Rhett Major

Thirty Two. "Heart, are you great enough for a love that never tires?”

[rhettmajor-blog]

SEND ME A ‘⚡’ FOR A MOODBOARD OF OUR MUSES ➝ cassidy & rhett. 

( @mouthsxmadexofxknives )

[rhettmajor-blog]

SEND ME A ‘⚡’ FOR A MOODBOARD OF OUR MUSES ➝ charlie & rhett.

( @tearsbehindhazeleyes​ )

[rhettmajor-blog]

     It was weird --- for all his life, for all the time her knew her, Cassie was a kid. For 13 years, that’s all she had been. He had left without a goodbye ( in his defense, he hadn’t thought she needed one... after all, he was just his friend’s kid sister ) and in his mind’s eye, she had eternally been the homely little preteen who tried to pick fights: and he had been fine with that. He had no reason to want anything else, not when he had her mother to satisfy his memories of the good old days. And then, eleven years later she was no longer the bucktoothed girl he threw into the lake with playful annoyance. 

     And he was glad to have her back --- she was no longer a child and he was grateful for her, for the sting of loneliness she cured with her touch. And then, like a flash, she was gone again. This time, it wasn’t his fault for losing her. He thought it wasn’t his fault, although he wasn’t entirely sure. He did look for her, though. He had TRIED. And he had failed. Again. 

     Rhett had assumed the worst without assuming anything at all. His life had been full of love and loss from the moment of birth -- this was nothing new. She was gone, a part of him with her, and that was that. He had never expected her to come back: and yet here she was, standing at his door -- she was there, right? A moment of uncertainty had his hand reaching out, pulling her inside the house he had made into a home. 

     “Hey, Duckling,” his blonde brows are furrowed in confusion but his eyes... they’re lit up with excitement. “You came back.” 

( @mouthsxmadexofxknives​ )

[hs--radio]

Cassidy, Nadja, Renata, Mason, Cohen, Rhett, Oona as dieties

Cassidy: I’ll give her Atë as infatuation and recklessness sounds like her to me!Nadja: Medusa? Just kidding! I’m choosing Methe for obvious reasons.Renata: Peitho absolutely works for me.Mason: I’ll go with Pistis as he seems to be the poster child of trust and honesty. Don’t even care if Pistis is supposed to be a girl.Cohen: For some reason Dionysus came to mind?Rhett: I’m gonna go with one of the Algeas, Lupe, as pain and suffering seems to be his entire game. No offense, Rhett.Oona: Not a deity per se but for some reason the Muse Euterpe seems to fit! 

[70sgifs]

[rhettmajor-blog]

( @mouthsxmadexofxknives )

[rhettmajor-blog]

Pump-Action Shotguns. Homemade Grits. A book in his pack full of pressed flowers his daughter collects. A pack of playing cards in his pocket. Pretty Redheads. Too tired to sleep. Cedar and Whiskey.

How is this so spot on, though?

[rhettmajor-blog]

Soft Eyes, Dark Thoughts. Good Old Boy. Father of the Year. Late Summer Fireflies. Hunting Gear. Old Whiskey.

Yes! 

[neganmaggie]

send 6 characters/people and i’ll tell you who i would:

do the sexy love™ with

sacrifice myself for

kick

take to prom

abandon in jurassic park

push off a bridge

[dominadoras]

abuela was clumsy and stilted as it brushed past his lips. teeth bared with a grin and a teasing remark tucked underneath her tongue, neither stilted nor clumsy came to mind when she glanced at his smile — endearing. the weariness in his features did little to dull the brightness of his eyes which looked winsome to her; she was about to tease him, but she smiled and hummed in agreement.

missing her family left her with strange memories playing through her thoughts. the christmas they spent with the newlyweds of the family – when tío luis made tía mariángel laugh so hard that sangria came out of her nose. the day her mother told her that rafael márquez was married and she cried; her grandparents chuckled as she kept insisting that her rafael would wait for her. rosario thought she could never miss her family as much as she had during her years at stanford; god took that as a challenge, scattering them across the continent with waning hopes of reunion.

los abuelos was a fine substitution for home; when the brunette closed her eyes, she could convince herself that she was seventeen and sleeping through a lazy summer in san diego. there were no substitutions for her friends or her family; it would be unfair if she could thrive that brilliantly. no – all she had was a bar that flourished against all odds and igor ( a man that reminded her of her emptiness rather than soothing it ). she was alive though, and she would find friends. 

brown eyes twinkled as she set her hand against his despite his insistence for the towelette, “eres tierno – it’s very sweet of you, but i can’t think of anything for you to do except sit and look pretty.” her grin mirrored his before she drew her hand away; the rings she wore clicked against the counter as she put the towelette away among others she would wash when she had a spare minute. the thought sent a wave of fatigue crashing over rosario and she yawned while mumbling through it, “unless you want to go upstairs and make some tea for me while i lock up?”

[rhettmajor-blog]

“Look pretty?” He asks, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. It was a NEW way to describe him, not unfamiliar to his ear (McKenna often found ways to dress him up or turn him into a princess) but for it to come from her lips was a surprise. After all, she was the prettiest woman he had seen since... well, a while. 

His head falls downwards, a bright toothy grin aimed at their hands. “Okay, okay...” He mumbles, mostly to himself as his fingers rub against the back of her absentmindedly. “I offered.” And that was good enough for him -- offering is all he can do. 

But her offer to help, he readily jumps to. He’s a HELPER. Always has been. It came with being a solider, he thinks. It came with being a husband and a dad, too. “Sure do.” Rhett replies, pulling his hand away to stand up, eyeing a door that presumably led to her quarters. “That way, huh?” He asks, nodding towards it. 

[marissa-cartwright]

     Marissa cautiously walked through the house, her mouth slightly agape from the sight of blood and the sensation of death. She wondered where the family that once resided in this home were now, hopefully not walkers she thought. The place reminded her so much of her own home back in Seattle, making Marissa’s stomach churn. “No one deserves this…” Marissa mumbled to herself, looking down at a broken picture frame, her back turned away from the door.

[rhettmajor-blog]

For such a large man, Rhett had an impeccable ability to move silently. He supposes that it comes with being a soldier, but he’s always been light on his feet. He walks carefully, steadily, always on alert -- and he hasn’t expected anyone to be here. “Hey,” he’s sharp, commanding. Soldierly. His fingers brush against the gun strapped to his thigh. “What are you doing here?” 

[tinycjtaylor-blog]

If the dried blood on his nose served as the only clue to his recent whereabouts, one might think the kid had simply walked into a door. But the adrenaline of the fight hadn’t left him yet– he could still hear Alex’s voice (Alex. Ten. Another kid from the other side of Camp Cheyenne who still had a mother, a father, a sister, and even a dog). Dead. Alex had said “I bet your dad is dead”. He might have said some other things too, but CJ didn’t hear them He’d been too preoccupied driving his fists into Alex’s face, and then realizing too late that Alex’s fists worked just as well as his own. Perhaps better. Definitely better if you considered the dried blood and the bruised cheek and the sullen, heavy silence emitting from CJ, followed only by a furrowed brow and a low grumble of words. “M’not sorry… I know you think I should be, but m'not. He deserved it.”

[rhettmajor-blog]

He’s uncomfortable with this sight -- not the blood, so much (children hurt themselves all the time, he thinks. it’s a part of growing up) but him. Alone. “Hey kid,” his voice is warm, gentle but with the sing-songy tone of concern. He knows to handle kids now. He thinks he does, at least. HE HOPES SO. “M’ real sure he did, brother, but maybe wanna enlighten an old feller as to why you got in a fight?” He asks, but he’s not judging. He can’t blame -- kids were moody and the apocalypse wasn’t helping any of them (most of all McKenna, who was currently hiding behind him. Cooties weren’t her thing.) “You feelin’ okay, at least?” 

[mac-slater-blog]

What is your relationship with Rhett?

“I love that guy. ”

[memeroundups]

Send ‘rough touch’

and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

Your muse throws a punch at mine.

My muse throws a punch at yours.

Your muse suddenly grips my muse’s hair.

My muse suddenly grips your muse’s hair.

Your muse roughly grabs my muse’s arm.

My muse roughly grabs your muse’s arm.

Your muse grips my muse’s hips.

My muse grips your muse’s hips.

Your muse wraps their hands tightly around my muse’s neck.

My muse wraps their hands tightly around your muse’s neck.

Your muse slams mine against a wall hard.

My muse slams yours against a wall hard.

Your muse pushes my muse to their knees.

My muses pushes your to their knees.

Your muse bites mine.

My muse bites yours.

Your muse clutches their hand tightly around my muse’s mouth to silence them.

My muse clutches their hand tightly around your muse’s mouth to silence them.

Your muse grabs my muse’s wrists.

My muse grabs their muse’s wrists.

Your muse attempts to shove away mine.

My muse attempts to push off yours.

Your muse roughly kisses mine.

My muse roughly kisses yours.

Your muse pins mine onto the ground.

My muse pins yours to the ground.

Your muse delivers beatings to mine.

My muse delivers beatings to yours.

Your muse breaks my muse’s arm.

My muse breaks your muse’s arm.

Mun chooses.

[fightswithcar]

Visit Original Link

The Civil Wars - Poison & Wine

I don’t love you, but I always will. 

[s-gellar]

[ofhcstility]

@rhettmajor

[littlexpandora-deactivated20161]

No time. no time, no time. There were footsteps, close, too close to feel safe. Scissors in one hand and backpack haphazardly strung over her shoulder, Pandora raced down flights of stairs, blood stained concrete, pushing corpses out of the way with her feet. Food was not easy to come by, nothing was, but thievery was not one of her more redeeming vices.

Down, down, down, like a rabbit hole. Being chased was not one of her favorite ways to get her heart beating, but it got the job done. The stench in the stairwell was unbearable, she was unbearable, and as she reached the concrete dead end, her frustration came out in a loud groan.

“Fucking shoot me! If you’re angry, just do it!” She turned back around, hands above her head and panting, knees hitting the ground with a hollow thud. “I have candy, magic, dope. Don’t be a coward.”

[rhettmajor-blog]

He hated the chase. He missed the chase -- the thrill of adrenaline. Heart thumping, lungs expanding, legs moving in overtime. Run, run, run. For once it was towards something, not away from. 

It wasn’t til they reached the bottom that he was face to face with the thief. Thing was, he wasn’t angry. He was disappointed. “C’mon, man.” His gun lowered as he moved to put it back in the holster on his hip where it belonged. “I don’t wanna hurt ya’.” And it was true. His aggression was left behind on his last deployment. “Can’t ya just give it back? Look -- I’ve got a kid and a brother to provide for. We really need this.” 

Hands up in surrender, he attempted a bargain. “If you give me back my stuff, you can come back with me and have a nice meal, yeah?” 

[ofhcstility]

That laugh, nervous and shy, it caused her nerves to light and her pupils to dilate as she shifted even closer. She knew that laugh, it caused her cheeks to flush even darker. Half attraction, half high on the rush of that laugh. As he finally started the car, the engine roaring, she straightened slightly in anticipation of the sound as she leaned back and still against him.

When he pulled out onto the road, the wind caught her hair and the papers in the back of the car, sending it all flying. Her voice lilted out in a high laughter as one heeled foot pushed over his on the gas pedal, forcing them faster. At his question, though, her eyes glittered brighter and she leaned away from him, only enough to pull a flask out from under the seat. “..Good girls don’t go to make-out point, Mister.” She teased, corner of her lips quirking in a grin as she took a drink, then handed him the flask.

[rhettmajor-blog]

Dark, dark skies, few stars cluttering the expanse made for a beautiful night; if only he could focus. Rhett laughs again, just as nervous. “Maybe we should go to church then?” He teases, as he turns onto a back road. “’m sure that’d be even more fun.” 

He eyes the flask warily. Sure, he was already drunk, but drinking while driving seemed a new genre of reckless. So, he hands it back to her, large hand falling onto her lap absentmindedly. “You likin’ Cheyenne, then?”