#melanated queens

[brxwn-sxgxr]

[4everbrookemarie]

XXXV💕

[nirhvahnah]

just a ghel

[morpheuswillfindyou]

There are no crowns in ancient Egypt

[call-me-cosmic]

Do you have your own F/E (fictional enemy)?

I do! For Fallen Magic, the main villain is the Queen, Hortensia. However, I’ve added some twists to her, because “evil Queen” on its own is kinda boring.

If you want to hear about her, scroll down! If you don’t want to be majorly spoiled, don’t read below the cut.

Hortensia is the eldest daughter of King Rown and Queen Melan, and has a younger sister Brigitta. The family was happy and the King and Queen were beloved, but soon after Brigitta turned eight, she became ill. Rown and Melan reached out to every healing in and out of Elubeth, finding only the best, exploring every option, but nothing worked. At nine years old Brigitta was bedridden and hardly ever conscious, and no one expected her to live much longer. The family was devastated, but Hortensia (fourteen) wasn‘t about to give up. The royal advisor and trusted family friend Weland assisted Hortensia in her search for a cure, and with his help she found an old book that had been forgotten in the library. It held countless cures within it, things she‘d never seen before, and she brought it to her parents immediately. However, they were not so excited about her finding.

They were struck when they saw the book, taking it away and asking where she found such a thing. They explain that the book contains dark magic, a magic no longer practiced because of its unnatural, unstable abilities. Dark magic is like a parasite that latches onto the user, corrupting them, and bringing out their worst emotions until thats all thats left of the person. Melan has the book destroyed and tries to comfort Hortensia, saying its just Brigitta‘s time, but Hortensia runs away.

Weland finds her and tells her about a place called the Klanstin Ruins, saying that an entity there might be able to assist her. He covers for her while she rides to the ruins, finding a destroyed and abandoned city lost to time in the middle of a beautiful meadow. It is here she makes contact with a strange entity, something she can hear, but not see. She explains why she‘s there and the entity agrees to help, but says she must help it escape the ruins it is trapped in. She agrees, allowing the entity to attach itself to her, and rides back to the castle. There, the entity explains the steps she must take to preform different spells, and she follows them. Within a week Brigitta is awake and even speaking more, and Rown and Melan consider it a miracle, as does all of Elubeth when the news gets out. Hortensia is ecstatic, but she feels like something is… wrong. She feels weaker, drained, and her skin is pale. As she continues to complete the spells from the entity, she feels worse, while Brigitta gets better. Its not until black veins appear across her face that she realizes how bad it is. She talks to the entity, saying she doesn‘t want to follow the spells anymore, but the entity refuses to give her up. It takes control of her, using her as a puppet whenever it chooses, Hortensia powerless to stop it. She becomes withdrawn and sickly, and as the entity no longer preforms the spells to heal Brigitta, she gets worse as well.

Rown and Melan are heartbroken as both of their daughters seem to be pulled away from them. Brigitta falls into a coma, and Hortensia is acting… different. She‘s more hostile, easy to anger, yet also quiet and withdrawn. They try to help, but she won‘t let them, and they don‘t know what to do. Weland says he has no idea what caused this, but he‘ll do his best to help. Then, one night, under the control of the entity, Hortensia enters her parents bedchambers and attempts to kill them both. She succeeds with her father and tries to cut her mothers throat, but Melan escapes out of the window. It is believed she died later on. With both parents gone, “Hortensia“ is next in line for Queen. It is a sad day when she it crowned, and the beginning of a deadly rule. She places laws against magic usage, eventually banning it altogether in certain areas, and begins having books on magic and its history destroyed. Some mages join her side, fighting alongside her mostly because they are given more rights and are allowed to practice magic under heavy restrictions, though they can only use magic to assist the Queen. Radical anti-mage groups rise, mages are imprisoned for no reason at all, while others are killed in the streets like wild dogs. Panic breaks out, which the new Queen stamps down on by issuing raids, having mages either killed, arrested, or pledging themselves to the Queen. Mages are wiped out by the thousands, those who survived going into hiding, fearful of their friends, family, and neighbors. Anyone can rat you out if your a mage. Others pledge their allegiance with the Queen and move to the Royal City. Mages in the Royal City are not allowed to practice magic, but they are somewhat protected, though those who are out as mages still face heavy prejudice from non-mages. Within only a year the kingdom has been devastated and divided, and still Brigitta sleeps. Hortensia, the part of her that hasn‘t yet been destroyed by the dark entity, continues to do what she can for her sister. Hortensia‘s eyes have turned an unsettling black, her hair limp and lifeless, but she doesn‘t feel as drained as before. The entity, which refers to itself as The Darkness, grows stronger as time goes on.

A rebellion is formed right under the Queen‘s nose, small at first but growing larger and stronger and including people from the Royal City, and even people from within the castle. One man, a cadet named Ekward, is working for the Rebellion and gives them whatever information he can. He‘s surrounded by hateful mages who feel as though they‘ve been forced to work for the Queen, and they take out much of their aggression on him. Despite being unevenly matched against people who have magic, Ekward wins every fight, and catches the attention of the Queen. Suddenly he finds himself being made her personal guard, constantly under supervision and heavy question. This position does allow him access to crucial information for the Rebellion, though he must tread carefully lest he be found out to be treasonous.

This is the time my story Fallen Magic takes place, though the main characters don‘t know about the Darkness or Hortensia‘s backstory.

[naithewriter]

Regal af 💜

[4everbrookemarie]

🤎🖤

[justaskjoenet]

#KingAndQueenShit #Melanated #King & #Queen #relationshipbuilding #relationship #relationshipgoals #relationshipcoaching #relationshiphelp #relationships #relationshiptips #relationshipmatters #relationshipissues #relationshiptalk #healthyrelationship #relationshipstuff #relationshipadvice #relationshipstatus #datingwithapurpose #relationshipquotes #relationshiprules #relationshipposts #healthylove #lovecoaching #relationshiptip #consciousrelationships #relationshiphealing #relationshipquote #relationshipadvise https://www.instagram.com/p/CkEiZuIAcKu/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[campbell-rose]

V's Redesign - 1/3

As a melanated individual and in honor of the month, I've redesigned my queen Velvette.

in my rewrite Velvette was a supermodel, fashion designer, and social media influencer in the 2010s (when social media influencers actually became a thing) who made deals with a high ranking demon to get to the top, and when she died her connections allowed her to gain overlord status. She has abilities similar to Vox, in that she can mind control/hypnotize people. She is the media manager of the V's she's a girlboss pussy tits out type woman who died during a fashion show when she was showing off her new line. In life she was a bitch, in death she is THE bitch. She has a soft spot for her models, and calls them her girls. 100% honest, i gave her my hairstyle, it's braids sectioned into bubbles. She died at 29, the day before her birthday. She's six foot six, actual queen. I love women ugh tits are so nice so much I hope others find her as hot as i do.

Okay, now in terms of how she interacts with characters, it's the same. She's perfect. I just want her affection for her fellow V's to be more apparent.

Also show Velvette has the best line ever - "Burn it like the witches that wore it" that is the only line that got a laugh out of me

Side note, why are only Vox and Val banging? No poly rep?? Why can't the queen get some action??? In my rewrite they are her bitches.

[rancidpancakebatter]

Love n' Locs | {P.P.}

Pairings: MCU!Peter Parker x Black!Female!Reader

Summary: Peter, your love, helps you with your hair. (Takes place after nwh)

Word Count: 4.4k words

Content Warnings: Minors DNI Smut (female receiving), shower sex, multiple orgasms, swearing, May's death is mentioned briefly but nothing graphic, tooth-rotting fluff that made me cry while writing it

( Masterlist )

A/N: HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!! I PROMISE TO BE AS INSUFFERABLE AS POSSIBLE!!! (and also to not write angsty black!reader fics during this time because we have suffered enough. Only Joy <3 )

You had the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world. He was so lovely and entirely devoted. He brought you flowers. He knew your favourite foods. He gave you hoodies and kisses when you were down. He held you close and listened intently. He encouraged you to chase your dreams and held your hand when you got scared.

You had never known love like this before. The kind that steals your breath every day. But that was just who Peter was. You would never get enough of him- but what was even more amazing, you know he feels the same.

He was a white boy, and you loved to tease him about his previous love interests. He always got a rosy blush when you called him a “snow bunny,” but he never got offended, recognising that you were only joking. He would sometimes call you his “melanated queen,” but only when making fun of people who did so sincerely.

He was refreshing in that sense. You had been around more than enough “woke” people who weirdly worshipped your blackness, but not Peter. He celebrated it; he celebrated you. 

Race wasn’t something that came up often between you. He would listen to your frustrations as they arose, but he never commented on the fact that you were black.

He never fetishized or tip-toed around you. Peter was a genuine ally, never feeling like he had to make a show of how much he believed your life mattered. He just supported and only acted when you asked him to. He may have a hero complex, but he didn’t suffer from the white saviour complex, and for that, you were grateful.

You woke up this morning feeling almost overwhelmed by that gratitude. Peter was asleep, his curls strewn about the pillow. You had convinced him to grow them out. You promised to play around all day with his hair, finding the right products and creams to use. He agreed because he loves it when you play with his hair.

His lips were slightly parted, plush and pink. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose glows in the early morning sun. They were very subtle, almost imperceptible unless you got the opportunity to track them down, inches from his face. You were happy to say you got that opportunity often.

Basked in light and in your arms is where he belonged. Not on the streets, fighting crime. He deserved to rest. He was exhausted last night. His eyes were half closed as he clambered out of his suit, tripping on the feet. He only agreed to a shower when you offered to join. You would have joined regardless, but there was no way in hell this man was climbing in your sheets covered in soot.

“I can feel you staring.” A small smirk pulled at his lips though his eyes remained closed.

You didn’t respond with words, instead deciding to pepper his sweet face with kisses. You felt his smile grow as you went, until it fell into a full-on laugh.

You swear his laughter had a direct line to your heart, the sound filled you, and your heart swelled to adjust. His hands found purchase on your hips and rolled you over until he was on his back and slotted between your thighs. His favourite place to be.

“You’re just so nice to look at, so handsome,” You tease.

You continue in your ministrations, your lips painting a path from his jaw to his cheek, his eyelids and his brows, up his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. All while cradling his face. Holding him like he was your most precious possession. Something deserving of the Louvre or the Tate. You poured out your love, letting it seep into his soft, golden skin.

While Peter was a giver, he struggled to receive. You took any opportunity to remind him how much you loved him, how much you appreciated him. You felt his deft fingers worm their way under your sleepshirt, where they fronted an attack.

“Pete!-”

You collapsed against his chest as your body racked with giggles. He flipped you around again, and you could do nothing as he continued to tickle you.

“Pe-Pete, no!”

His hands stilled but held you firmly. You slowed your breathing and finally opened your eyes. They were met with glowing stars, burning bright and filled with adoration. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, feeling flustered by his unabashed gaze.

He only chuckles as he pulls you up to sit in his lap. His hands move to your back, painting soothing circles across your skin. You melt into the touch. You get hit with another wave of love, feeling it pulse against your ribcage. You begin leaving kisses across his neck, trailing across his collarbones. Peter takes the time to work his hands up your sides, massaging the muscle as he goes. You truly are putty in this man’s hands.

You find yourself on the other side of his neck, releasing a sweet sigh as his hands worked over your shoulders. His hands move to your neck, focusing on any knot he finds until they’re all gone.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer and encouraging him to keep going. He removes your bonnet, setting it to the side, and massages your scalp. This was heaven. You moan at the feeling, and Peter chuckles.

“I really should be doing this for you.” Your words are muffled and slurred, but you know Peter hears them.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “it’s black history month.”

You both fall into a fit of laughter. Eventually, his hands disappear from your scalp, reappearing under your chin. You let it guild you, bringing you face-to-face with him. His smile is lazy and warm.

“Do I get any real kisses this morning?” You tilt your head to the side and pretend to ponder it. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, though, with your wide smile- you fool no one. “I guess you’ve earned it.”

Kissing Peter was one of your favourite pastimes. In a perfect world, your lips would only feel his skin. Always attached in some way. But these kisses were your favourite. The kind where your smiles get in the way. The slow and steady kind, where there’s all the passion but none of the rush. You simply get to be, enjoy, and love. His are soft and sure.

You feel safe here in his hands, treasured. Your arms rest lazily around his neck, your nails tracing shapes on his back. Peter tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes at your lips, and you don’t hesitate to part them. It dances with yours and makes you dizzy. You get lost in it for a moment before you pull away. Peter whines, and you can’t help but laugh at his little pout.

“Sorry, bub, I got a full day ahead of me, and I need to get started.” He squeezes your waist, and you jump as your nerves alight, sending those familiar giggles to your brain.

“But it’s your day off,” he says through his frown. “And mine…we get the whole day together.”

You lay a quick kiss on his jutted lip, “Yeah, but it’s wash day. And I wanna braid it out. That’s gonna take all day.”

Peter hangs his head in defeat for a moment before it shoots back up. He beams, sitting up straighter as he presents his idea. “I could help.”

Scepticism falls on your brow, “You wanna help…?”

He looks at you as if you’ve issued a challenge. “What? You don’t think I can?”

You laugh as you link your hands behind his neck. “I think you can; I just don’t think you understand the commitment you’re making. It takes me upwards of nine hours to do my hair.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your chest. Your hands run through his hair as he gazes up at you like you hung every star in the night sky. “Well, I’ll be here, and you’ll be here, so I might as well help.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Peter, when you said you’d help, I didn’t think you meant like this.”

You were currently in the shower with your boyfriend pressed against you. His hands trailed up and down your stomach as he pressed sweet kisses down your neck. You felt his lips tug at the side, a smirk you knew well.

“Don’t worry about me. You can wash your hair, just pretend I’m not even here.” His lips find the spot that makes you shudder. He holds you closer, knowing your legs weaken when he does that.

“That’s not fair; you’re very distracting,” you retort as your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair.

Pete’s hands find your hips and give them a firm squeeze. He knew you loved it when he showed off how strong he was. He was playing you like a fiddle, but you couldn’t bother to be mad.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Peter knew the answer. He caught the way your pulse quickened when he suggested you shower together. He heard your breath hitch when he took off his pants. He could smell you even as he lathered you with soap. You just liked to tease; you liked to act tough. But your bravado quickly crumbled for him. And he loved that. That your gentleness, your piety, was only for him.

“No”

It left your mouth in a puff of air. So soft and sweet, whispered with the water. Peter wasted no time dipping a hand into your slit. His finger probed around, collecting your slick and teasing you further. His foot found yours and kicked it, spreading you apart farther. You moaned softly as he licked up the collum of your throat.

“All this for me?” He rubbed small circles on your clit, a small taste of what he could do, and you both knew it.

“It’s just the shower.” His other hand reached up, gripping you by the jaw and twisting your face towards him.

“I don’t think it is”

He picked up the pace and swallowed your moans. His pillowy soft lips devour you hungrily, and you can feel his hard-on in the crest of your ass. He rips away from your lips, and his hand goes to your boobs, pinching and pulling on your nipples. He enters you with one of his thick digits. He shows no mercy as he thrusts it into you, finding your g-spot in a matter of seconds. Peter knew your body well and loved reminding you of that.

He adds another finger, and your body involuntarily jerks, chasing Peter in all directions. He hisses as you grind against him. Your toes are curling, and the steam makes it hard to catch your breath. All too soon, he removes himself. You whine as your high is stolen from you.

He waits until your eyes are on him before he brings his fingers to his mouth. He hallows his cheeks around them before pulling them out with a soft pop and a moan. You watch with wide eyes as he runs his tongue across them, collecting every drop of your essence.

“You taste so good, baby.” 

He presses his praise into your skin- down your neck and across your shoulders. He continues down a path, following the curve of your spine. He takes quite the bite out of your ass, causing you to yelp, before continuing to nibble on your thighs.

Your hand tries to grip the wall and provide you with balance, just his gentle touches making you shake with anticipation. He notices this and throws your legs over his shoulders, your back pressed gently against the cold tile.

“You okay, baby?” You try to slow your breathing, nails scraping against his scalp, the wet curls wrapping around your fingers.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Peter loved communication; it was important to him. Though often, he would steal your ability to string anything coherent together.

“Good, 'cause I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m hungry." He sent you a wink before disappearing between your thighs.

You let out a cry as he suckles your clit. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he spreads them farther apart, whipping his head furiously between them. You’re seeing stars.

This is a stark difference from the sweet kisses you shared this morning. This was need, hunger, a carnal desire. He was chasing your high as much as you were. He moved his tongue inside you, the pink muscle scraping against your walls. You ground your hips down, and you both moaned.

You, because your clit bumped his nose, a jolt through your nerves that brought you closer and closer to your peak. And Peter, because he loves when you get off to him like this. He loves that he gets to see you like this, on the brink of desperation and lost in desire. He loves that he can make you this way. That he’s the only one who can.

Eating you out is Peter’s favourite pastime. In a perfect world, he would spend every moment between your thighs, drinking from the fountain of you, never satiated.

He grinds his face into you, loving how you flutter around his tongue. He loved every way your body told him you loved this. It was like picking up a new language. He knew the meaning of every twitch, sound, and pulse. He was fluent in you.

He felt the way your thighs were shaking and knew you were right there, you just needed a little push, and he was happy to provide. He cages your leg against his shoulder as he reaches around and presses firmly against your clit.

“Fuck! Pete!”

You cry his name, and he thinks it’s his favourite sound. It spurs him on further. He only wants you to respond like that. He moves his thumb, spelling his name as if your brain would subconsciously pick up on it, and you would say it again. He’s fucking you with his mouth and marking you as his.

Your orgasm crashes through you, a broken moan ripping from your chest, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. Peter continues to fuck you through it, drawing it out for as long as he can. Wanting everything you had to give him. He really was hungry.

Your body convulses, your grip on his curls strong as you try to pull him away. This doesn’t dissuade Peter by any means. He knows you can cum again; he needs you to cum again.

Your pulling on his hair inadvertently brings him closer, and he revels in it. His mouth trades places with his fingers, giving your clit a small break from his brutal beating.

However, you don’t recognise it as a “break”. Your sensitivity sends your brain into overdrive, or underdrive- you weren’t sure. All thoughts were half-baked, and your muscles were moving of their own accord. You were glad Peter was there to hold you because there was no way you would have been able to support yourself.

“Pe-Peter! I-unghhh”

Peter had to fight his grin, knowing that he rendered your brain useless, only able to think of him and your high. There was truly no more beautiful sight. Your jaw slacked, as a cacophony of lewd sounds fell from your open lips. Your brows furrowed as you chase your peak. Your unfocused eyes, half-lidded, looking down, searching for him. Your body quaking around him. He wished he could capture this moment on camera, encapsulate this moment forever.

You pushed your hips forward in a final thrust, taking his fingers deeper and his unholy tongue pressing harder against your sensitive bud. This time you scream, nearly collapsing over. Peter brings a hand to your throat, keeping you upright while he drinks from your fountain.

He gently removes his fingers from your core, and you whine slightly, bringing a spirited smile to his face. He wrapped your legs around his waist, admiring your completely blissed-out face. You were so beautiful. In any way, but especially this way.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck, not caring that you were panting on your auditorily sensitive, always-way-too-warm, boyfriend. To be fair, he didn’t care either. He would suffer through anything to hold you like this. And it was deserved. He did kinda render you useless.

He laid a kiss to your temple and you hummed, cuddling into him more. “Alright, coach me through the washing.”

He listened intently as you told him how much product to use and where to massage it in. He was careful to try and keep all the shampoo on your scalp, heeding your warnings of drying out your curls. He was so tender and sweet. He was much gentler with your hair than you ever were.

He peppered you with kisses as he coaxed you under the shower head. Despite your recovery and your ability to stand once again, Peter refused to let you down. Keeping you wrapped around him like a koala or sloth. You couldn’t say you minded all that much.

Peter was most excited to brush your hair. He had never really gotten to do that, as you only ever did it in the shower. He felt proud that you trusted him to do it now. It felt intimate, special.

Sometimes he would get to brush May’s hair. It was long and beautiful, and when he was younger, she would let him if he asked. He would have her sit on the floor as he stood tall, bending at the knees to accommodate his short little arms. He missed those moments with her. He missed her. But in you, he found new things to miss, and he was forever grateful for that.

He continues to run the comb through your hair, even when the knots were gone, because he loved how you melted into him. You were practically purring, and it felt nice to take care of you for a change.

He couldn’t count how many times you had patched him up, made him food because he had forgotten to eat, checked up on him, or helped him through an existential crisis. You were always there for him, his rock. He would be lost without you.

The water started to get cold, so you begrudgingly left, feeling a little betrayed by your water heater for ruining such a wonderful moment. Peter only set you down then, but ordered you to stay on the bathmat. You chuckled as you watched him run, butt-ass naked, through the hall. When he returned, he held a few towels and worn shirts in his hand. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his smile. It will always make your heart stutter.

“Arms up,” He directs and you follow.

He wraps a towel around you, and you can’t stop the satisfied sigh that leaves your mouth. It was warm and fluffy, almost enough to put you to sleep. Once he’s secured it around you, he gently moves your arms back to your sides and places a sacrosanct kiss on your lips. Your only complaint was that it was too short; your body naturally follows him as he pulls away.

He chuckles, “Steady sailor. We still got a lot of work to do. Can’t get distracted now.”

You lovingly swat at him, and he rewards you with a laugh, one that squishes his eyes and crinkles his nose. It takes everything in you not to kiss him silly. But it’s not your fault; he knows better than to look at you like that.

“I brought you these to choose from. I remember you telling me cotton is better for your hair. So, here’s three of my shirts to choose from, and whatever you don’t pick, we get to wear.”

You can’t help but beam at him. You felt absolutely spoiled. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such royal treatment. Usually, this kind of behaviour was reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. Not a Thursday afternoon.

But you relished in it anyway, telling him which shirt you wanted to wear and which one you wanted to use. He kissed you on the nose as he passed them both to you.

You explain every step you take as you do them, even coaching Pete through some parts as you let him try it. Peter is amazed by all the products and smells. He’s a little embarrassed as he struggles through some steps; you work with such grace and ease. You explain that the steps are a little different because you’re styling your hair today, instead of enhancing your natural curls. Peter tries his best to commit everything to memory.

While you’re blowing out your hair, Peter leaves to make breakfast. You don’t really need his help for it, and honestly, the sound of the fan bouncing around the tiled walls was a bit too grating for him. As he whips up your favourite breakfast meal, he scrolls through google images, trying to get a better idea of what you were wanting to do.

He sees a lot of looks he thinks you would like, but one sticks out the most. He hadn’t really seen it before, but he thinks you would look absolutely stunning. He’s watching a tutorial when you enter the kitchen. He’s so engrossed in the video you startle him as you wrap your arms around him.

His spidey senses work differently around you, and that’s something he’s still figuring out. His best guess is it doesn’t warn him about you because there’s not a single bone in his body that sees you as a threat. You’re the only person since he was fourteen who could sneak up on him. You don’t often do it on purpose, either. And he thinks his body knows that too.

Usually, his “tingle” lays dormant unless there’s a general danger, but now it’s…evolved in a way. If he focuses, he can almost feel you. He can just think of you, and his body will tell him if you’re distressed and where you are. His instincts lead him like a compass- to you, his true north.

There have been more than a few times he rushed home to check on you just to see that you’ve dropped something or were watching a scary movie by yourself...again. He loved it, though. He had never felt so close to anyone before. He loved that there were no defences between you.

“Whatcha watchin'?”

Pete pauses the video before he turns in your arms. 

“Have you heard of butterfly locs?” You grin, delightfully surprised. 

"Yes, I have,” you say as you peck him on the nose. “Why?”

“Well, it’s your hair, and you can do whatever you want. And I’ll help no matter what you decide. But I think you would look absolutely gorgeous in them. And you can do fun colours or add funky charms. But also, I know you said you were planning on the box braids, and I’m unsure how easy it would be to switch up the plan like that.”

God, could you love this man anymore? 

“It’s actually really easy. I still have to make a Sally’s run; I haven’t bought any hair yet. Do you wanna come with?” Peter nods his head fervently, and you can’t help but giggle at his excitement. 

Pete is in awe of the selection here. He had no idea there were so many options. He excitedly asks questions, and you’re happy to answer all of them to the best of your understanding. He happily holds everything you pass him and even convince him to get some products for himself, like a hair mask and some mousse. 

When you get home, Peter shows you the videos he watched and his strategy. He helps you section your hair and tries not to complain about the sticky gel too much. With his help, it doesn’t take nearly as long. You play around with the length and stylings, and once finished you’re very happy with it.

Peter was right; you look fine as hell. You check yourself out in the mirror and laugh when you catch Peter watching you from his seat on the bed through the reflection. He’s completely in his own world, his eyes ooze raw adulation, and you can’t help but feel a little flustered.

You walk over, slotting yourself between his legs. His hands come to rest on your hips, something he doesn’t even think to do. It’s just so natural. It’s where his hands belong.

“Do you like it?”

His expression never falters, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“Did you know that I am so in love with you? Like do you know? Because I am. So, so, very in love with you.”

You feel your cheeks warm, “Yes, I know.”

His dopey smile stretches, “I don’t think you do. But I’ll be sure to tell you until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Your heart is doing summersaults, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He places a kiss to your sternum, “Well, I’ll do my very best.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled forward. You land directly on Pete, and if you weren’t aware of all his body was capable of, you might have worried about hurting him. Instead, you giggle at his antics and let him hold you tight.

Your new locs fall around his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so lucky. Here, hidden behind the curtain of your hair, it’s just you and him. You lay there for a while like that, just drinking the other in. It’s the perfect respite from all the chaos in the world. Your hearts beating together, your love flowing between you.

“I got you something,” Peter whispers. 

There’s no need for anything louder in this proximity. “What?”

His hand leaves your waist, and you hear a familiar thwip, then the crinkling of a bag. 

Peter opens his palm to you, and a small gasp leaves your lips. There rested a little charm; hung on a small ring. You picked it up and admired how it twinkled in the evening sun. A little spider, from your man. You sat up, looking in the mirror as you strung it through a loc. 

“Petey, it’s perfect!”

“Not as perfect as you.”

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @heejinw0rld, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @secretaccountlol, @scorpiolystoned, @thatblackravenclaw, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[desswright29]

HALF CRAZY PT.1

Contains: Smut(18+), Angst,

Word Count: 2.9k

Taglist: @imjusthere2readbruv,@bubbleblowinggirl, @euph0ricx0,@bellaallebbella1, @minionslikeppl, @melanated-queen, @letitiasnyash, @tishlvr, @writtenbymarie

A/n: I think you’re gonna wanna read this 🤭

Y/N’s ARC

You wish you’d slept. Woken up, stretched, and rolled over to find that Shuri wasn’t in the bed with you. But, that’s not how it went. You’d spent a long agonizing night awake and alone. At first you had hope. Choosing to believe that your wife would be home like she’d said she would. It was about midnight when you started getting angry. Throwing on some of her sweats, a T-shirt, and some tennis shoes, you left your home inside of the palace; en route to Shuri’s lab, hair pulled back and ready to fight. Until, half way there you realized that your heart wasn’t ready for what you might possibly find. The rest of your night was spent in a downward spiral of possibilities. What was going on in that lab? And then tears. An endless flow of tears. Because you knew. Watching the sun rise over the buildings through your open windows from your bed, the delusional thought that she was going to return home left with the nights sky and a numbness took over you. There were no more tears left to cry. 

Rolling out of bed you put on your slippers and try standing, only to fall back onto the bed. Your heart was beating fast and your body felt like it was glitching from the lack of sleep. Weak. You were weak. So, weak you found yourself crawling to the bathroom to run yourself a bath. Praying for relief. Determined not to allow her to see you like this upon her return. Somewhere inside you, you would have to find strength. But, as of now it didn’t seem feasible. Sitting on the floor back pressed against the cold tub you place your hand over your chest and let out a few painful deep breaths. Trying to ground yourself, trying to feel anything except for the pain. Telling yourself you didn’t know. You technically had no proof. But, you did know. You’d connected yourself to Shuri mind body and soul for years! You breathed Shuri, knew her through and through. Her pulling away from you felt like a literal tearing of the soul, you felt it in your gut and you could hardly breath. You let out a gut wrenching scream. Bast! You just wanted to breath. With one last gasping inhale, and whimpering shaky exhale you pull yourself to your feet and remove your robe and slippers. Gently stepping into the tub sinking into the water. 

It was so peaceful there in the water. So warm. So welcoming. If only you could just stay there forever. You held your breath for as long as you could; until you heard a door close. Quickly popping up out of the water you lean back. Pulling the wet locs from your face. Putting on your proverbial mask you prepared to pretend. The door to the bathroom quietly opened, Shuri’s head peaking through. Closing your eyes you lay your head back against the tub, to her it seemed that you were ignoring her presence, but you were only trying to hide away your bloodshot eyes. “I-I didn’t expect you to be awake so early.” Her face was filled with worry. Your lips turn up into a light smile. “Of course you didn’t dear. No worries. Just a bit of trouble sleeping.” Shuri awkwardly stood by the door shuffling from one foot to the other. “I-I t-thought you had left me. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t come home. We just got caught up in the project and you know how I get. I can fall asleep anywhere.” You finally open your eyes and look at your wife. She had on the clothes she’d left in last night. But there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. Definitely didn’t sleep in those. She looked refreshed as though she’d gotten a full nights rest. And there wasn’t a curl on her head out of place. 

“Well I’m sorry to dissapoint. Unfortunately, I’m still here.” Shuri shot you an incredulous look. “Why would you say something like that?” After rolling your eyes, you allowed them to travel up and down her body. Taking note of every detail. “Hm.” You turn your head away, and Shuri let’s out a sigh. “What’s the matter y/n?” Letting out an unamused chuckle you reply “That’s a silly question to ask when your walking into our house at 7 am when you said you’d be home last night. But, I’m really trying not to argue.” 

“There’s nothing to argue about. We were working.”

“Ok Shuri.” Turning to send her the meanest grimace you could muster, your voice filled with pure annoyance. Huffing, she leaned against the door frame. “It’s best if you get whatever is on your mind out now don’t let it build.” A look of realization crossed over your face. “Oh that’s what this is. You hang out all night prepare yourself for an arguement and come straight in here to face the music huh. Am I not angry enough for you?” Shuri smiles shaking her head, looking down at her feet. “That’s ridiculous.” You release a deep exhale. “I would like to just be left alone Shuri.” At first, she stands there staring at you, opening and closing her mouth as though she has something to say before thinking better of it and deciding to exist the bathroom. Leaning back again you try to get yourself back into a relaxed state, but your mind began to take you on a trip once again. With a huff of irritation you get out of the tub and prepare for the day.

The smell of food being cooked wafted through the air as you exited the bathroom in your towel. Sitting on the edge of the bed you began to apply your butter. She used to do this for you. Awhile ago, she would’ve bathed you, dried you off and carried you into the room to moisturize you body, with you continually swatting her hand away from your privates.  You and Shuri had never been this distant and awkward with one another. It was begining to feel like you were living with a stranger, and not your bestfriend. Shuri entered the room dressed in a new outfit for the day. Business casual in a white short sleeved button up with tribal print placed strategically over it in various colors. She’d cuffed the sleeves showing off her beautiful biceps. The necklace holding her Panther suit peaked through the buttons left undone. She wore matching form fitting slacks that stopped right above her ankle with sneakers that brought the outfit together. One thing would always be for certain with Shuri, and that was she looked damn good. You could smell her from the door way. “Sthandwa, I know I said I’d make it up to you today. But-“

“You’re going back to the lab.” You interrupt. 

“ibaluleke kakhulu (It is very important)” Licking your lips you look her up and down. “kuya kubonakala kunjalo (It would seem so)” Your head cocked to the side and your eyebrows furrowed. Yes, Shuri had a swag like no other. But, this was not her typical lab look. She knew it and so did you. Your heart stuttered as she walked towards you kneeling in front of you. “I know I’ve been making some empty promises. But, I’ll be sure to be home tonight. We can snuggle, watch movies, whatever you want to do my love. I’ve already made breakfast for you. Why don’t you relax and get some rest today, or go shopping with Tolu or something. Hm?” Watching her skin glisten with Cocoa butter and smelling her intoxicating scent, like a vanilla bourbon, had you feeling things. Her lips were as smooth as butter you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. You couldn’t think straight. So nodding you tell her. “Just go.” Quickly she pecked your lips three times and headed for the door.

“I’ll see you later, Ubusi”  And with that she was gone again. Sitting there listening to the silence and smelling her lingering scent you removed your robe, and began to finish moisturizing your body. As you rubbed the whipped butter all over your body your mind wandered to your wife’s beautiful hands, and how they would caress your body just like this. Massaging your breast, your waist, your thighs, your ass. How her breath would caress your neck as she’d hold you close. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear in your native language. Your body quivered at the thought. Quickly, your mind shifted, and your wife’s hand were roaming the body of Riri Williams. Realization that you’d just sent your wife into the arms of another woman; looking and smelling irresistible while you sat at home pouting, pissed you off. 

Going over to your full body mirror you looked at your naked body. Only slightly taller than Riri, your body was curvaceous, chocolatey, and buttery smooth. Your ass sat perfectly as did your breast, waist sitting perfectly in between almost nonexistent. Your face is striking. Big deep dark almond shaped eyes and beautifully plump lips . Your thick shoulder length loc’s frame your face perfectly. A sight to behold is what you are. That’s not all. You were also the most notable herbalist in Wakanda. Having created healing ointments and medicines for many fatal diseases. A doctor of herbs. A scientist. No longer practicing so that you could be Shuri’s dedicated wife. Only for her to fall for a beautiful little engineer. Why were you sitting and allowing this to happen? When you couldn’t come up with a good answer, you headed to your closet. No more tears. It was time for retribution. 

Strutting down the hallway in your strappy stilettos, you were on a mission. Wearing a sexy long olive green silk sundress with reddish orange flowers decorating the bottom. It had a corset back causing your juicy shimmering breast to sit up high, and a slit up to the hip, and your panties were nonexsistent causing your ass to have a mind of its own. Your locs were worn loose and the majority were tossed to the left side of your head. The heads of staff walking by snapped as you made your way to the lab. Two Dora stood in front of the doors shocked at the sight of you. You gave a slight nod signifying that you wanted entry. They saluted you and opened the door. “Good morning your highness”

“Good morning” You reply, returning the salute, continuing your path down the bright hall lined with Dora who saluted as you walked through. “Panther, your wife has entered the lab” Griot announced. Stopping at the entrance, You scanned the room watching all of Shuri’s scientist work diligently, while trying not to gawk at you. That’s when you spot her. Upstairs by her office with Riri. Riri wore dark brown cargos  that hugged her hips and ass just right. With a black cropped tank that showed off her toned stomach, and black combat boots. A single gold rope chain was the only jewelry she wore. It appeared they’d been in deep conversation before you arrived. Riri sitting on a lab table with Shuri practically inbetween her legs. Your jaw flexed. Shuri stepped back at the sight of you, Riri stared at you as you strutted over to the stairs your hips moving in a figure eight as you walk up the stairs in their direction. The click of your heels resounding throughout the area. Shuri couldn’t  take her eyes off of your body. And Riri looked visibly annoyed by your presence. Lucky for her she wouldn’t have to deal with it for long. 

“H-hey sthandwa, what are you-“ Shuri began, but you quickly fist the front of her shirt, pulling her along with you to her office not even acknowledging Riri’s presence. Leaving the door slightly open, you push Shuri up against her desk, and began unbuttoning her shirt. “What the hell is going on.” She whispers. Your hand immediately comes up and grabs her by the throat. “Shut up.” You say directly into her ear, nosing down her neck placing butterfly kisses along the way as you tightened your grip a bit. “Uya kwenza njengoko mna (you’re going to do as I say)”. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” She was taken aback. But she was silent. Intrigued. With her shirt now opened you slide your manicured hand from her neck down along her abs. Feeling them shiver under your touch. “Yes ma’am?” You place your demand in the form of a question. Shuri nodded under your spell. “Yes ma’am” she whispers in a seductive tone.

“Good Panther.” Your lips grazed hers as you spoke. Your finger moving up and down the line in the center of her stomach, her abs contracted from the tickling sensation. With that you threw your heeled foot up onto the desk beside her, sexy leg glistening in the fluorescent lighting. Shuri groaned moving to touch it and you smack her hand. “Uh uh, No touching. Activate the strap.” Reaching down you began to unbuckle her belt and pants, sliding them down as she obeyed your request. The strap appeared overtop of her boxers as you slid them down. Slowly you begin stroking. Shuri’s eyebrows furrowed as she bit her bottom lip, groaning in response to your touch. “Hands on the desk, and don’t move them until I say so.” You rub the tip of the strap through your folds a few times before you slide it inside, with one leg up on the desk one straight on the floor, demonstrating your flexibility. Shuri’s mouth fell open and her eyes rolled back as your pussy gripped the girth of her special strap. Using her waist to balance yourself you began to ride. “O-Oh, Oh Fuck” she stuttered as you moved her body against hers. For a minute both of you just stared into eachothers eyes mouths wide with pleasure, unable to find the words to describe the feeling, the only sound that could be heard was your juicy pussy squelching. Her eyes were wide with shock and excitement as she moved her hips to match your thrust. “Ooo yea.” You breathed. “This feel good to you baby?” You ask. 

“Yea. Yes. Bast it feels so good baby.” Shuri had a death grip on the desk. Trying not to grab your ass. “Yea?” Moving faster you bring your arms up around her neck as your ass began to clap on her dick pulling a long growl from Shuri’s chest as you hear the desk start to crack under Shuri’s grip. Your hand finds her throat again. “Who’s making you feel this good? Huh?” 

“Uhn. Shit! You are Nkosazana.” You squeeze tighter. “What’s my name?” you say riding harder. “Ah. Y/n.” She whimpered. Squeezeing a little tighter you demand “Louder!” 

“Fuck baby! Y/n!”

“Who’d you make this dick for baby.”

“You Y/n” She whined loudly. 

“Who else can ride this shit like me!”

“Uhn, NOBODY! Nobody riding this shit like you. Fuck! Please! Please let me touch you!”

“Uh uh, Who’s dick is this?”

“It’s yours baby fuck” Her eyes were watering, practically crying, she wanted to touch you so bad. “What’s my name Shuri?”

“Y/n!” You grabbed her face with both hands, staring into her eyes, legs starting to buckle. “What’s my fucking name Shuri!”

“Y/n Udaku!”

“Who’s dick is this!?”

“Y/n Udaku’s! ” She threw her head back screaming and panting her hips continuously ramming up to meet yours. “Good girl. You can touch me now.” As soon as you said the words there was a crash, as all the items were removed from Shuri’s desk. She had your ankle on her shoulder now and you were now pressed against the desk as she pounded into you mercilessly with her hands full of your ass, her mouth over top of yours as if she wanted to swallow you. You stick your tongue in her mouth in a sloppy kiss. “FUUUCK ME SHURI!” You yell in pure passion, and also so that EVERYONE could hear. “I’m going to cum so hard! So deep inside you, pretty girl! Is that what you want?” She says. “Yes! Shuri give it all to me! Give me all of my cum. I’m cumming with you!” She attaches her lips to yours once more as her hips begin to stutter. As she starts to cum she bites down hard onto your shoulder and you scream out in pain and pleasure, as you scratched at her back through her shirt.  The pain and pleasure mixture quickly brings you to your own orgasam. Curses, Ah’s, Oh’s, and Bast’s filled the room. 

You both held tightly onto eachother as you caught your breath, recovering from your orgasams. Slowly, Shuri stood and pulled out of you begining to fix her self. Looking down at you looking at your glistening pussy. “Fuck” she said, looking as though she was under a spell. Standing and fixing your dress, you grab Shuri by her opened shirt as she rebuckled her belt, pulling her into a sloppy kiss. “I’ve gotta go. But I’ll see you tonight. No later than 8pm” You turn to leave; leaving no room for discussion. As you walk towards the door you hear a gasp. “Was that open the whole time!” You turn and give her a wink before walking out. To your surprise Riri was still there. Welder in hand and jaw clenched. You smiled. “Welcome back to Wakanda” You say walking away all eyes on you in pure shock as a mixture of you and Shuri’s cum ran down your thigh. 

[msperfect777]

big sister talks : chapter 2

1. if you care about what other ppl think of you, ur wasting ur life

spending time worrying about what other ppl think when they look at you is sooo useless. you are creating imaginary and false ideas of urself thro others. you walk past a group of ppl and you immediately become voice insecurities to yourself. who even are those ppl? they are nothing compared to you. thinking that their “prettier” or “richer” or “smarter” is stupid asf bc all those are just society aspects that are false. there is no such thing as being prettier than blah blah blah. you are you just like she is she and he is he and they are they. we are all our own ppl so why waste time thinking ur less than in other ppl’s eyes? spend that time telling urself how valuable you are. realize that insecurities arent real. theres literally nothing wrong with you. you are perfect period. society may tell you that you arent but who tf are they? you wanna stick to a victim mindset or you wanna be accurate in knowing you are already perfect?

you cant spend all your life worrying about what others think of you. stop being goofy and know that the only opinion that matters is you. focus on the thing that rly matters: you. love urself bc ur the one that will never leave ur side.

recovery tips: dance in front of the mirror naked while listening to your favorite song. notice how perfect your body is. the thought that ur ugly is the same as the thought of your pretty. theres no difference right? so now you know how much of a waste of time it is to think you arent perfect.

think about how the ppl you think are thinking bad about you are a bunch of nobodies. do you think they care about those insecurities you think you have? no. so why would you care and stress about their useless opinions. notice how those thoughts are coming from you. those thoughts say that they are staring at you and that they think you look weird. thoughts arent real🤡. all this is an illusion. so enjoy the ride and dont get caught up in useless little things like thoughts and other random ppl. enjoy yourself bc you can.

2. dont waste your time on male validation

as a female in this society, we are expected to look up to men and please them…first of all.. look at what a beauty you are. you rly think a beautiful being like you would have to worry about pleasing others, especially men?? nahhh. never. remember that that little part of you that feels the need to impress men is just a result of this society. forget about it. the only one you need to impress is you.

recovery tips: know that you are a powerful limitless being. never accept impressing others. your so high up that ppl have to impress you. its never the opposite. listen to bad bitch edit audios. watch iconic 2000s movies. realize that you are the main character. why would a queen and a main character focus on impressing ppl that are already below her??… exactly.

3. be spontaneous and free

go out for a damn walk in the park or wherever. dont even worry about where your going. just walk. just enjoy the moment. get tf off the phone and take some fucking sun. for all my beautiful black angels, we all know that our afros grow towards the sun. you notice how when ppl start to get locs, they get thicker like a tree branch? while afros grow like a tree itself. we are nature. go out to the sun and let it bless your beautiful melanated skin and incredible afro hair. for everyone now: go have fun in the sun. humans are not meant to stay at home all day on they phone like stop being stupid and take a walk wherever.

dont worry and dont plan. just do and it will be exciting believe me.

4. love your beautiful black hair.

when i was little, i didnt know how to take care of my pretty type 4 hair bc my mom didnt have the same hair type as me. i would always look at the girls with straight hair or loose curls and wonder why i dont have that hair type. now im in love with my hair bc i learned to take care of it. the tight curls, the way i can put it in twists or cornrows or leave it in an afro. my hair is so versatile! theres no way i cant love it. idc if ppl call ur hair “difficult” or “too hard” or “ugly”… thats bc they will never know what its like having perfect hair like this. they could neva compare and thats a fact. it took me years to love my hair and i wish all little black babies grow up to know how perfect they hair is.

black barbie hair tips:

get a moisturizing shampoo and deep conditioner. i recommend companies like shea moisture, mielle organics, camille rose naturals, kinky-curly, and there are more just research and try which ever works for your hair

soak your hair in warm water and massage your scalp. use your shampoo and scrub with your finger tips not your finger nails (or else you can get cuts). shampoo 2-3 times.

put ur deep conditioner and when you detangle ur hair, use your fingers and detangle in small sections. do not use a small comb. use a wide tooth comb if you want. then, you can put ur hair in twists and put a cap on or steam it in the shower so that the deep conditioner moisturizes your hair.

rinse and use a moisturizing cream / leave in conditioner and put it on ur hair in sections and comb thro. do big or mini twists to lock in product.

when you have on an afro, do not pick your curls and pull it. this can cause breakage and split ends. when you have twists on, water your beautiful hair with water and some product in a spray bottle everyday / few times a week. think of your hair like a plant, you have to water and care for it.

when you take out your twist of any other protective styles, take your time to reduce breakage. and its better to detangle hair when it has conditioner in it. try using pre-shampoo when detangling dry hair.

spend time understanding your hair. thats how special it is. love it bc its raw black beauty.

everyones hair is different so what i do for my hair and the products i use will not always work you. research your hair porosity and hair types. a hair care journey starts off messy at times but the more it lasts, the easier it gets. you can start off hating your hair but you will soon realize how much of a perfect prize it is 💋

© msperfect777

[puppetmaster13u]

Thinkin' of WOF Au for DC, but like, it's a Gothamite and Fawcett thing. (And Amity Park if crossover)

Like those are the most magical areas in the world, even if Gotham is cursed as fuck. An unspoken secret of sorts that while they present themselves as human to outsiders, they are all Very Much Not.

Which means hilariously in the league, when everyone expects Batman to be suspicious and short with the new guy- even made bets on it- they are then shooketh when both visibly relax and start talking. And half the shared complaints don't make sense!

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Now Gotham technically has no Queen, nor does Fawcett, but Batman and Captain Marvel are the closest things. Not in the traditional sense of back when they were in separate tribes (& maybe from a different dimension but shh that was millennia ago) but in the sense of, they're the ones patrolling and protecting the cities along with calling the shots in disasters.

Which does sort of change the dynamic they both have in their city. If one of them calls to arms, the city would follow them. They could declare war, and their cities (begrudgingly in Gotham's underbelly's case of strongest is in charge) would follow. And while Billy is oblivious, both Marvel-the-not-hivemind and Batman are. They know they have to be very careful.

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I'm sure we all want Nightwing Bruce but no. Bruce, like both his mother and father and father's father and so on before him, is actually an Icewing. The Waynes however, have a case of melanism running in their bloodline. Thomas Wayne? Only his quills and part of his back were darker, but Bruce? Practically pitch black scales that shadow his eyes.

Now Alfred on the other hand, is a Nightwing. No special powers there, though you would hear many a child protest with how he seems to know everything.

Commissioner Gordon is a Mudwing, big stocky and very tired, which translates to his human disguise as a large trenchcoat. He finds this very amusing. Barbara similarly, is half Mudwing. Her mother was a Hivewing, making her a hybrid between both. Which does ironically mean that Batgirl does in fact have insectoid wings. Though that does ponder the question on if they'd all go by their original vigilante names.

Dick is a Silkwing. Wingless as he watches his parents fall and unable to do anything despite this place supposedly being safe for beings like them. He grows into his own, and his wings, when they come in, are dark Gotham colors through and through, with the deep blue of the sky he's come to crave.

Jason is a hybrid between a Mudwing and a Skywing. He's also an animus- not that he knew that. He doesn't find out until he's dying, telling himself to not die, to get back to Gotham, to his dad, his family- And then he wakes up in his Coffin, alive.

Now Cass, raised to be the perfect killer, is also a hybrid, just one between a Nightwing and a Rainwing, egg set out under the moon. Which succeeds, partially. She can't straight up read minds, but combined with her talent in reading body language on both human and inhuman bodies, it's a near thing.

Tim is a Seawing, borderline abandoned by his parents who seek treasures and more wealth as he's trapped back in a city where the water is dark and poisoned. But he's Gothamite, through and through, and he adapts. Scales darker than the original blues he was born with, and glow shifting to that sickly white of the Gotham's Bats.

Now Steph, is a full-blooded Rainwing, and can in fact change her scales, but can mostly be found in purples and golds. Though for a short time she was in another set of colors, thought dead before she slithered out of the shadows older and wiser than before.

Damian is his father's son, but he's also an Al-Ghul. The not-quite dragonet is half Icewing, and half Sandwing. And struggled to adjust at first, to a place so different from his first home where the only other dragons were blood related. But like any Wayne before him, he adjusts, and he adapts.

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Billy wasn't a Beetlewing originally, and perhaps he would have hesitated if he'd known it would change him, would change his body and the last thing he had of his parents. But his friends, his Team and new family help. And he can pass as a Silkwing like their sort-of foster mother. All six of them can do so now, even if the others look more like hybrids themselves thanks to not being the Champion. They might not be, but they're his family. And that's enough.

[4everbrookemarie]

Seeeeesterrrrsssssss!☺️💕🫶🏾

@berberriescorner