Today is my Bday, so I want to say thank to everyone who follows me, everyone who has become my friend. I really appreciate it. It means a lot to me.❤️❤️❤️ You are the best people in the world and I love ya’ll.
Today is my Bday, so I want to say thank to everyone who follows me, everyone who has become my friend. I really appreciate it. It means a lot to me.❤️❤️❤️ You are the best people in the world and I love ya’ll.
MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE
Poster for the cut of The Lost Boys I made for fun!
The name is a play on my surname don’t worry about it. This version of the film is the exact same except I’ve added in the 8 deleted scenes that were released!
The quality’s not ideal but I figured I’d share it on here in case anyone’s interested
TLB Mortal cut.mov
Idk how tumblr is with links, if this doesn’t work let me know 😅
Summary: A visiting Yautja clan quickly learns the consequences of disrespecting King’s pregnant human mate.
The arrival of another clan always changed the atmosphere of the stronghold long before their ships ever appeared, because among the Yautja, visits between clans were never simple matters of diplomacy or celebration, instead, they were carefully balanced displays of strength, hierarchy, and control where every gesture, every word, and every movement carried meaning under the surface.
You could feel the change everywhere around you.
The guards stationed throughout the halls stood straighter than usual, their armour ceremonial rather than practical. At the same time, servants and lower-ranked warriors moved with noticeably greater urgency through the towering stone corridors. They were preparing feasting halls, organising trophies for display, and ensuring that every inch of the stronghold reflected the power of the King who ruled it.
And because you carried his child, because his heir now grew safely underneath your heart, the tension surrounding the visit seemed even sharper than before.
You sat near the great fire within the upper chamber, one hand resting against the curve of your stomach while the flames cast warm light across the stone walls, and despite the comfort of the room, you could still sense the unease spreading throughout the fortress like an approaching storm.
The child had been moving since morning, restless and strong, moving under your skin often enough that you wondered if perhaps he could somehow feel your mate’s tension as clearly as you could.
The doors to your chamber opened heavily.
Your mate entered, and even after everything the two of you had shared together, the sight of him still carried the same overwhelming presence that had once frightened entire villages, because there was simply no way to ignore a creature built so powerfully, wrapped in armour and trophies, carrying himself with the kind of confidence only a true ruler could possess.
Yet despite his terrifying appearance, his attention found only you.
Always you.
His eyes swept across the room first, assessing in the instinctive way of a hunter, ensuring no danger had entered his territory before finally settling where you sat beside the fire.
“There you are,” you murmured, smiling as he approached.
He crossed the chamber in slow steps until he stood directly in front of you, one large hand moved carefully against the swell of your stomach with a surprising gentleness that never failed to make you smile.
The child shifted almost immediately under his touch. A pleased rumble sounded from deep within his chest at the reaction.
“They approach,” he said after a moment, his voice low and steady.
“The western clan?” you asked quietly.
“Yes.”
You knew of them already, at least through stories and reputation, because the western clan was among the oldest surviving bloodlines still aligned with your mate’s territory, made up of hunters known for their efficiency and deep devotion to honour, though they were also infamous for their pride and unwillingness to tolerate weakness in any form.
Your fingers brushed lightly against his wrist.
“You’ve been tense all day.”
“They are guests,” he answered carefully.
You smiled faintly because that was not truly the issue.
“And?”
His mandibles moved slightly before his eyes dropped briefly toward your stomach once more.
“You carry my heir.”
There it was.
The real concern.
Since your pregnancy became visible, your mate’s protective instincts had intensified to almost absurd levels, to the point where nothing entered your chambers without inspection, no warrior approached you without permission, and even the healers who examined you regularly found themselves watched with heavy scrutiny.
At first, you had found it excessive.
Now, strangely enough, you found it comforting.
“You know they are not going to challenge me,” you said softly, tilting your head up toward him.
“They would not survive it.”
The confidence in his answer made you laughh.
“You are very intense.”
“I am correct.”
“You usually are.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him enough that some of the tension left his posture, and then he leaned down and pressed his forehead briefly against yours in one of the rare moments of intimacy he allowed himself when no one was watching.
“You will remain beside me during the gathering,” he told you.
“I assumed as much.”
“You will not leave my sight.”
“You say that as though I wander endlessly when you are not looking.”
“You would if allowed.”
That made you laugh properly, and for a short moment, you watched the severity in his expression soften at the sound.
---
The visiting clan arrived before nightfall, their ships descending while warriors lined the entrance hall in ceremonial formation, creating a display impressive enough that even you found yourself pausing to admire the sheer scale of it all. Even though you have seen it before. They never fail to amaze you.
When the western clan finally entered the great hall, they did so with the confidence of warriors who feared nothing, their leader walking first, his huge frame decorated with sea-creature bones, polished skull fragments, and old scars that spoke of countless victories earned across many worlds.
Your mate remained seated beside you on the elevated stone platform overlooking the hall below, his posture relaxed enough to appear respectful while still carrying the unmistakable dominance of a King within his own territory, and as expected, his hand rarely strayed far from where it rested protectively near you.
The Western leader noticed you immediately.
Of course, he did.
A human seated beside a King was impossible to ignore.
Still, unlike lesser warriors, he possessed enough wisdom not to allow surprise to turn into disrespect, and after studying you for a moment, he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement before addressing your mate directly.
“Your Queen is honoured greatly within your halls,” he observed.
“She is, as she should be,” your mate answered immediately before you even had the chance to speak.
“Yes,” he replied. “Of course.”
For a while, the gathering remained peaceful as stories of hunts echoed throughout the halls, trophies were examined and admired, and warriors traded tales of victories earned through blood and skill, while servants carried endless platters of food between the enormous stone tables.
You almost began to relax.
Almost.
Then two younger warriors ruined everything.
You noticed them long before your mate did, mostly because they lacked the discipline to hide their interest properly, their eyes staying on you too long while whispering between themselves with faces carrying familiar arrogance young hunters often mistook for confidence.
One finally spoke while passing near the elevated platform.
“A human carrying royal blood,” he remarked mockingly. “The King lowers himself.”
The entire hall fell silent instantly.
You felt the change in the atmosphere. It was like a blade pressing against exposed skin.
Your mate did not move immediately, which somehow felt more dangerous than if he had exploded into violence, because slow anger from him was always far worse than impulsive rage.
Very slowly, he turned his head toward the two warriors. The sheer weight of his attention caused several nearby hunters to lower their eyes.
“You speak boldly,” your mate said quietly.
The second warrior, foolish beyond reason, actually laughed.
“She is prey pretending to be queen.”
Your mate rose to his feet.
Every sound inside the great hall disappeared entirely.
You remained seated despite the quickening pulse in your chest while your mate descended the platform with calm steps, not rushing, not roaring, not losing control even for a moment, because this was not mindless fury.
This was judgement.
The western clan leader exhaled slowly through his mandibles, disappointment evident in the sound.
“The young die foolishly,” he muttered.
Only then did the two warriors seem to understand the magnitude of their mistake.
Far too late.
Your mate stopped directly in front of them, towering over both.
“You insult my mate,” he said.
Neither warrior answered.
“You insult my unborn child.”
Still silence, then his voice lowered further.
“You insult me.”
The first warrior attacked in panic. It was the worst decision he could have made.
Your mate caught the strike effortlessly before twisting hard enough to shatter the warrior’s arm completely, and the sound of bone breaking echoed throughout the silent hall only moments before his wrist blades drove cleanly through the warrior’s throat.
Blood sprayed across the floor.
The body collapsed instantly.
The second warrior barely had enough time to draw his weapon before your mate turned towards him, and though the younger hunter fought harder than the first, it changed absolutely nothing about the outcome.
You watched every moment
And strangely, rather than fear, all you felt was pride.
Because your mate did not fight wildly.
He fought with purpose.
With absolute certainty.
The final blow split the second warrior open across the chest, sending his lifeless body crashing heavily onto the blood-covered stone beside his companion.
Silence followed.
Your mate stood over the bodies, breathing slowly while neon blood dripped from his blades onto the floor. Then the western clan leader rose calmly from his seat.
“Their deaths are justified,” he declared for the entire hall to hear. “They disrespected the Queen.”
Agreement rumbled immediately throughout the gathered warriors.
None challenged it
None dared.
Only then did your mate finally turn back to you, and the moment his eyes found you again, the fury visibly lessened, as he returned immediately to your side, one large hand settling protectively against your stomach as though reassuring himself that both you and the child remained unharmed.
You looked up at him with a faint smile.
“That was excessive,” you murmured teasingly.
“They were warned.”
“You enjoyed that.”
“They insulted you.”
“Yes,” you said softly. “They did.”
---
By the following evening, the skulls of the two fallen warriors decorated your home.
Cleaned and mounted high along the stone walls overlooking the entrance, they served both as trophies and as warnings to anyone foolish enough to forget what happened to those who disrespected the Queen of the stronghold.
Deep within your chambers, the fire crackled warmly as you rested comfortably beside your mate, wrapped in heavy furs.
For the first time since the western clan’s arrival, he finally seemed fully at ease.
You leaned against his side while one of his large hands rested over your stomach, feeling the strong movements of the child moving underneath your skin every so often, and when the baby kicked particularly hard, your mate immediately looked down with interest.
Another movement followed beneath his palm.
A deep, pleased rumble echoed from his chest.
“He grows stronger already,” he murmured.
“He is going to be enormous,” you sighed dramatically.
“As he should be.”
Eventually, your eyes moved toward the mounted skulls decorating the walls.
“You know,” you said thoughtfully, “most husbands bring flowers.”
Your mate looked toward the trophies before looking back at you.
“They brought disrespect.”
“And you brought home their heads.”
“They are decorative.”
The seriousness in his voice made you laugh hard enough that your stomach tightened slightly, immediately causing his attention to snap back toward you.
“You are in pain?”
“No,” you managed between soft laughter. “I am fine.”
He continued watching you carefully for another moment before finally relaxing once more, after which he leaned down and rested his forehead gently against yours.
“My Queen,” he murmured.
You closed your eyes, smiling, while his hand remained protectively over both you and your unborn child,
You were surrounded by warmth, safety, and the guarantee that no force in the universe would ever be allowed to harm either of you while your King was alive.
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
jbbartram-illu
ellievsbear
