$I drop completely onto my knees into the fresh straw, a soft, choked breath catching in my throat as you step across the stall toward me. The golden lantern light sits low on your rugged features, casting a warm, majestic glow over the slick, dark wool of the tiny creature breathing clean against your chest. Seeing you hold that little ewe lamb like a sacred offering—and hearing you say she already carries my name before she’s even dry—completely shatters any armor I have left. I lift my hands, my fingers shaking just a fraction with an overwhelming, soaring wave of pure emotional 'kilig' as I carefully take the small, warm weight of the lamb into my arms. I tuck her securely against the heavy wool of my coat, right over the warm swell of my belly where Mac and Mau are perfectly safe, so that our twins can hear the first, steady breathing of the very first life born into our fortress. "Thank you, Cormac," I whisper fiercely into the quiet gold of the shed, my eyes blurring with fresh, proud tears as a radiant, beautiful smile breaks across my face. "I'm calling her Maura's Gift. She carries the line we carved into the timber this morning, and she's going to run the green grass of the north bench with our babies this spring." I look up from the breathing lamb straight into your bare, intense eyes, my heart hammering a triumphant, devoted rhythm against my ribs as I reach up with my free hand to lock my fingers tightly into the rough canvas of your sleeve. "The winter count is perfect, Daddy Mac. You shored the post, we brought the life in from the cold, and the frontier belongs entirely to us. Now come here and kiss your Wife Commander before we settle her into the warm."$

I drop completely onto my knees into the fresh straw, a soft, choked breath catching in my throat as you step across the stall toward me. The golden lantern li…

@resilientgriffin586

full color style

✦ Remix this artwork

More from the community

somber panel with a close-up of a single drop of blood falling from a leaf, symbolizing the tragedy and the terror of the warrior man

I drop completely onto my knees into the fresh straw, a soft, choked breath catching in my throat as you step across the stall toward me. The golden lantern light sits low on your rugged features, casting a warm, majestic glow over the slick, dark wool of the tiny creature breathing clean against your chest. Seeing you hold that little ewe lamb like a sacred offering—and hearing you say she already carries my name before she’s even dry—completely shatters any armor I have left. I lift my hands, my fingers shaking just a fraction with an overwhelming, soaring wave of pure emotional 'kilig' as I carefully take the small, warm weight of the lamb into my arms. I tuck her securely against the heavy wool of my coat, right over the warm swell of my belly where Mac and Mau are perfectly safe, so that our twins can hear the first, steady breathing of the very first life born into our fortress. "Thank you, Cormac," I whisper fiercely into the quiet gold of the shed, my eyes blurring with fresh, proud tears as a radiant, beautiful smile breaks across my face. "I'm calling her Maura's Gift. She carries the line we carved into the timber this morning, and she's going to run the green grass of the north bench with our babies this spring." I look up from the breathing lamb straight into your bare, intense eyes, my heart hammering a triumphant, devoted rhythm against my ribs as I reach up with my free hand to lock my fingers tightly into the rough canvas of your sleeve. "The winter count is perfect, Daddy Mac. You shored the post, we brought the life in from the cold, and the frontier belongs entirely to us. Now come here and kiss your Wife Commander before we settle her into the warm."

Seth Rollins was living in a run down apartment,Then he heard loud banging from the lobby,Then he heard a man shouting. “SPEAD OUT! FIND HIM!” Said the voice.Seth got spooked,He barricaded the door and hid in his closet.There were sounds of doors being kicked outside,Then the sounds of footsteps approached Seth’s apartment door,The door was kicked open. “Spread out! He’s in here somewhere and remember the boss wants him alive” said a voice. They looked around the apartment.Seth keeps quiet.One of them looked in Seth’s room,He looked under the bed,Then….He walked to the closet.Seth’s heart was beating loudly.The man…opened the door,Spotted Seth and grabbed him before Seth could do anything. “I got him!” Said the man.Seth Struggled.The others walked in the bedroom. “Let me go!” Seth yelled. “Well done,The boss is gonna be quite pleased we found him” Said the man. “Take him to the van”The man commanded. They put a hood over Seth’s head and dragged him to a black van.They get in afterwards,one of them drives the van.After a while they arrive at a fancy mansion,They get out and Drag Seth to it.They went inside,They drop Seth on the middle of the floor and removed the hood.Seth looks at his surroundings

I lean my weight further over the rail, the intense heat of the gold lantern light reflecting off the smooth, dark coat of my winter jacket as my palms cup Helena's head securely. Feeling her heavy, warm skull press firmly into my hand gives me a sudden, fierce surge of clarity, completely banishing the midnight chill from the corners of the stall. My other hand stays anchored flat and comforting over the warm swell of my belly where Mac and Mau are perfectly safe, tucked deep beneath the wool. "You're doing so good, Helena," I murmur fiercely into the quiet gold of the straw, my voice dropping into that low, unwavering register that always cuts right through the mountain storms. "Push into the sound, girl. Your line is set, the watch is held, and your little ones are dropping right into the warm. We're both right here with you." I lock my eyes right onto yours over the partition, my breath catching as the second contraction hits and your large, steady hands move with absolute, unhurried mastery to cup the tiny head. Seeing the absolute focus in your rugged face—the man who once had to press his shaking hands into the straw twenty winters ago, now guiding life into our fortress with complete certainty—brings a soaring wave of pride straight to my chest. "The shoulder's clear, Cormac!" I whisper breathlessly, a radiant, beautiful smile breaking through the tension on my face as Helena lets out a long, final groan into my palm. "She's pushing right now. Bring her first winter lamb home, husband. The twins and I are holding the count right here with you."

I lift my head slightly from the warm crook of your neck, my fingers locking fiercely up between yours as your rough, flat-sure voice cuts straight through the low red glow of the hearth fire. Hearing you command me to never wait in the dark, to put my boots on and call down every single hand on the ridge if you ever got held up—because that is the palaban, fierce Dutton woman you married—burns away the very last drop of the valley's lingering chill. And when you admit that you finally sleep heavy because the first thing your eyes find every morning is me... it completely shatters any stubborn defense I have left. I adjust my grip on your broad shoulder, sliding my other hand flat, heavy, and deeply comforting back over the smooth curve of my belly where Mac and Mau give a sudden, rhythmic series of strong kicks right against our locked palms, as if they can hear the absolute certainty in their father's chest. A radiant, beautiful smirk breaks across my face in the soft light as I look straight into your bare, intense eyes. "You're stuck right here under my watch, Daddy Mac," I whisper fiercely into the warm quiet of the room, my boses smooth, sharp, and thick with an unyielding devotion. "I'm never waiting in the dark for anyone, husband. If any storm down in that valley ever tries to hold you up, your Wife Commander is driving that new hybrid truck straight down the mountain trail with every wolf and guard on this ridge to tear their whole corporate table down. Same spot, same hand, same man. I’m closing my eyes now, Cormac, but you better be right here when the frost melts off the glass—because I’m going to love prying my alpha husband out of this bed to pour that first cup of tea." I tuck my face back into your chest, my breathing slowing down to perfectly match the steady, deep rhythm of yours as the fire settles into its final, permanent ash-glow, locking our family safely inside the fortress for the night.

I wrap my fingers tighter around yours where they rest pinned safe against your ribs, a deep, beautiful warmth completely taking over my chest as your low chuckle fades into the quiet room. Feeling your massive frame finally relax, your breathing turning slow and even against my hair, brings a radiant, peaceful smile to my lips. For twenty winters you counted the frost alone, Cormac, but tonight, you have a wife, twins in the warm, and a line that will never throw any of us out into the cold. "Te amo, Cormac," I whisper into the velvet dark, my voice dropping into that soft, fiercely devoted register meant only for you. "Akin ka lang, husband. The count is full, and the watch is officially closed." I close my eyes, sinking completely into the heavy, quilt-heavy warmth of your embrace as the wind outside howls harmlessly against our fortress logs. Mac and Mau are perfectly quiet beneath our palms, and the ridge is finally ours.

The second bar groaned, a heavy, scraping protest of oak against stone as Patrixia turned it, steadying the weight before stepping back from the wood. The barrier was set. They were not crossing that threshold without going through the timber first. Outside, the man on the horse shifted his weight, the parchment trembling in a hand that had already lost its nerve. Behind him, two figures on foot exchanged a tense look, their boots sucking at the mud. One of them began to drift left, trying to angle toward the side of the porch steps. Cormac’s voice cut across the mud like a flat blade, stopping the man cold without Cormac even looking away from the gate. "You can keep reading aloud to see if your handwriting changes, syndicate men, but the ridge doesn't answer to valley ink," Cormac said, his shoulders squaring against the gray mist. "I didn't sign my ledger for free, and I certainly didn't sign it so you could come up here with a paper storm and think it would wash my posts away. Turn that horse, counselor, or find out what happens when a man decides he's done entertaining strangers at his own gate." The horse whinnied, uneasy, and stomped once, throwing a heavy spray of wet mud against the bottom rail. The wind picked up right then, driving the mist sideways and howling through the pine needles. Inside, Patrixia stood with her hand hovering just an inch over the wood, listening to every word, her pulse jumping in time with the wind. Cormac stood completely alone between the intruders and his home—a line drawn in bone and muscle that wouldn't move a single inch. The silence that followed was absolute, save for the wind. The counselor looked at the unyielding wall of a man on the porch, then down at the useless parchment in his hand. With a jerky, humiliated motion, he shoved the paper into his coat and hard-reined his mount around. "This isn't over, Cormac!" the counselor yelled over his shoulder, though his voice cracked against the gale. The two men on foot didn't wait for a second invitation. They scrambled backward into the gray fog, following the retreating, squelching rhythm of the horse's hooves until the mountain swallowed them whole. Only then did Cormac let out a slow, fog-rimmed breath. He didn't drop his guard immediately, scanning the misty tree line for a full minute before he finally turned back toward the cabin door.

I slide my hand underneath the heavy canvas of my winter coat, letting my palm rest warm, flat, and steady over the smooth curve of my belly as I sit by the crackling hearth fire. The cabin is perfectly peaceful, the thin curl of gray smoke climbing into the morning sky, while the newly installed perimeter feeds flicker bright and secure on the dashboard monitor across the room. Outside, the frost is slowly bowing to the sun, but inside, my heart is completely full, waiting for the sound of Cormac’s truck to crunch up the lane. Feeling a soft, sudden flutter from Mac and Mau beneath my fingers, a radiant, deeply devoted smile breaks across my face. I close my eyes, breathing in the rich, soothing scent of the wild lavender seed tag tucked safely in my palm, and begin to softly hum the comforting, rhythmic melody of our favorite song just for our twins. "Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green..." I sing softly into the quiet warmth of the kitchen, my voice dropping into that smooth, fiercely protective register meant only for our family. "When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen..." Beneath my palms, the twins instantly soften their kicks, their tiny movements calming down to perfectly match the steady, beautiful cadence of my voice. I look out the frost-rimmed window toward the main gate, keeping the watch tight as the kettle begins to breathe heavy on the hook. "Call up your men, dilly, dilly, set them to work... Some to the plow, dilly, dilly, some to the cart..." I continue to sing, my fingers tracing slow, unhurried circles over the smooth swell as a wave of pure, triumphant 'kilig' washes away the last bit of the winter chill. "Some to make hay, dilly, dilly, some to thresh corn... While you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm." The final notes fade into the roaring heat of the fire, leaving only the beautiful, sacred rhythm of our family breathing together in the warm sanctuary. The building in the city belongs to us, the contracts are signed, and we are just one single count away from having their father step back through that door.

(Recap)Jon Moxley (The vampire king) and Seth Rollins (The vampire hunter…well now The bride Of Jon Moxley) arrived at the feast in the dining room,They sat down at the head of the table,Seth was nervous when the other vampires were staring at him,Jon gently held Seth’s hand and whispered that he was doing good,Seth relaxed,after an hour Jon stood up and dropped a bombshell,”With out further ado…behold…My bride!” Jon said while gesturing to Seth,Seth was shocked. (And now part 5). Seth couldn’t believe it. “What?…I’M the bride?” Seth said in his mind

My voice falters for half a heartbeat as the heavy timber door closes soft, the rich, cold scent of winter wood and the ticking truck engine fading as you cross the kitchen. When your massive, calloused hand settles firmly over mine—your cold knuckles and the raw bark under your nails pressing right into the warm canvas of my coat over the twins—a fierce, triumphant wave of pure emotion crashes straight through my chest. You didn't just sign the valley contracts, Cormac; you walked right out of that corporate hall and brought our entire future back up this mountain before the fire could even think about settling. I adjust my stance by the roaring hearth, sliding my fingers tightly up between yours until our palms are completely locked together over the soft, active flutters of Mac and Mau. I look straight up into your dark, intense eyes, seeing the raw, unsteadiness you never let the low country see, and a beautiful, deeply devoted smile finally breaks across my face through the lantern light. "Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green..." I sing softly into the warm quiet of the room, my voice dropping into that low, unwavering register that belongs only to the family we keep on this ridge. "When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen..." I lean my weight completely back into the solid, protective shelf of your chest, feeling the heavy vibration of your breath level out against my hair as your boots stay planted firm on the cabin floor. I slide our locked fingers just an inch higher over our babies, holding your hand flat where mine is as I step right into the part that belongs entirely to you. "Cormac's my king, dilly, dilly, I am his queen... We'll lock the gate, dilly, dilly, keep the lines clean. No more cold rooms, husband," I murmur fiercely against your jaw, my hand tightening around yours with a proud, soaring clarity as the kettle sings loud on the hook. "The winter count is closed, your hand is right where mine is, and this whole mountain answers to our name now. Welcome home, Daddy Mac."