (and boy oh boy do they (El) need one).

Mike on the other-hand decides to take this moment of rest to display the most cliche and universal forms of distracted unrest known to man: he checks his watch.

Mike then stands up abruptly, causing El to fall without his shoulder there for her to rest on anymore, all while her and Dustin are looking on after him, sort of like... Okay?

It's small. It might seem insignificant. But if you actually pay attention to what this scene is trying to make you feel, after really looking at it for what it is, it's kind of sad.

In a moment that chooses to highlight the other boys' acknowledgment of El after what just happened, and not only that, but at the tale end of their final battle of the season, Mike is... distracted?

Mike, who has been presumably looking out for El more than the others in the party this whole time, is conveniently out of commission? And right now when El is looking for his reassurance the most? Mike doesn't even have a moment to say, 'Hey I'll be right back, I just want to check something. Can one of you?--', asking Lucas or Dustin to sit next to her in his place. No. Dude just stands up without even acknowledging her.

If it was any other moment in the show, under less post-traumatic circumstances for El, then I wouldn't even think much of it. But it's at this point in the story when El is essentially at her most exhausted and quite literally seeking out support from others, specifically Mike, that makes his distractedness so eery.

Again, you might still be thinking that this isn't that deep. However, I think based on the events leading up to this, and what follows right here, could quite literally hold the answer to the guilt Mike is still keeping to himself to this day.

So... How are we feeling?

Are we feeling like Mike None of you are thinking about El's wellbeing right now! She could get brain damage from using her powers too much! She's not a weapon!* Wheeler is a little bit of a hypocrite? (I told you that tool would come in handy!)

It's actually quite terrifying how similar this scene is framed to the scene in Hopper's cabin in s3, where Mike pretty much says the exact opposite. In s1 Mike goes from being one of the first people to refer to El as a weapon within the context of them using her powers to find Will, with him being completely un-attuned to the fact that she is exhausted in this moment while the others are saying El's rest and safety is the most important, to then in s3 completely flipping script and saying El was using her powers for nothing, blaming the others for treating her like a weapon and not taking her wellbeing into consideration.

It would be one thing if Mike had a little arc where he acknowledged this script flip. Because that's what it is. It is them having Mike use a word in s1 to describe El, that being weapon, only to say the others are treating her like that with that same word being used. It is them having Mike not agknowledge El's well being after overusing her powers, only to say the others aren't taking her wellbeing into consideration for overusing her powers.

And it would be one thing if Mike had spoke to El or literally anyone about how he felt like he wronged El for planning on sending her away the next day after they found her so that they could go back to looking for Will, or how he said she was a weapon that they needed in order to find Will, essentially being no better than the people she just escaped from, who also used her for her powers. But we don't get that (actually we do.. but it's not acknowledged for what it is aka survivor's guilt. It's instead seen as romantic... another tool for later...)

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think any of Mike's behavior takes away from what Mike did do for El, because yes he was kind and accepting when the others weren't. But even despite all of that, at the end of the day, he was often at the forefront of expecting El to risk her life for them, even if he wasn't outright asking that of her.

Before you freak out, No. I don't think Mike, a literal child, was capable of fathoming that El was going into these situations risking her life. She's a superhero. El's alternative was literally going back to the lab, running, or staying with Mike. This was her safest option.

After a bunch of rewatches and putting together a lot of these moments as a whole, I've come to a point where I believe that Mike's behavior throughout s1 was him thinking that because of who El was, she's already in danger at all times. That is a constant reality for her. And so why not have her help them find Will, because she is able to, all while he can also help her. And El clearly wanted to help them, because she wanted to help good people and finally do something meaningful with her powers for a change. Unfortunately, she also had to endure PTSD flashbacks almost every single time Mike and the boys had her use her powers to help find Will.

Speaking of Will, he is currently missing and possibly dead. Will also, in contrast to El (for now...), does not have any sort of superpowers.

Mike's concern over the threat of Will's livelihood is much greater than Mike's acknowledgement to the true risks El is exposing herself to each time she uses her powers to help them. That is s1 canon.

Is there times when Mike is focused on El and her well being. Absolutely! But is there also times when Mike is not showing any display of concern to El's well being in the moment, in complete contrast to the other characters around him... Also yes.

And so the events happening the way they did, with Mike himself not fully comprehending the severity of what's been going on during these high stake situations going on around him, makes sense.

And that's what makes it all the more sad that when Mike finally does realize what he's truly been asking of El this whole time, which is to risk her life for them, it's too late.

This whole scene is obviously very emotional. All of the boys are crying, but the focus on Mike calling out for El painfully is heartbreaking.

But what's even more sad to me, is that El has been sort of used to mistreatment her whole life. She's used to having to find any comfort she could get from people in her life, all the while they were using her for her powers. I mean even despite Brenner being who he was and doing what he did, she still showed these signs of wanting to love him despite it. Which is very very fucked up. But knowing what she's gone through, makes sense.

Mike on the other-hand does greatly contrast Brenner because he was one of the first people to actually treat her with genuine kindness right from the start (before he even knew she had powers), making it a lot easier for her to care for him even despite that pesky trait of using her for her powers being almost synonymous with Brenner's very similar trait.

So when she looks back at Mike, and points him out specifically before sacrificing herself, it feels like a few things at once.

It feels like her acknowledging the fact that she appreciated him specifically for taking her in and supporting her more genuinely than anyone has in her entire life.

And yet it also feels like her, either intentionally or unintentionally, acknowledging the unfortunate side affect caused by days of Mike leading the efforts to find Will, with the expectation of her to do things to achieve that, which could have all lead to her demise technically. And so now when it all comes down to it and the stakes are at their highest yet, same as the risk, she's got to a point where she believes there is no other choice but to do just that, risk her life, especially if it means saving them.

While this is happening, Mike is backtracking in real time. He is trying to get El to stop and it's because he doesn't want her to die. Obviously.

But that's the fucked up part isn't it? When he finally realized what he's been asking of her this whole time, it's too late.

Which takes us to S2 Mike Wheeler, known by many for being a boy whose been calling his true love everyday for almost a year now because he's just so in love, but is actually in fact a boy suffering the most intense form of survivors guilt, one that involves a person who genuinely feels responsible for the persons death...

But that will probably take at least another 2,000 words so I'm thinking maybe I better split this into multiple parts.

I will tease that the next part involves one specific detail in particular that I never see anyone talk about, a detail that I think, in combination with what's discussed in this post, is so important to understanding Mike's breakdown for what it truly was at the end of season 2. I will also probably do more posts beyond that for s3-4, to delve into the impacts these moments from the first two seasons have basically put in place a perfect recipe for what is currently going down.

So feel free to stay tuned for those nonsense updates.

Continued

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #this is not mike slander! #this is mike deconstructed #this is mike in all his glory #well not all his glory #bc i think s2 and s3 and obviously s4 build off of this #making all of these moments all together overall a lot more compelling as a whole #but these right here are our roots ppl #find the root of the problem and everything else just falls into place #i can't wait for part 2 though #it's even more heartbreaking and tragic somehow #the suppressed guilt of it all #the denial #the shame #the gall at times #it's only gonna pile up for this kid #watch out dominos (mike wheeler) #your dominos are gonna fall...

[lakesbian]

I stared down at the ground, at the table leg I was holding.  “I get nervous when I’m close to people.  I think, you know, maybe I have bad breath, or maybe I have B.O., and I wouldn’t be able to tell, because it’s mine, so I hold my breath like that to be safe.  I dunno.” Bravo, Taylor.  Bravo.  I imagined the slowest, most sarcastic of slow claps.  Talking about bad breath and B.O. was totally the way to go.  One of those brilliant moments that would have me cringing every time I remembered it in the next few years or decades, I was sure. Then Brian leaned close, closing the scant inches of distance that separated us, until our noses were practically touching. “Nope.  You smell nice,” he told me. If I’d been a cartoon character, I was pretty sure that was the point where I’d have steam shooting out of my ears, or I’d be melting into a puddle.  Instead, I went with my first instinct, once more, and went very still.  I became aware of a heat on my face that must have been a furious blushing.

man we URGENTLY need to get this one redrawn. it's so redrawable. like i was saying last time i was liveblogging i think brian & taylor work specifically because it's not just generic YA-cutesiness. it's two dysfunctional teenagers who Absolutely are not going to work, which taylor accurately predicts and then does it anyway. and brian somehow does not know he likes her right now despite the fact that he is Sniffing Her (LESS THAN AN INCH FROM HER FACE !!!) and then going no you smell nice :). and they only get together in the context of Doomed Hormonal Clinging as a rock for atrociously traumatizing circumstances. knowing that makes the cutesiness Hurt More (Positive). continued thing during this portion of chapters where taylor doesn't know how to respond 2 a Social Occurrence and just. freezes up because she can't do anything wrong and be rejected or hurt if she's not reactive at all.

it's also so. Augh. Painful. that taylor has just been utterly convinced she's disgusting to be around, that she can't Breathe around people without it being intolerable. the bullying-induced paranoia that even when she's just sitting there there's some flaw she hasn't noticed that makes her ugly and mockable. and it's so believably sweet that even though brian has a HOST of problems wrt parsing his own feelings for her he sees her awkwardly fumble thru an accidental confession about the fact that she's scared she's just intolerable to be around and doesn't make it weird or draw attention to her he just leans in and is like. no :) its nice. brian laborn why can't you be more self aware about liking her. you were so close until you fucked it up so bad.

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 6 #worm spoilers #jay don't look

[molinaskies]

Sonic and the Mirror of Trauma: Scrapnik Island

Scrapnik Island is by far the most intriguing and impressive IDW Sonic miniseries so far. Daniel Barnes wrote an excellent story about recovering from trauma, struggling to escape your past, and facing the setbacks that come with both of those, and Nathalie Fourdraine and Jack Lawrence produced some beautiful art.

On its surface, the story has the potential to be a cheeky, cliché one-off akin to a spooky Halloween story (that started in December… hehe). But, when you look deeper at the plot and some of the tropes, and once you remember that it takes place between issue 56 (which I’ve crucially discussed at length) and issue 57, it suddenly becomes so much more important.

Mecha Sonic is a version of Sonic who has been forced to address the pain of his life and dabble with the consequences, and he represents the moment that Sonic has to face his own trauma—and that scares him.

Scrapnik Island sets off with the Scrapniks pursuing Sonic to help him, but Sonic, of course, has missed the memo. Mecha Sonic is hottest on Sonic’s trail, which stands out to me as not only is Sonic visibly afraid of Mecha (both from his sudden presence and from his memories of their last encounter), but he’s actively running away from his trauma, his past, his fear.

Even after Sonic’s been set straight on the Scrapniks’ deal, he’s still put off by Mecha Sonic’s silent demeanour and their history. So, Sonic treats him coldly, and this animosity triggers something deep within Mecha that he fights to starve off.

There is lots of visual storytelling to indicate that Sonic and Mecha Sonic are meant to be literary foils, but below is my favourite example. A flashback of a decommissioned Mecha Sonic fades into a present shot of Sonic “taking it easy,” but more so getting fed up with his situation.

Sonic is also particularly distrustful (and afraid) of Mecha Sonic, compared to the other Scrapniks. However, as time runs on, Sonic comes to an initial understanding of Mecha’s changed ways and wants to make peace. However, right after this, Mecha Knuckles attacks, Mecha Sonic defends and, in a way, sacrifices himself for Sonic, and things fall apart from here.

After Mecha Sonic is triggered during his battle with Mecca Knuckles (after a forceful encounter with Mecha Sonic’s past that sends him down a path of relapse), Mecha Sonic loses his ability to starve off Eggman’s primary programming. He turns on Sonic once again, but instead of serving Eggman, he strives to serve himself. While Mecha is falling victim to his traumatic past and coping mechanisms, the unfortunate thing about this is how it all reads to Sonic: another betrayal of his trust. It all calls back to Mr. Tinker, Metal Sonic, and Surge.

Mecha Sonic’s plan is to swap bodies with Sonic so that Mecha can use Sonic’s speed to escape the island, but the Scrapniks attack before the transfer can complete. This leaves Mecha and Sonic in an in-between state where they hear each other thoughts and feel each other’s feelings.

Even though Sonic states that the anger and sadness in his head is not his own, he’s still clearly shown to be feeling those feelings. They don’t originate from him, but their presence mingles with his own emotions to produce something darker and more irritated. Their presence also acts as a gateway of sorts, where the latent anger and sadness that Sonic can’t suppress makes it harder for him to put away his own feelings. Couple that with his physical pain from his sprained ankle (on the same leg he busted up a few issues prior), and soon, Sonic snaps for the first time in the entire IDW comic’s run.

I love whenever Sonic’s anger is allowed to shine because he is never enraged for petty reasons. Sonic has an attitude that often leads him to cranky comments, but Sonic is genuinely angry here because it hurts him to see someone speak so lowly of themselves, to have been hurt by the world so poorly. Mecha Sonic is also yet another person who has been created by Eggman’s terror specific to oppose Sonic. It’s another example of Surge’s “I will kill you or die trying” with the added complexity of Mecha’s attempt at redemption being corrupted by the trauma of Eggman’s influence. This puts pressure on Sonic because these impositions put Mecha, Surge, Kit, and others like them in direct opposition to Sonic for reasons entirely of no fault of his own—and that angers him. All Sonic strives to do with his life and his gift is help people, and to have so many people come out of the woodworks to say that the only thing he can do to help them is to kill himself is absolutely devastating to him. Not only because he believes in the direct opposite—that the only person who can give one purpose is oneself—but because it threatens to strip his own purpose away from him whenever these notions are unearthed.

Sonic isn’t angry at Mecha, personally. He’s angry at the system created to hurt them both.

The most important thing to remember is that, unless I fully missed something*, that strange mind-link thing between Sonic and Mecha Sonic is never undone. After Sonic cries Mecha Sonic’s tears, the story cuts to Tails officially deprogramming Mecha Sonic and Mecha Knuckles from Eggman’s directives, but it’s never explicitly stated that Mecha Sonic’s and Sonic’s mental link was reversed.

It can be reasonably assumed that it occurs off-screen (off-page? Outside of what is shown to the reader) because that would make general sense, but then again, so did the reprogramming, and that was explicitly mentioned. Further, it’s a general rule in writing for media that if you want something to be known about your story, it needs to be shown to the audience if not alluded to or directly referred to having happened. So, this is either an oversight, or it’s entirely intentional.

* The only way I can imagine this being accounted for is that the machine that linked Sonic and Mecha’s brains, the Egg Noggin, is (obviously) an Eggman device. Thus, whenever Tails removed Eggman’s programming from Mecha Sonic and Mecha Knuckles, perhaps it also restored Sonic’s brain to normal. This, however, feels like a bit of a stretch because we never see or hear of Sonic needing or receiving any treatment, but I am willing to consider it to be a viable reason. Either way, I think the point I’m about to make still stands as either a physical change or an emotional change in Sonic’s character.

This experience, this sharing of minds in such an intimate way where they can both so clearly hear each other’s hearts, taught them something. I read this as some sort of floodgates being opened, where while Mecha Sonic can more easily feel compassion and listen to the good in his core, Sonic now more clearly feels his anger and has a harder time suppressing his emotions. Whether there is lasting physical damage left in Sonic or he’s simply reeling from the depth of his emotions felt in this adventure, there’s been a clear impact.

Even if Sonic isn’t fully delving into things just yet, he’s taken a lesson away from all of this.

(From the IDW Endless Summer One-Shot, set between issue 64 and issue 65 and after the 900th adventure one-shot)

If nothing else, Sonic clearly understands trauma better now. Sonic is absolutely traumatized by his experiences with Eggman and other high-stakes adventures, but again, due to his tendency to push away his darker emotions, he hasn’t processed much of this. Sonic puts all his sadness and rage and fear and confusion into box after box after box before shoving everything onto a big, cluttered shelf, never to be seen again… until now. With such a clear look into the mind of someone actively reeling through trauma, a trauma so like his own, that shelf has collapsed, and now everything is spilling onto the floor before Sonic, quick as can be, can stop it.

Sonic is finally starting to understand the bigger picture, but I don’t think he’s fully on the path of self-awareness. I think there’s more boiling under the surface, more than even he realizes. And if Sonic keeps taking these micro-risks (instead of his usual Hail-Marys) that are fueled by his anger, like storming the Eggperial City too soon, then something will have to give.

Scrapnik Island is incredibly important to the IDW storyline because it showcases not only Sonic learning the depths of his pain and the pain of others but also yet another nail in Eggman’s coffin.

#idw sonic #sonic idw #idw sonic spoilers #sonic idw spoilers #scrapnik island #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #sonic idw endless summer #idw sonic endless summer #dr eggman #eggman #sonic character analysis #character analysis #meta analysis #sonic meta analysis #long post #idw sonic issue 56 #idw sonic scrapnik island #something's cooking #and its not just me #hehe #good comic is good #mecha sonic

[lewmagoo]

the killing moon | rhett abbott

part four of the wolf series ; must read previous parts before reading this one

listen to the playlist here

description: in which a wolf receives the greatest honor, but pays the ultimate price

characters: werewolf rhett abbott x werewolf f!reader, reader and rhett's children, my own ocs as members of the abbott pack

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, breeding kink, outdoor sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death and murder, civil unrest, angst, violence, blood, bodily injury

It had been seven years. 

Seven years since that fateful day when your very life was put in grave danger, all because of the actions of one man. Seven years since you were stolen from your mate and brought to harm at the hands of ruthless werewolf hunters. 

It was all behind you now. The trauma still remained, but it had been soothed over the years, its pain lessening to a dull ache in your heart whenever you thought about it. Smoothed over by the loving hands of your husband. And by four tiny sets of hands that were a product of your love for each other. 

Things had changed in those seven years. Since that incident, the Supreme Court had cracked down on werewolf protection laws, at the prompting of the National Werewolf League. The penalty for werewolf hunting grew heavier. Zero-tolerance policies for the ‘sport’ were passed in every state. 

The Tillerson family was put entirely out of business. Following the death of Patricia during the harrowing moment of your rescue, Luke and Billy, the only remaining members of the family, were sentenced hefty to life in prison for their participation in your abduction. 

The NWL made a public example of them, using it as a way to send a message that told the nation that hunting was punishable to the highest degree of the law. No exceptions 

It started a revolution of sorts. Others came forward, with stories of how they had also been targeted by hunters. Gone were the days of being afraid to speak out. Wolves everywhere were empowered to stand up to those who’d inflicted harm upon them. 

And slowly but surely, hunting was eradicated. 

You and your pack never had to worry about hunters encroaching on your land again. The past agreement that Royal Abbott and Wayne Tillerson had come to over which plot of land wolves were allowed to live on was now null and void. You were free to take up residence wherever you pleased. 

Your pack, a mix of your own family, and the remaining members of Rhett’s, had banded together on the day you and Rhett had gotten married. The joining of two mates during a sacred ceremony, where you became one blood and one soul. 

Since then, you had lost a few members of the pack. Namely, you’d lost Rhett’s father, and his brother. Their involvement in the murder of Trevor Tillerson, with Perry committing the crime and Royal aiding him in covering it up, had brought the law down on them. 

Perry was sentenced to life in prison. Royal received a lesser sentence, but still had several more years to fulfill before he was reintegrated into society again. 

As for Perry’s daughter, Amy, she was already eighteen years old. After her father’s sentencing, you and Rhett had made the decision to take her in. His mother, Cecelia, took the aftermath hard. Losing her son and husband all at once was a lot for her. She fully admitted that she was not equipped to care for her granddaughter, so she turned her over to your and Rhett’s custody. 

You welcomed that little girl into your life, treating her as if she were your own. The two of you were closely bonded, even more so after what you had been through. Amy was more than happy to come live in your and Rhett’s home. Especially because that meant she would be there when you welcomed your first little pup into the world. 

A few months after your traumatic experience with the hunters, you gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She was the perfect mix of you and Rhett. She had his button nose. She had your eyes. She was beautiful. You named her Arya. 

Amy was overjoyed to have a tiny cousin to look after. She would hold and entertain the little one while you were occupied with other things. She never wanted to be away from the baby. You tried to encourage her to play with other children in the pack that were her age, but she didn’t seem to want to. She hadn’t bonded with them in the way that she’d bonded with you and Rhett. 

After spending a good portion of her young life with a physically absent mother and an emotionally absent father, she was holding on to the last two stable adult relationships she had left. The two of you gave her a sense of security that she’d never had before. She felt safe and cared for, for the first time in a long time. If she needed you to be surrogate parents to help her overcome the past trauma she had experienced, you were more than happy to be that for her. 

Along with Amy and Arya, your family began to grow in the next few years. Soon, you had a son, who you named Maximillian. Max for short. Following her, you had another daughter named Leia. And finally, you had your youngest, Zoella. All good, strong names that had once belonged to ancestors of your pack. 

There was something so special about raising your children in a pack. It wasn’t just family. You were all connected by blood and by spirit. A bond that withstood the test of time. You wanted your pups to grow up knowing their elders. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, those who had lived through times in history when wolves did not have the liberty to live freely within society. Times when they were mistreated and abused, simply for being who they were. 

Things had changed since then. Your community now had freedoms and protections that it had once been deprived of. Your children were growing up in a world where they were free to live where they wanted, be who they wanted, without hiding their true selves. 

But you never wanted them to forget all their ancestors and elders had endured to get to this point. 

It was important to you and Rhett that you gave them a strong foundation. Growing up, he didn’t have the kind of pack that you did. His family was dysfunctional at best. 

In the werewolf world, there was strength in numbers. His pack, if one could even call it that, had been small. Royal was the alpha. There was Cecilia, his mate. And Perry and Rhett, his boys. The only person to join the pack had been Rebecca, Perry’s wife. He had convinced himself and everyone around him that they were mates, when they were in fact, not. 

Even so, the product of their marriage was Amy. These six members made up the Abbott pack. Their small size made them vulnerable. That was why, when your pack came passing through, looking for sanctuary, they allowed you to have it. 

It was through that, that you met Rhett. From the very moment you came into one another’s presence, you knew you were mates. This led to your packs joining together as one. And Royal willingly surrendered his alpha status to Malakai, your uncle, and the alpha of your own pack. 

And for the first time in his life, Rhett felt like he was part of something. There was so much love within your pack. Everyone respected each other. Wolf customs were observed and held especially sacred. He’d never had that with his own family. Yes, he knew of his heritage, and he knew that being a werewolf was special. But that was as far as it went. 

He found a sense of belonging within your pack. And he knew in his heart that he never wanted his children to grow up the way he did, in a dysfunctional, broken pack. No, they would only ever know love, security, and safety. They would know where they came from and what their purpose was in the world. 

He made good on those promises. 

In your eyes, he was made to be a father. He embraced the role with ease, determined to do better than his own father had done with him. Where he had been told to “suck it up and be a man,” he told young Max, “it’s okay to cry. Sometimes ya just need to let it out.” Where he had been yelled at, he never raised his voice at his children. And if there were times when he lost his cool in front of them, he always made it a point to apologize in the end and make it right. 

He wasn’t perfect, but he worked hard every day of his life to be the father his pups needed him to be. And for that, you admired and respected him. 

Your love for him already burned like an unkempt flame, but seeing him raise your children? It grew tenfold. And as the years past, that love that you shared never wavered. It was undying. Eternal. 

You had watched him flourish over the last seven years. Without his family to hold him back, he had come into his own. He was an integral part of your pack, and did all he could to protect its sanctity. 

His deep loyalty had caught the attention of the pack elders. Especially your Uncle Malakai. He was getting up in years, and knew that he needed to hand off his responsibilities as alpha to someone who was younger and full of life. He had his sights set on Rhett, unbeknownst to you. 

Malakai consulted the pack elders, presenting who he wanted to choose to replace him. They were all in agreement that Rhett was the best choice for the job. 

And so, one evening in late October, you received a knock at your door. You had just finished dinner, and the kids were beginning their bedtime routine. 

Their favorite part of the evening was getting to curl up on the couch in the living room while their daddy read them a story. That time together as a family was sacred to you and Rhett. To bond with your little ones, to have a moment of peace as he read to them from a book of their choosing. You cherished every moment. 

But that night, that moment was interrupted by a guest. 

“I’ll get it,” Amy announced, already heading for the door. 

Rhett was just getting the kids settled on the couch, with you coming to join them all. You paused, however, when you heard your uncle’s voice. 

“Uncle Malakai’s here,” Amy called over her shoulder, moving aside to let the man in. 

“Evenin’, Abbotts,” he greeted you all, smiling warmly. 

Your oldest three children jumped up in excitement, immediately rushing over to hug their uncle. You smiled at their enthusiasm. They loved him so much. 

“Hey, we just finished dinner. Want a plate to take home with you?” You asked him. 

He shook his head as he lifted your youngest, Zoella, onto his hip, cooing at her. “No thanks sweetheart. I actually came to speak with you and Rhett.”

Behind you, Rhett rose to his feet. “Everythin’ alright?” He asked. 

Malakai held his gaze. “Yeah, everything’s fine. But it is important.”

“Okay, gimme one minute.” Rhett turned to address the kids. “Alright pups, Mama and Daddy have to go talk to Uncle Malakai for a few minutes. You be good for Amy, alright?”

“Okay Daddy!” They all echoed, and Amy took over tending to them, grabbing Zoella from Malakai to free his hands up before he turned to lead you both outside. 

Once on the porch, blanketed by cool night air, shoes thudding against solid wood, Rhett pulled the door shut behind the three of you. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Rhett questioned. You moved to stand beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. 

“I’ve got news. Bittersweet news. But I wanted to personally deliver it to you myself.” Malakai leaned against the porch railing, folding his arms over his chest. “If ya couldn’t tell, I’m gettin’ old. I’m not the wolf I used to be. My senses are dull, and I don’t think I can lead this pack effectively anymore. So I’m lookin’ for someone to replace me.”

His eyes never left Rhett’s. There was an intensity behind them, a conviction. Beside your husband, your breath caught in your throat. You knew what was coming next. So did Rhett. 

“Rhett, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I want you to take my place.” He went quiet for a moment, allowing the news to sink in. 

Rhett let out an incredulous breath, shaking his head as he brought his hand up to run his fingers absently over his jaw. He knew what an honor this was, and he was floored. 

“Wh…why? There are plenty’a other pack members who are probably a lot more qualified than I am.” His disbelief was palpable. 

Malakai shook his head. “I took it to the elders. We’re all in agreement. We firmly believe you are the best wolf to lead this pack. Will you accept this honor?”

How could he deny it? Rhett had great respect and admiration for Malakai. He felt that declining this offer would be a slap to the face. And even more so, he had a duty to fulfill. To his pack. To his mate. To his children. 

“Yes. I’ll accept it,” Rhett finally replied. 

Malakai’s face broke into a grin. He stepped forward, reaching out to shake Rhett’s hand. “My boy. I’m so glad you said that.”

Rhett smiled back, though there was trepidation in his eyes. “So what happens next? I’ve never been part of an alpha ceremony.”

Malakai nodded. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet with the elders soon and they’ll discuss everything. The ceremony will happen on the next full moon. Which, coincidentally, is next Friday.”

Rhett’s eyes widened. He only had a week to prepare for this? It seemed like it was happening so fast. His chest tightened with anxiety. Had he really just agreed to this? The highest, most sacred honor in the wolf community? 

“A-alright,” was all he could say. 

You could sense his uncertainty. You placed a steady hand between his shoulder blades, and he relaxed a little under your touch. 

“I’ll get the elders together, and we’ll meet tomorrow morning at sun up, at my place. How does that sound?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll be there.”

Malakai bid you farewell before he walked off into the night, leaving you and Rhett alone on your porch. You stood there in silence for a beat, both of you processing what you had just been told. 

Slowly, you turned toward your husband, and as realization set in, your eyes filled with tears. “Rhett…” you whispered, your voice breaking. 

His eyes, blue and impossibly deep, met yours. “I know,” he whispered back. 

Without warning, you lurched forward, throwing your arms around his neck. His own arms instinctively came up to wind around your waist. You held each other, standing on your porch in the cool night air. 

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered when you parted, his voice thick with emotion. 

You smiled, lifting your hand to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. “I can. You deserve this, my love. I can’t think of a better man to take on this responsibility.”

He let out a breath, a plume of condensation puffing out into the air, his head shaking as he did so. “I don’t know about that.”

You touched his face, bringing his chin up so he’d look at you. “Don’t you dare sell yourself short, Rhett. You’ve earned this. And you’ll be the alpha this pack needs, I just know it.” You leaned in to tenderly kiss him, and he reciprocated, mouth moving against yours with ease, familiar and soft.

“I love you, little wolf,” he murmured against your mouth when you parted. 

“I love you too. And I’m so proud of you.” You nuzzled your nose against his before you reluctantly pulled away. “Guess we should go back inside and wrangle the pups.”

“Guess we should.” He slipped his arm around you, and you sauntered back into the comforting warmth of your home.

That night, after the littles were all tucked in their beds, safe and warm, Rhett lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation with Malakai. This was a life-altering moment. Things would never be the same again after this. It was the most important role he would ever fulfill, aside from his role as your mate and as a father to his children.

Was he cut out for this? Could he lead an entire pack of werewolves? This was no longer limited to just his family depending on him. This was an entire community. He would be the figurehead of the Northeast Wyoming Pack, representing a growing population of wolves, the largest in the entire state, in fact. The thought of being their leader scared the hell out of him.

But he would be a fool to turn down an opportunity like this. Not to mention, it would be seen as disrespectful to Malakai to decline this honor. So, the very next morning, he rose before the sun, ready to face the elders and formally tell them that he accepted this position.

You stirred when you heard him moving about the room, and you turned onto your side, squinting in the light that streamed in from the bathroom. When he saw that you were awake, he stopped at your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Gonna go meet the elders now,” he whispered.

“Mm,” you hummed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Good luck.”

“Thank y’ darlin’,” came his reply. He returned your hand squeeze before he finally slipped away, pausing to shut off the bathroom light before he made his way down the steps. He was quiet on his feet so as not to wake the rest of the house, stopping at the door to grab his boots before he stepped out onto the porch, taking a seat on the bench near the door to put them on. 

He let out a soft sigh, steeling himself before he stood and began the trek across the property toward Malakai’s place, where the elders regularly met. The entire walk, his mind was spinning, trying to process the fact that he was going to stand before these revered wolves and begin the journey of receiving alpha status. Never in a million years would he have dreamed this would be happening.

But it was, and soon, he was on Malakai’s doorstep, lifting a hand to knock on the door, and taking a deep breath to steady himself. Moments later, the door came open, and there was Malakai’s wife, Larissa, standing in the doorway.

She smiled warmly at Rhett. “Good mornin’, honey!” She greeted. “Come on in, I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Everyone else is on the back deck.”

He thanked her, leaning in to give her a quick hug before he headed into the house, right to the sliding doors that led out onto the deck. There, the five pack elders awaited him, each of them seated at the large rectangle table in the middle of the deck.

When Malakai saw him, he stood. “There’s the man of the hour,” he said with a smile, as Rhett stepped outside to join the group.

“Mornin’,” Rhett replied, reaching out to shake Malakai’s hand. He looked around the table, bidding good morning to each elder.

Gwenevere, Leo, Nora, Matthias, and Sebastian. All the oldest members of the pack. The purpose of their counsel was to ensure everything was done decently and in order. They were advisors to the alpha. 

“Have a seat,” Malakai urged Rhett, and he did so, thanking him for his graciousness. Rhett tried to hide his nerves, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders as he took a seat across them at the table. His heart quickened in his chest. He knew that all of them could hear it. They could already sense his unease.

Gwenevere leaned forward, her hands folded on the tabletop. Her eyes, stormy gray, remained fixed on Rhett’s face, regarding him with an unreadable expression. “Malakai tells us you are willing to accept his position as alpha of this pack.”

“Yes ma’am,” came Rhett’s response. 

“This is the highest honor you will ever be given. Are you prepared to put the needs of this pack for your own?” Sebastian spoke up.

“I am.”

“And are you willing to protect them, no matter the cost?”

Rhett looked directly into Sebastian’s eyes. “Yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this family.”

“Young wolf,” Nora interjected, pointing her finger at him. “Do you understand how sacred this job is? Do you realize what is at stake here?”

He did not waver beneath her hard gaze. His mind went to you and his children. There was nothing he would not to do keep you safe. And he knew that he would be just as diligent in safeguarding all the other wolves that would soon be under his care. 

“I do. And I have t’ say…before you all showed up here all those years ago, I never knew what it was like to be part of a pack. Not really. My family was all I had, and when my brother did what he did…after what happened to m’ wife…you didn’t turn your backs on me. You showed me what it means to be part of somethin’. And I’m honored that you’d let me take charge of this. I promise to do everythin’ I can to be the alpha these wolves need me to be.”

His words hung in the air, and he awaited a response with bated breath. 

Matthias was the one who spoke next. “Rhett, when Malakai brought your name up as a potential candidate to replace him, all of us were in agreement that you were the best fit for the job. I know that you won’t disappoint us.”

Rhett shook his head. “I won’t let you down. I swear to you.”

The alpha and the five elders regarded him silently, before Gwenevere finally broke that quiet moment. 

“Then it’s settled. By the light of the next full moon, you will be named alpha over this pack.”

And just like that, the meeting was adjourned. 

Rhett went home that morning, his mind still spinning just as it had been when he woke up. Reality was beginning to set in. This wasn’t a fantasy, this wasn’t a dream. This was real, he was going to become an alpha in just a few short days. 

He knew that there was someone who deserved to know the news. So, he detoured on his walk home, and instead headed for the house that he had grown up in. 

His boots crunched against the gravel as he sauntered up the drive. He knew Cecilia would be awake. She’d always been an early riser. And sure enough, when he made it up to the porch, he could hear her singing softly to herself as she worked in the kitchen, making breakfast. 

Rhett knocked on the door before he called out, “It’s Rhett, Ma!”

Moments later, she was at the door, pleasantly surprised to see him. “What a nice surprise!” She exclaimed as she reached out to hug him. He reciprocated, hugging her extra tight. 

“Just thought I’d stop by for a few minutes. Been a while since we talked,” he mused. 

Cece smiled warmly. “Well come on in!” She motioned for him to step inside, and he did so, following her as she strolled back into the kitchen. “I was just startin’ on breakfast. I can fix ya somethin’, if you want. Could pan scramble you an egg, just like you used to eat.”

Rhett gently declined. “No, I better not. Gonna head back and eat breakfast with the babies in a few,” he explained. 

Cece’s face fell slightly. “Oh, yes. I guess you wouldn’t want to miss breakfast with them. Lord knows your father regretted not spending more time with you and your brother.”

Rhett didn’t acknowledge the comment. He didn’t want to get into a discussion about Royal and Perry. Instead, he kept the mood lighthearted. “I came because I have somethin’ to tell ya’, Ma.”

Her curiosity was piqued. “What is it?” And then, “it’s not a new pup, is it?! That would be wonderful!”

But he shook his head. “No, it’s not a pup. But…well, I’ve been asked to be the alpha of our pack.”

A beat passed. Then another. Her eyes filled with tears. “Rhett, that’s…that’s wonderful,” she whispered in disbelief. She pulled him in for another hug. “Oh, my boy, my boy. I’m so proud of you!”

When they parted, they were both smiling from ear to ear. “I wanted you to know before they announced it to everyone.”

She lovingly touched his cheek. “Thank you. I really appreciate you tellin’ me.” Her eyes still glimmered with unshed tears. “I really am so proud. Your daddy is going to be too. I’ll have to call him up and let him know. Unless…you want to do it?” She looked up at him hopefully. 

Rhett hesitated. His relationship with Royal was complicated. He had not spoken to him in a long time. Although seven years had passed since your abduction, and finding out that Royal had been involved in covering up Perry’s crime, it had still left a mark. 

Rhett had been able to move on for the most part, but there was still a disconnect there between him and his father. It was the fact that he had chosen to protect his oldest son, over his youngest. He had betrayed the trust Rhett had in him, and it severed any bond they might have had. 

“You can just let ‘im know,” Rhett answered his mother. 

She tried to hide her disappointment. “Alright, I will.”

He sighed softly before he finally decided to bid her goodbye. “Well, that’s all I wanted to tell ya. Ceremony will be on the full moon.”

“I’ll be there,” she assured him. Then she hugged him again. “Look at you. One of my sons, an alpha.”

He mustered a smile. “Who woulda thought, huh?”

She patted his cheek. “I would have. You’re a good man, Rhett. And it ain’t because of anythin’ me or your father did. You chose to do the right thing because that’s just who you are. And because of that, I know you’ll be the best alpha this pack ever had.”

He felt tears well in his eyes. Praise was hard to come by from his parents. Royal especially. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d heard his father tell him he was proud of him. And even now, he doubted the man would say those words, despite the high honor that had just been bestowed upon him. 

“Thanks, Ma,” he whispered. 

“I meant every word.” She parted from him, stepping back and motioning to the door. “Now go on, get. Enjoy your breakfast with your family.”

After sparing her a final glance, he stepped back outside into the brisk October air, pausing to take a deep breath. He hadn’t expected speaking to his mother to bring up so many memories and emotions. He tried to keep in touch with her regularly, especially because she lived right down the way from him, and he had no excuse not to speak to her. 

But sometimes, it was hard. Going back to that house was a reminder of a childhood filled with unrest. Back then, he hadn’t noticed how unhealthy it was. It wasn’t until after you walked into his life, and you started a family of your own, that he realized what a stable, wholesome family unit was like. 

He mourned for that little boy who had not experienced gentleness from his father. The way Rhett was with his own children was not the way Royal had been with him. His father had been dismissive of his emotions. Men don’t cry. And certainly not men who are part wolf. 

It was something that Rhett still struggled with to this day. You had helped him considerably in learning to express his emotions, but he supposed he would always have that small voice within him, telling him he was weak for allowing emotion to bubble to the surface. 

But he tried his best to put those days of his childhood behind him. He had four little ones that he had the opportunity to show love and patience to. He could give them things he hadn’t had when he was a child. He could be a good father. 

Just like he would be a good alpha. 

Your words from the night before rang in his head as he walked back to your house. Don’t you dare sell yourself short, Rhett. You’ve earned this.

It was time he trusted in his own abilities. 

In the following days leading up to the ceremony, Rhett was thrumming with nerves. The children noticed something was off. 

You had explained to them that their father was going to be taking leadership of the pack, but you weren’t sure how well their little minds could fully process the magnitude of the situation. 

But they would soon witness it for themselves. As small as they were, with your oldest being seven, and your youngest being only one, you still wanted them to witness this monumental moment in their father’s life. 

Your heart was warmed when, the night before the ceremony, you heard your son Max talking to Rhett as he got the boy ready for bed. 

“I want to be an alpha just like you when I grow up, Daddy,” he said. 

Rhett hummed, ruffling his son’s hair. “And I bet you will, buddy. Couldn’t think of a better wolf to take my place.”

The five-year-old looked up at his dad. “Are you scared to be an alpha?” He could not enunciate his L’s yet, so the word came out as “owpha.”

You watched from the doorway, eyeing Rhett as he knelt down so that he was eye level with Max. He hesitated for only a moment. His instinct was to deny fear, but what good would that do to his son? He needed to own up to his feelings. He needed to be transparent, because he owed that much to his children. “Yeah, I am. And y’know what? It’s okay to be scared.”

Max nodded, his little face serious. “Mama says that all the time.”

“And she’s right. Sometimes we gotta do things that scare us, because in the end, somethin’ good will happen.”

You could see Max’s mind working behind his eyes. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re really brave.”

Rhett didn’t bother to hide his tears. He hugged his boy to his chest, his large hand coming up to rest at the back of his head, cradling him there. “Thank you, bud.”

You were touched, and tears reached your own eyes. Max had such a tender heart. Even at such a young age, he was sensitive to the feelings of those around him. You hoped he would never lose that sweet spirit.

After their conversation, Rhett gently coaxed him into bed, making sure the blankets were tucked in around him, before you finally made your presence known. You reached out, placing a steady hand against Rhett’s back as you leaned down to kiss your son on the forehead.

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you whispered.

“‘Night, Mama.”

After he was settled, the two of you quietly left the room, and Rhett shut the door behind him. And just like that, all four of your children were tucked safely in their beds, leaving you with a moment of peace.

“He loves you so much, Rhett,” you whispered to your husband as you walked toward the steps that led up to your bedroom. 

He nodded, slipping his arm around your waist. “He’s a good boy. Reminds me a lot of me when I was a kid…just, different.”

You paused, turning to cup his cheek. “Different because he has a daddy who’s patient and loving.”

Rhett let out an unsteady breath. “I really try, y’know?”

“I know you do, and it shows. There’s no doubt in that boy’s mind that you love him. There’s no doubt in any of our pups’ minds about that.” You leaned in to kiss him tenderly, and he hummed against your mouth, his large hands coming up to rest at your hips. 

“I love you,” he confessed.

“I love you too,” came your reply as your fingers stroked at the scruffy edge of his jaw. Another kiss, and you spoke again, “Now c’mon, let’s get to bed. Got a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Need all the rest you can get.”

You kissed him again, your body lingering against his for a moment, relishing in the closeness. These past few days had been all out of sorts for you both. Rhett was so wrapped up in preparing for the alpha ceremony that he hadn’t taken a moment to just be with you. To hold you in his arms, to sit in the stillness. 

He realized that this was what he needed. You were what he needed, you were the healing balm. So, that night, he let you be that for him. Let you snuggle against his chest, and whisper reassuring words as you rested your head on his chest. And for the first night that entire week, he found rest. 

The next morning, he woke to the first rays of morning sun peeking in through the window. He was safe and warm in his bed, with his mate in his arms, and for those first few moments of consciousness, nothing else mattered. 

When you stirred, you found him gazing down at you. You smiled sleepily, cuddling up against him. “Mornin’, my love.” And then, your eyes met his. “It’s ceremony day.”

He let out a hum. “Mm. I’m so fuckin’ nervous.”

“I’ll be right there with you, baby. I promise.”

And he knew you would be. 

When you finally forced yourselves out of bed, you took the time to prepare him his favorite breakfast. You wanted to make him feel special, and you succeeded. He sat at the table with his two littles, Leia and Zoella, in his lap, while Arya and Max had pulled their chairs on either side of him to huddle in close. It was as if they could sense his trepidation and wanted to comfort him. Surrounded by his wife and babies, Rhett felt all the love and support in the world. He had everything he could ever ask for. 

In fact, throughout that entire day, all four children stayed glued to their father, and he let them. Their presence brought him comfort. In anticipation of this very day, you had kept Arya and Max home from school, because you knew they would be out of sorts with the upcoming ceremony. They needed to be here, with their pack. 

Not to mention, Rhett needed them. 

As each hour passed, bringing sunset closer and closer, Rhett grew more restless. The anticipation of the full moon always made wolves antsy, but that, paired with the knowledge that in a few short hours, he would become an alpha, increased that restlessness tenfold. 

While the children were occupied with an art project at the kitchen table, thanks to Amy, who had offered to set it up for them, Rhett kissed you and informed you that he was going on a run to clear his head. 

“Want me to come with you?” You offered, snuggling into his side. The two of you loved going on runs together. It was where you’d slip into wolf form and dash through the woods, running just to run. It was such a freeing sensation. 

Rhett smiled softly, shaking his head. “Nah, I think…I think I need to do this alone. Gotta get out of my head go back to my roots.” Roots, meaning his wolf nature. 

You nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You stole another kiss before you stepped back. “I love you. Go.”

He stepped outside, and you watched through the window as he quickly rid himself of his clothing, sprinting right off the porch and shifting midair, landing on four paws before he took off toward the tree line. You couldn’t help but smile fondly. Oh, how you loved him. 

He was so anxious about what was to come, but you weren’t, because had no doubt that he was made for this. 

While Rhett was on his run, and Amy had the kids occupied, you set to work preparing for that night. You set out an outfit for your husband. A royal blue shirt that brought out his eyes, and a pair of his nicest jeans. You would be given special ceremonial robes to wear during the event itself, so you weren’t too concerned with what would be worn beneath them, but you still wanted the both of you to look your best. 

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, you could feel an electricity in the air. Of course, this was brought on by the approaching full moon, but it was something more than that. Rhett felt it too, and when he returned from his run, he was wired and filled with new energy. 

By that time, you and Amy had set about getting the kids ready for that night. Arya had gotten ready all by herself, which she proudly announced to Rhett when he walked in the door. 

“You look beautiful, little gal,” he said with a smile, lovingly running his knuckle against her soft cheek. 

“I wanted to dress up like Mama,” she told him, smoothing her hands over her dress, one that closely matched the one you were wearing. 

“You look just like her, too,” he mused. His sweet, beautiful little girl. The girl who made him a father. 

“She does, doesn’t she? Resemblance is uncanny,” Amy spoke up. 

She, too, had dressed up for the occasion, and had threaded her long blonde waves into a thick plait that ran down her back. She was teeming with excitement for the opportunity her uncle had been given. He had been with her through her most transformative years of life, stepping in when her father couldn’t, and she’d developed a deep bond with him. Now that she was grown, she still appreciated all that you and Rhett had done to give her a good life. She believed he deserved this honor and then some. 

And she told him as such. As Arya ran to see if her three younger siblings were ready, Amy caught Rhett at the foot of the steps leading up to your bedroom. 

“I’m proud of you, Uncle Rhett.”

Rhett smiled softly. “Thanks, Amygirl. Means a lot to me.”

She returned his smile and gave him a hug, which he gratefully received. When they parted, she said, “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“And I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

She nodded, her gaze soft. “I know you would.”

They shared a silent understand before Rhett finally headed upstairs, his heart warm from the interaction. He found you on the bed, getting your youngest into her little outfit. 

“Hey, ZoZo,” he greeted the tiny one, and she giggled in delight at the sight of her father, immediately reaching her little arms up. 

“Dada!” She exclaimed. Her vocabulary had just started to broaden, but she hadn’t yet graduated from calling him dada. And Rhett loved it. When his children called for him, whether it was ‘daddy’ or ‘dada’, it invoked deep emotion within him. Becoming a father was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“Mama’s got you lookin’ so pretty!” He hummed as he leaned down to take her into his arms. 

“Pretty!” She echoed in delight, clapping her chubby hands.  

As he snuggled his youngest against his chest, his gaze shifted to you. His mouth curled into a reverent smile, his deep blue eyes taking in your form. “Y’ look beautiful, Mama.”

Even after all these years, you still grew bashful when he complimented you. You rode from the bed, offering a loving peck to his lips. “Thank you, m’love.” And then, “I set out your clothes for you. Thought you’d look handsome in blue.”

He caught you, deepening what had been a light kiss. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” you articulated. Then, you eased Zoella from his arms. “Better take this little one down to give her a little snack and let you get ready.”

“Okay. Be ready in a few,” he echoed as he handed off your daughter to you. He left a kiss on her head before he let you head back downstairs. 

It was time to finally ready himself for the ceremony. 

He hopped in the shower and scrubbed his skin clean, making sure to wash behind his ears like his mother had drilled into his head when he was a young boy. 

After a quick scrub down, he was hasty to dry off, and throw on his clothes. After his hair was combed down, cologne spritzed on his skin, and socks on his feet, he finally made his way back downstairs, where you and Amy were rounding the littles up to head out the door. 

“Okay! I need a picture of Daddy and the babies!” You exclaimed. “C’mon, gather round!” 

As Amy herded the children around him, you ran to grab your camera, and moments later, you’d snapped several pictures of this monumental moment, with intentions of placing it in a frame and displaying it in your home for years to come. 

“Can we go now?!” Arya asked impatiently. 

“We’re goin’!” Rhett replied. “C’mon tiny wolves, let’s get a move on.” He gathered Zoella in his arms, and then led all of you outside. 

Max and Leia held your hands, while Arya walked up ahead alongside Amy and her father. The place where the ceremony would be held was not a far walk. It was at a clearing in the woods, where the moonlight shined just so. 

Everything had been set up, and as you neared the clearing, you could see how whimsical it looked, and yet, it had an almost pagan feel to it. Fairy lights had been strung from the trees. Deer antlers, masks, and various items that had been passed down from ancestors. 

There was a bonfire going in the middle of the clearing. Adjacent, beneath an ancient weeping willow tree, was a pedestal with a pair of velvet robes placed upon it, and a wooden bowl filled with something you could not see, but would later find out was red paint, made from crushed rose petals and beetroot. 

Members of your pack had already begun to gather. The elders, along with Malakai were taking their places beneath the willow tree. 

As you neared the site, you shared a look with Rhett. 

“You ready?” You asked. 

He let out an unsteady sigh. “As I’ll ever be,” he murmured. 

You squeezed his hand. It was time. 

Amy retrieved Zoella from Rhett’s arms, and she guided the rest of your children over to a little area where other pups were already congregating. Knowing they were in good hands, you were able to move your focus to your husband, who was trying to steady his breathing. He looked like he was seconds away from spiraling. 

“Hey,” you said. You reached up, cupping his cheek, turning his face to you. Your fingers stroked his jaw. You placed your other hand on his chest, over his heart. “Breathe.”

He breathed in deep, his chest rising beneath your touch. Then he exhaled. Upon his second inhale, he focused in on the one and only scent that could ground him - you. That sweet, intoxicating scent that he loved. So familiar and comforting. 

The world seemed to fade out around him. It was just the two of you, sharing an intimate moment. 

“You’re okay.”

He was, wasn’t he? He’d be just fine. 

“I’m okay,” he repeated. 

You kissed him tenderly. It gave him clarity, and he parted from you feeling considerably calmer. He felt ready to take on the responsibility that lay ahead of him. 

He squared his shoulders and glanced around, taking in the sight of his pack members gathering ‘round in support of him. He saw his mother, standing proud, and he nodded at her, silently thanking her for being there for him. She placed her hand over her heart and mouthed I love you. 

And then, it was time. 

Malakai raised his hand. “Gather round, wolves!” He called out. 

Immediately, the group went silent, and everyone began to move toward the tree, but they left a center walkway clear for you and Rhett to walk down. 

A hush fell over the crowd. You grasped Rhett’s hand. 

“Tonight is a very special night. As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, I am surrendering my alpha status. This hasn’t been a decision I’ve taken lightly. I especially wanted to choose someone who was worthy of this position. Someone who will lead you valiantly. Someone who will love you. For me, it simply made sense to choose Rhett Abbott.”

A round of applause rippled through the group. Rhett felt his throat tighten as emotion washed over him. This amount of support was overwhelming for him. 

Malakai met his gaze. “Come forward.”

Hand in hand, the two of you walked toward the weeping willow, your heads held high. When you reached Malakai, he leaned in to kiss your cheeks, and then Rhett’s. 

Of the elders, Gwenevere and Matthias stepped forward, holding the ruby-red robes in their hands. Gwenevere placed yours upon your shoulders, while Matthias placed Rhett’s on his. That was the moment that it really began to set in for you. This was real. This was happening. 

Rhett couldn’t suppress the shiver that trailed down his spine as the velvet robe cascaded down his body. His heart quickened in his chest. His skin felt like it was alive with electricity, crackling and sparkling in a brilliant display.

The feeling was akin to the way he’d felt when he met you for the first time and realized you were his mate. Overwhelming, all-consuming, intense enough to drive him to his knees. But he remained standing tall, despite himself. 

“Rhett Abbott,” Malakai addressed him.

“Yes sir?”

“Do you pledge your undying loyalty to The Northeastern Wyoming Wolf Pack?”

Without hesitation, he answered. “I do.”

“Do you pledge to lead them benevolently?”

“I do.”

“And do you pledge to honor, protect, and defend them?”

“I do.”

Malakai nodded, satisfied with the answers he’d been given. He stepped toward the pedestal that stood nearby, his boots crunching against earth and dry leaves as he moved. Reaching out, he took the wooden bowl that had been placed there before the ceremony. 

“Kneel,” he commanded.

Rhett sank to his knees, humble before his pack. 

Malakai dipped his fingers into the bowl, gathering the homemade paint before he lifted his hand. With his pointer and middle fingers, he left deliberate trails of paint down Rhett’s cheeks. The red pigment symbolized the color of an alpha’s eyes. 

After the paint applied to Rhett’s ruddy cheeks, Malakai handed the bowl off to Nora, another elder. Then, he gazed upon Rhett, moving to lift his chin so he was looking up at him.

“You are the only wolf I trust to lead this pack in my stead. I am confident that you won’t let me down.”

“I won’t, sir,” Rhett assured him, his voice hoarse, emotion evident within its octaves.

Malakai then glanced at each elder. Gwenevere, Matthias, Leo, Nora, Sebastian. “It’s time,” he spoke to them.

They all gave him a nod of approval. 

Above the pack, the sun had finally sunk beneath the horizon, and the full moon was rising in the sky, its silvery light seeming to surround Rhett on purpose. You stared at him in awe, your eyes widening as you saw its pale beams glimmer against his hair, acting as a sort of halo. 

It was breathtaking. 

But the time to marvel was done, because Malakai stepped into the light, his shadow cast over Rhett’s kneeling form. The older wolf’s hands twitched at his sides, and his claws elongated from his fingertips.

Slowly, he raised his right hand. You watched as he placed that same hand against Rhett’s neck. He aligned his claws at the base, pressing them only slightly against his skin, preparing the younger wolf for what was about to happen.

Rhett locked eyes with Malakai. “I’m ready.”

All at once, the alpha sank his claws into the nape of Rhett’s neck. You flinched as he let out an agonized growl, his body going as tense as a taut rope while the pain blossomed within.

“Don’t fight it, young wolf,” Malakai commanded.

Rhett resisted the urge to pull away, but the pain was great and all-consuming, a burn that radiated throughout his neck and upper back. He groaned, huffing in labored breaths, as he realized his body was trying to shift. His jaw twitched as he tried to keep his fangs from lengthening from his gums. But it was no use. 

And then, seconds later, the pain he felt began to melt away. He never tore his gaze from Malakai’s. He watched as the alpha’s eyes glowed red as fiery embers, but then, he realized that red was fading away, slowly draining from his irises, replaced by a brilliant yellow.

You watched in amazement as the same ruby-red began to come to life in your mate’s eyes, dull at first, but growing ever brighter by the second. Your heart pounded in your chest, because you could feel it. That was the thing with mates, they could feel the other’s pain or distress. And you could feel it, but this was different.

This was…thrilling. It felt like you had just been struck by a bolt of lightning and splashed with a shock of cold water all at the same time. You gasped sharply, as did Rhett, and suddenly you felt more alive than you ever had in your life. So did he.

“It is done!” Gwenevere called out.

Seconds later, Malakai released Rhett, withdrawing his claws from the base of his neck. Rhett suddenly fell forward, catching himself as he put his hands out in front of him. The entire pack waited in dead silence, anticipation thrumming in the air like a magic spell.

And then, the alpha rose.

Slowly, Rhett moved, pushing himself up from the earth, and standing to his full height. Then he turned to face his pack, his eyes still gleaming red. A soft gasp went through the small crowd, followed by hushed murmurs.

And then, “Rhett Thomas Abbott, you are now the alpha of the Northeastern Wyoming Wolf Pack.”

Rhett let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and all at once, everything felt right. He felt whole, as if he had just fulfilled his very purpose in life. This was it. This was what he was meant for. 

And then, a display of reverence followed. 

Starting with Malakai, each and every member of the pack lowered themselves to their knees. Overwhelmed, you moved closer to Rhett, reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers. The two of you stood there as your wolves knelt out of respect for their new alpha. The sight brought tears to your eyes. 

Your gaze shifted to Rhett, and you realized his eyes were glimmering with emotion, too. 

But the time for tears was over. So he threw his head back and let out a clear howl into the air. Everyone else followed, a chorus of wolf howls filling the woods, reverberating around you. It was an indescribable moment that you knew you would not soon forget. 

After that very special moment, a time of music and dancing followed. Old mountain melodies were sung, and you were inundated with pack members coming up to congratulate Rhett on his status, and pledge their loyalty to him as their alpha. 

And most important of all, your children came bounding up to their father, with little Leia launching herself into his arms, and Arya and Max laughing in delight as they secured themselves at his waist. 

Amy held a bouncing Zoella on her hip, who Rhett promptly reached for. Even as the littlest of the family, she seemed to know this was a time of celebration and joy, and she squealed when her daddy took her into his arms. 

And there he stood, an alpha, his wife and children surrounding him, and he felt as if he was on top of the world. He’d never dreamed that this would be his life, yet here he was, and he could hardly contain his wonder. 

“I did it,” he whispered to you, as you nuzzled close to him, joining him and the huddle of babies surrounding him. 

“You did it,” you echoed, unable to hide the joyous smile spread across your face. 

You were so proud, you could hardly contain yourself. 

That night, the celebration went on. You feasted and you danced and you sang and you laughed. You watched Rhett throughout the evening, and the only way you could describe him was radiant. He appeared to be glowing, just as he had when the moon touched its silvery fingers to his head when he stood beneath the weeping willow. Alpha status looked good on him. 

And then, came the best part of the night. For you and Rhett, at least. 

As the hours grew later, the pups needed to be rounded up and put to bed. Graciously, Amy assured you she would take care of them. 

“Keep on havin’ a good time,” she said. “I’ll get these kids settled at the house.”

“You sure?” You asked, fully prepared to do it yourself. 

“Course I’m sure! It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, you and Uncle Rhett deserve to celebrate some more. Wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”

“Alrighty then. Let me just kiss them all goodnight.”

Together, you and Rhett bid each of your children goodnight and sent them off with Amy. Other pups were being taken home as well, leaving just the adults left over. It was time for a full moon run, and because pups under ten years of age did not yet possess the ability to turn, they did not participate. 

As for the rest of you, you would shift into your wolves and run beneath the light of the moon, the night air rippling through your fur, free as a bird. It was exhilarating. 

And so, when the moon rose to its highest peak, another set of howls rippled through the group, and one by one, the transformation from human to wolf began. 

Rhett turned to you, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Ready?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

You rid yourselves of your robes, followed by your clothing, and moments later, you were shifting. You into your wolf with its snow-white pelt, and Rhett into his wolf with its midnight black one. 

A rush of pure excitement rippled through you as you nuzzled your face against your mate’s fur. At Rhett’s signal, you took off into the woods, side by side. 

You ran like the wind, following your lover. You had mastered the art of communicating silently and through your senses. Every whine, every yip, every shift of the ears. You knew what the other was saying in an instant. 

And now, you knew that Rhett was leading you far away from the pack. In your heart, you knew why. You could feel it. It buzzed through your bloodstream like a crackling, surging current. A deep desire, an animalistic need. Your alpha was the only one that could fulfill it. 

And then, he stopped. And you did too. 

He turned to you, staring into your face for a moment before his eyes flashed red again. It struck you into a moment of submission, and you whined, lowering yourself to the ground and bowing your head. 

Then, Rhett shifted back into human, and you watched, still bowing at his feet, as he stood tall above you, naked as the day he was born. 

“Shift,” he simply said.

Seconds later, you had returned to your human form, remaining on your knees as he looked down at you. Your breathing was labored from your run, and it swirled in puffs of condensation around your head. Your heart was pounding in your chest. 

Rhett stepped forward, bare feet against cold earth. His expression was unreadable, yet he exuded power. Then, he reached his hand out, lovingly stroking your cold cheek before he brought his thumb up to trace the outline of your lips. You parted them and allowed the digit to press against your tongue. 

Something primal was ignited between you both that night. You could see it in Rhett’s eyes and feel it deep within your core. 

“What an obedient little wolf,” he murmured as you suckled on his thumb, moaning softly around it. “Been thinkin’ about you ever since the ceremony. Wonderin’ what it’d be like to fuck you as your alpha.”

Your moan turned into a whimper, and you pulled away from his finger to speak. “Want it,” you sighed. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” His large hand closed around your jaw, holding your face in place. “I ain’t gon’ be gentle. Wanna mount you and take you hard.”

His words sent a thrum of arousal through you, to the point where it was almost painful. “Please.” 

Your eyes flickered down. God, his cock was already growing hard. It elicited a needy sound from you, a cross between a growl and a whine, wolfish and unbridled. 

Then he knelt in front of you, both hands holding your face. His eyes searched your own, just before he leaned in, lips crashing against yours. The kiss was deep, as if you were trying to commit the other to memory. Your hands came up to grasp at his shoulders, fingers digging into the skin. 

When you parted, you were breathless. Against your parted lips, Rhett’s tongue laved, delving into your mouth, letting you taste him. He was intoxicating. Not only did his scent overwhelm you, it consumed the air around you. During a rutting session, the scent of each mate would grow that much stronger to the other, creating a dizzying concoction that would send their hormones into overdrive. 

And that was what was happening at that very moment. You were growing high off of each other, as if you were one another’s own personal drug. 

Rhett moved to trail his nose down your jaw, nuzzling against your pulse point before he breathed in deep, inhaling your scent. Then, you felt his fangs, sharp against your soft skin. He growled low in his chest, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were glowing red again. 

“I’m goin’ to devour you, little wolf.”

You pressed your bare chest against his. “Do it.”

With a snarl, he threw his weight against yours, sending you tumbling to the forest floor as he pounced on top of you. However, his hand reflexively came up to the back of your head, so you wouldn’t hit it when you went down. 

You had squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation of the impact, and when you opened them, you found him hovering over you, gaze intense. He was looking at you like you were a little rabbit that he’d just caught in his greedy paws. 

He grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands above your head. “Stay,” he said. Obediently, you kept your arms where they were when he moved his hand. Then he leaned back to rest on his haunches, and you watched him, taking in the sight. 

He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing as he drank in your gorgeous form, spread out just for him. “S’pretty,” he hummed. “All for me.”

His hand flattened against your sternum before traveling downward. Down, down, down, until his palm was pressed over your mound, just above your cunt. But he didn’t dip his fingers inside. No, he instead shoved your legs apart and got down between them. You lifted your head to gaze down at him, only to find him nuzzling his face against your wetness, inhaling you. 

He nipped at your inner thigh, soothing the welt that was sure to follow with his tongue. “Smell good enough to eat.” His nose nudged at your clit, and you whimpered as he left a kiss there. “So good. So sweet.”

He trailed his tongue through your folds to tease you, but he found that you were already soaking wet. You had been from the moment you saw him assume alpha status in front of the pack. 

You didn’t want him to tease you. You wanted him to breed you. 

“Rhett,” you sighed. 

“I know,” he murmured. He left one more kiss to your needy pussy before he finally moved so that his face was hovering over yours again. He kissed you languidly, allowing you to taste yourself. 

When you parted, you reached down, with intentions of wrapping your hand around his cock, which was now fully hard and heavy with arousal. But he caught you. 

“Uh-uh, what’d I say?”

“To stay,” you whispered. 

“Be patient, I’ll give it all to ya,” he assured you, lifting your hand to place it back over your head. He kept his own hand enclosed around your wrists as he brought his left hand down to align himself with you. 

He slid his cock through your slick, pulling a breathless moan. You could feel your cunt pulse with need, so desperate to have him inside you. Your hips lifted of their own volition, trying to get him to slip past your entrance. 

Without warning, he gave a light cautionary slap to your pussy, and you yelped, jolting beneath him. “Fuckin’ impatient, girl,” he snapped. “I have half a mind to turn you over and fuck your ass instead, since your cunt’s so fuckin’ greedy.”

At that, you let out a frustrated mewl. “No! Stop teasin’ me.” Then, you gave him your best doe eyes. “I just want my alpha to fuck me.”

You saw it then. The shift in his eyes. There was a feral rumble that came from deep within his chest, and all at once, he let out a cross between a bark and a howl, his grip releasing from your wrists as he placed his hands at either side of your head. 

Without warning, and in one fluid motion, he thrust his hips forward, and all at once, your body was stretching to accommodate him, and you were crying out into the night air. 

He grabbed your face. “That what you wanted?” 

“Mhm!”

“What was that?” He punctuated his words with a sharp snap of his hips into yours. 

“YES!” You wailed. 

Again, he grabbed your face, mouth against yours, and he snarled. There was no warmup. He started off rough, and continued as such, driving into you with such force your body began to move away from his. 

“Fuckin’ stay.” Large hands grasped your hips, holding you in place. 

The pleasure was blinding, as if you’d been struck by a white-hot bolt of lightning. His command to keep your hands where they were be damned, you couldn’t help but let your arms come down to your sides, where you clawed at the earth, back arching off the ground. 

He didn’t chastise you. He was far too occupied with the feeling of your cunt tightening around him like a vice, inviting him deeper inside, where he was meant to be. 

He was quick to remove his hands from your hips, moving only to rest his forearms against the earth at either side of your head, bracing himself above you. You were surrounded by him. His warmth, his scent. It was all-encompassing. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him even closer, needing more. He kissed you, open-mouthed and breathless, swallowing your moans and sighs as he began rutting into you. 

He was so deep inside you already. You could feel every inch of him, thick and pulsing, balls heavy and aching and full against you. You couldn’t wait for him to fill you to the brim with his seed. 

He quickened his pace. Hard, heavy, deep thrusts that punched the very breath from your lungs. At some point your hands flew up to grasp at his shoulders, trailing down his back. As your body began to tremble with pleasure, you found it harder to control the animal within you, and your claws lengthened from your fingers, scratching at his flesh. 

His body jerked, and he grunted, snapping his fangs at you. But it wasn’t out of anger. The sharp sting of pain sent a delicious shiver down his spine. 

“Gon’ be the death of me, little wolf,” he groaned. 

But you couldn’t reply. You were already practically nonverbal, save for the uncontrolled squeaks and whimpers leaving your mouth. How was it possible to feel this good? There were tears welling in your eyes, sliding down the sides of your face as he repeatedly drove that thick cock into you. 

But Rhett wanted more. He wanted a position that fulfilled his primal needs. So he pulled out of you for a moment, shushing your cry of protest. 

“I’m givin’ it to ya’, puppy. Hold on.” He shoved your knees toward your chest, arranging you as if you were merely a doll he was posing. 

Then he straddled you, and you realized what he was doing. He’d put you into a mating press position, keen on finding a different angle to make both of you feel the most pleasure possible. 

You yelped as he slipped inside you again, bottoming out. At this angle he filled you all the more, if that was possible. It rendered you breathless as the tip of his cock kissed at the deepest part of you. 

“Rhett!” 

He didn’t waste time with the buildup. No, you were already drenched, so much so that there was an audible wet sound when he entered you. With your legs pressed up high, all you could do was lay there and take it. 

“So good f’me. Made to take my cock,” he grunted, bringing his hips down hard. He built a steady rhythm, faster and faster until he was all but pounding into you and you were nearly sobbing against the forest floor, consumed by him. 

It was rough and venereal and intense. You swore you were outside of your own body, experiencing this moment through your every sense. He was all you knew. Nothing else mattered. Not the cool earth beneath you. Not the full moon above you. No, he was the only thing that existed. Your mate. The keeper of your heart and soul. 

You didn’t bother to hide your ecstasy as he rutted into you. How could you? The sounds were escaping your throat involuntarily, pulled from its depths with each calculated movement. 

“S-so f—ah!—full!” You wailed. You swore you could feel him deeper than before, and that’s when you realized what was happening. 

Your eyes went wide as you felt the stretch. The expansion of his cock inside your walls. He was growing even bigger, and your body was taking it with ease, because that was what it was made to do.

As mates, your anatomy was naturally created to fit together. It was never a struggle to take every last inch of him, even when his cock grew within you. But oh, how overwhelming it was. 

You threw your head back, crying out, grasping for purchase at anything you could, which ended up being his strong forearms. Above you, his face was set in determination. Brow furrowed, jaw tense, brunette locks falling against his forehead. 

He was so big and strong and virile above you. With each growl and snarl he let out, the more your body trembled. The effect he had on you was unmatched. Dizzying, electrifying. 

The heat of molten desire began to crackle to life at the base of your spine. When he pressed his hips against you and nestled them deep, his pubic bone left just the right amount of pressure against your swollen button of thrumming nerves. 

And with each push and pull, your body became more responsive. Your cunt grew more slick around him, and you could feel the way your desire quite literally spurted around his cock. 

“Makin’ such a mess,” he breathlessly spoke. “Sweet lil pussy’s just squirtin’ all over me, honey, and I ain’t even made you come yet.” 

“C-can’t help it!” You cried out. 

He leaned in closer, hot and open mouth resting against yours, tongue smoothing against your kiss-swollen lower lip. “No, you can’t, can ya? The thought of your alpha fuckin’ you gets you so drippy, don’t it?”

Something white-hot flashed within you. An explosion of pleasure that turned you speechless. Your eyes filled with tears and your mouth fell open as you nodded dumbly up at him. 

He grinned, wolffish and wicked. “S’what I thought. Can’t even speak, it feels too good.” Another rough thrust of his hips sent you sobbing into the night air. 

He didn’t stop. He kept a hard, fast, steady rhythm, grunting and growling and snarling as he did. He mouthed at your throat, his fangs sharp, but never sinking into the skin, because even in moments like this, he still had incredible restraint with you. He’d be damned if he ever let himself lose control and hurt you. 

Just as he was going into a partial shift, with his eyes glowing and his fangs and claws elongated, so were you. You couldn’t contain it if you tried. You were wolves, mating in the most primal way, just as nature intended. 

Then he wrapped his hand around your throat. Squeezing just enough to make you lightheaded as he repeatedly drove his cock inside you. 

That’s when it hit you. 

You didn’t even realize how close you were. You were so preoccupied with the intensity of it all that it sneaked up on you. But when it did, it swallowed you whole. 

It felt as if you were free falling, suspended in air made of raw energy. Or maybe magic was the best word to describe it. It sparkled and crackled and washed over you from head to toe. 

You didn’t realize you were sobbing. You couldn’t hear yourself over the rush of blood in your ears. But hot tears had begun to flow down your face again, all while your body trembled fiercely beneath him. 

He hissed in surprise as your cunt began to clench around him, pulsing wildly as your orgasm tore through you. His forearms shook as he fought to hold himself upright, his breath growing labored. 

The sensation was so strong that you blacked out for a moment, and when you came to, you were staring into a hungry, ruby-red gaze. 

He’d stopped moving at some point, hips flush against yours, cock still nestled deep inside. He was exercising great restraint, allowing you a moment to come back to yourself. But you were still fluttering around him and he was moments away from losing his sanity, it felt like. 

In your hazy state, he suddenly seemed so much bigger above you. Imposing, in a way. But you weren’t frightened. Far from it. You’d never felt more protected. 

“I-I—” you tried to speak, but the words died in your throat, replaced by an involuntary sob. 

He softened. That furrowed brow relaxed. His eyes shifted back to a very human blue. “Shh,” he soothed. “I’ve got ya, little wolf.”

“N-no, I…” Why couldn’t you form sentences? Your brain felt like it had gone blank, filled with television static. 

His face contorted in concern. “Are y’ alright?” He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Yes,” you managed to say. 

“Then what, hm?” He was patient. He wouldn’t rush you into speaking if you weren’t ready. 

But you only had three words to say. “I lo…love you.”

“Oh, baby.” He kissed you again, so tender in contrast to how he’d been fucking you moments before. “I love you too. So much.”

Something shifted then. What had once been carnal and hedonic now melted into a moment of tenderness. Ever so carefully, he leaned back, and when you realized he was switching positions, you whimpered in pitiful protest. 

He soothed you by slipping his pointer and middle finger into your mouth, providing something to occupy your mouth so you wouldn’t spiral. “Hey, I’ve got’ya.”

Gently, he parted your thighs again, slotting himself between them. His arms encircled your upper body, and in one fluid movement, he lifted you, pressing you to his chest as he moved to rest on his haunches. You were straddling his lap then, chest pressed flush against his. His mouth hovering over your own, swallowing the yip you let out as he eased himself back inside you.

“R-Rhett…”

“I’m here.” One steady thrust upward. Then another. And another. 

A dreamy haze settled over you as your bodies began to move of one accord. You keened high in your throat, your arms coming up to wrap around Rhett’s broad shoulders, clutching him tightly, needing him close, needing every inch of his body against yours.

He held you lovingly as he eased in and out of your dripping core, bringing you quickly toward yet another release. All you could do was let him take you, his strong arms moving you up and down to meet each push of his hips. 

Your head lolled back, your body undulating against his. You were floating, drifting through time and space, on an entirely different plane of existence. There it was again, building, building, building. It wasn’t fiery or explosive. No, it felt like bubbles. Like your bloodstream had suddenly turned to fizzy champagne. 

It surged through you, flowing like the building tide, and this time, you knew it was coming. “I-I’m…!” You gasped into his open mouth, but you couldn’t speak.

“I know,” his voice was strained. “Me too. Let go.”

With a soft cry, you came apart again, head thrown back as your body was overcome. You didn’t remember crying out his name, but it echoed through the trees nonetheless. He kept moving even as you fell to pieces in his arms. He would put you back together again soon enough.

You went boneless in his grasp. With your face buried against his neck, you whimpered and sobbed quietly as he quickened his pace, chasing his own end. He murmured words of reassurance to you, but you couldn’t hear them over the white noise in your ears. 

His grip tightened on you, and his cock swelled within you again, all while he growled, squeezing his eyes shut as he neared that peak. 

“Gonna—ah!—gonna breed you again. Fill you up with another one of m’ pups.”

Please, you tried to utter, but you couldn’t form the word. You wanted it. Oh, how badly you wanted it. But he already knew. 

And then, it finally began to wash over him. Divine ecstasy that sizzled at the base of his spine. You felt it. The heat. The pulsing, the thrumming, filling you with spurt after spurt of his seed. And you took it all like his good little wolf. 

As he came down, you remained still in his arms, your chest heaving against his, your body exhausted but oh so satiated. You felt his hand at the back of your head, lovingly cradling you against his chest. The sound of his heart beginning to slow back down to its normal best calmed you. 

“Y’ still with me?” Came his gravelly question. 

“Mhm,” you sighed. 

He tipped your face up so you were looking at him, and he kissed you tenderly. “Did so good for me. Always take me so well.” Another kiss. 

“Love you,” you murmured. 

He nuzzled his nose against yours. “Love you too, little wolf.”

“C’n we stay here for a few more minutes?”

He smiled. “Yes we can.”

And you did. He remained there on the forest floor with you cuddled in his arms, just enjoying the closeness and the quiet intimacy. The afterglow was a time of bonding for the two of you, and you didn’t sacrifice one minute of that time. 

He lovingly caressed your skin, soothing you, anchoring you. It brought you back to yourself and replenished the energy you had expended during your tryst. 

Eventually, the spell was broken. “Think we should head back?” He asked. 

You sighed. “I suppose so.”

He kissed you again. “C’mon, I’ll carry ya.” The perks of having supernatural strength. 

You let him lift you into his arms, with your head tucked into the side of his neck. He carried you all the way home, and you felt so safe and at ease that you fell asleep in his arms along the way. 

When you woke, you were safe and warm in your bed, with your mate curled protectively around you, and you smiled to yourself. The events of the night before felt like a dream, but they were very much real. Your husband was an alpha now. And you had spent the night mating with him beneath the light of the full moon. How was your life even real?

Beside you, he stirred, a low, sleepy hum sounding from his chest. A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he pulled you to him. “G’mornin’.”

You hummed, snuggling in close. “Morning.”

He buried his face against your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. But he noticed something as he breathed in.

A large hand came down to rest over your belly. 

“It took,” he whispered. 

Your eyes widened. “What?”

His gaze locked with yours. “I told you I’d give you another pup, didn’t I? I can tell it took. Smell the same way you did after I put each of our babies inside ya.”

Your face broke into a grin, and you couldn’t help but laugh, placing your own hand over his. “Guess you really were serious about breeding me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Serious as a heart attack, honey. It’s my job to keep you full of pups, after all.”

“And you’ve done your job exceptionally well,” you teased as you kissed him. 

“Don’t I know it,” he replied goodnaturedly, bumping his nose against yours. 

You cherished that fleeting moment of bliss, basking in the joy that came from learning you would soon be inviting a new addition to your family. 

This same blissful, dreamlike feeling carried on into the days following Rhett’s achievement of alpha status. They were wonderful days. They were happy days. He assumed his role dutifully and made sure that his pack members knew that he was going to take care of them. 

They had no doubt he would, because Rhett Abbott always made good on his word. 

Four Months Later

Life had been good for you. Rhett was beginning to really settle into his position as leader of the Northeast Wyoming Pack, establishing his authority and benevolence. The wolves revered him. 

Your family was thriving. You had been slightly worried that Rhett taking on this responsibility would send things into upheaval for your children and their routine, but they had adapted beautifully. 

You had no doubt in your mind that this was always what Rhett had been meant to do. It was rooted in who he was as a wolf, an intrinsic ability to lead. 

And for those first four months, everything progressed as it should. 

But it wasn’t long before the sanctity of your pack, and everything Rhett had worked so hard for, was threatened. 

A story that had made national news. A group of rogue wolves had targeted The Montana Wolf Pack, killing several innocent members. According to local authorities, this group of wolves had tried to take control of the pack, and when their target had put up a fight, they killed several of its members in cold blood. 

The news of these killings hit close to home. This wasn’t an attack staged by hunters. This atrocity had been committed by wolves, members of your own kind. The ultimate betrayal. The National Werewolf League called for a day of mourning out of respect for the families affected by the unspeakable tragedy. 

Many wondered if this incident was an isolated one, or if other wolves would soon be targeted. Were more lives in danger? Would there be other uprisings across the states? Rogue groups bent on killing their own kind?

That remained to be seen. But it certainly put fear into the hearts of wolfpacks across the US. Yours especially, because Montana was just north of you. However, in the weeks following the attack on the Montana Pack, things remained quiet and uneventful. Life went on as normal.

Until one day, a visitor showed up on your property. 

It was a cold February day, and it had just snowed considerably the night before. School was canceled, so your children were outside playing in the snow with their cousins, having the time of their lives. Inside your cozy home, you were baking cookies while Amy had busied herself with making hot chocolate for the children to drink when they came inside. 

Zoella and Leia, who were still too little to play outside with their older siblings and cousins, were playing contentedly on the floor with little cloth dolls that Cecilia had made for them. The scent of baked goods, the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, and the sound of your little ones giggling on the floor, sent a comforting warmth through your chest. 

Rhett was upstairs, showering after he had spent the better half of the morning shoveling snow. It all felt so domestic. So human. Your happy, growing family, enjoying a snow day. But that joyous warmth would soon give way to sickly cold dread.

As you were lifting a tray of cookies out of the oven to cool, Amy noticed something. Her attention shifted to the window that overlooked your property, where the children were playing. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of a man approaching the children.

“Hey, come here,” she spoke up, waving you over. 

You left the tray of cookies on the counter and quickly stepped over toward where she was pointing. Sure enough, a tall man dressed in tattered clothes, had halted the children’s play to speak with them. Alarm bells went off in your head, and you immediately rushed to the door, prepared to run outside.

At that very moment, Rhett was coming down the stairs, and the first thing he picked up on was your scent. Not the sweet, nutty scent of cookies in the air. Not even your naturally occurring scent. He smelled the sharp sting of anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, already making his way toward you.

“There’s a man talking to the kids,” you explained.

His eyes widened, and in seconds, he was stooping to grab his boots and shove his feet into them before he threw open the front door. He jumped off the front porch, his gaze zeroed in on this stranger as Rhett quickly approached the children.

“Hey!” He called out, and the other man’s head snapped up. He was a wolf too, Rhett could tell by his scent. “Can I help you?” His tone wasn’t friendly. There was a warning edge to it. 

“Daddy, he was asking if we had any food to eat!” Arya informed him, her innocence palpable. She still had that childish gullibility.

But Rhett wasn’t gullible. His hackles were immediately raised because he could tell that something just wasn’t quite right. “Young’ns, go play,” he commanded in a tone that left no room for arguing. The children scattered, and then he turned to the man. “Any particular reason you’re botherin’ my kids?”

The stranger’s hands lifted in surrender. “Hey now, I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble. My name’s Kane Masters I’m just passin’ through. My truck broke down out on the main road. I can’t get it started, and I’ve got a mate and a baby to take care of. Could you help us, please?”

Rhett stared at him, his eyes narrowed. There was an unsettled feeling in his gut. This fucker was lying. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull, but it ain’t gonna work with me.”

Kane’s jaw tensed, and his eyes darkened. “Did you not hear what I said? I have a wife and baby! You can’t at least offer them shelter while I figure out how to get the truck fixed? They’re gonna freeze!”

Rhett’s eyes flashed red, asserting his dominance. “And I have a pack to protect. I ain’t lettin’ perfect strangers into my home. You’ll have to find someone else to help you.”

Kane growled, low in his throat. “You’ll regret this, wolf,” he snarled.

Rhett stepped forward, standing eye level with Kane. His sudden outburst of hostility raised a warning flag for Rhett. “Are you threatenin’ me?” 

“Maybe I am. Are you condemning my wife and child to freeze to death?”

The alpha rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “Get the fuck off my property before I drag you off it.”

Kane stared Rhett down, his chest heaving. But Rhett didn’t budge. He had a gut feeling that something was amiss, and he felt that he was putting his pack at risk if he allowed this wolf refuge in his home.

After one last threatening gnarl, Kane finally turned and stalked off, snow crunching beneath his feet. Rhett stood there and watched him go, remaining there until he was out of sight. 

Once he was sure that the other wolf had gone, he finally turned back toward the house, where he found you standing in the doorway, looking on in concern. 

“What did he want?” You asked as Rhett climbed the porch steps. 

“He said his truck stalled on the main road, and he was lookin’ for a place his mate and baby could stay while he got it fixed.” There was a hard look in his eyes. One you couldn’t read. 

“What is it, Rhett? Why did you turn him away?” You questioned.

His gaze shifted to yours. “Somethin’ just wasn’t right. Can’t put my finger on it. But if you see him comin’ around here again, you come get me. Okay?”

You nodded, not keen to argue with him. If he sensed danger, then you would trust his instinct. “Okay.”

He leaned in then, large hand resting over your belly, where your unborn pup rested safe and warm, protected from the dangers of the outside world.

Rhett’s lips lingered against your temple before he pulled back. “I’m gon’ round the pups up and bring ‘em inside. Guy kinda gave me the spooks.” It wasn’t that Rhett was scared of him. He was simply wary. 

He brought the kids inside, where they all gathered in the kitchen for hot chocolate and cookies, completely oblivious. 

Rhett kept an eye out the rest of the day, and warned a few pack members to be on the lookout for Kane, should he return. He knew better than to ignore his gut feeling. 

But after that specific incident, things were quiet. For the next week, at least. In that time, the weather had improved, and the roads were clear, which gave you the opportunity to take your family into town. The kids were excited to stop by Ruby’s Diner, a favorite local spot in Wabang. 

All was well. You enjoyed a wholesome day with your mate and your children, seemingly without a care in the world. Until, suddenly, a dark cloud began to loom over you. 

No, it wasn’t a cloud. It was a shadow. A wolf. 

Rhett had slipped away for a few minutes, with intentions of taking Arya, Max, and Leia into the local toy shop to get them a little something. 

Zoella had fallen asleep in her stroller, and after Rhett assured you he would choose a little trinket for her, too, while he was with the older children in the shop, you had opted to walk to the truck and get her situated for the ride home. 

Just as you’d gotten her buckled in, you felt a presence behind you. “Excuse me, miss?” A voice filled the air.

You tensed, slowly turning around to face the stranger. Sandy blonde hair and unsettling, stormy eyes. They appeared to be both blue and gray at the same time. Something about his stare made you shiver. “Yes?” You cautiously answered, making sure that Zoella was hidden safely behind you as you squared your shoulders.

“I’m looking for a place to stay. I couldn’t help but pick up on the fact that you’re a werewolf like I am. I’ve been a lone wolf for some time now and I need to find a pack. Would you be willing to welcome me into yours?” 

You stared at him in confusion. Demanding to join an established pack was simply not done. The only way another wolf would join a pack that was not his own was if the alpha invited him into the fold. 

Something wasn’t right. 

“I-I’m sorry, we aren’t looking to bring in any new pack members,” you told the stranger. 

His gaze darkened, and anxiety crept into your bones. 

Rhett sensed it, too. You were his mate, after all. Mates had the unique ability to sense when the other was in danger, with an intense emotional connection that ran deeper than any human connection ever could. 

In the middle of that toy store, he froze. A nauseating shock of dread washed over him. Something was dead wrong. Without hesitation, he swooped in and grabbed Max and Leia, lifting them into his arms. They giggled, because they thought it was a game. But it was not. 

Then, “Arya, we need to go.”

The seven-year-old turned, her brow furrowed in confusion. “But Daddy—”

“Now, baby.” His tone left no room for argument, and she closed her mouth, a sad look washing over her face. But she followed her father nonetheless, because she could sense his urgency, and thought it best to obey him in that moment. 

Quickly, he made a beeline out of that store, into the balmy February afternoon. Just ahead, he could see you standing beside the truck, nervously speaking to someone. Alarm bells went off in his head as he moved quickly, still holding his children, with Arya clutching at the fabric of his shirt to keep up with him. 

“Excuse me!” Rhett called out, trying to keep his tone steady, so as not to frighten his little ones. The stranger’s head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed at Rhett’s presence. 

At your husband’s arrival, you began to visibly relax, though you still remained on edge. When Rhett got to you, he was quick to hand Leia to your waiting arms, while he set Max down at your side. 

“Do you need somethin’?” He asked as he stepped in front of you, effectively shielding you and his children from the other wolf. 

“It’s all the same with you wolfpacks, isn’t it? Selfish fuckin’ pricks, turning away people in need.”

Rhett spoke over his shoulder at you. “Get in the truck,” came his command, and you immediately moved to coax the kids into the vehicle, soothing Arya when she expressed concern over what was about to happen. She was very observant, and she could sense that her father was preparing for a potential altercation. 

As he turned back toward the stranger, Rhett’s eyes narrowed. “You’re with Kane, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

That’s when Rhett growled low in his throat, eyes flashing crimson. “I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull, but you need to stay the fuck away from my family, and from my pack. I catch you botherin’ my wife and pups again? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Rhett Abbott did not make empty threats. And he did not resort to killing without cause. But if someone threatened the sanctity of his family, he would not hesitate to put them down. It was his duty to protect you and his pack. He did not take that duty lightly. 

His threat seemed to be enough to scare this stranger off, and he stalked away. Rhett stood there, watching until he disappeared. He was on edge. An odd feeling in his gut told him that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Kane, and those associated with him. 

The ambush against The Montana Pack had happened only a few short weeks prior. Authorities still hadn’t caught those responsible for it. Rhett had a sinking feeling that his own pack was going to be the target of the next attack.

As soon as he was sure the danger had passed for the time being, he spun around on his heel and rushed to climb into the diver’s side, where he promptly turned the ignition over. You eyed him, reading his features. His jaw was hard-set, and his eyes had narrowed in that cat-like way they always did. 

“Rhett?” You spoke his name cautiously.

“Daddy, who was that man?” Max asked from the backseat. 

Rhett caught your eye for a moment before he focused on the road before him again. He was quiet for a moment, considering his response. “He’s someone who wants to hurt our pack,” he replied. “But I’m not gonna let him. Daddy’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

At his words, your heart sank. Rhett reached over the center console and placed his hand over your belly. You shook your head, because you knew what he was insinuating. “It’s them, isn’t it?” You whispered.

“We’ll talk about it at home,” he simply said. He didn’t want to upset the children.

The ride home was quiet. Rhett’s mind was going a mile a minute, the cogs turning as he came up with a plan of action. If an attack was going to be staged, the pack needed to be prepared. He would call a meeting to warn everyone.

And that was just what he did.

As soon as your children were deposited safely at home, with Amy keeping a watchful eye on them, Rhett arranged the meeting in the small conference building that had been built on the property a few months prior. It was nothing special, but it served its purpose as a designated meeting spot.

One member representing each family showed up for the meeting, all curious as to what their alpha had summoned them there for. The elders were also present, as they were required to be for such meetings. 

You stood by Rhett’s side, your hand intertwined with his, trying to mask the fear you felt. But it was written all over your face.

“I brought all of you here because there’s somethin’ you need to know. ‘Course, we all remember the massacre that happened to The Montana Pack last month.”

A few murmurs passed through the crowd. Hums of sadness in remembrance of what had happened. 

“They still haven’t found the wolves responsible for it, which means they’re still out there. I wish I could tell you that we’re all safe, but the truth is, we aren’t. I believe they’re gonna target us next.”

“How do you know this, Rhett?” Gwenevere spoke up.

He took a breath. You squeezed his hand. “Because I met them.”

This time, the murmur that went through the group was one of confusion and fear. The next to speak up was Malakai. “You spoke to them? And they told you they were coming after us?”

Rhett shook his head. “Last week, one of ‘em showed up in my yard, botherin’ my kids. Said his name was Kane. Some of you already know because I warned you that he was around your young’ns, too, because they were at my house that day. As soon as I talked to him I knew somethin’ was off. He gave me some bullshit story about his truck breakin’ down, and he wanted me to let his wife and pup stay at our house while he fixed it. I got the sense that he was lyin’ right through his teeth. I told him no. That pissed him off.”

He paused for a moment before he continued. 

“Then, today, we were in town, and a different guy showed up, claimin’ he was a lone wolf, lookin’ for a pack to be part of. And we all know no self-respectin’ wolf is just gonna come in demanding to be accepted into a pack. That ain’t how it works. Come to find out, he’s with Kane. I believe that they’ve been staking us out and they’re planning to come after us. I don’t know how many of them there are, but we need to be ready.”

“If they attack…this could mean war,” Matthias remarked. 

“I know,” Rhett grimly replied. “I don’t want to call it that, but for them to attack two packs in just a few short weeks…it means they won’t stop there. They’re just gon’ keep killing.”

“Alright, what’s the strategy we’re going to follow if they do attack us?” Malakai inquired. 

Rhett’s face was serious, his mouth etched into a frown. “First, we get all the pups to safety. If you can get ‘em here to this building without putting them at risk, do that. If you can’t, hide them in your basements, or whatever spot in your house is safest. Those of us strong enough to fight will be ready to intercept these wolves. I want a handful of you stationed in the woods, keeping an eye out. I’m not lettin’ them destroy our way of life. We won’t go down without a fight.”

Everyone was in agreement that they were not going to let these wolves take what was rightfully theirs. They would band together and defend their home and their loved ones. 

After that meeting was adjourned, everyone was on high alert, prepared for the worst. Ready to fight for their lives if need be. 

You were frightened. Not for yourself, but for your children. This was a real threat, and the mama wolf in you was prepared to do anything to protect your pups. But the thing was, Rhett didn’t want you involved in the battle. 

“If they come, I want you to stay with the pups,” he said, as you walked home that afternoon after the meeting. “Don’t want you out there fightin’.”

“But I have just as much a right to be out there defending our pack as anyone else,” you replied. “I don’t want to stand on the sidelines.”

Rhett stopped, turning to face you. “Listen to me. I know you’re capable of holdin’ your own in a fight. I don’t doubt it. But I can’t lose you.” His hand came to rest protectively over your abdomen. “I can’t lose either of you. I almost lost you and Arya seven years ago. I’m not goin’ through again, you hear me?”

You went quiet, nodding at his words. Those memories were vivid. The day the Tillersons had abducted you. You’d pleaded with them to let you go. You’d tried to reason with them by informing them you were pregnant, hoping Patricia would ease up on her cruelty. But she’d accused you of lying, claiming you were just trying to make her feel sorry for you. 

Reminders of that moment in time we’re difficult to process. But now, it helped you better understand why Rhett didn’t want you involved in the conflict. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll stay with the pups. But Rhett…you watch yourself out there, alright? As much as you can’t lose me, I can’t lose you, either.”

He reached a big gentle hand up to cup your cheek. “You won’t lose me.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep. 

His lips found yours in a gentle but impassioned kiss, and then he led you back to the house, where Amy was occupied with entertaining the children. You were so thankful for her and her willingness to help with the littles. She was your saving grace in time of crisis. 

You were much too exhausted to prepare a balanced dinner that night, and you didn’t want to put any more responsibility on Amy, so chicken nuggets and stovetop mac and cheese were the meal. 

Wanting to keep some semblance of normal, so as not to alarm the children, you ate together as a family. Rhett held your hand beneath the table, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on your wrist. It did little to quell the anxiety bubbling within you. 

That night, you put the kids to bed early. Rhett kissed them all goodnight, and once they were tucked in, he left you with a lingering kiss and informed you he was going out to check on the wolves stationed on watch that night. 

You curled up on the couch beneath a blanket because you didn’t want to sleep in your big, empty bed without your mate, and because you wanted to be ready if things should go haywire. 

But that night was quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary took place, and early in the morning, just before sunrise, Rhett returned home. 

His presence jolted you awake, and as you sat up, you noticed that there was snow in his hair, and on his coat. When you sleepily glanced out the window, you realized it was snowing heavily again. It looked like another storm was rolling in. 

“What happened?” You quietly asked as he shrugged out of his coat. 

He shook his head. “Nothin’. It was quiet out there all night. No sign of anyone.”

“Do you think maybe they’ll just leave us alone?” You continued, as you sauntered toward him, where he was unlacing his boots. 

He sighed, and when he looked at you, his brow was furrowed in a frown. “I don’t think so. I just have a gut feelin’ that they’re gonna come for us.”

It was your turn to sigh, and you stepped forward, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Well, let’s get you warmed up in the meantime. And put some food in ya. You aren’t going to be any good in a fight if you’re starving and half-frozen.”

You then took his hand and led him to the kitchen, where you had him sit at the table while you set about preparing a pot of coffee, and making him some oatmeal, something that would stick to his ribs and warm him up. 

Ten minutes later he was tucking into his breakfast and sipping on a cup of black coffee, while you sat beside him at the table. You moved so that your legs were resting in his lap. He placed his free hand lovingly over your knee. 

“Want you to know I’ll do everythin’ I can to protect you and the pups. I pledged myself to this pack, but you come first. Always.”

“I know,” you whispered as you leaned in to kiss his cheek, which was flushed from the cold. He turned his head to catch your lips with his own. 

“I love you, little wolf.”

“I love you too.”

Little did either of you know that that morning would be your last morning of peace for a long time.

As your children woke up one by one, they happily clambered into the kitchen to greet the two of you. Leia climbed into Rhett’s lap, her favorite blanket clutched in her little hand as she snuggled into his chest. Arya took her opportunity to occupy his knee, crowding his lap and giggling as he teased her that she was going to squish her little sister. 

You went to wake little Zoella from her slumber, and soon, the kitchen was filled with the chatters of children and the smell of breakfast cooking and extra coffee brewing. And for a short time, everything felt normal.

Until a frantic knocking on the front door sucked the joyful spirit out of the air. Immediately, Rhett’s eyes locked with yours, and you were struck with fear. Quickly, he stood from his seat, carefully depositing Leia into the chair before he made his way to the door.

He hurriedly shoved his feet into his boots before he wrenched the door open, revealing a frantic Gideon standing on the doorstep. He was another member of your pack, one of the younger ones. 

“They caught someone trespassing in the woods!”

Rhett tensed, and glanced over Gideon’s shoulder, where he could see Malakai, and a few others, dragging none other than Kane Masters through the snow. In an instant, Rhett turned to you. “Take the pups up to our room and hide them in the bathroom,” he simply said. Then he kissed you, and left you standing there in the entryway as he dashed outside to meet the group. 

You stood there, frozen, watching him go. And then, as if something had struck you into action, you whirled around to hurry back to the kitchen. “What’s going on?” Amy asked, where she stood in the middle of the kitchen, a stack of breakfast plates in hand, ready to be washed. 

“We need to get the kids upstairs. Now. We’re in danger.”

Her large blue eyes widened all the more, and she set the plates down on the counter without a moment of hesitation, already moving to grab Zoella from her highchair. “Come on, we’re going up to Mama and Daddy’s room!” You announced, trying your best to keep your voice calm.

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Arya asked. 

“We just need to get upstairs, I’ll explain up there.” You guided her, Max, and Leia toward the steps, urging them to go quickie. Leia began to cry. So did Zoella. They knew something was wrong. Especially when you herded them into the bathroom. 

“Mama! Mama! Why are we hiding?!” Max cried, his little face full of fear.

“Listen to me, babies,” you spoke in your best calm voice. “Daddy wants us to stay in here for a little bit, alright? We can pretend it’s a game of hide and seek. But this time, we’re hiding from some other wolves who want to hurt us. But I won’t let that happen, alright? You’re safe in here, with me and Amy.”

As you got the children settled, you finally looked at your aforementioned niece. “Stay in here with them, and lock the door. I’m going to go get some blankets and things to keep them occupied.”

“Okay,” she replied, her face etched with fright. She was nearly nineteen years old, but in that moment, she looked as if she was nine again, nothing more than a scared little girl.

You reached out, wrapping her up in a hug. “We’re gonna be okay, Ames.”

Then, you slipped out of the room to gather the supplies you would need. Blankets, coloring books, snacks, your laptop so that you could put on a movie for them to act as a distraction. 

But out of the corner of your eye, you could see movement out the front window of the house. Your attention shifted to what was taking place outside, as the snow drifted about and the wind began to howl. 

You could see Rhett standing not far from the front of the house, speaking to the same man who’d shown up on your property days before. It gave you pause, and you inched closer to the window, tuning in to your supernatural hearing abilities to figure out what they were saying. 

Out in the cold, Rhett was unwavering. He’d instructed the wolves holding Kane to release him, so that they could talk face to face. Everyone around them remained on edge. But Rhett didn’t not go on the defensive quite yet. 

“What are you tryin’ to do here, Kane? Tryin’ to take my pack from me? Because that ain’t gonna happen.”

Kane scoffed. “You really think you’re so untouchable? Alphas are always so fuckin’ sure of themselves. We’re here to prove that they’re no better than the rest of us. That they’re not as indestructible as they think they are.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Rhett asked, his glance shifting to the tree line. He could sense something in the air, even as snow and wind swirled around him. 

“You know that pack in Montana?”

He knew where this was going. “I do. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Kane had the audacity to smile. “I wish I could take all the credit. I had help. Lots of help. And they’re gonna help me take down your pack one by one.”

“Like hell y’ are!” Rhett snarled, eyes flashing red. 

“You don’t scare me, alpha!” Kane’s own eyes flashed, but in a surprising revelation, they were not yellow, or even red. They were ice blue. 

Blue eyes in a wolf meant they had taken an innocent life. 

At the sight of them, the group surrounding Kane was immediately on high alert. “You think you’re starting a fuckin’ revolution? You’re dead wrong. You can’t build it on the innocent lives you took!” Rhett exclaimed, his chest heaving. 

“Oh yeah? Watch me. My revolution’s already started. So what if there are a few casualties along the way? As long as we eradicate the alpha order, that’s all that matters.”

“How the fuck do you plan to do that?”

“Like this.”

Kane lifted his head and howled. Seconds later, a line of wolves appeared along the tree line. This diversion distracted the pack members surrounding Rhett and Kane.

“Go,” Rhett commanded his wolves, and they took off toward the tree line. But the second they ran toward the danger, Kane was lunging. 

It happened so fast. Quick as lightning. A dagger was unsheathed from its hiding place beneath his coat. Rhett saw it, enhanced reflexes kicking in as he dodged the blade. But it sliced into his flannel and grazed his ribs. Nothing serious. It would heal within a moment. 

Meanwhile, as you stood watching from the window, you gasped, and out of instinct you lurched forward, yanking open the door and launching yourself down the porch steps. As soon as your slippered feet hit the snowy ground, you broke into a run, legs moving of their own volition. Somehow, you knew what was coming. It was a gut feeling, so strong it nearly brought you to your knees. 

Time slowed. You couldn’t reach him fast enough. 

Rhett was fine. Until, suddenly, an odd feeling began to wash over him. A sensation that sent a wave of sizzling warmth through his body. He tried to sidestep Kane’s next swing, but he grew unsteady on his feet, his senses suddenly dulled. 

lt was too late. Kane drove that dagger forward and plunged it straight into Rhett’s abdomen. 

Werewolves had the ability to heal from wounds. Depending on the severity of the injury, healing time could range from five minutes, to a few hours. It was common for werewolves to bounce back quickly from knife or even bullet wounds. 

By all accounts, Rhett should have been fine. The dagger plunged into him should have had little effect on him. 

But something was wrong. 

In the diversion caused by Kane’s wolves surrounding the compound, he had been able to move swiftly. No one expected him to brandish a dagger, because wolves didn’t fight with weapons. Combat was fought in wolf form. Using weapons was simply playing dirty. 

Malakai was the only one who remained close enough to hear Rhett’s pained growl. Immediately, he turned, acting on instinct as he broke into a run toward his alpha, ready to fulfill his duty to protect him, but it was too late. 

In the split second that Kane was close to him, Rhett locked eyes with him, gasping sharply as his assailant drove the dagger even further into his body. “Let this be known as the fall of The Pack of Abbott.”

Rhett weakly reached up, trying to wrench Kane’s hand off of the dagger so that he could remove the weapon from his body, but he was shocked to find that his physical strength was beginning to fade. He looked down at his hand and saw that it was trembling. He couldn’t grasp anything.

As Rhett came to this terrible realization, Malakai snarled, and within seconds, he was lunging. Shifting into his wolf form, he leapt into the air, one-hundred-forty-five pounds of muscle and sinew and fur, and tackled Kane to the ground. It was as if Kane had been expecting this. He made no move to shift into his own wolf. No move to defend himself. It was like he wanted Malakai to kill him. Like he wanted to die for his cause, as his wolves wreaked havoc around him.

And then, a scream sliced through the air. 

It came from you. Guttural and raw. A cry of your mate’s name. “Rhett!”

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. 

Gasping sharply, Rhett managed to wrap his weakened fingers around the handle of the dagger and ease the blade out of his abdomen, dropping the weapon to the frozen earth. It left a crimson stain in the pure white snow. Slowly, he turned to you. He was already beginning to sink to the ground. 

“I-I told you to st-stay with the pups,” he gritted out, but you couldn’t hear him over the howl of the wind and the snarling of wolves all around you. 

You reached him, holding your arms out to catch him before he fell. His hand was placed over his abdomen, where blood was beginning to seep through his fingers.

“Rhett! Hey, we need to get you inside!”

“I can’t…I can’t.”

“What are you talking about?! Yes you can, come on!” 

But he was dead weight, and his knees hit the ground. “No!” You cried. Struggling, you managed to pull him upright. Your strength was enhanced because of your wolf abilities, but even so, he was heavy, and dragging him up to the house proved difficult. 

And then, Malakai was by your side, back in his human form. He was drenched in blood. You were too preoccupied to glance just beyond him, where Kane lay dead in a pool of blood. In fact, you barely noticed the wolves fighting around you, barking and snarling, clawing and tearing.

All that mattered was Rhett.

“I’ve got him, let’s get him the house.” Malakai carried Rhett up to the house, with you trailing after him, hot on his heels. As soon as you were enclosed in the safety of your home, you pushed the door shut, locking it behind you. 

“Where do you want me to take him?!” Malakai called over his shoulder.

“Up to our bedroom!” You replied. 

You raced up the steps after him, and watched as he carefully laid Rhett on the bed. In just those few minutes it took to get him inside, he had gone white as a ghost. Your heart sank in your chest. 

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. 

“I’m going to get Doctor Tenpenny,” Malakai spoke. “That blade must’ve been laced with something.”

“Be careful!” You called after him. You knew that a battle had begun. 

Then, you rushed to Rhett’s side. “I’m here,” you assured him, lovingly squeezing his shoulder. “I’m right here, baby.” 

His teeth were chattering, and his eyes were squeezed shut, a reaction from the pain he was in. 

Your shaking hands moved to unbutton his torn flannel, carefully pulling the fabric aside so you could take a look at the damage. You gasped softly at the sight of the wound. It bled crimson, but there was a discoloration around it. That blade had definitely been laced. 

His skin was cool to the touch, and it sent a pang of terror through you. Tuning your ears in to his heartbeat, you could hear that it had begun to slow. 

“Oh, God,” you whimpered. “Don’t you dare die on me, Rhett! Hold on a little longer for the doctor to get here!”

At that moment, the bathroom door came open. Amy had heard the commotion, and she made sure the kids were settled before she moved to see what was happening. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, as she closed the door behind her. She saw Rhett on the bed, and she gasped softly as she rushed to you. “What did they do to him?”

“Oh, Ames,” you cried, turning and immediately wrapping your arms around her as tears began to stream down your cheeks. “He stabbed him with a poisoned blade!”

Amy’s face paled. “Did you call for the doctor?”

“Malakai is getting her. But I…I don’t know if he can hold on that long.” You released her, moving to Rhett’s beside again. You reached for his hand, squeezing it tight. 

He was so cold. 

With your free hand, you reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, only to fall shut again as he moaned softly in pain. 

“Hurts,” he whispered, as if speaking any louder would cause him more physical pain. 

“I know. I’m so sorry. Just hold on for me, okay?”

“What should I do with the kids?” Amy asked, uncertain. 

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you replied. You didn’t want them to see him like this. But there was an ache in your chest, and an intense feeling of dread. He was slipping away, you could tell. Whatever poison had been on that dagger was going to kill him.

What if he was gone before the pack doctor arrived? What if the children didn’t get a chance to say goodbye? Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you muffled a broken sob. How quickly things had changed. One moment, your family was talking and laughing around the breakfast table, and the next, the love of your life was fighting to stay alive, as your children watched a movie in the bathroom, unaware that their father was in such dire straits. 

“Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it,” Amy continued, reaching out to place her hand on your shoulder. 

But you couldn’t. You bent forward, your face buried in your hands as you let out a wail of agony, fingers tugging at the roots of your hair. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. Yet here you stood, in the middle of a cold, hard reality.

So you took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, hastily wiping your tears away. Your brief moment of emotional turmoil had passed, because you had no choice but to let it. You had little ones to be strong for. They needed you. 

It was almost as if you shut off that scared, stricken part of yourself for that moment. Moving without hesitation, you grabbed the blaket that you kept at the end of the bed, pulling it over him, up to his shoulders, so that his wound wasn’t visible. Then, you turned on your heel, making a beeline for the bathroom, where you quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

There, you found your children huddled beneath a blanket, engrossed in the movie that was playing on your laptop. “Pups, I need you to listen to Mama for a minute,” you quietly spoke, reaching out to pause the movie. 

Zoella, who’d been snuggled in Arya’s lap, immediately reached for you, whining softly. You soothed her, lifting the one-year-old into your arms before you knelt down in front of the remaining three, trying to choose your next words carefully. “Your daddy got hurt just now, and it’s made him very sick. I want all of you to see him, but you have to be very gentle, alright? We can’t jump on top of him on the bed, we can’t even climb into his lap. But I want you to come and see him for a minute.”

“Is it a big boo-boo or a little one?” Young Leia asked, her eyes wide with concern.

“It’s a big boo-boo,” you softly replied. 

“Is the doctor gonna come and feel him better?” She continued to question. 

Despite yourself, you managed to smile softly at her mixup of words, though your heart was breaking in two. “She’s going to try, baby,” you whispered. Then you rose to stand. “Now come on, I want you to follow me.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself before you cautiously led your children out into the bedroom, where Amy had taken a seat on the edge of the bed. She was clutching Rhett’s hand. 

You had the littles gather beside him. It was Arya who spoke first. “Daddy?” She whispered, her voice shaking. 

Rhett’s head moved slightly toward her, and he managed to open his eyes. He tried to plaster a weak smile across his face, but he couldn’t. “Hey, little pup,” he murmured, though it took great labor to do so. 

Arya began to cry, and she turned, burying her face against your belly. “Shh,” you soothed her. 

Your eyes drifted to Rhett’s face, and you saw an anguish you’d never seen before. Seeing his family in pain, and inadvertently being the cause of that pain, was more than he could bear. 

“Hey, let’s give Daddy a hug, alright?” You suggested, gently guiding Arya away from you and toward the bed. 

She wrapped her arms around her father’s neck, resting her forehead against his. Her tears dripped down onto his face, but you could see that they weren’t all hers. They were mingling with his own tears.

“Are you going to be okay, Daddy?” Arya asked. 

“I…I don’t know,” he honestly replied. 

Immediately, she turned back to you, weeping all over again. Rhett squeezed his eyes shut, his bottom lip quivering. You noticed sweat on his brow. His skin had somehow grown paler. 

But you wanted each child to get a chance to hug him, so you pushed your fear aside and encouraged Max to give him a hug, and then little Leia. Finally, you leaned down with Zoella in your arms and said “give Daddy a kiss, Zozo,” and she happily kissed him on the cheek, because she’d always loved giving kisses, even when she was a small baby. 

There, in those fleeting moments, Rhett was surrounded by those he cherished most. And he knew, that if he was going to succumb to his injury, he would go peacefully, knowing that he was loved. 

But that peace was soon interrupted by the sound of Malakai returning with Doctor Tenpenny. The tender moment was forgotten as the pair came rushing up the stairs in a hurry. The abruptness of it all sent the children into a bit of a frenzy. Zoella and Leia began to cry. Max and Arya huddled close to you, frightened. 

In a split second, you had to decide what to do. Their panic was only going to worsen the situation, and possibly put Rhett into distress. Thinking fast, you quickly guided them to the stairs, waving Amy over as you did. 

“Look at me,” you spoke to the young woman, and she lifted her fearful blue eyes to yours. 

“Let’s get them downstairs, it’s better if they’re safely out of the way. Are you okay to stay with them in Arya’s room? Or do you think you want me to stay with you?” You could see how upset she was. You didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

“No, I-I can handle it. I’ll keep them safe inside and I’ll put the dresser in front of the door, just in case anyone tries to come in.”

You reached out to squeeze her hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Together, you guided the children downstairs, where you led them safely to Arya’s room. As soon as you had them all settled on the bed, you knelt to speak to them. “I need you to be brave for me, okay? I know you’re scared. It’s okay to be scared. But right now, I need to go upstairs and be with Daddy. Stay with Amy, she’ll keep you safe. Alright?”

“Mama, don’t leave,” Arya whimpered. 

You took her sweet face in your hands. “I’m not leaving. I’ll just be right upstairs. Be my brave girl, okay?”

“O-okay,” she whispered in reply. 

You kissed the top of each of their heads before you finally slipped away, rushing to pull the door shut behind you before you dashed back upstairs. 

There, you found Rose Tenpenny hovering over Rhett, carefully examining his wound. Malakai had left as quickly as he’d come, because he had to get back outside to defend the pack. That left just you and the doctor in the room. 

Quietly, you moved to stand at Rose’s side, and she paused to glance up at you. Her expression was grim, and it made your heart sink like a stone in your chest. “He’s in a bad way,” she told you. “Just from the way the wound looks, I can tell that dagger was laced with wolfsbane.”

A gasp tore from your throat, and your hand came up to cover your mouth in shock. “Oh my god,” you whispered. 

Wolfsbane was poison to wolves. Poison of the deadliest kind. Surviving its effects was unheard of. 

“It’s already in his bloodstream. It doesn’t take long for it to set in,” she explained. 

You held back a sob, the hand over your mouth lowering to rest against your belly, where your unborn pup lay. You had only one thought. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

The doctor’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Her eyes, deep brown and ever sympathetic, filled with tears. She could not sugarcoat her diagnosis. 

“I can give him some ancient herbal medicines that will help slow its effects, and ease his pain. But I’m afraid that all I can do right now is make him comfortable. I’m sorry.”

Your tearful eyes flickered to Rhett’s sickly form. His eyes were closed. His breathing was shallow. He was getting worse by the minute, and your world was falling apart. Your shoulders shook as another set of sobs wracked your body, painful and deep. 

You were losing him. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

To be continued…

-

taglist:

@bradshawsbitch @laracrofted @sebsxphia @milesmillergf @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @withahappyrefrain @damrlova @just-in-case-iloveyou @theliterarybeldam @nobody7102 @agentorange9595 @powerlvr25 @mygyn @yanna-banana @whisperofsong @kmc1989 @peachystenbrough @callsign-magnolia @briseisgone @up-thereinthesky

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fic #the wolf

[lostinforestbound]

I literally cannot control myself so here's a part two! Some of these were inspired by @graysparrowao3's response to my questions! Please go check them out if you haven't already, they're an amazing writer!

General Lia and Cal Headcannons Part 2

Lia

While she may be on the thinner side, she definitely has a toned body. You need a lot of strength to even pull back the string of a good bow, so I imagine she would have definitely shoulder, back, and arm muscles popping out.

When Lia is scared, it comes out as anger. It could be mistaken as fearlessness, especially with the way she snapped at the Warden. She was terrified when stuck in Moonrise; where was Rolan? Did he make it out okay? Is he even alive? What if these cultists take Cal away from her? She has never been more terrified in her life than those moments, not even in the Descent.

I think she would have physically fought Rolan at least once. Not to extreme harm! More like a sibling dispute (grabbing, shoving, yanking on hair, etc). She would never go as far as pinching his ears or stepping on his tail though.

For a while after their mother died, Lia had a period where she was extremely bitter. At first she cried quite a bit in Rolan's arms, but then she started snapping at him. Part of the change of attitude was thinking Rolan moved on too quickly (he didn't). This is where their arguments first began.

For once in her life, Lia wants to feel safe. She's had nightmares about her throat getting slit, of waking up with her brothers being dead. She has a good handle on them most nights, and its easy to go back to sleep. However, some nights are so bad she ends up going into either Cal's or Rolan's room to cuddle and sleep.

Once in a while, Lia will buy herself flowers. She doesn't know why she does this, but it makes her feel nice, so why not? She loves plants either way, and will probably keep them in her room to take care of. (I feel like she's the type to own cacti! And maybe threaten Rolan with said cacti)

Lia is definitely on the "tough love" side when it comes to comforting others. Sometimes it can be received well but other times it doesn't. It definitely doesn't work with Cal most days, but it can certainly work with Rolan.

Sometimes Lia genuinely fears she hates Rolan. She knows in her heart she doesn't at all, she loves her brother to death, but some fights with him can get bad and she gets very close to saying that she hates him. She has never told anyone this, and she never will.

She's big on words of affirmation to whoever her lucky partner is! And she's definitely the type to bring flowers on a first date, and she knows about flower language! Not a lot of it, but definitely the basics. She wouldn't bring a whole bouquet, more like a small bundle. (I think she would give White Camellia's! Which, if I remember correctly, practically means "You're Adorable")

She knows Cal admires Rolan more. She doesn't blame him, Rolan is amazing in many different ways. But there's some unsolved resentment that she feels towards that fact. Why doesn't Cal admire her in the way he admires Rolan? Did she do something wrong? This is something she will take to her grave.

Cal

Cal's character sheet shows he has a 16 strength, so he's pretty damn strong. I would also say he's pretty toned, but would have a soft middle area, which is perfect for cuddling to his lucky partner.

I think Cal is deeply traumatized by the Descent, but he feels as though he can't talk about it because Rolan and Lia refuse to themselves (they both are traumatized too). It was horrifying, watching people turn on them and seeing devils and monsters stalk the streets. It was hurtful, being completely exiled after they were finally safe. Can they all please sit down and talk about it, no matter how painful? This goes the same for Moonrise.

He got so used to being Lia and Rolan's emotional anchor that he often forgets he needs that same support; it isn't about him. When someone finally listens to him completely he's never felt so euphoric. Finally!

To add to the previous point, he feels as though he isn't trusted enough by those two. He's not sure if it's because he's the youngest, but he doesn't appreciate it at all.

Cal is absolutely a stress-baker. Anytime he's not handling stress well, he will bake. And I mean bake. He will spend hours baking multiple treats to give himself something to do, and it does genuinely help him feel better. (This could apply to cooking depending on the ingredients they have available in the tower)

I feel as though Cal is very close to snapping at the other two. Like, genuinely yelling and being pissed with them! He's been dealing with their bickering for a very long time now, and it only got worse after what they've been through. For once, can they consider his damn feelings about everything?

When comforting anyone, depending on the relationship, he can be very touchy. A hand on the shoulder, giving a hug, or keeping close is his go-to. Of course this will depend on the person, he'll respect boundaries if they don't like touch or just don't want it.

I think Cal's love language is gift giving for his lucky partner! He would either bake a sweet, get some flowers with the help of Lia, bring something he cooked, or buy something that they were eyeing on a date. He's very shy about it in the beginning, but over time he would build more confidence.

He loves Lia to death, but sometimes he thinks she can be too harsh. He understands where her anger can stem from in the moment, but her resorting to insults and purposefully provoking Rolan? How is that productive? It doesn't help the problem, it makes it worse. But as always, he isn't really listened to.

The first thing Cal would do in Baldur's gate is just sleep. A deep sleep that he desperately needed for a while. Rolan will go to his new apprenticeship, Lia would go find some work, all the while Cal will sleep for 16 hours. He's certainly groggy the next day, but he knows he needed that to start fresh.

Extras (Feat. Rolan)

These three haven't talked about Moonrise much. They haven't had the time to, or time to process the events. They literally saw someone get their eyes removed and tongue cut out. They saw people who they were traveling with get slaughtered left and right. They all need to go to therapy.

When they finally all move into the tower, the first night, they insist on sleeping in the same bed as Rolan. Just like when they were little. After everything, they wanted to make sure Rolan was okay (they know full well he isn't). This is the first night in a while that Rolan isn't plagued by nightmares.

The three of them have trouble adjusting to their new normal. Suddenly having a permanent home so big throws them off their game. They weren't traveling for very long, but they went through so much that having somewhere safe to stay has them reeling. They had no idea what to do first, but they figure it out together.

They absolutely would both help Rolan through panic/anxiety attacks, no matter the situation. At night after a night terror? They're already in the room with water and extra blankets. In a middle of a fight? Fuck the argument, they'll put it on pause and deal with it later. Rolan does not have attacks often, but when they do happen, they help him every time. Does it scare them? Of course it does, they never want to see their brother hurting like that.

Cal and Rolan take turns making meals for the three of them. Lia doesn't cook much so she helps out by washing dishes and setting the table up. She'll go as far as prepping ingredients as well if they're making a bigger meal.

They all don't like the cold. Tieflings run hot, but the cold doesn't bring too many good memories, especially for Rolan. When it became just the three of them after their mothers death, the colder months were much harder to deal with. There wasn't as much food available, prices of wooden logs grew higher, and they didn't have a lot of money to celebrate the winter holidays to their fullest extent. Though the winter months become more bearable when they settle in Baldur's gate, finally comfortable.

They have "sleepovers" once in a while, where they all sleep in the same room! Life gets busy, so occasionally, they gather in the biggest room and spend the night together. Cal makes his best sweets, Lia sets up a blanket and pillow fort, and Rolan gives the best light show he can muster. They all look forward to these nights because it's so special to them. A tradition they hope to keep forever.

#forest-writes #lia #cal #lia bg3 #cal bg3 #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello there! Just read the wrestling ask! Wooo 🥵 Buttt it made me think.. what if in the heat of the moment (not particularly wrestling but any heat of the moment) and Andy is too rough on accident? Maybe he fingers her too hard, or grabs her too hard and it genuinely hurts. How would he react and make it better? We all know he would go full stop then make her feel better, but how?!

Thanks love!

The Rub Down

Summary: Andy takes care of you when things get a little rough in bed.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Bratty Reader, Manhandling, Oral Sex (fem rec), Light Spitting, Daddy Kink, Ass Slapping, Aromatherapy, Worried Andy, Possessive/Doting Andy, Fitness Regimens, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Takes place in my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Like, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

____

The last time things got out of hand occurred right after you pushed yourself too hard at the gym. You'd recently purchased a trial package on Groupon that offered you a chance to work with a personal trainer.

Now it's not like you're expecting immediate results overnight or anything. You were just looking for a few tips to help you tone up.

Of course your husband thinks you look beautiful just the way you are, which is sweet. But you've also come to the conclusion that your arms happen to jiggle a little too much for your liking.

The package you bought includes several sessions, complete with an individualized diet and meal plan that is tailored to your body type. Each session proves to be amazing, but you're often left feeling sore and exhausted at the end of the day.

Every single part of you seemed to ache, but in a good way. And you're certainly not going to let your tight, overworked muscles get in the way of you enjoying an evening alone with your man after having shipped the kids off to grandma's for the night.

At first everything seems fine when Andy tosses you on the bed. Giggles bubble up as you drag his big body closer to your own, the two of you frantically helping each other strip.

Once you're naked, your man is on you like an animal. Grunts and growls fill the room, spilling out into the hall. After welcoming four children, leaving the door ajar during a bout of frenzied lovemaking sometimes feels more than a little exhilarating.

It's always a beautifully added bonus when you don't have to worry about traumatizing several sets of precious virgin ears.

The two of you are a mess. Each hot, wet kiss growing more bold than the one before it. One of Andy's hands winds its way into your thick, glossy curls - wrenching your head back so that he can trail his wicked tongue along the exposed curve of your throat.

You let out a wild cry when his sharp teeth bite down over your pulse. He draws the tender flesh into his mouth, sucking hard.

It's no surprise that Andrew Barber seems intent on marking you tonight. And you revel in every second of it, loving the way the pleasure mixes with the pain. He nibbles his way down your body - each caress of his lips slow and deliberate.

Your hips buck of their own accord when Andy's mouth finds your pouting nipple, lightly toying with it. His teeth graze over the sensitive, pebbled flesh as you continue to writhe underneath him.

"Ooh yeah, Daddy...fuck! R-right there...oh please!"

Andy grinds his hips against your drenched core, your now ruined panties resembling little more than a useless scrap as it's ripped away. You can barely think, let alone speak as his name falls from your lips, whispered again and again like a desperate prayer.

Your husband pushes you down against the mattress, his normally gentle hands possessively squeezing and kneading your breasts before skimming their way down your body. He pauses when he finally reaches your quivering pussy. His lips curve into a smirk as his eyes hone in on your swollen clit peeking out from between your lips.

"Oh, Baby Girl." Comes the rumbled purr, the deep timbre of his voice making you shiver. Andy's intoxicating blue eyes shift to meet your own. "Looks like someone is excited to play with Daddy." Your hips jerk when two long, nimble fingers stroke their way across the sensitive nub.

You bite back a moan when the filthy bastard spits directly on your cunt, his hooded gaze never once leaving yours. Your core spasms as the makings of an impending orgasm begins to coil in your belly. And then he goes to do it again. This time gripping your thighs and roughly jerking your legs apart before forcing your knees towards your chest.

It's a move that you normally would've loved. But not today. Today it hurts like a bitch. You bite your lip to keep from crying out in pain as Andy lines up his straining member with your wet pussy.

"It feels like it's been so long, sweetness." Andy growls before entering you with one hard thrust. "Missed you so much."

It couldn't have been more than five days since you'd last made love. But to your adorably dramatic husband, it might as well have been a lifetime.

"Need you so fuckin' bad." He grunts, his accent growing more and more pronounced with each movement of his hips. "Missed you. Missed you. Missed you." Every time he utters that phrase it somehow manages to sound more reverent than the last.

A broken sob escapes you as the pain you're experiencing finally ebbs. Your velvet walls grip his thick cock, eagerly milking him for all he's worth. Waves of pleasure course through you as you feel his heavy sac smack against your damp flesh with each rhythmic thrust.

And then suddenly he bears down, making you take all of his weight. A sharp cry forces its way from your throat before you can catch it as you feel the muscle in your thigh threatening to snap.

"Shit!" Comes Andy's startled hiss, quickly stilling his movements. "Oh fuck!

Just like that everything stops. Well, everything except the pain that is. A lone tear spills its way down your cheek as you grit your teeth, silently begging your husband to let go of your leg.

Andy whispers your name, willing you to open your eyes and look at him. Gentle hands roam their way across your body as he tries to locate the source of the pain.

"Fuck, I - open up those pretty eyes for me, baby." He murmurs with a hint of panic in his tone. "Need you to tell me what's wrong. Did I hurt you?"

"Nooo!" You whine when he goes to move your leg in an attempt to lower it back onto the bed. "Ju-just gimme a sec. Please."

The muscle was now so fucking tight you were afraid to even move it.

"Okay, you can have a couple seconds. But then I'm gonna need you to use your words and tell me what hurts and where." Andy pleads as he places his hands on either side of your slightly trembling thigh. "Is it here?"

"Yeah!" You wail as another tear cascades down your cheek to join the first. "I'm sorry."

You try to pull away from him when he begins to lightly massage the sore muscle, not that you manage to get very far. As it is, you're in too much pain. And even if you weren't, your much larger husband was faster than you - even on a good day.

"Okay, okay. No need to be sorry, little love. Can you tell me if it's the muscle?"

You nod, throwing an arm over your eyes as your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Alright, Baby Girl. I'm gonna shift things a little. Hold on." Andy slowly pulls out of you, leaving you feeling cold and empty. It was definitely one of your least favorite feelings. You can tell that he's trying not to jostle you too much, even as he works to flip you onto your front.

"I'm sorry." You tell him again, grateful that your words are now at least somewhat muffled by a pillow.

"Hush." He grunts before straddling your legs, his knees resting on either side of yours. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the muscle in your right thigh feels incredibely tight."

"Yep." You whimper through clenched teeth. "Right there in the center. Feels like there's a knot or something."

Andy blows out a concerned breath as he goes to work massaging the area. "Like I just said, it's fucking tight. Almost as if you've strained it." Eventually, the stiffness begins to ease.

As the pain dulls, you notice your husband has gone suspiciously quiet. So quiet and thoughtful that you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Andy..."

"We're gonna need to ice this, Princess." He hums, pressing a kiss to sweet kiss to the rounded globes of your ass. "And maybe get you in to see a doctor or something. I know I was being rough, but nothing on you should be this tight."

Another beat of silence passes before he finally speaks again. "Did I...did I hurt you anywhere else, sweet girl?" His tone comes out low and gruff.

You feel your heart seize in your chest. "Not you." Groaning, you attempt to flip yourself over. It takes a couple of tries - mostly because your husband refuses to move.

"Take it easy for me, sweetheart." Andy implores, his expressive blue eyes openly examining every inch of you as he worriedly hovers above your tense form. "Now, where else does it hurt?"

"You didn't, Big Man. It's my fault - I don't think I stretched right after my last workout or something." You reach up to cup his face, the pad of your thumb tenderly caressing his chiseled jaw.

"I - I shouldn't have handled you like that, Baby Girl. I was too rough." He drops a loving kiss on the soft skin of your palm. "Got caught up in the moment and ended up twisting you like a goddamned pretzel."

"Shh, Andy Bear. You know I love it when you twist me up. I get so fucking wet when you go deep like that, I always cum hard as fuck when I feel you in my belly, Daddy."

You offer him a playful smile when you feel his half-hard cock twitch against your leg.

"Stop trying to distract me, little girl." Relief fills you when you notice a hint of a grin flit across his handsome features.

"I am not." You pout, pulling his head down to yours.

"Yes, you are." He snarls softly before catching your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging lightly. "I'm onto your games, brat. But I'm afraid nobody's getting twisted up into anything until we take care of that sore muscle. Now turn over."

"But why?" You ask with a whine even as you move to comply.

"Because Daddy's going to give you a full body rub down, Baby Girl." Andy slowly rises from the bed and pads towards the bathroom, but not before delivering a swift blow to your upturned ass. "And when I'm convinced I've got feeling good and loose to my satisfaction, I'll consider giving you my cock."

Fuck. You hated when your sweet ogre was right.

"When you're finished with me, can I at least tie you up and rub you down too?" Your question elicits a chuckle from your husband as he rummages through one of your draws to retrieve your oils.

"We'll see, Princess." Comes his indulgent reply as he makes his way back over to you clutching two vials, mostly likely Ylang Ylang and Jasmine since those two scents often paired well together. "Although, I think you should know that I'm not very happy with you right now."

Andy pours a small amount of oil into his palm as he climbs onto the bed. He rubs his hands together, doing his best to warm it before gingerly taking hold of your left ankle so that he can begin by massaging the ball of your foot.

It feels so fucking good that you don't even care that you're about to be on the receiving end of a lecture.

"Okay, Andy." You murmur lazily, resting your head on your arms.

"If you insist on overdoing it at the gym, then you're going to need to make sure you stretch properly before and after." His clever hands move to your heel before eventually switching to the other foot.

"Uh huh." Now he's working on your left calf, kneading and rubbing any residual soreness out of the languid muscles.

"And I've gotta tell you, baby...I don't really have a lot of faith in your shit-for-brains trainer. He should've stretched you out more and -" Your husband abruptly cuts himself off as his train of thought derails all on its own. "Actually, come to think of it, I don't like the thought of his grimy hands even touching you."

Oops. Looks like your Big Man was going down the rabbit hole. Better put a stop to it.

"Alright." Is all you can muster through your bliss-filled haze.

"Does he touch you?" There's a hard edge to Andy's tone, letting you know he's getting closer and closer to going off the deep end. "Is he inappropriate? Has he ever gotten a little too handsy?"

"No. No. And also no." You quickly reassure him as he skillfully manipulates your body in the most delicious of ways.

"Good. But I still don't like the fucker." He grouses, all the while completely ignoring the fact that he'd never even met the man. "How many more sessions do you have with him, Baby Girl?"

"One." The word floats out on the heels of a dreamy sigh.

"Fine. I'll allow it." Andy returns his attention back to the source of your original problem - your possibly strained thigh.

Oh thank you, my most gracious and benevolent husband. You think to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

"But after that I'm training you from now on, Baby Girl. And you have my word that I'll make sure to stretch you right both before and after we work up a sweat."

"Kay." You feel your body stir through the midst of your relaxation as a familiar warmth pools in your belly.

"I think you'll find my fee to be pretty reasonable as well." Andy continues as his hands come to rest on your ass. The sound of a wet slap cracks through the air before being quickly followed by another. "In return for worshiping this body and all of it's luscious curves, all I require from you is your obedience and...your orgasms."

Woah! Sometimes your man could drive quite the hard bargain.

"Oh, is that all?" You muse, throwing him a teasing grin over your shoulder.

"Yes." He responds with a solemn nod. "That would be correct. I'm going to need all of your orgasms. Every single one."

Giggling softly, you take a moment to consider his proposal. "Looks like you've got yourself a new client, Andy Bear. Hope you'll be able to fit me into your busy schedule, otherwise I'll have to keep Derek on standby."

"What the fuck have I told you about mentioning another man's name in our bed, Baby Girl?" He raises one imperious looking brow.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Forgiven. Now, how about we seal this deal with a kiss?" Andy doesn't bother waiting for your response before flipping you over to your back and settling himself on his knees in front of you once more.

You nod eagerly, offering up your mouth for the taking. Only to be surprised when your husband's head begins to slowly lower in the direction of the sweet spot between your parted thighs, his eyes darkening at the sight of your throbbing pussy.

And then the realization finally dawns. Your man wanted a kiss.

"Mmhm. And I'm afraid I'm gonna have to be very, very thorough." Andy affirms with a playful grin. "Now open wide for Daddy, baby. I think it's about time for your first warm up."

END

#cevansbrat007 asks #chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans smut #andy barber smut #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber fanfiction #cevansbrat0007growing pains series #chris evans x you #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #andy barber x reader #chris evans x black!reader #andy barber x black!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #andy barber x woc!reader #chris evans x wife!reader #andy barber x wife!reader #chris evans x poc!reader #andy barber x poc!reader #chris evans x female!reader #andy barber x female reader #chris evans x yn #andy barber x yn #chris evans x y/n #andy barber x y/n #chris evans x brat!reader #andy barber x brat!reader #chris evans x black reader #andy barber x black reader

[low-budget-korra]

Comments on Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender

*spoiler alert*

First of all I'm gonna start by saying it is one of the best adaptations I've seen so far. And that's the key word, adaptation. I've seen a lot of fans and others complain about some things that honestly, doesn't make sense because some things only work in a cartoon(just as much as some things only work in a book or a video game)

And before I start to talk about some topics that I judge important, I also wanna say that the production is fantastic, from the costumes to the CGI. It all looks amazing. (A part from Yue's wig)

1. The Script

It's not easy to pick 20+ episodes and make it fit in only 8 but damn they did a hell of a good job, especially when judging what was important to show and what they could let it go. Some fans commented that since there's no fillers, the Gaang and others miss some development but I think that for the universe of the live action what we got here it worked.

I can express how much I like to see Ozai and Azula's relationship and how it is now clear that he uses the siblings against each other, manipulating them to get what he wants. But I will admit I miss the fear Azula had, since it's implied in the show and some extras that she does fear Ozai, and fears becoming like Zuko.

I hope the 41. Is just fine after the battle in the north. See all of them bowing to Zuko after discovering that Zuko was the one that saved their asses and was heavily punished by that...it was beautiful. I loved the writers did that, give names and faces to Zuko's crew and a beautiful yet sad arc when Ozai banished his son and the men who he saved.

I also loved that they put weight into things that was treated as a joke, like Katara talking about her mother. She was a little kid who saw her mom get murdered in front of her and the live action made sure to let us know that it is not okay to make jokes about something so traumatic. All of the deaths here have tons of weight in it, it's not some random person, is someone we met, someone we liked, someone who helped. The costs of the war, something the cartoon manages to show us but know in live action, with real people, the massage gets stronger.

And they didn't forget Iroh's past like the fandom does, which is great. That actor, the earthbending soldier really let it all out, that's how you use the few screentime you have.

Sokka's isn't sexist and y'all were making a storm outta a cup of water, is not like Sokka sexist didn't go away after like the 4 or 5 episode in the original show. I think the live action was able to bring more depth to him in comparison to the first season of the cartoon. We see how he feels about his father's, the absence of him and his duty as warrior who kinda doesn't want to be a warrior.

I need a Gyatso in my life, I didn't know I needed to see more of him until the live action gave us more of him. Kyoshi was the Thor coming to Wakanda from this season, WHY THE FUCK BRYKE DONT WANNA GIVE US A KYOSHI SERIES? She is absolutely a jewel of a character. Roku and Kuruk, damn poor Kuruk man, so much pain in his words but again that's what it means to be the Avatar, it's not fun and games. Zhao saying to Aang what Korra villains said to Korra😭 that the world doesn't need the Avatar anymore, it hurt.

Guys I'm gonna say it, there's no way in hell for anyone to ship Kataang here. I'm saying this because some shippers complain that the secret tunnel part was different but c'mon, look at Kiawentiio and look at Gordon, it would be so s awkward and weird and just wrong. I know they don't have a big age difference, is only like 3 years but when they filmed Gordon looked so much younger than her, maybe in the next seasons the difference won't be that big.

The pace is good, once you start you don't wanna stop.

2. The Acting

Everyone is really good at capturing the essence of it's characters and somewhat making them their own. The highlights for me were Dallas and Ian, Its like they came straight from the show. Ken Leung's Zhao was also amazing as he was way more threatening here than he was in the show.

Kiawentiio was the Katara we were looking for, she is kind yet strong, brave and caring. And Gordon was Aang, sure, he has to learn a few things since he slipped a few times in his acting but nothing that could ruin the experience, that kid is good and just needs some experience.

Elizabeth Yu was Azula. It was different but yet the same character, is like learning something new of her and I like how cleared she show emotions with her eyes. Maria Zhang had great chemistry with Ian and I can't wait to see more of Suki. Arden Cho and Yvonne Chapman as June and Avatar Kyoshi look like they came out straight from the cartoon. Daniel Dae Kim...man is Ozai, so cold, so sharp, so scary, already way better than the cartoon version. I wanna see more of Paul Sun-Hyung Lee as Iroh since the character he really starts to shine in book 2.

3. The live action doesn't have the spirit of the OG?

Yes, it does have. The thing is now that we are seeing real people, things get dark one way or another but I don't think it ruined the spirit of the show. Aang is still a kid, Sokka still making sarcastic jokes, Zuko still annoying as hell, Katara still hopeful and strong... There's everything there really.

The thing is stuff like genocide, murder, war, death and suffering are, for some people, better to watch as pixels in a cartoon than real people.

I think it's a great adaptation and I would recommend it to every fan.

#avatar #Netflix #netflix avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender #avatar aang #avatar kyoshi #avatar roku #avatar kuruk #sokka #katara #azula #uncle iroh #zuko #zhao #atla #tla #comments on #korra #avatar korra

[crvptidgf]

Bad Blood • pt. I

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

➸ summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, you find it difficult to let go of the past. Your trauma lies deeper than you think. When when you meet somebody who understands your pain, your journey of self-discovery and healing begins to set sail. For once, everything in your life seems to click.

➸ warnings/notes: reader is of romanian descent, afab! reader, mentions of trauma, descriptions of death and traumatic events, profanity, friends to lovers trope, hurt/comfort, eventual smut (18+), trauma bonding, eventual mutual pining, mentions of the golden trio being dicks for the sake of the story

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THE TRAIN TO Hogwarts screeched against the rusty rails, bumping along the coast. I looked outside the window, staring down below. The waves crashed into the pillars that were holding the railway up, and I almost shook with discomfort at the thought of it breaking.

I felt someone's arm link through mine, gently resting their head on my shoulder. Looking down, I noticed it was Ginny. Her ginger curls were swept back into a ponytail, but her hair tickled me nonetheless.

"I can't wait to start our first year," she said.

Hermione hummed in agreement as she studied me somewhat intensely. She could read people like the back of her hand - it was something that always both annoyed and comforted me. I knew that she would always be there for me, but I could also never hide anything from her.

"How about you?” asked Hermione to which Ginny lifted her head to look at me.

I shrugged and looked to the side.

Harry and Ron had fallen asleep ages ago. Ron's snores merged with the various other noises inside the train, and it had long became background noise. Harry's glasses were askew on his head - Ginny adjusted them before looking back at me to hear my response.

"Nervous, honestly," I said plainly.

I didn't want to tell them just how anxious I was about starting college. About how I was scared because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life - how I felt like I was miles behind all of my friends. How I didn't feel like I belonged.

Hermione was smart and kind - she had ambition and was the most empathetic person I knew. Ginny was brave, beautiful and she knew she wanted to pursue Quidditch professionally since she was 14. Harry and Ron wanted to be Aurors, and Fred and Weasley had opened their joke shop since before we even graduated.

Me? I didn't even know who I really was. Sure, I knew I was a Slytherin - and that I was pretty good at potions. Besides that I had no clue about where I wanted to be in life.

I didn't even feel like I fit in with my own friends, let alone a whole college full of people with ambitions and goals. With real, true goals.

Hermione always reassured me that I was still young and I had ages ahead of me to figure it all out. Yet when everybody around you is already at the stage of growing up and moving on, its hard to believe that.

I knew I was only 18 but that fact provided little comfort to me.

"Ron, Harry. Get up!" shouted Hermione as she pulled on her robes in the unstable carriage. We had arrived outside of Hogsmeade station, the yellow lights of the street lamps illuminating the black abyss of the water before us.

We all walked onto the platform, Harry yawning as he tried to press his unruly hair flat down. He always had messy hair. It grew impossibly fast even when he cut it. At some point he gave up and just let it grow; which led us to now, as his hair almost reached his shoulders. Ron had followed in his footsteps, letting his mane grow out, too. Their matching shoulder-length curls was just one of many things that they shared in common.

A giant of a man trodded his way forwards, introducing himself as Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. His long beard was frizzy, long, and dark - but not as long as the hair on his head. He could give Harry a run for his money.

Self-rowing boats made their way towards us, the darkness of the lake being broken every once in a while by the ripples of the oars.

"Four to a boat! Move on, move on," said Hagrid.

All five of us looked at each other before glancing at the boat. I honestly didn't mind being alone, so I wrapped my robe around my shoulders before nodding at my friends. Ron asked if I was sure, offering to give me his seat.

"It's okay. I'll see you guys inside."

I walked a little further to where an almost full boat floated in the water. Three boys sat inside, arguing about seemingly nothing. I heard a few names like Blaise and Pansy, whom I remembered being in my class in secondary school. They were fellow Slytherins.

Their conversation suddenly halted, and I felt their eyes on me as I neared them.

"Sorry to interrupt - but can I sit here?"

I saw one of them shift to the side a bit more, making space for me. He looked slightly familiar, but I figured he must have just been someone I passed in the hallways in our old school.

"Sure, hop on," he said.

I climbed into the wooden vehicle, jolting forwards as it began to move. A hand came to grip my wrist, gently pulling me back so I didn't tumble into the water. I pulled my hand away as I sat down, my eyes meeting his.

The moonlight shone beautifully against his skin. I vaguely felt like I knew him, but I wasn't quite sure of his name. Maybe it was Matthew, or Matthias - or was it just Matt?

"Thanks," I said. His eyes were almost as dark as the night sky, his features sharp but gentle. With the little amount of his face that I could make out in the pitch black of the night, I came to the conclusion that he was attractive. Realizing that we were just staring at each other, I looked away from him quickly, opting to stare at the castle that we were rapidly approaching.

"So..." came the same voice from beside me. "I'm Enzo."

Lorenzo Berkshire. Of course.

My breathing halted for a moment. I knew I recognized him. Our parents had been friends for as long as I can remember. Up until our 3rd year of secondary school we had been best friends - that is, before our parents had gotten into a huge fight and we drifted apart.

His parents had gotten caught up in the war - becoming Death Eaters in order to protect their son. My parents were having none of it. I was advised to never speak to him again; something about how he would 'become just like his parents'.

But Voldemort was dead - and so were Enzo's parents, along with half of the Slytherin population's families too. The past was in the past. There was no use in dwelling on it.

"Ah. Berkshire, right?" I asked. His eyes shot up in surprise.

"You know me?"

I laughed lightly as I looked towards him. Maybe I had changed a lot since we last spoke - it made sense that he didn't realize who I was. I barely recognized him either. We hadn't spoken in almost 4 years.

"You don't remember me? Sunt ofensat!"

The other two boys had an intrigued look on their face as they watched me and Enzo's interaction.

Enzo's already wide eyes lit up at my words. We always spoke Romanian to each other - we called it our secret language. Even though it's a common language, most of the wizarding world in England were not foreigners.

"Oh my God! Y/N?"

I smiled as I noticed the recognition in his eyes.

Our families were one of the only well-know Romanian families in the wizarding world, so it was no surprise that we had grown close when we were young. I felt bad that we couldn't spend more time together during our last years of school. Those were hard times - especially for him. I only wish I could've been there to help.

During the war I remember that I had ran to find him. He betrayed his parents to fight alongside us, against the Death Eaters - I was afraid he'd been killed. It was a tough time for everyone, but I could never forget the look on his face that day.

However, I didn't want to think about that right now.

His arms came to encase themselves around me. I forgot just how affectionate of a person he was. My arms came to rest under his, hugging his torso tightly as my chin landed on his shoulder.

"Okay. What the fuck?" said one of the other boys.

Enzo pulled away from me, smiling.

"Remember my childhood best friend I told you about? This is her," he beamed.

I put my hand out for them to shake. They introduced themselves and Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle. My heart slightly stuttered at the sound of his surname, the memories of what his father did swirling in my mind.

I wondered how Dumbledore ever accepted him here, but I tried to push the thought out of my head. No use in overthinking it right now. If I never judged Enzo for his family, I figured I should give Mattheo the same chance to prove himself.

And anyway, if someone as kind as Enzo was friends with him, how bad could he be? Sure I hadn't talked to him in years but I would always harbor trust for the boy. We had been through thick and thin together. You could even say we had even been through hell, literally.

"I didn't know you talked about me," I joked, nudging Enzo's shoulder.

He grew flustered as he tried to dig himself out of the hole. Mattheo had an amused look on his face as he smirked at Enzo's nervous attempts at covering up his words.

He looked over at me, the devilish smile still plastered on his face.

My eyes trailed along his cheekbones and jawline, eventually resting to stare at his plump lips. For someone whose father was the most evil wizard of all time; he sure was hot - and also surprisingly nice, I came to find out.

Apparently after Enzo and I had stopped being friends, Mattheo and Theo took him under their wing. They included him in their friend group, inviting him out to parties. That was nice to hear - he was quite antisocial when we were younger. He seemed better now.

We had already arrived at the castle when Mattheo's eyes finally dropped from mine. His gaze seemed to find mine during every conversation, whether he was speaking or not. The dark brown orbs seemed to stare at me intensely, no matter what I was doing. I could feel them on me even when I wasn't looking, and when I was, he never shifted his gaze.

It felt like a contest of who would look away last - and I won.

"Alright I should go meet my friends for the sorting ceremony," I said as I clambered out of the boat, "thanks for letting me sit with you guys."

Theo raised an eyebrow at me.

"What, your Gryffindor buddies didn't want to be seen with a snake?"

I rolled my eyes at him, giving him a sarcastic laugh. Of course he would have a weird sense of patriotism for his house. The Nott family was the type. Not that it was bad to be proud of where you were placed - I just never understood where all the hostility came from.

Stealing a glance at Enzo, I gave him a look. He only shook his head as if to say 'I'm sorry'. Rolling my eyes at Theo, I turned my back on him.

"Funny."

And with that, I was on my way, sprinting quickly to Harry and Ginny who were waiting for me by the shore.

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