#oughta be one of my cousins

[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

[eludin]

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER THREE (SNEAK PEEK)

Hey sorry for not posting in a while. A lot has been happening, including the recent passing of my grandmother. I'll try to have the third chapter done within a few weeks. This is not a dead fic.

Vyera scoffed at the man before her. This was the so-called Rogue Prince? More akin to a pussy-drunk wuss than anything. He stared back at her and quirked an inquisitive brow.

"So, you are my child."

"I thought you oughta be taller," she muttered, eyeing his less-than-impressive appearance. He was handsome she'd grant him that, yet then again that was to be expected with the Targaryens. Gods amongst men as many whispered. Yet, standing opposite to one another, none could deny she possessed most of the looks in the family. Her cousin stood awkwardly beside the grown man.

Even she denied Vyera her beauty.

The man laughed loudly. "Oh, you are my daughter."

"Aye, I am your blood, may we move pass the small and get to the bigger details of this," she said as she gestured between the two. They'd been making out against the wall. "Is this what your father teaches you, princess?"

The princess huffed like an agitated dragon. However, she didn't breathe out fire the same way her mount did. No, more like a dragon who only breathed out smoke and hot fumes.

"Don't you-"

Vyera turned away and pointed to a doorway where she saw one of Otto's spies runoff. "Otto has eyes and ears everywhere and one of his pets just fled seeing your scandalous position. By morning, your friend Alicent will hear all about this short affair while the King will exile my father. Again."

Daemon's focus shot to where she gestured, and bolted toward the door. No doubt, the boy would be long gone. Rhaenyra resembled a criminal walking toward their execution or what Vyera imagined them to look like. And it might as well be: Her relationship with Alicent was finally on the mend and if she heard of this, gone. She shrugged. Well, twas' none of her business.

"You should start bonding with your siblings, princess," she said. "Afterall, keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"What would you know?"

"Live a month on the streets."

WANT TO BE TAGGED? COMMENT "AYE"

@xxxkat3xxx

@dornishannie

@whodis-26

@mrs-sullys-blog

@serving-targaryen-realness

@coldcrusadehideout

@do-it-for-kicks

@imsirius01

@lazy-kari202

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #57: Life Day 29ABY

I think I forgot to mention this, but Luke did send me a birthday note and one of his signature care packages. There was a mini bantha crochet plushie in it, which I named Mini-Ren.

I also have a feeling I know who made the plush.

Anyway, all that to say—I think he was trying to show that he wasn’t mad at me. And I don’t really understand why, but…I guess it’s a good thing.

Actually? Ever since Uncle Luke got in yesterday, he’s seemed kind of…depressed. And it’s weird being a grown-up, because I notice stuff like that now. I don’t think Rey has really picked up on it.

Still, I guess I’m on this council but not granted the rank of grown-up, because I overheard Mom talking to Dad in a hushed tone and I heard her mention Luke…but, when I tried to join the conversation, I got promptly kidzoned. By which I mean Mom abruptly turned to me and said “Hi, sweetie!” about an octave too high—which I knew roughly translated to “Access denied: you have not gained enough XP to unlock this conversation.”

Hm. The “your mother will permanently see you as the age you had your mental break at” phenomenon should really be studied, I think.

My cousin Lumpy (who goes by Waroo, now, but will always be Lumpy to us) brought his girlfriend home. Every year it’s a different girlfriend. And I’d make some joke about how he just can’t make ‘em stay, but…it would sound pretty ironic, coming from me, right about now.

Auntie Malla hate hate hates this girlfriend in particular, and for some reason I am her chosen confidante for these maternal judgments. Her fur is too short. Her claws are too manicured. She has not offered to help Auntie Malla in the kitchen even once, and Auntie Malla fears she will go bald if Lumpy marries this girl.

“Ya know, Auntie, with how many girls he’s brought home over the years, I don’t think Lumpy seems too interested in marriage,” I said.

Auntie Malla looked absolutely stunned—and then she said, well—Lumpy had better hurry up and propose to this girl, and if he ends up with a wife who doesn’t know her way around the kitchen, then—bah!—that’s his own punishment to bear.

I laughed and gave Auntie Malla an affectionate pat on the back.

Caught Mom and Dad in the den under the mistletoe when they thought no one was lookin’. About five years ago, I would’ve thrown something at them. But this time, I just chuckled and rolled my eyes.

Because…cheers to them, you know, for still being insane about each other, twenty-five years later. With double careers, a grown-up problem son, and an adopted teenage daughter. And still they’re suckin’ face.

I wonder how people manage to find something like that.

I closed the door on them. But—couldn’t resist calling out that I don’t want any more siblings, first.

Didn’t get the last laugh, though. Dad called back that I didn’t have to worry, ‘cause the swimmers ain’t swimming no more—and I think I oughta be entitled to financial compensation for having to hear my old man say something so unnecessary—even if I was asking for it.

Found Uncle Chewie and Uncle Luke out on the terrace. Chewie gave Luke a big hug, and then came inside as I was coming out.

“Hey, Ben,” Uncle Luke said warmly. As if everything was normal, between us.

“…Hi,” I said.

Luke said he’d heard about me and Fannie (from Fannie herself, probably), and that he was sorry about it, and he knew it must be hard.

I had my doubts about the sincerity of this statement, given he had made it sooo clear before that he thought we were better apart, but…what did any of that matter, now? I could tell he was trying to extend sympathy toward me, regardless of whatever he might thinking in the privacy of his own mind—and, you know…I found myself willing to accept that.

“Thanks,” I said.

I asked if he had spoken to Fannie recently, and he said he had. He asked if I had spoken to Amalia recently, and I said I had.

Funny, I said; maybe we oughta switch comms for a day, and then you could talk to Amalia for once, and I could talk to Fannie.

And I wasn’t expecting Luke to find that funny, but…he actually did.

Just a little.

Since we were able to break the tension, I…told him I was sorry about before. And I said more, too, but…since I already went through all of that once, you’ll have to forgive me for not going through it all again here.

I asked Luke if he was doin’ okay. And he said…oh, yeah, fine. But…I could tell there was more he wasn’t saying.

I paused, and then I asked him if he was ever gonna take a break from the school. Like—a sabbatical, or something. Since he runs it all on his own.

He said he couldn’t. Because he runs it all on his own.

I told him, well then—he should just run away and go into exile and become a hermit on a hidden island, somewhere.

And I wasn’t expecting him to find that funny.

But, he did.

Just a little.

…Or, maybe, even a little bit more.

Interesting, I thought. And I tried to press a little more, but I didn’t really get anywhere.

Hm, I thought to myself. Well. I’ll be seein’ this guy 52 times next year. I’ll get to the bottom of this or else.

But, I didn’t say that part out loud.

What I did say was, “Happy Life Day, Uncle Luke.”

And, “Happy Life Day, Ben Solo,” is what he said back.

And—“Happy Life Day, my dudes” is what I’ve got to say to you.

Cheers to the year ahead, friends.

—Ben

[violetganache42]

Highlights from tonight's movie night celebrating some of the different teams Donald has been a part of in categorized and chronological order (I honestly like this format. I might stick with it):

"Boat Builders":

Good news: The short has subtitles! Bad news: They're not in English, so you still can't understand what the fuck Donald is saying.

Donald: "Yeah, even a child can do it!" Godfrey: "Even Della could do it!"

justaboot: "god's third choice after the 3 stooges"

Max's mother has been found

"The First Adventure!":

Bradford Hate Club

Ludwig appearance!

puffywuffy8904: "he's serving whatever the opposite of cunt is" WriteBackAtYa: "So di—"

(I love this screenshot. 😂)

The reference to Della's letter

WriteBackAtYa and I being on the same wavelength

Eat the rich uncle (Sorry, Scrooge, but I had to. XD)

"You can't mute me, old man!"

RIP Donald's guitar

The Temple of Doom parallel!

PAPYRUS

"Treasure of the Golden Suns" easter egg!

"fragile old body"

POGO CANE

Black Heron doing the smug anime girl laugh (You know what I'm talking about.)

"I'm the chosen one!" Pure Deweycore

"So long, suckers!"

Just Black Heron in general (She's a fun villain. lol)

DONALD KILL

Us ranting about Bradford using the Papyrus of Binding to escape like the COWARD THAT HE IS! WHY WE OUGHTA— COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE—

If I had a nickel for every time Black Heron lost her robot arm, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

Me: "BEAKLEY YOU FOOL" Godfrey: "YOU FUCKING FOOOOOOOOL"

"The House of the Lucky Gander!":

Louie "I do hate hot dogs" Duck noticing the neon lights shaped like a hot dog

"We're all gonna die! I'VE WASTED MY LIFE!"

Launchpad deserves his own episode dedicating to his love life

Gladstone Hate Club

Scrooge looking at the camera like he's on The Office

puffywuffy8904: "gladstone you have a haircut shut up"

Huey autism moment

Just how bored and tired Dewey, Webby, and Scrooge were after seeing Aquarioon

Dewey and the jade tigers

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

27!

Webby's love for chocolate fountains

"And a distraction."

Scrooge: "I don't even get to be part of the blasted challenge?" Huey:

Real-Life-Pine-Tree: "Roasted duck anyone?" Me: "'Danny: I'll have the duck.'"

Louie's motivational speech

"Where did that come from?"

Us @ Liu Hai: RIP bozo (at least until DuckTales World Showcase Adventure)

The underwhelming Golden Cricket and how fucking bored and exhausted the family was

"Mt. Fuji Whiz":

LotTC basically being DuckTales on crack

Me: "Hell is a city. Where have I seen that before? 🤔" Godfrey: "Hazbin Hote—[gunshot]"

My idea of Clinton and Webby bonding over Clan McDuck history

Missy thirsting for Panchito

The return of the Ari the Autism Bird!

Xandra and the nieces in general (They're some of the best characters in the show. ^^)

*The Three Caballeros are stuck in the Underworld* AMJ: "We have a very simple solution." DT17!Huey: "This doesn't feel simple."

Jack Skellington moon

Donald saying the Karen phrase

Xandra and Charon clothes swap

Panchito being "that" guy

The Sheldgoose family tree taking notes from Goofy's family tree regarding the relatives' designs

IN THE PLUMS!

Clinton hugging Donald 💖

Tokyo? LIKE IN DUCKTALES!

"Potatoland":

Dreamy: "SEE HE HAS 27 FINGERS" Me: "27!"

POTATOLAND! POTATOLAND!

"Mickey, I am fed up with your bullshit devil magic."

Praising Mickey's characterization in the Paul Rudish shorts

Donald's blush

No more Idaho

Just the whole short in general. It's the best. XD

"Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers":

Black Arts Beagle's Musketeer cousins

puffywuffy8904: "they wanna be Scrooge soooo bad"

Donald being, and I quote Jamie, "a punk bitch" in this movie

The return of Pete Hate Club

"Whoa, he's bisexual, I didn't know that!"/"By the way, I'm bisexual! I forgot, I- forgot to announce it! How do you turn this shit off- wait-"

The entire opera gag

Clarabelle appearance!

Dreamy pointing out the parallels how Pete is to Minnie what Bradford is to Scrooge

In the Hall of the Mountain King

"Why did the music stop?"

"Together, we'll save the princess or die trying!"/"…Die? …Die?"

melcat33: "Minnie discovers she's into bdsm"

WriteBackAtYa and I quoting Philip CD-i Legend of Zelda

The turtle trying to be the rooster from Robin Hood at one point

"That little diddy's starting to grow on me."

Pete referencing The Lion King

Donald FINALLY unleashing his iconic temper

melcat33: "Goofy finally being Dad Material" WriteBackAtYa: "But he was daddy material"

(Look what you made me do! /lh)

Pirates of Penzance

"Not long… maybe… 40 years?"

The movie ending with the fucking Can-Can

Learning about how Tokyo Disneyland had Mickey, Donald, and Goofy as the Three Musketeers and they all looked AMAZING (Why does Japan get all the cool shit?!)

[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

four. crystal

content (for this chapter): smut, family gatherings and That really annoying relative, a lot of feelings, a hint of possessiveness, frankie is once again being an idiot

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay, life's truly kicking my ass and i hope the chapter will make up for it. updates might be a little bit slow from now, but i'll do my best

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“For the first few months of their relationship, Fish didn’t even know it was a relationship. They moved in together, and still he would say stuff like she’s not my girlfriend, we haven’t talked about it, I don’t want to pressure her. Considerate, really, but so–Alba, chiquitita, cover your ears a moment–so fucking dumb. And that was how I knew. We’ve known Frankie a really long time, we’ve been together through a lot, and that was the first time I’ve seen him be so stupid–which is saying a lot. But, after all, isn’t that what love does in the beginning? It makes you foolish, nervous, doubt things you would’ve never doubted before. It was a new look on him, and it made it crystal clear how enamored he was, probably without even realizing it in the beginning–because I know he fell for Camila right off the bat. And I mean, how could he not? He called me, that first morning, and even then Camila was a surprise. Will said it all already–funny, kind, smart, beautiful, but most of all right. You were, and still are, right for him, Cami, the right person at the right time, and that is something rare, something great. Sometimes I think we should thank you more, because you changed Frankie’s life, and with his, ours too–mine for sure, because not only did I get to see my best friend finally start living again, but I also gained a sister. So, one Garcia to the other: thank you. That being said, it’d be nice to have him back every now and then–seriously, they’re practically glued together, can’t keep their hands to themselves to save their lives! I have some stories–”

Frankie’s hand tightened slightly around the glass of water in his grip when he felt a hand clasping him on the shoulder, tight and all too buoyant, shaking him and forcing his eyes away from Camila, Alba and his mother–Alba was lying on her back over Verónica’s knees, the older woman laughing in her chair as the child stretched and let her head dangle back towards Camila, sitting on the grass and smiling.

“Who would’ve thought–young Cisco with an actual girlfriend,” the man at his side was grinning, a glaze clouding his eyes, mouth stained red from wine. “Well, not so young anymore, are you?”

“Takes one to know one, Nicky,” he retorted with a hint of a laugh, some of the tension melting from his shoulders when he saw Camila move again at the corner of his eye, could hear Alba’s loud giggles from his spot.

His cousin laughed, clearly not put off by his comment–he wasn’t trying to be mean, exactly, but out of all the people in the family currently gathered in his mother’s backyard–

“So you got one of the last good ones, huh?” he still had his hand on Frankie’s shoulder, standing a step back as they were angled towards the other three. Camila’s hand was underneath Alba’s head, supporting it up as she leaned in, brushing their noses together as the child giggled again. A small smile caught on Frankie’s lips, warmth spreading across his chest. “Man, and she’s good with the kid. You oughta keep this one.”

Frankie’s family wasn’t mean–they’d never given him too much shit for what had happened to him, for what he’d done, at least not to his face and certainly not to his mother’s, for they wouldn’t even be there if they had. But he’d gotten good at understanding people’s double meaning, at hearing the light shift in their voices. You oughta keep this one, not like the last one, or all the others before.

“Thanks, Nic,” he sighed–across the garden, Camila tilted her head as she looked at him. She quirked up an eyebrow, and he was quick to shoot a smile in her direction, the slightest shake of his head at her silent question.

“Fine, too, your girl,” he continued, clearly not put off by Frankie’s lack of trying at keeping up the conversation. “Young face, pity for the grays–I mean, she could always dye it,” he shrugged, before grinning and elbowing Frankie in the side, making him turn fully towards him, his lips pressed in a thin line as he inhaled deeply. “Although I’m sure she makes up for it plenty in–”

“Listen, Nicky–” he exhaled sharply, the sentence dying on his lips when he felt a hand brush up his back, from the lower side up–his shoulders sagged slightly, leaning towards Camila’s touch as she settled at his side.

“Sorry,” soft-voiced, she pulled his cousin’s perplexed gaze towards her, too. “I need to borrow Frankie for a moment–Alba spilled some juice on my dress and I could really use the help before it stains.”

“Oh, of course,” Nic cleared his throat, stepping back, his gaze flickering from one to the other–shy, all of a sudden. Frankie almost rolled his eyes, held in check only by Camila’s hand sliding into his, gently pulling him along.

“Alba wasn’t drinking anything,” he murmured, his head bowed slightly as they walked back inside the house. She shrugged lightly, then looked over her shoulder as she smiled–quick and amused, making him scoff. “Mila–”

“Just come with me for a moment,” she retorted before he could finish forming the protest. “Alba’s with Santiago and your mom, it’s alright,” she added as he went to speak again, walking past the kitchen and living room.

“I’m still not sure why he’s here,” Frankie muttered, making her chuckle and pull him slightly closer as she reached the stairs–he placed the glass on the closest surface at hand.

“According to him, he’s included in the family for the family reunion,” he got closer each step, his now free hand coming up to brush her hip. “Don’t get ideas, Morales,” she added, giving a delicate slap to the back of his hand.

“You’re the one getting me away from the rest of them,” he retorted as she pulled them both inside the bathroom–to which he arched an eyebrow, as if that was proof of his point even before she turned the key. “Really difficult to not get any ideas now,” Camila laughed, shaking her head before turning fully to face him, eyebrows slightly arched. “What?”

“Out with it,” she said simply, resting her hands on the countertop of the sink behind her back. Frankie frowned slightly, stepping closer again–she tipped her chin up to look at him, her gaze soft.

“With what?”

“You’ve been jumpy all day,” she told him, voice as soft as her eyes, and he wondered if he was truly that obvious or she simply knew him so well. “Your family is not so bad, you know? I mean, Nicky is–” she let the sentence hang, mouth turned in a grimace.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he sighed, and she shifted the weight on one hand to reach for his face with the other, cupping his cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize, honey,” she hummed, thumb brushing along the apple of his cheek, warm from the sun. “I like them–by now somebody in my family would’ve started a fight for sure,” she added with a quick grin that made him scoff out a laugh, gaze lowered. “But they’ve all been nice,” he must’ve tensed up again, because she tilted her head to try and meet his gaze. “Is that it?”

“No, it’s–I’m glad they are, it’s just–” her hand moved down across his cheek and jaw, pushing underneath his chin to get him to look up at last. “It’s nothing. Nicky said some shit, and he talked about me having an actual girlfriend or something,” he scoffed, gaze darting away and back–behind her, he saw their reflection in the mirror, her hair shifting with the movement of both her arms shifting up.

“Frankie, sweetheart,” her words carried her soft smile as she took his cap off, putting it aside because she held his face in her hands, looking at him with such tenderness in her eyes he almost crumbled in front of her, hands twitching at his sides. “So what?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned softly, eyes shut for a longer moment before letting out a long sigh. “We just never discussed it, and people keep bringing it up, and I didn’t want to pressure you or–” when he looked at her again, her lips were parted, brows knitted tightly with perplexity as he repeated, “I don’t know.”

“Pressure me?” her confusion bled into her voice, her touch getting a little hesitant for a moment–if he were to look past her head and into the mirror, Frankie would register the guilt in his gaze. Instead, he only noticed the realization dawn in her eyes. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry–I kept thinking I would bring it up and then never did and I was worried it would be too much, or too early,” he shifted back a little, her hands falling to his shoulders.

“Wait, so this is because he called me your girlfriend?” she asked, a little baffled. At his little nod, a quick laugh escaped her, and she pushed herself towards him. “Frankie, honey, we’ve lived together for two months,” she smiled as she said it.

“I know,” she locked her hands behind his neck, pulling him slightly closer in the process, fingertips pushing at the nape of his neck. “I just didn’t want to assume,” she laughed again, a little louder, and Frankie frowned once more, pouting slightly. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, I promise I’m not,” she said quickly, getting herself closer, though still laughing. “I’m sorry, just–I thought there was nothing to discuss. You’re it for me?”

“You–” he was still frowning, a little deeper, and she let one hand move from the back of his head up across his face, gently kneading the spot between his eyebrows where lines were etched. “You’re still laughing. Camila–”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, unable to help herself as she shook her head through the laughter turned giggles, shifting her body weight so she was leaning against his chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, keeping her upright and ducking his chin to keep his gaze on her face, the lines at the corner of her eyes deepening as her smile widened. “Why would you worry about that, honey?”

“You told me you thought you’d jumped in too fast with that guy,” he’d been that guy for months now, no longer Jason–Camila found some amusement in it, her nose scrunching up.

“I did,” she nodded, bringing a hand to his chest while the other still cupped the back of his head. “But you’re not him, and I’m no longer 20-something, so I’d like to think I’ve wised up,” Frankie sighed, carefully lowering his head towards her. “Then again, I’ve moved in with you after–what, eight months? So maybe–”

“Mila,” he groaned in half-complaint, making her laugh again before she tipped her chin up, kissing him in full. He sighed again, the tension in his back melting away as her fingers brushed through his hair, the other palm pressed firmly against his heart.

When she didn’t pull back, Frankie’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him and straightening his back to sweep her off her feet, taking the half step that separated them from the countertop to sit her there–he slotted himself between her legs, her back arching slightly as her lips parted for his tongue.

He kissed and kissed and kissed her until the rest of the world blurred away, until there was no Nicky or Jason, no Santi nor the rest of his family, just the two of them tangled together, sharing soft breaths and touches and the only thing grounding him was the weight of her against him, the shift of her body as he let his hands wandered back and thighs and legs, right underneath her dress.

“Are you gonna ask me, then?” she breathed out once they parted, heavy breaths from both of them and Frankie’s vision blurry for just a moment as he chased her, interrupted only by her soft words, the hint of laughter in them.

“What?” he licked his lips as if trying to cling onto the taste of her, fingers digging into her flesh. Her cheeks were red, bruised lips as she looked up at him while it all came back into vision for Frankie. “Is it–official?” her smile turned into a snort at the uncertainty in his tone, a shimmer in her eyes to highlight her amusement.

“You can do better than that, Francisco,” she murmured, mockingly, and he huffed out a breath as his lips quivered in a semi-pout. Camila leaned forward, kissing it away, but before he could chase her again she pulled back abruptly–one hand on his chest, the other falling behind her over the counter to support herself.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he scoffed, letting his hands travel a little up across her skin, the skirt of her dress bunching up with the movement.

“Maybe,” she said with a light shrug, letting her hand travel down across his torso, lingering on each button–just teasing to undo them, Frankie’s eyes following the movement as his own fingers moved up and up. “You know what I’m going to say,” she murmured then, the tip of her first and middle finger hooking in his belt and pulling him forward ever so slightly, “ask.”

“I don’t need to ask,” he lowered his head towards hers, hooking his fingers at each side of her underwear–she squeezed her knees at his sides, humming softly as he pulled. “Do I?”

“Ask,” she repeated, lips still curved in an amused smile.

“Camila,” uttered as a warning before he kissed her again, a little harsher than before, almost feverish, pulling and pulling at her underwear that wouldn’t shift.

He could feel the laughter bubbling in her throat as she pushed against his lower stomach to make him step back, hopping down the counter to bare her lower half–Frankie kept his hands on her legs, her dress bunched up between the two of them, and slowly began lowering himself, ready to shift onto his knees in front of her.

“We don’t have time,” she mumbled against his lips, swiftly undoing his belt. “Later. Home.”

“Did you not tell me to not get any ideas?” his mocking question ended with a groan when she cupped her hand to his front, stroking his already half-hard length from above his briefs–his hips twitched into her touch, and he felt the grin forming on her lips at his immediate reaction.

“Ask me,” she replied instead, stroking him again.

Again, and again, until he was panting in her mouth, hips bucking with each movement–Frankie kissed her one more time before turning her around, her hands coming down against the counter for balance as he gently kicked her legs apart to slot himself closer, his still clothed front pressed against her back.

“I don’t have to ask,” he repeated, punctuating each word with a kiss to her neck, one hand to her hip as the other bared himself. Camila’s reflection smiled in the mirror, her head ducked as if hiding herself but not quite, as he pushed the tip of his length against the seam of her folds. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?” he murmured then against the shell of her ear.

Before she could form a response, her mouth fell open as he nudged at her entrance, slowly–agonizingly slow–starting to push into her. Her eyes rolled back and she nodded, soft gasps leaving her as she gripped the countertop, both of Frankie’s hands now on her hips, guiding her back to meet him.

“Look at you,” his gaze remained glued to the mirror as she tilted her head back towards him–her eyelids fluttered a moment, trying and failing to focus on their reflections as he kept going. “My beautiful girl,” another kiss to her neck, right behind her ear, making her shudder and rock her hips back. With a groan, his front pressed to her back as he sank fully inside her, he spoke against her shoulder, “mine.”

“’Course I am,” she panted, her thighs trembling slightly against his. “Yours,” at the word,  Frankie’s cock twitched, his grip on her hips tightening. “God–Frankie,” she moaned, back arching as her walls fluttered around him.

“Baby, you gotta keep quiet,” he mumbled, pushing forward so her hips were against the countertop, and he was leaning against her in turn. One arm wrapped around her middle to keep her flush to him, he let his other hand wander up across her torso, the fabric of her dress wrinkling underneath his touch.

“Thought you liked it when you could hear me,” her gaze flickered over their reflections, down to his rising hand and up to meet his eyes, a flush spreading from her heaving chest up and her lips slightly parted.

“Yes,” he shifted back, the slow drag of his length as he pulled out almost all the way making her breath quicken. “When I–” he snapped his hips forward, and Camila bit down onto her lip to keep herself from crying out, knuckles turning white as she gripped the counter a little harder, “can. Not the rest of the family.”

“We wouldn’t be here if that were a problem,” each word felt like it was punched out of her chest, Frankie’s movements steady, hitting a spot deep inside of her that had her vision wavering. “You enjoy the thrill, Francisco,” she added–not a question, rather her ability to read him so perfectly laid out in a tease.

And he did–he liked his life, his new one, with no drugs and very little alcohol, a steady, almost boring job, a home with the two halves of his heart, a bed with hogged blankets and slow nights. He loved that life–but sometimes he missed the rush, and Camila seemed to know exactly when he felt like he was starting to waver. Exactly what to do about it so that he wouldn’t topple over again, returning back to her each time.

“Fuck–don’t stop, don’t stop,” he’d gotten so lucky. He was so goddamn lucky.

The hand that had been traveling up her body moved up again, grabbing her by the chin to turn her head so that he could kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her, swallowing each sound away as he picked up his pace, his hips snapping against her skin almost too loudly–and only spurring him further.

A shiver ran through her as Frankie stopped with one last thrust, his head falling into the crook of her neck as he came–he tightened his hold around her, keeping her flush to his front. Her walls fluttered around his length buried deep within her, a weak, frustrated cry leaving her at his sudden stillness–he breathed out a quiet laugh before pulling his head up, chin hooked over her shoulder as he brought two fingers to his mouth, coating his fingertips before reaching for the apex of her core.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” Camila’s pupils were wide, eyes glazed over as she let her head loll back and sighed at his perhaps-too-delicate initial touch. Each of Frankie’s words was accompanied by a soft kiss across her skin–cheek and jaw and neck, his gaze never leaving her face as he began drawing quick circles over her clit.

“Frankie,” with a breathless cry, she grasped at his arm still wrapped around her, holding her upright. He kissed her neck, humming at her sharp intakes of air with each of his movements.

“I know,” he could feel her muscles grow taut under his touch, her thighs shaking as she got closer and closer–he groaned when she squeezed around his length, sensitive and softening as she tethered the edge. “Come on, baby, I can feel you–so good, you feel so good, baby, you–”

Camila twisted her neck and kissed him abruptly, harsh and trembling as her orgasm rippled through her–she quietened herself, the loud moan muffled by Frankie’s own bruised lips. He drank the noise greedily, slowing down the movement of his fingers until she twitched in his hold and dug her fingernails into the arm she was holding onto, a weak whine as she went limp into his hold.

He pulled out slowly, another softer moan escaping her as she folded forward, hands coming down to the countertop with a shaky exhale and equally shaky arms. His gaze remained low a moment longer, following the slow trail of their combined releases dripping down her thighs, and then he bowed down, kissed the space between her shoulders softly from above her dress.

“You alright?” he spoke softly, hands rubbing soothing circles on her bare hips as she evened her breathing, head hanging forward. She hummed quietly, rolling her shoulders back.

“I just need a minute,” she nodded, bringing her head upright again and wincing slightly. “Jesus–maybe two minutes,” she sighed, and Frankie chuckled softly, another kiss pressed against her shoulder as he tucked himself back in.

“Turn around,” he guided her by the hips tenderly, meeting her eyes for a brief moment in the mirror. “Let me clean you up.”

She hummed softly as she let him move her, leaning back again with her hands on the counter, her breath now even as Frankie recovered a clean towel from underneath the sink, turning on the water and waiting for it to turn lukewarm. Camila’s eyes remained on him as he moved, eyelids low and a tired half smile stretching across her lips.

He sank to the floor in front of her, gently brushing the towel up between her thighs, one hand on her calf rubbing circles with his thumb again against her skin, gentle and soothing. He helped her get dressed back up, smoothing down the skirt of her dress and pressing one last kiss to her now clothed hip before standing back up, mere inches from her.

“Promise me something,” she wrapped her arms around his middle, threading her arms underneath his. Frankie lowered his gaze to her still slightly flushed face, a small frown crossing his brow. “You’re gonna ask me whatever it is that crosses your mind, anything you want to–even if it’s something as banal as is my hair alright,” her fingers curled against his back, gently bringing him closer.

Frankie sighed, cupping her jaw in his hands before nodding–small movements, getting closer to leave a delicate peck against her lips.

“Promise,” he conceded, voice a little hoarse as he kept it low. “We should head back–you okay?” she nodded, mimicking his quick kiss before detangling herself from him and stepping aside, reaching for the door. “Wait, Mila,” he caught her hand as she unlocked the door, her gaze a little perplexed when she turned back around. “Is my hair alright?”

Camila laughed, a light roll of her eyes as she reached for the cap left on the countertop, putting it back on his head and pulling it low over his brow–he grinned in return, tipping his head back to keep his gaze on her.

“Better,” she nodded, wrinkling her nose before opening the door.

He pulled her under his arm once they were into the corridor, fixing his cap as she wrapped one of her arms around him again, bumping her hip with his while they stepped forward–and stopped at the stairs creaking, Santi’s head popping up with a deep frown that vanished as soon as he saw them.

“Ah, there you are–Alba’s been asking for you,” the other man said, looking at Camila, then made a face, somewhere between a pout and a grimace, muttering, “for some reason. Also, is it me or has Nicky gotten worse?” this he asked Frankie, his expression turning into a full scowl. His gaze then darted from one to the other, still tangled together, and surely somewhat guilty-looking–Camila’s face was still reddened, Frankie’s shirt slightly wrinkled, their hair just about messed up. Santi groaned, full on rolling his eyes. “Seriously? Gross.”

Camila laughed, loud and amused, leaving a rapid kiss to Frankie’s shoulder before sliding from under his arm, keeping her own open as she advanced towards Santi.

“Come here,” she said at his mock disdain, reaching for him. “Come on, Garcia–give me a kiss.”

“No, I don’t know where that mouth has been,” he argued, trying to step away and back down the stairs. Camila all but leaped for him, laughing again and throwing her arms around him–he quickly got his arms around her, too, keeping them both upright with a huff of protest as she smacked a kiss against his cheek. “Fish, will you keep your girlfriend in check?”

Frankie just watched them, the quick, purposefully sloppy kisses she peppered across his face from the upper step, his twisted expression as he tried to pull away but couldn’t make a move–they both knew it was an over-dramatization on Pope’s part, that he’d been basking in the affection Camila reserved for them all.

With one last kiss to Santi’s forehead–loud and possibly even sloppier, making him groan in protest–she skipped away with a laugh and a gentle pinch to his arm, one last glance in Frankie’s direction from above her shoulder with a wide grin across her reddened cheeks before walking down the stairs.

“What, no not my girlfriend?” Santi muttered, running a hand across his face before looking back up at Frankie–his gaze somewhat lost towards where Camila had gone.

“No, not this time, actually,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, thank God,” Santi exclaimed, lifting his hands. “Seriously, fucking finally!”

Frankie had gotten used to sleeping as close to Camila as he could get–whether she was curled up in his arms, her back pressed against his front, or her body draped across his, it was rare for them to roll on opposite sides of the bed.

Mostly because she still hogged most of the covers, and Frankie would wake up in the middle of the night with half of himself exposed to the room, and she would then complain his hands were cold when he sought out her warmth.

He didn’t mind it one bit–each excuse he could find to feel her skin under his hands, to wake up and know she was still there, would be enough to make him withstand anything.

And he always woke up first, taking a few moments before her alarm would go off to look at her sleeping, relaxed face, hair braided back and away, eyelids trembling as she seemed to be following her dreams, lips slightly parted to let out soft huffs of air–he would pepper her skin in quick, delicate kisses as soon as she turned off the alarm, tightening his arms around her.

But the alarm didn’t sound that morning, and when he glanced over her shoulder to where the clock was he sat up so quickly the whole room spun, dragging the covers with him before turning towards the already curling up woman, her face twisting in a still-asleep frown.

“Mila, we overslept,” he called, gently shaking her by the shoulder. She groaned softly, burying her face into the pillow. “Mila,” he tried again, and she turned in his direction.

“You overslept,” she protested, bringing a hand up to rub her eyes. “I have the day off,” she added in a mumble, head heavy on the pillow and exposing the sleep lines on her opposite side of the face. “Did you not set an alarm again?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, leaning in to press his lips to hers as he brought the covers back up over her while simultaneously sliding off the bed. “I didn't–you know I usually rely on you.”

“And that is twice you’ve made that mistake,” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping again, ever so slowly. Frankie scoffed, quick steps around the room as he searched blindly for some clothes. “I’ll take Alba to daycare, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? You can go back to sleep,” he was still rummaging through the closet as he spoke, and suddenly the light was on and he could see the shirts hanging in front of him.

“I’m up already,” Camila groaned softly, and turning around he saw her sitting up, rubbing at her eyes again as she suppressed a yawn. Frankie’s expression softened as she kicked her legs off the bed, lingering there a moment with her head tilted forward slightly. “Go finish getting ready, I’ll make us some coffee.”

Frankie grabbed a shirt before turning around, padding across the room to reach her–he tipped her head back gently, hooking one finger underneath her chin before kissing her. Camila hummed softly, her eyelids fluttering open and shut and open again when he pulled back, thumb brushing along her jaw.

“See? I knew it’d be convenient for you to move in,” she snorted at his grinning remark, pushing him back with both her hands on his chest before getting up the bed, stretching as Frankie kissed her again, lips just at the corner of her mouth.

He passed by the living room once he was dressed, Alba sitting on the couch with her morning cartoons playing, hair still ruffled by the night–her breakfast was waiting on the coffee table, along with Camila’s empty mug.

“Morning, nena,” he murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. The child moved her legs, bouncing her feet and smiling and looking up at her dad. “Are you waiting for Mila?”

“Ma!” voice laced with sleep, Alba nodded, eyes squinting as she smiled. Frankie chuckled, ruffling her hair before heading towards the kitchen, leaving her to the images on the screen.

It was a new development, ma–an imitation of Frankie, of possibly the other children at daycare. The beginning of a word that signified much more for them both. The three of them, actually. Frankie’s doubts had dwindled with one single word, and he had started to tell her truly what went through his mind (almost everything).

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he murmured as he walked up to her at the sink, one hand falling to her hip as he reached for the travel mug she was already offering him with the other. She smiled in the reflection of the mirror, taking the moka pot from the turned off stove. “I’ll set an alarm next time, I promise.”

“Heard that one before,” she chuckled, bumping her shoulder into his front as she gently leaned back into his half-hazarded embrace. “Go on now, before you’re late.”

“Thank you,” he kissed the curve of her neck–a peck, really, quick and non-committal. “I love you,” he added then, stepping back.

Camila’s head straightened abruptly, the sleep seemingly still clinging to her leaving her all of a sudden, and in the reflection he saw her eyes widen ever so slightly.

He told her almost everything.

Until that moment. He wasn’t sure he’d fully woken up just yet.

“Alright, bye,” he said just as quickly, a little louder, walking away before she could even begin turning around. Alba babbled for him from the couch and he went on, holding his breath through the corridor and entrance, down the steps and across the front yard until he reached the car.

Only then did he exhale, heavy and almost too loud as he leaned his head forward towards the steering wheel, almost hitting his forehead to the honk in the process, a soft groan abandoning him. I love you. Alright, bye.

“For fuck’s sake–” he muttered, bumping his head against the wheel again. “Alright, bye?” he grimaced. He jumped in his seat at the quick knocking against the window, pulling his head straight quickly and turning around, gripping the mug tighter to not topple it. “What–”

Camila stood next to the car, hair wild around her now that it was unbraided as she gestured at him to lower the window, bouncing ever so slightly on the spot. With a slight frown he did as she asked, and before he could form the question she was leaning into the car, grabbing him by the collar of the shirt to pull him closer and kiss him.

Frankie’s body relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut as he shifted in the seat and brought his free hand to her shoulder–he could feel her lean closer and closer, her torso sticking inside the car as she used his shirt as leverage and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him.

“I love you too,” she gasped, pulling back. Though his gaze was unfocused and he felt slightly breathless, dizzy, he managed to make out the shape of her body draped over the car door, legs dangling and the shirt of her pajama riding slightly across her back. “I thought you heard me already–a while ago.”

“What while ago?” he muttered, still a little dazed. He would think about her smile for the rest of the day, distracted out of his mind.

“I was talking with Alba, she couldn’t sleep,” the tip of her thumb brushed the side of his neck, right where his pulse was stuttering rapidly. “Telling her how much you love her–and I love her, and you,” she murmured, still leaning close, the tip of her nose almost brushing his.

“Well you didn’t tell me,” he could feel the pout on his mouth that seemed to only pull her smile wider. “I just thought–” she kissed him quickly this time, pulling back before he could register it, return it.

“Always a bad idea, honey,” she quipped, her eyes shimmering ever so slightly. “I told you, Frankie–you can tell me anything. Everything.”

“I know,” he sighed with mock defeat, leaning towards her until he was the one resting against the car door and she could touch the ground again, his head sticking out of the window. “Everything?” he asked then, looking up at her once she straightened.

“Yes,” she let her hand shift so it was cupping his jaw, thumb pushing gently into his cheek.

“You keep stealing the covers,” he whispered it, like it was a secret, and after the moment of initial shock Camila laughed. As she laughed, he turned his head to kiss her wrist, the heel of her hand, her palm, words murmured against the soft skin there– “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she repeated–she’d repeat it over and over from then on, whispered close to his ear or shouted from across the house when either one or the other left for the day, mumbled before falling asleep and just awoke. It’d always have the same effect on Frankie. “But I’m cold, so I’m not giving up the covers.”

“I know you’re not,” he chuckled, taking her hand in his to turn it around and kiss her knuckles, too. “I’ll just have to stick close, then.”

She hummed in assent, squeezing his hand in hers before leaning one last time, the kiss too brief for both their tastes–if it were up to them, that’d be where they’d spend the whole day, just as close to each other as they could get.

“I’ll see you later,” she said instead.

Frankie remained in the driveway a moment longer, watching as she ran back inside–still barefoot, a light skip in her step, and one last look over her shoulder towards him.

next

[hitchell-mope]

Lucy: I’m going to tell you something that my dad always told me and Lois.

Kara: your dad....you mean the megalomaniacal general who sold kryptonite to Maxwell Lord and who hates aliens, the French and the Irish despite the fact that his son in law is my cousin and the fact that your family’s lineage can be traced back to Calais and Belfast?

Lucy: yes.

Kara: this oughta be good(.) Alright then. Out with it.

Lucy: shit sticks. And Kara. The Luthor’s own the whole pigsty.

Kara: James? A little help here please?

James: the Luthor’s are beyond help. Befriending one of them will just end up in things being worse for you.

Kara: ohhhh. Why didn’t you just say that then?

Lucy: Clark understood it!

Kara: I’m not Clark!

Lucy:....good point

[mosneakers]

As the night continues on, some of the older Curious relatives gradually begin to tire out and call it a night, but enough of them stick around for that comforting familial energy to linger, allowing Coraleye to feel safe enough to completely let loose. Uninhibited, she dances like no one's watching; but on the contrary, Coraleye's carefree spirit begins to catch the attention of other barn-goers, particularly other men.

Tycho is keenly aware of this, but for once, he loosens the reins on his jealousy, allowing himself to savor the moment. 'They can look all they want,' he thinks to himself, 'for tonight, she's all mine.'

But, as fate would have it, the inevitable always finds its way. While Cousin Johnny's wife Ophelia, discusses at length about her creative pursuits, Tycho, determined to be polite, diverts his attention to Ophelia. In this brief distraction, Coraleye feels a gentle tap from an aged patron, on her shoulder from behind.

Aged Patron: Well I'll be goddamned! You oughta watch how you dance in here like that around these old timers, honey. It's enough to make our old tickers race.

Coraleye: [Shocked laughter] ...I beg your pardon?

Aged Patron: You ain't gotta beg me, sweetheart, I'm at your mercy. You look like a damned dessert in this get-up!

Tycho: Excuse me? The hell did you just say to her?

Coraleye: Babe, relax! He's just playing around. He doesn't mean any harm. He's just a frisky young man, huh?

With a giggle, Coraleye gives the old man a light pat on the shoulder along with a playful wink. Aged Patron: Got that right sweetheart. But don't worry fella, I'll leave her to you. Ain't the first time I pissed off a boyfriend. Speaking of, little lady, that pretty smile of yours you got, happens to remind me quite a bit of someone I used to-

Suddenly two other men diligently shove their way through the crowd and approach the aged patron urgently, addressing the man as "Dad."

Son 1: Dad, there you are, you old son of a bitch. Son 2: You weren't supposed to wander off like that. Were you botherin' this young lady? Tycho: Try harassing!

Son 1: Aw shit. Dad, we've explained this damn near a hundred times now. You can't just go up to people and say whatever the hell you want.

Aged Patron: You little pussies never let me have any fun. All I was doin', was gettin' ready to tell her that her lips look just like-

Son 2: Shut your trap, Pa. Gray, get 'em outta here. I'll handle this.

The youngest (and tallest) of the trio waits until his brother and father move out of earshot before turning to Coraleye and Tycho, shaking his head in disappointment and shame. He appears to be approaching middle age, older than Coraleye's eldest brother but younger than her aunt Clementine. His charming smile stands out, complemented by just the right amount of subtle greys that pepper his dirty blonde hair, which bounces effortlessly into place as he flips it away from face. He reminds Coraleye of the type of man she would often see in one of her mother's western films.

Son 2: [Exhales deeply] My sincerest apologies, ma'am. I'd like to say he's not normally like that, but... He's been that way long before I was even thought of.

[sliptohk]

Prompt# 25: Perpetuity

Morning was a long time coming as Ellory pampered Silent through the night. A few stolen hours of sleep near dawn had her red-eyed and stumbling down the steps to grab a meal while the woman laid in deep, healing slumber. Despite herself, she had glanced often to the ragged stump. Irrational guilt building despite having no role in the conflict that caused it. Lack of sleep only made it worse, so she made to distract herself.

Awayuki awaited, the only one of them awake. Or at least the only one enjoying an early breakfast. Oliver and Arlette might well be enjoying something else with their limited privacy. It was a thought the hyurgadyn banished from her mind as she stole a seat near the au ra.

"Did the crew wake ya? Oughta be in bed catchin' up on your sleep!" Planting an elbow on the table, Ellory rested her head on her hand.

The woman gave a small smile, absorbing the warmth of her meal with both hands cupping the bowl, "I am an early riser. Especially with ample rest last evening."

Breakfast looked awfully similar to dinner, a hearty stew of roots and popoto with just a bit of bacon. As long as it was hot and filling the cook would hear no complaints. Waving down the owner for a serving of her own, Ellory turned her attention back to their guest. The woman peering intently at her from across the table. It would have been unsettling if the look was not a familiar one.

"I apologize if this is rude, but I overheard the apothecary stating you knew their patient. Are they a member of your group as well?"

"Not for a long time! Silent's my cousin."

"Ah, an affectionate phrase between longtime companions?"

"No." Ellory blinked slowly, an amused expression already forming on her face, "My flesh and blood cousin. Her dad would be my uncle - my mother's older brother."

"My error, I had mistakenly assumed them to be a roegadyn woman by the name."

"They are!"

"I… see. Then you would be as well?"

"Absolutely!" She tapped her free hand to her chest, "Cheerful Sparrow, at your service! Though don't feel awkward, my father is hyur!"

"I have assumed twice. I apologize. I had taken you for a tall hyur."

A chuckle escaped as Ellory leaned closer, "Or a short Hellsguard?"

There was a brief pause as the raen's cheeks flushed with embarassment, "I had not considered it."

"I look just like my mother when she was younger! She tells me all the time! Sure, she was barely into her teen years, but still!"

"How old might you be in comparison?"

"Whaddaya think? Gimme a guess!"

"I…" Awayuki paused, unwilling to carelessly levy a potential insult, "A young woman. Severals seasons past your twentieth at eldest. But if your mother was of similar stature so young…"

The thunk of a wooden bowl on the table drew Ellory's gaze for a moment, "Thanks, ma'am!" A piercing smirk of pure cheek fixed the courier once more, "But guessin' I'm younger now? Don't feel bad! D'ya know how tough it was leavin' home when I hit my fifteenth season? Mother always figures me for a kid. Probably always will! Easy to forget if all the folk ya grew up with still had some growin' in 'em by the time they hit my size!"

"We are always our parent's child. Even should we grow grey beside them."

"Yeah, I get that! Its sweet and all! But it's always gonna be odd, right? Kinda makes me wonder if she saw dad as kid-sized."

"I imagine not. The anatomy of a hyur differs. When one sketches them the length of limb in relation to the proportions of the core varies greatly."

The hyurgadyn let out a snort, "Good! Would be awful strange otherwise, eh?"

"I could see where it might be."

[kindheart525]

If there was one thing the Apples were known for, it was how many of them there were. With family from all over Equestria, their reunions were huge, and since she was dating one of them Red Cedar had the privilege of being invited to one. Not that the Apples were shy about inviting even total strangers, but to Cedar this was still a big deal. To her it meant she and Rainier were official.

Rainier’s rodeo was the talk of the town at this reunion, with every aunt, uncle, and cousin pulling him every which way to ask him all about it. He had the stamina for it but Cedar did not; she preferred to take it slow when it came to getting to know ponies. So she settled for sitting leisurely by the pond as her love went off to mingle.

She hardly paid attention to the Apples around her as she reflected on the past few weeks. She was so proud of Rainier, getting such a big opportunity to do what he loved. It brightened her whole day to see him so excited about it! He would be away for awhile and she had to admit she would miss him dearly, but it would be all worth it-

“AUGH!”

Cedar yelled out, suddenly interrupted from her thoughts as she lurched forward into the water. In her daydreaming she failed to notice a foal accidentally running into her, but it was too late now as she fell in.

“HELP!”

Her legs started kicking every which way, reaching out for anything to hold onto as she went under. Cedar was panicking. She didn’t know how to swim! Wasn’t somepony going to help her?

As if on cue, a pair of arms wrapped around her.

Brackish had to admit he sort of hated these reunions. It was nice to see his cousins and all but he had better things he could be doing and a job and all that.

Not to mention it was quite possibly the worst place on Earth to pick up mares! 

He was related to 95% of the ponies in attendance, it was awkward.

Brackish was proud of his cousin and made this known when he saw him, making sure to slip in his usual teasing about how his talent was a whole lot harder and a whole lot more dangerous. 

When you spend most of your time in death-defying stunts, why wouldn't you want to brag a little? 

However, considering that Rainier didn't let much of anything get to him, trying to get under his skin got really boring really fast. So he needed to find something else to do. 

There was a mare he didn't recognize, she looked like an Apple with the red and green but he was pretty sure she wasn't.

The way she sat there reserved and mysterious, she had some secrets to uncover and he wanted to open her up and read her like a book.

So he made his way over with his usual swagger, but before he could introduce himself she fell right into the pond! 

She had been flailing for a few seconds before he got to her, using his strong arms and proficiency in the water to scoop her up like she was nothing.

"Hey there filly, you oughta watch where you're going!" 

He chuckled as they emerged, flipping his glistening mane to uncover his deep brooding eyes.

Cedar gasped for air as she came up, mostly because she finally had her head above water, but also out of surprise. She was stunned by the strong, muscular body holding her and the deep green eyes staring into her.

“T-thank you.”

She sputtered out, feeling strangely flustered. Who was this stallion? His toned muscles, his soft fur, it felt...nice to be embraced by his soaking wet body. And that confident smirk, that smooth, drawling voice...why, it made her feel something indescribable. This stallion was charming.

“Howdy Brack! I see you’ve met my special somepony!”

Oh shoot! Her boyfriend!

Cedar whipped her head around to face him, her cheeks growing hot as she flailed to be brought back to land.

Brackish Waters knew exactly the effect he had on mares. 

They took one look at him coming out of the water, with the hills and valleys of his muscles soaked wet with the salty sea he lived in, and he ruled their waking world. 

It could be a curse sometimes, leaving that many broken hearts behind him.~

He stood there for a second holding her above water. 

Silent and stoic as he watched her fall apart inside, her lips moving as she struggled to form words. 

Darn it Rainier!

He thought to himself as his cousin approached. He walked Red Cedar to the dirt and put her down. 

"Yes I sure did, she's beautiful. You take good care of her, you hear? She's a clumsy one!" 

He teased them both as he left the water himself, his tail shaking as he walked away. Only turning back to smirk at Cedar when her boyfriend wasn't looking.

“Good golly, you’re all soaked! Lucky my cousin was there to help ya out!”

Rainier wrapped a towel around Cedar and started fussing over her, but she was hardly listening. Her heart pounded in her chest as the stallion shot her another one of his charming looks as he went. Oh, if only in another life...

Darn it! What was she thinking? This was her boyfriend’s cousin! How could she think such dirty thoughts, especially about someone who could very well become family one day? And she already had Rainier, the best stallion she could ever ask for. Why was she thinking about another that way?

“You’re shivering mighty bad, love! Are you okay?”

Cedar looked back to her boyfriend’s concerned gaze. She didn’t even notice she was shivering. She was quite cold, but that wasn’t the full reason why she was shaking.

She nodded weakly and lied,

“Yes, I’m alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Bright Future Next: Shaking In Her Horseshoes

Background by Kooner-cz

[philtstone]

45, Sam Wilson

#45 -- shining like fireworks lol this is way longer than it was supposed to be and also was crafted around the #25 prompt, because I can't read. but I made it work. zainab i know youve already written something like this but i wanted to try my hand at it too! my homage to the epistolatory fic...

"You made me a scrapbook for my birthday?"

Okay.

Maybe he should rewind.

Sam won't lie and say it hasn't been a rough few months. So technically, the weight of the world doesn't need to be on his shoulders. He keeps thinking he oughta take a page out of that Spider-kid's book, and just be a friendly neighborhood Cap, or something. It's just between intercontinental warhead measuring competitions (something he can say around his nephews without Sarah raising both eyebrows), dickhead suits (come on, Sarah), flying green men, and regular old food shortages in his own damn home state ... well, it's hard not to feel it all, when you care.

He used to call Bucky and bitch about things, before. Or rather -- he'd call Bucky, and Bucky would start bitching about things, which gave Sam the opening to also start bitching about things. Funny how that worked out. But they weren't even living together then. They were miles apart! Since he and Bucky got that stupid bachelor pad apartment six months ago, they've barely spent more than three consecutive minutes in each others' presence. They've both been out of the apartment for such mutually overlapping long stretches of time that every time Sam checks the fridge, the brand new carton of milk he got on the last grocery run has gone lumpy. The worst of it is, he hasn't had any chance to talk to Bucky about it properly, and there's a weird, tireder-than-usual Sam part of his brain that worries maybe this isn't the best solution to Bucky's isolation issues. Wasn't that part of the reason they decided to move in together, anyway? A solution to loneliness? Humans weren't made to live all alone, grown assed men or not, Sam thinks.

All of this is making Sam in more of a bad mood than he needs to be, given that it's his birthday.

It is his fortieth birthday, so maybe that, too, is contributing.

By rights, he should be turning forty five. That part though, Sam refuses to think about at all.

"Yeah, yeah, complain about how old you are," Bucky says, leaned too far back in his own porch chair, long legs stretched all the way out against the rail, and nursing the twin of Sam's own cool beer. "Is it 'cause you need reading glasses now?"

"Bucky," Sam grits out, because he's not sure how to communicate, I am stupidly glad you, one of my dearest friends some-fucking-how, are here, I've missed you, I really didn't expect I would this much, but also I am five seconds away from drop kicking you into a small body of water, so help me God, in a non embarrassing, well-adjusted kinda way.

"Aw, it is," says the most annoying man alive, who at one hundred and seven has the general face and physique of a particularly genetically-blessed thirty-eight year old. The fact that technically, if you do the in-and-out-of-cryo math, Bucky clocks out at two years younger than Sam is possibly the single worst fact in the universe, right now.

"Both of you shut up and let Sam finish opening his presents," says a third voice, and Sam, miffed, turns to glare at his sister, while Bucky, the bastard, is grinning like a set of cheap fireworks.

Sarah had promised that they won't do nothing big til tomorrow, and that this afternoon was just for family. Sam should've expected that meant four neighbors and three of their childhood family friends and two cousins, also, but by four pm, most people have filed out and lunch is a demolished mess of scraped-clean plates and almost empty pots on the big fold out table on the backyard porch. He's already opened AJ and Cass's humble contribution: a baseball mitt, which Uncle Sam can use to teach them baseball, much to Bucky's endless amusement ("Didn't you say baseball was an old people sport? You played baseball in school, Samuel? When you were even younger?" Yeah, he's real close to Bucky-cide, today). He knows Sarah's got him an old record player of their dad's upstairs, which he'd been planning to get fixed up all those many years ago, before their lives were torn apart; the fact that it has survived, and they have survived, makes Sam feel a certain kind of way. What Sam wasn't expecting was the lumpy, large, rectangular package that emerges from under the porch table, wrapped in brown paper and presented to him by his nephews.

"And that one's from B," Sarah says. Sam's too busy staring at it incredulously to clock the amused twinkle in his sister's eye.

"You got me a birthday present? Forreal?" Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or be suspicious or tear up like an idiot. Jesus, it's not like he's Bucky, getting all misty at basic kind gestures. Bucky shrugs and takes a drag from his beer.

"What, you can get me stuff, but I'm banned?"

"You're not banned, oh my God. I'm just surprised."

"I get people presents!"

"I know you do!"

"So, it's your birthday, I got you a present."

"What is it?"

"Now he's making it weird!" Bucky says, helplessly, to Sarah. AJ and Cass have started giggling.

So Sam rips off the wrapping paper, muttering to himself.

Which brings him back to an immutable, inescapable fact.

Bucky Barnes made him a scrapbook for his birthday.

"It's not a scrapbook."

"It's literally a scrapbook. Holy shit, are those stickers from Joanne's?"

"Hobby Lobby," offers AJ solemnly.

"Look, okay, it was Sarah's idea! Just read the fuckin' -- I mean, uh --"

At this point, the boys' giggles are threatening to turn medical. Sarah mouths nope, all him, from behind Bucky's chair, while Sam gapes helplessly at the shockingly neat mess of .... post it notes?

No. No way.

"You put all the annoying sticky notes you left me about the fucking soured milk in a scrapbook?"

"Oh, guys, come on!" Sarah throws her hands up in the air. "That's two in half a minute! You want these boys to grow up cursin'?"

"Half of them are yours!" Bucky points. "Which, by the way, were also annoying!" He's not quite embarrassed, but there's an airy, funny kind of laugh bubbling up behind his words at the ridiculousness of it all. Sam's feeling it too. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his reading glasses.

Bucky cracks; he chokes on his laughter, stuffing it roughly behind one metal fist; AJ has plastered himself against Sam's side and Cass is literally slumped, hiccupping, on the floor. Even Sarah's having a hard time fighting it.

Primly, Sam begins reading at a random place in the middle of the book; the note is written on an overlarge, bright blue POST-IT.

SAM. WON'T BE BACK TIL THURSDAY. PICKED UP THAT WEIRD MILK YOU LIKE FOR YOU. -JBB

Bucky, just got in. Leaving again tomorrow 0600. Hope Ross isn't being too much of a pain in the ass. Lactose free milk is a sexy modern invention, NOT weird. Its kind of gone bad tho. Did you not drink any of it???

Also, u dont have to sign post its. - Sam

I WASNT GONNA DRINK YOUR MILK. ITS YOURS. THANKS FOR TAKING OUT THE LEFTOVER TRASH, HAD TO RUN. GOT YOU MORE MILK FOR WHEN YOU GET BACK. YOU WILL DO GREAT. RIP STR MALONE A NEW ONE - JBB

I know who you are! Milks bad again. Jesus, i need a vacation. I didn't rip any senators new ones

Wanted to, tho. You keep switching burner phones so i cant text you this shit

LEAVE NOTES. THEY STICK TO THE FRIDGE NICE - JBB

Oh my God, you did not get a cat while I was gone

SHE CAN LIVE IN MY ROOM. GOT YOU MORE MILK AS A BRIBE :-)

She tore up ALL THE CURTAINS. I LIKED THOSE CURTAINS. And do your own laundry instead of getting me milk!

I DO LAUNDRY! IVE DONE YOURS THREE TIMES IN A ROW.

FUCK. MILKS GONE BAD.

You tried to drink it? What happened to its Sams milk?

Your cat peed in my shoe by the way!

IT WAS GOING BAD!!!!! -JBB

It's always goin bad!! - STW

Hey B, heard about the op from Rhodey. Im in Delacroix tmrw, come down if you can. Take care of yourself, man.

At this point, Sam stops reading. That was a couple days ago. He looks up again, pulls his glasses off. As irritable as he was earlier, there is relief in seeing Bucky perfectly in-tact, effortlessly whole. Maybe a little tired around the eyes, but Sam thinks that's maybe a detail about him that's never really gonna go away at this point. He'd been worried, yeah. Annoyed, that they hadn't talked properly before parting ways. Missing his friend and pissed off about the milk. What was the point of living with a person if you never fucking interacted, and then they got blown up?

"I can't believe you kept all of this shit," Sam manages.

Rubbing at one eye, Bucky shrugs, looks down, then up, like he's not actually embarrassed about it at all. He says, "I had to prove to my therapist I was living successfully with a roommate somehow."

Sam snorts. After a beat, Bucky adds, "Hadn't had a roommate in years. It would've been weird to throw them out."

Yeah, Sam thinks. Yeah.

"Hey, man," Sam says, while Sarah (still chuckling), begins cleaning up the plates on the table with Cass's help. "I missed you too." Bucky smiles -- "You better tell me where you found that mangy stray cat, though."

At which point Bucky's mouth drops open in what is apparently mortal offense, and the rest of Sam's birthday is spent arguing over viable pet names for the tiny white demon kitten from hell.

[rawk-chikk]

How to Build Your Own 'Augmented Super Wife Supersoldier From The Future' Funko Pop.

A Semi-Coherent Guide By RC.

This is a long one. A loooooooong one.

I meant to do this like two and a half years ago, but in the spirit of keeping this fandom's head above water, and the fact I'm at the hospital (nothing serious!) with nothing to do for the next couple of hours, I'm doing it now.

So if, like me, you are still bitter that Grace and Dani didn't get official Funkos, or official *anything* due to manufacturer short-sightedness, why not say 'fuck it' and build yer own?

This rambling tutorial will attempt to demonstrate how to build Grace from the 'when they start to kill me, run' scene.

Like, literally that bit 😋.

Anywho. Let's do this!

You will need:

- Funko Pop DIY (female)

- Polymer clay (eg. Sculpy, Fimo, CosClay). I'd advise against cheapo no-name alternatives purely because in my experience the baking times/temperatures stated are absolute garbo. Also, polymer clay will give off quite gnarly fumes while curing, so better to use a trusted source. But if cheapo's all ya got, it's all ya got.

Other modeling materials you might consider instead of polymer clay include...

Epoxy clay (eg. Milliput, Apoxie Sculpt, The Army Painter 'Green Stuff', even something like J-B Weld or similar 2 part plumber's/repair putty).

Plain ol' air drying clay (eg. DAS, FimoAir, Gedeo).

You could even whip up a batch of 'cold porcelain', or an oven cure salt dough from ingredients you probably already have at home. Make sure you clear coat any salt dough creations properly after curing as over time ambient moisture may mess with it.

Each option above has its own pros and cons. Do your research if you aren't sure. Me? I used Fimo.

*ahem* Carrying on...

- Masking tape

- Hobby knife

- Pin vice

- Kebab skewer (wooden), or styrene rod

- Paint brushes

- Primer (plus dust mask if you're using a rattle can indoors)

- Sandpaper (around 400 grit oughta do it but you could probably go 200 either side of that and get a good result)

- Acrylic paints (optional: Posca PC-1MR pens in black and white for fine detail).

- Crafter's heat gun, or a hairdryer

- Varnish/clear coat.

Optional extras: Airbrush, spray booth/cardboard box, rotary tool, oven thermometer, artist's/cake decorating turntable, UV resin, silver leafing pen, jeweller's files, jeweller's wire, acetone, superglue or 5 minute epoxy, a lil piece of sponge, pearl mica powder, scavenged Funko Pop head 😈.

Step One: Grab your Funko DIY and separate the head from body using heat to soften the vinyl enough to wangle it off the neck post. Shoving it in a mug of hot water for a few minutes should do the trick. Make sure to dry out the head as much as possible. Last thing you want is mould growing inside it. This is Terminator, not The Last Of Us 😉. Alternatively you could use your heat gun/hairdryer, but I explain in Step Six why the water bath approach is a better option (imho) at this early stage.

(You are giving this entire thing a quick read through before you start, right? I dunno about the rest of you but I like to have at least a basic idea of the work ahead before I get stuck in. Saves finding out you're missing a necessary tool/material at an inopportune moment and all).

Stop rambling, RC. Sorry. It's easier to be succinct when you haven't lost half your photos 🤦‍♀️. Moving on...

If you don't wanna attempt to sculpt the hair yourself you can, as I did, take a kitbashing approach instead of using the supplied DIY head. Grab one of the many commercially available Funkos with a decent approximation of the hairstyle you want and then go Step One on em. Buy 'pre-loved', buy BNIB, dig one out of a dumpster, steal one from your lil cousin, it doesn't matter. Procure as your time/budget/situation dictates. Improvise where necessary.

Sorry, Ron. I need your floppy hair. I do not need your clothes.

Or your boots. Or your motorcycle.

...😋

Step Two: Take the body of the Funko DIY and mark out the position of the tank top and the cuffs of the jeans. These will be used as guides for when you add the clay.

At this point I used a pin vice to drill the hole thru the fist for the rebar. If you're a crazy person you could use a rotary tool with an appropriately sized bit attached.

To make the rebar I fashioned a mould from a drinking straw and filled it with UV resin. Because I'm awkward. A wooden kebab skewer, or some hobbyist's styrene rod (eg. Evergreen Scale Models) would work just as well. Just cut it to size, paint it silver and you're golden. I used a metallic leafing pen. You use whatever you've got handy. Doesn't have to be shiny. A flat grey acrylic would work just fine.

Use jeweller's files and sandpaper to make small adjustments to the hand hole and rebar respectively in order to get a good press fit. There's always glue if you overdo it 😉. But don't add the rebar to the model just yet, as you're gonna need room to manoeuvre for the next bit.

Step Three: How do you make it look like your figure is wearing clothes when you don't have much real estate to work with?

You fake it, that's how.

You do not need to model an entire set of clothes! It's an arse ache, and we're all about working smarter not harder on the RC channel.

So, take your modeling compound of choice, roll a chunk of it out to the desired thickness, and then cut into strips, say 2-3mm wide. Use your best judgement here.

Now, using the jeans as our example, wrap a strip around the bottom of the leg where the cuff would sit. Cut off any excess and blend out the join. Just give it a lil rub and it's like it was never there. Like magic! You should have a nice defined edge at the bottom, just above the foot. Now see the top edge of your lil clay strip? Well, you wanna start pushing and flattening the clay to blend the edge right out so it fades back into the body.

Repeat for the other leg, and the bottom of the tank top. The straps are relatively simple, tho the bits that pass under the arms can be fiddly due to lack of space. Use a hobby knife to shape and crisp up those edges and then blend out the extraneous edge. Same thing with the neckline.

Run a strip around each foot to form the soles of the boots, and a lil 'x' on the top of the feet to give the impression of laces.

For the rips in the clothing you can simply gouge out a little of the clay. If there isn't any on that part of the model (the knee for example) roll out a little wormy dealie (for you North of the Border fans 😉), position it as needed, blend out the edges, then gouge as required.

If you're playing on hardcore mode, this might be the time to start piling clay on the Funko DIY head and sculpting the hair. You may prefer to leave it til the head's re-attached tho. It depends on the material you're using. If you don't think it'll stand up to a bit of manhandling while pushing the head back onto the body, save this step til that bit's done.

Cure according to the clay manufacturer's instructions. The vinyl will not melt at the temperatures required to cure polymer clay, but if you don't wanna risk it or you don't wanna use your food oven to cook plastic, with all the gnarly fumes and stuff, I've given you plenty of air dry and/or non toxic alternatives. Consistent temperature is key with polymer clay. Undercooked, it's quite brittle. An oven thermometer comes in handy here if you've got one.

Step Four: Primetime!!! Some like to brush on primer, which is fine if you're painting a fence or throwing gesso on a canvas. Not so fine if you're painting a figurine imho. I mean, unless it's Cassandra from Doctor Who. A good rattle can of spray paint is what you want ideally, but again, it's about what you can afford/wangle/manage with your crafting space, so feel free to ignore me and brush away!

First rule of Primer Club: several light coats are better than one heavy coat. Second rule of Primer Club: knock each coat back a lil with sandpaper before applying the next one. Third rule of Primer Club: sit your rattle can in a warm water bath for five minutes before shaking it up to improve flow.

You can get primer specifically for plastics but while I would recommend it, it's not absolutely necessary.

A scavenged head may need masking off if the base colour already matches the skin colour of your character. Save yourself a bit of painting innit. You can get really tight, clean edges against the hairline with a hobby knife. If the hairstyle, hair colour, and skin colour match straight outta the box? Congrats! Why are you even reading this? 😜.

That thing in the background is a portable spray booth (that other thing is a turntable). A cardboard box is also a portable spray booth if you want it to be. Only thing it doesn't have is an extractor fan. So put on a dust mask, and open a window or work outside.

The DIY figure comes primed outta the box, so if you're using the DIY head and are planning on sculpting the hair after re-attachment you don't need to prime it. Unless you want to.

Step Five: Time to paint that shizz. You don't need me to walk you thru this bit, right?

Right?...

Masking is your friend if you don't trust your ability to freehand with a brush. If you're masking over a part you've already painted and are afraid of pulling the paint off, you can knock the level of tack on the tape down by sticking it to yourself (or your clothes) a couple of times before applying it. Some prefer to add a light layer of clear coat to 'lock in' the underlying paint. It's like a real life 'save point'. Some people do both. Some use masking fluid. Some use silly putty/blu-tac/plasticine. Play around, see what works. You do you.

I painted Grace's eyes blue coz Grace is extra and so am I. I threw a lil bit of pearl powder in there to add a subtle shimmer, as I thought going full metallic blue might be a bit too extra.

Lady Funkos have eyelashes. Don't forget the eyelashes.

(I nearly forgot the eyelashes).

A fine tipped Posca pen comes in handy here if you've got one.

Ditto the eyebrows, tho those aren't just for the ladies obvs.

For Grace's augmentation scars, again I recommend a Posca pen but a brush will do.

DO NOT PAINT THE NECK POST. Don't even varnish the neck post. Keep that bitch masked up until you're ready to reattach the head. Like, you can get away with painting the very bottom if you're worried the bare plastic will show even with the head attached, but that's it. Any more will be making a rod for your own back.

You have a choice now. Whether to weather your figure. I chose to add that extra level of detail as it made sense to me. Use a combination of dark washes, dry brushing, and/or sponge stipling to add dirt, blood etc. If ya want.

When you're happy with your paint job, give everything (except the neck post!!!!) a couple of layers of clear coat.

Step Six: When it comes to reattaching the head you probably don't wanna be dunking anything in water by this point, just in case. So we're gonna soften the neck post (and around the base of the head if necessary) with hot air instead. Use a hairdryer if you don't have a heat gun. DO NOT use an industrial or decorator's heat gun for the love o' god. That shit's meant for stripping paint, not gently warming vinyl figurines. It'd be like using a nuke to shake a cherry tree, and you'd likely burn yourself. A hairdryer is more than capable of doing the job.

Why did we not use the hairdryer for Step One? To be honest there's nothing stopping you if that's what you wanna do, but as you don't have direct access to the bits that need softening at that point you will have to wait for the heat to penetrate. You could be doing other things in that time by letting a water bath do the work for you.

Now, however, you do have direct access, so you'll probably find you only need to blast the hot air for 10 seconds or so.

Step Seven: So, you've got the head re-attached, and your paint job is finished and clear coated. That means it's time to add the rebar. If you went a bit too far with the drilling or sanding now's the time to get your glue on. As an final extra touch you can spiral some thin jeweller's wire around the length of the rebar to make it look more rebar-y. I didn't do this bit as the wire I had in my possession at the time was too thick for my tastes.

But whether you opt for that or not, congratulations on making your very own Grace Funko Pop!

I'm still planning on making security guard and future war versions of Grace, and at least one version of Dani. Yeah, I've been saying that for the last two years, but it's still absolutely happening, trust me.

Anyway. That'll do it. If you have any questions, or you need further explanations or recommendations etc. y'all know where to find me.

[shaftking]

I honestly don't know where the hell fat activists get the idea that fat folks struggle to find clothes.

According to google, me being 5'1 and 232 pounds means I'm OBESE. (Which. I got weighed today at my doctor's appointment and honest to ffucking god I thought I had been losing weight recently. Another reason to be glad I'm doing boxing this summer, that will assure that I lose weight.)

But anyway, as an apparently obese guy, I have literally never had issues that fit. Goddamn even when I'm forced to go to the mall for clothes the only reason I can't find clothes in my size is because the t-shirt designs I like are only made for young boys. I do have issues finding swimsuits I like that fit correctly, but that's really only a dysphoria thing not a weight thing. Shit man the swimsuit I have now is actually too ffucking big on me.

Maybe it's because I mostly rewear the same clothes every week and only ever like to get new clothes in the form of hand-me-downs from my cousin and grandfather, but I really don't see the clothing problems most fat folks seem to have.

Maybe other fat folks oughta get shorts and sweatpants made of stretchy material instead of leggings and denim. Maybe other fat folks oughta try out tshirts and sweatshirts and tank-tops and ffuck, even button up shirts.

Almost every damn problem faced by overweight people is also faced by underweight people. Some bitches are just really damn entitled.

Okay first, why did I think you were taller than me? Lol.

Yeah fr though I’m kind of a manlet myself at 5’4” and on the slimmer side after losing a few lbs in the years after high school for a handful of reasons. And while I tend to like my clothes a little bigger usually (also for dysphoria reasons but also it’s just comfy) and when I look for clothes that actually have to fit, like recently I was shopping for something nice to wear to a college event, I had a hard time finding anything in the S/M range that actually fit. Like idk if it’s just that my proportions are weird or what but yeah.

When I go to thrift, which is where I get like most of my clothes, it’s almost entirely larger size stuff. I literally don’t know where fat activists are going but it seems really easy to find big clothes as opposed to smaller ones.

One of my siblings was actually technically underweight for a long time and had a really hard time putting on lbs bc of a low appetite + high activity combo and finding clothes for her always sucked because she had to choose between things fitting right width wise and being too short or fitting length and being too wide.

Anyways I’m rambling a little here, but good luck with boxing! That actually sounds like a lot of fun. I can’t wait for the Francis gets shredded arc.

[steampunkhobo]

Do the Soggy Bottom Boys have siblings?

Because I'm deeply unwell about this movie, this is something I've been turning over for a minute- especially since we know Pete is decidedly brotherless. Here's what I've got.

Delmar: I’ve touched on this before in one of my earlier fics, but to me Delmar gives very sunshine baby only child energy. Born into a family that always wanted children but ended up with just the one, probably late in life. Got doted on a little too much. I can’t imagine there being many other children around either, whether that’s cousins or just friends. He seems like a lonely child. But he’ll find his people in time.

Pete: Canonically no brothers, but sisters are possible. I somehow still see him with no siblings but a lot of cousins, with the kind of family where they’re all just allowed to run wild and form their own conglomerate. So he’d have a similar experience. I really don’t think he came from a good home, and the lack of anyone to look after him or at least share in the struggle would explain a lot of his resilience/stubbornness, if that makes sense.If he did have any siblings I think they’d be younger, based on his interactions with Wash’s son (“You oughta be in bed, crumbsnatcher.”) But he’s got a clear loyalty to kin, and I can’t imagine him not seeking out his siblings in any way.

Everett: First or second in a family of 4 boys. No sisters. The need to be control- usually reasonable but often over the top, the needless (and honestly masterful) antagonism of the other two for no other reason than his own amusement, and the kindness and patience he shows towards Delmar, the softest and slowest of them- all screams big brother. And for all his skills with other men, he has absolutely no sense with women, with hardly any experience with them in real life. As easily he can play Delmar and Pete, Penny can play him. And it makes him so mad. He likes having things his way, and he’s used to it. Any big brother worth his salt knows how to get the little ones to be lackeys. 

Tommy: The real life Robert Johnson was the youngest of eleven, but his film self is so far removed from the actual man that I’m not counting it. I think youngest is right, probably closer to 7, at the point of child-rearing when everyone’s tired and the oldest ones have started to have their own lives, leaving young Tommy more free range. Makes sense no one noticed when he ran off for the crossroads. But he’s clearly been raised right, real gentle and well-mannered. Of course, a big factor in that is also just being a black man in the South, especially in that era. Just asserting that he exists is seen as wrong. But I like the thought of him having a little cluster of brothers and sisters to help him navigate the world, teaching him etiquette and encouraging his dreams of fame- though apparently not taking the time to teach him guitar.

[lshark-cs]

Iron God Chapter 24 [Ami]

Ami dreamed of Azvalath. Spoke through him, even. Wherever she spread her spores, she had ears and a voice. She baited Xigon into taking her poison. It was heavily diluted, but it proved just enough to put him in torpor and link his mind with that poison's other living victim. It all went smoother than she ever could have hoped.

She woke to Magpie tapping her shoulder. "Ami, ma'am?"

"No need for formalities, Magpie." Ami sat up and stretched. Her hands brushed the roof of what seemed to be a cave. "Thanks for bringing me to shelter. We're still on the mountain, I presume?"

"Yes." Magpie's voice cracked. "How'd it go?"

"Perfect. Seamless." Ami grinned. "And I'll bet I made Qila real angry."

"Is that good?" Magpie looked concerned. "Doesn't sound good."

"Nah, but Qila's got her moods. I'm sure once I explain everything, Qila's even gonna thank me. I did her lot a solid favor." Ami sniffed the air. "Smells like there's a good bit of Atrament in this cave." She followed her nose and found a patch of what looked like thick purplish-black slime growing out of a crevice in the wall. "Ah-ha! Will you look at that, Magpie?"

Magpie nudged herself in for a closer look. "What's Atrament good for?"

Ami poked at the slime-like mass. "Atrament is a slime mold. One of the odds and ends I use to make Rager. This, a birch-rotting fungus, various plants I can't tell you yet, a bit of snake venom, Sothyrion's polluted blood, and then maybe I'll spit in it for good measure."

Magpie chuckled.

"You think I'm joking?" Ami scraped the encrusting Atrament off with her fingernails. "All right, maybe I am about the last bit. Say, how long do you think we've got before Qila skins us alive?"

"Forever, I hope." Magpie twisted a lock of her black-and-white hair around her fingers. "Ami, I'm scared."

Ami wrapped the slime mold in parchment, then shoved it into one of her many pockets. "You'll be fine, dear. Promise." She looked up and gave her companion a crooked smile. "Magpie, give me Azvalath's voice."

Magpie cleared her throat, then mimicked Azvalath with such perfection no one could possibly tell their voices apart. "What are you talking about?"

"Now we're talking. Good job." Ami beamed. "Give me Kolo now."

"I am! With all my hands!" Kolo's voice came out of Magpie's mouth. Ami's companion bounced a little with excitement. Her voice became her own again. "How was that?"

"Magnificent!" Ami clapped her hands. "How about me?"

Even though she was expecting it, Ami still flinched at the sound of her own voice coming from someone else. "Maybe I'll spit in it for good measure."

"Oh hello, it's me." Ami laughed even though her skin was crawling. "I'll tell you what. If Qila gives you trouble, just scream in one of her babies' voices. That oughta make her think twice. Got it?"

Magpie's voice returned to normal. "Yes, I think so."

"You think or you know?" Ami crawled out of the small cave and into the blistering cold. She beckoned her companion to follow her.

"I know," Magpie corrected. She looked up at the dark cloudy sky. "I can't even tell the time of day right now."

Ami couldn't see the sun, but she spoke with feigned confidence. "I think it's late morning."

"You think or you know?" Magpie retorted in Ami's own voice.

Ami rolled her eyes. "You think you're hilarious, don't you?"

"I know I am." Magpie grinned. "Let's get back to the lift."

When they arrived at the lift, the sky had darkened somewhat, and there was a magpie perched on the side rail. "Well, look at that." Ami pointed and lauged at the bird. "It's your cousin!"

Magpie charged toward the bird and yelled. "Hey you!"

The bird didn't fly away. It barely even flinched. Ami raised an eyebrow. "Bold little thing." She got onto the platform with her companion and sniffed the air. "You smell funny too."

Magpie went to the pulley and started inching them down. "Think it's someone's pet?" She shot Ami a smirk. "Could be ours."

"I don't think so." Ami folded her arms. "Get us going a bit faster, will you?"

Magpie sped their descent. "Finders, keepers. You said so yourself."

Ami swatted the bird. It squawked and flew away.

Magpie looked crestfallen. "Aww, why'd you do that?"

"Didn't like how it was looking at me," said Ami. She wiped her hand on her coat, which had patches of grayish lichen growing on it.

The black-and-white-haired woman looked down. "So we can't ever have a pet?"

"Not sayin' that, dear." Ami came over and patted Magpie's shoulder. "Someday, personally, I'd love a pig."

"Pigs are only for eating," Magpie scoffed.

"Says fuckin' who?" Ami turned around and started pacing. "I'd sooner trust a pig than a tricky little bird, and we could go sniff for truffles..." She stopped when the lift ground to a halt. "Magpie, is this silly argument really worth holding us up?"

"I can't move us. What's happening?" Magpie tugged frantically at the ropes.

Ami scowled. "Thought that dirty birdie smelled funny."

"What's that have to do with anything?" Magpie stamped her foot. "We're stuck!"

Ami laughed miserably. "It was nice knowing you."

Before Magpie could say anything, the lift jerked upwards. Ami lost her footing and slammed into the guardrails. She and Magpie grabbed on for dear life. The black-and-white-haired woman looked up and yelped. When Ami saw what Magpie was looking at, she half-laughed and half-screamed. Qila's skeletal deer-skulled projection had seized the ropes and was hauling them back up.

"Magpie, as soon as you're able, get the hell away. You hear me?" Ami nearly fell as the lift lurched up. "Run for your damn life!"

Qila was waiting for them at the top. A younger and far more muscular woman helped her projection haul the lift up. Beside them was a snarling sabretooth cat.

Magpie did as she was told and leaped off to escape. The sabretooth cat chased after her. Ami's heart raced. Magpie was clever, but could she outrun or outsmart the predator? She wasn't sure.

Qila snapped her fingers. "Restrain her, Lalek."

The muscular one stepped forward. Ami darted aside and pulled a vial of dark liquid from one of her many pockets, holding it up so both of them could see. "Think twice, Qila. I have Rager."

Lalek reached to grab her, undeterred by the threat. Qila, however, screamed. "Lalek, no! Get back!"

Lalek's head turned. "What?"

"Help Jai-Lag catch the other one," Qila ordered. "I'll handle Ami on my own."

Lalek took off. Ami sneered. "Wise decision, Qila. Don't worry, I'll answer your questions. I just want to do things the civilized way."

Qila stepped forward, blocking the lift's exit. "And how exactly is threatening my student with Rager the civilized way?"

Ami shrugged. "I didn't use it, did I?"

"You did," Qila growled. "You used it on Xigon. He's torpid now. You put Azvalath's life in danger too."

"I saved Azvalath's life," Ami corrected. "As for Xigon, I did you all a solid favor, though I'll admit I went about it in an unnecessarily complicated way."

"In what world is putting Xigon in torpor a favor?" Qila's voice rose to a yell.

"This one." Ami took a deep breath. "I baited him into taking a very small dose of Rager, but he's going to be fine. You know he's quite impossible to kill."

The woman's eyes went wide. "Why, though?"

"So I could link him with the last person I gave that same poison to." Ami looked down. "A man who should have died a long time ago. He also happens to want your newest one for himself."

Qila fell silent.

"What? He didn't hold his end of a deal with me." Ami chuckled miserably. "Yes, Qila, I'm responsible for all of this." She held the vial up to her face. "I'm the one who poisoned Haode."

The old woman raised a patchy eyebrow. "What in the freezing hell, Ami?"

Ami crouched down to pick at some lichen growing on the platform. "High-potency Rager. It was supposed to kill him within a few days." She dug a fingernail into the grayish lichen crust. "Instead, it amplified his power and took away his control of it. Not my proudest accomplishment by a long shot."

Qila shook her head. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Let me make one thing clear, Qila." Ami's head snapped up. "I am tired of being turned away, rejected by everyone I admire." She looked back down. "He used to be a great Ferash Therall. I wanted to be like him. But the only ones he ever let into his circle were those two pathetic children."

"Dakko and Ido?" Qila asked.

"Whatever their names are." Ami shrugged. "When he brought that freezing kid to me for medical attention, I provided under the condition that Haode would give me a second ascension and bring me closer to our god. When he backed out, I punished him."

Qila bit her lip.

"Thing is, Qila, while I lost all respect for that man, I still have a shred of trust in you and Xigon. Even though you won't let me into your walls." She tore a clump of lichen from the splintering wood. "I trust that you'll help me get rid of him. He's a threat to you too, after all. Our interests align. Are we at an understanding?"

The old woman shuddered, then growled, then took a deep breath. "Ami, you are a sick and twisted woman."

Ami shrugged. "Look who's talking."

[swiftscion]

He approached Larcei with a smile, with the platter of meats before him almost as a peace offering. The platter is displayed with a variety of finely roasted poultry meats, cooked in a traditional Chalphy style of one-within-the-other. The skin of the turkey is crispy, and the fats from the duck have marinated both the chicken within and the turkey without. There are cloves and lemon slices studding the plate, combining to form a melange of rich flavors. The choice of which piece to take is up to the feaster – there is plenty to go around!

The last they had spoken had been a fraught affair for the girl - he supposed it might have been avoidable, had he been more tactful, had he gained her trust first - had he not failed to begin with, had he protected her mother like he had promised he would - but it was past now, and now Sigurd could only smile knowingly.

"It is nice, isn't it? To have one's family back. Although I suppose 'back' doesn't quite apply to either of us, though in rather opposite ways, doesn't it? Regardless, you see her there before you - your mother, one of my dearest friends. I…would like to apologize, for our discussion a few months past. I could have prepared you better, had…" He almost trailed off, uncertain how he had expected the thought to continue - had he been stronger? Wiser? He should his head. "Had circumstances favored us, you might have heard the story from your mother, instead of me. We were not close then, just as we are not now, but…I hope that we can change that.

"You shine as brightly as she, Larcei. Do not forget that."

The menagerie of food is met with an approving nod. Larcei takes in all Sigurd’s platter has to offer without tasting it: the sights, the smells, the feeling of warmth some few feet ahead of her. She marvels at how golden-crisp the exterior of the bird is, while the entire thing remains plump and thick. Cooking back at the farm in Tirnanog, it was usually one or the other; singe something too long enough, and you burn most of its content. The extra garnishes are an added rarity, enough to spark a small gasp. 

She contains her excitement as he speaks, however. With a second nod, Larcei acknowledges their strange past. He spoke of mother like he had a sword to his throat, like Ayra’s ghost was holding him at razor’s edge to prevent a mistake. And though such a thing would be believable, Ayra is no ghost. The past has culminated with the present as twin stars find their orbit once again. 

So she crosses her arms. “Seriously?” asks a teasing voice, “You’re handin’ me food and apologizing. If anything, I oughta be the one saying sorry. If I’d known you guys were about to cook this much, I would’ve helped.” Her eyes become pointed while her lips curl into a smile. The whole look is one, big, sarcastic smirk.

“But I’ll say thanks instead. For this, and doin’ what you could with mother. She’s been found now, so between her and I, Isaach’s in pretty good hands!” Never mind that neither make a claim to her throne. Still, Shannan can’t go handling everything on his own, now can he? Larcei flexes her arm to demonstrate that as long as they live, he can rely on his cousin and aunt Ayra. 

But she won’t be kept from the food for long. The short silence following her boast gives room for her mind to drift back to her stomach. The Comet is hungry, and so without wasting any more of Sigurd’s time, rips a leg off the biggest bird. 

“Once all this meat goes to my arms and legs though, you’d better watch out. I’ll shine even brighter than my mom!” 

[rubbarband]

"You don't have to tell me twice, I seen what it does to many villains on the way here, mom had to take alot of them out permanently...including some heroes." Though his ant face wasn't very expressive, his antennae drooped a bit in explanation. "I'll put them at a distant."

"Anthony..." Eliza felt bad, she could relate as well. The last few hours have been hectic on everyone invovled.

"No that's not what I'm saying, I'm saying I can't explain it perfectly beyond that, but we can still trust her and it won't hit you, that's for sure. Unless she's feeling chaotic, she's one of two vocalist from a band called 'Deadsouls' the other we could probably also grab, she sings making quirks stronger and places a barrier around people- however last I remember...nevermind please continue." Desmond sat on his tail like a kangaroo.

Helen started signing. Desmond interpreted. "Helen says, If she could connect to animals, you think we can severely weaken M.T if she can control Scarface?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, let's not get crazy now, that thing's too violent! Especially with that quirk of his. It's no problem for us, but I worry about the average citizen." Stone interjected.

"But she's thinking, if he wasn't so dangerous and elusive I'd say we go get him and try, that oughta surprise M.T." Desmond gave a sly smile. "But that should be a last resort, no old T-Rexes please. I think those arms could be useful, M.T might not be able to see them, and if they can be hold him down with us and we get all the crystals out, we got an M.T and a way for them back home. So we got our capture crew of four. Eliza can trap him in tar- These two got their arms and beyond Anton, Stone and my cousin- Helen can box him." Desmond was starting to believe in his own plan a bit more.

"Did they just say she's part fish? Faunus, a possible culture or race perhaps?" Anton, Stone, Eliza and Helen didn't know this. Nor did Desmond but.

"I knew It, Kal-li pointed out how she didn't seem like she had "human" DNA but I wanted you guys to say it on your own, consent is key to trust after all. Weakest? It takes some real strength to lead and care for your crew, to stand back when you wanna charge in- you're better than some twins and a big dumb idiot I know..." Desmond scoffed, still he hoped that big idiot was okay wherever he was.

"So how would you like to proceed? Wanna add on to the plan?" Desmond offered the two the marker. "I think the plan's pretty clever but if you can improve it, I trust ya." Desmond gave them a firm nod.

"It can be broken but often times it's not an easy task to do so." Violet confirmed. "yea That would be great. Just don't touch them directly" she reassured that part about the dust and the people of this world can't touch. "I wasn't suggesting Hush was dumb and couldn't work their quirk I was asking so we knew how it worked and wouldn't get in the way. We also could try and make sure she has full sight of M.T" Sigal sighed happy this time it seemed to have settled down before he had to step in and stop his sister like he does most of the time. "Right. Mine and Violet's are kind of dull in comparison to most, We have four invisible arms that we have complete control over. We can move these four arms anywhere on our body even from our own arms meaning we can reach about four times longer if we stacked them. They help us with your weapons, are about as strong as both of our arms combined into one limb so that's about 8x time stronger with all four in addition to our normal two, They also don't have bones so are more fluid in movement. Dust gives them elemental charge as you saw" He said looking to Desmond reminding him about the showcase Violet did at the other place in front of the hero twins. "Tourmaline is a little not great for combat as a whole. she just happens to use it for combat cause of the tigers, She can connect to any animal or people with animal traits and share their senses. She's seeing and hearing everything right now through him" Sigal said pointing to the tiger sitting next to him. "She normally has a range but since she's been connected with them for so long she's always connected. Her using dust actually enhances the one's she's connected with...along with her weapons. Thanks to being connected to six minds at once all the time, she can multi task, and unlike people who say they can but really can't....and no that's not a dig on anyone we just don't have the ability to do so most are just excellent at switching between a few things and retaining that which is how pick pockets are so great at their job they learn how to distract you so you can't pay attention. Tourmaline on the other hand can legitimately multitask, she see's and hears everything from every animal she's connected too at once and is able to process it all at once. She has a photographic memory and great at surveillance" Violet spoke next. "Loden is the last and most powerful of us, in terms of ability, As stated she can phase through anything and everything she wishes, she has fine control over it to the point she can perform surgery inside of someone without the need of opening them. She is also part fish or a fish faunus as the term goes in our world she can breath, see, and pretty much live under water with zero issue. Dust for her allows her to leave a trail of element behind where ever she phases through, so say she's using fire dust, when she uses her phasing anything that she passes through or that pass through her are now passing through a fire version of loden. She most commonly uses her phasing to get inside someone and knocks them out by doing something....I don't really know what she does and she won't tell me." "In terms of fighting ability as a whole" Sigal said next. "I'm our strongest fighter, followed by Tourmaline and Loden who are about tied." Violet finished his thought. "And I'm the weakest. i'm normally in the back lines telling my team what to do..i'm the leader and the one who comes up with the plans for them."