#Flex Hater found

[flexsealfamilyofproductsfan]

God you're so lucky. It pisses me off that someone like you is presented with such a beautiful situation of a house that smells like Flex Seal. Instead of embracing the pungent delicious scent of Flex Seal you turned your back on it and left. This is easily the equivalent of walking out on your family where you are the only provider and have to take care of 3 kids and a disabled grandma. I know that Flex Seal was extremely hurt by your actions and by Phil I hope that you can find forgiveness one day for your sins against the Flex Seal Family of Products. I hope you realize that you have been blessed by Phil himself and should be grateful for and embrace your situation.

I feel awful 👍🏻

[curtins]

do you think toji and/or sukuna are into looksmaxxing. i need to know.

choso is probably near to tears just thinking about it - he's having a hard time adjusting to all these new trends anyways, wdym there's a whole section of it now?

i feel like gojo just flexes his "natural" looks, nanami doesn't even know he has them until someone comments on your post saying "you won/we're so back."

omg hellaurrr i really pulled out a notebook to jot these down (this isn't even a joke, my keyboard was messing with me but i was worried i'd forget to answer properly) but now i may transcribe my notes on jjk + looksmaxxing 😭 🤭 u always send me the funniest things

gojo once found a wrinkle on his forehead and cancelled class for the day. now he sleeps with a cucumber and a jade roller. when he gets drunk, he claims that a kpop idol dm'ed him for advice on clear skin, never says who though (#liar) and in high school he used a self tanner once because suguru once likened him to an overgrown, pale musty mushroom. ended up with orange streaks everywhere. does pilates but will never admit it. wishes that in another life he was an influencer just so someone would send him pr packages because its nice to get presents in a box. definitely calls himself an icon.

geto thinks essential oils are a part of looksmaxxing so he feels better on the inside. literally floats around like a walking bottle of sandalwood and lavender. tried growing facial hair because he thought it would be great to accentuate his jawline, but someone called him a discount samurai and he had to cancel the cult meeting that day. thinks looksmaxxing isn't just physical but also a state of mind, so he carries around books like crime and punishment to look smart. thought that wearing glasses would make him look smarter and had a phase where he wore fake ones and not one person complimented them.

sukuna secretly has a stash of protein powder. it goes in everything, smoothies and sprinkled over raw meat. says that he doesn't give a flying fuck about these things, but used to read old, ancient scrolls about medieval skincare. got uraume to make him a scrub from red spider lilies and wondered why his skin was burning sooo bad afterwards. sharpens his nail with blades and claims its better than just normally clipping your nails, but he always ends up scratching himself bad. has a collection of sheet masks. has the best eyebrows of all time and knows this (gets them plucked). has an anonymous #hater tiktok account where he comments rude things under gojo's posts.

nanami. you are soooo right, he probably doesn't know or give a fuck about these things because he's actually employed. but hates the idea of a ten step skincare routine for he thinks that the best routine is simple: cleanser + moisturiser + sunscreen. believes in the power of a neutral toned wardrobe with clean, tailored silhouettes. but there are photos of him out there from when he was 18 years old, with black eyeliner on his waterline. shoots down everyone's ridiculous looksmaxxing attempts. jawline exercises? just chew your food properly. botox and fillers? try eight hours of sleep before reaching for the needles. want to post a glow up journey? well, just focus on yourself and move in silence. kind of gojo's biggest opp for all this, and being so clean and put together effortlessly...

[brayneworms]

in your basement, i grow cold.

featuring. il dottore x reader

content. gore (specifically eye gore), relationship isn't romantic isn't platonic but a secret third thing, toxic dynamics, reader is called dottore's pet, scaramouche appearance, reader is mean to scaramouche, reader is generally fucked in the head, alluded kidnapping + medical experimentation, body horror, injections, electrocution

word count. 1.6k

notes. this was an xmas gift for a friend but ummm might as well post it i guess :p this is silly. i'm a certified dottore hater but he's fun to explore psychologically. also used this as gore practise. i don't think it's majorly disgusting but i'm not very squeamish generally so i might be biased.

♪ strangers — ethel cain

There is some peace to be found in ugliness. 

The Balladeer has yet to learn the same lesson. With every session he seethes and hits, he bawls and curses. The Doctor takes it all standing up, though, a flex of his wax-sheen gloves brushing the Balladeer off as though he were no more than an irksome fly. The doll scowls as you strap him in, hook wires and tubes into his artificial body. Sometimes the voltage is too high and he jerks and turns purple in the face, roasting from the inside out. Sometimes you think Dottore does that on purpose, his own small dose of revenge. 

The Balladeer despises you. He calls you Dottore’s little mouse at first, scampering around quietly doing the Doctor’s bidding. He sneers at you, a curled lip of cold command. “I see he’s let you out of the cage for another evening,” he remarks, violet eyes watching unblinkingly as you hurry between operating tables. “Try not to roll over and die with the shock of your newfound freedom. It would be a shame for Dottore to lose his favourite…” He rolls the words around in his mouth for a moment, considering, before flashing a smirk your way. “Pet.”

You get your own small revenges on Balladeer. Dottore languishes in pain, but you like to watch his sadness. When he’s under, he often dreams, and when he wakes he often cries. Sometimes he even cries in his sleep. You wish to bottle his tears whilst he’s unconscious, scrape them up into little crystal vials until you have enough to fill a chest. Then when he begins with his glaring and his remarking, you will open it in front of him and show him cruel, irrefutable proof of his weakness. Tears enough to drown a man. Not him, though, because he is not a man. He’s not even human. And despite how much he looks down on humanity, he bristles each time at the reminder. 

Dottore finds your ugly streak endearing, in the same way someone might find a cat with three legs endearing. Mostly his mask stays on, sinking most of his features into shadow, but sometimes you find his jaw twitching or a smile curling at his mouth. 

What you find exhilarating about helping to operate on the Balladeer is that you had been in his place once. Strapped down to the table whilst Dottore poked and prodded at you with his various instruments. And Dottore had been hardly gentle with his bedside manner. He’s been open about the fact that he expected you to die on that slab. Archon residue was no blood transfusion; it pumped hatred into your body and festered there, under your blood, pickling your veins. The results had not been pretty; an injection into your left eye had resulted in it bursting inside its socket like a red flower blooming too fast. Dottore had knelt, scooped up the residue in his gloved hands, rubbed between his fingers. The scarlet slip-slide of your innards. It felt like being touched for the first time; his lips hung open, parted in a gentle sort of awe. That time, when you spat at him, he only smiled and ruffled your hair. 

Sometimes he lets you wear a patch. Mostly he likes to look, observe how it heals, what irritates it, documents how long until it stops bleeding. He wonders about nerve damage in the area. You have a constant headache in your lower-left frontal lobe now, pressing against your skull like a bruise. 

You’d expected the Balladeer to laugh himself hoarse at the ugly emptiness of your right socket, but instead he went quite quiet. As you were hauling his body into the machine, he reached out, traced the gaping maw with delicate fingers. Your good eye flicked behind him where Dottore stood, finding the twitch of displeasure in his jaw. He didn’t like the Balladeer touching his handiwork. What’s more, you didn’t—the doll’s touch was gentler than you’d had in years, but you’d grown accustomed to Dottore’s clinical coldness. It was precise, even when it did hurt. The Balladeer’s caress feels clumsy in comparison, and you jerk away. He doesn’t try to touch you again. 

Whatever rapport you have with the Balladeer dies quickly. Once you might have sympathised, but as the years wear on, you start seeing him as Dottore does. A doll. A means to an end. And the Balladeer pretty quickly stops seeing you as a mouse. Sometimes, the way his gaze lingers on you out of the corner of your eye, the way he looks away when you catch him at it, you think he’s more afraid of you than he is of Dottore. 

You enjoy fitting the Balladeer’s body into the wires. You stab them through his artificial skin with prejudice, observe the way he tries not to wince. Your fingers brush over the ball-joints in his limbs, skirting under with a nail just to see him shudder and glare. And you love his tears. He rarely cries when he’s awake, especially in front of Dottore if he can help it. But he’s such a willing crier when he’s lost to his unconsciousness. He murmurs words, too. Mother is a frequent one. He calls out for her more than you did for your own in the beginning. But there’s also Niwa and Katsuragi, Tatarasuna and Escher. 

“Poor puppet,” you hum, swinging your legs. Dottore glances over, mouth a thin line.

“Do not bother pitying him,” he muses. “He won’t soon thank you for it.”

You don’t answer, gaze locked onto the Balladeer’s sleeping form until Dottore steps in front of you, obscuring your vision. “Have you tended to your eye today?”

You shrug, trying to peer past him. “I’ll get to it later.”

“You’ll do it now.” His fingers grasp your chin. “What is study and science without consistency? A mad scramble to find pattern, that is all. I’ll do it, if you insist on being stubborn.”

You bat his hand away, snarling. “I can do it myself.”

“Will you?” Dottore says sharply. “It’s been a while since you were tied down to this operating table, but I can certainly make an amendment.”

Your glare is poisonous. “Get your fuckin’ hand off me,” you grunt. 

Dottore smirks. “You’ve grown so bold from the shrinking violet I brought you in as. Some days I miss the subservience of that form.” He pauses. “Then again, most days not.”

Of course. Dottore isn’t afraid to say the quiet part aloud, but he doesn’t have to: he likes violence. He relishes in getting his hands bloody. Poking around your eye socket, fingering the innards, like digging for shrapnel in a wound. He likes the fight back. He likes when you hiss and spit and hit like a feral cat, like a dog who has just learned it has teeth. He likes it even better when you leave a mark. 

Your last appointment before the Balladeer leaves for Sumeru. He sits on the table, spine a gentle slope. His skin is marred with holes and titanium anchors. You run your fingers down the knobs of his back and he shivers. He is unusually subdued, despite how his exuberance over being made into a god had been cumulatively climbing for the past few months. 

“I leave soon,” he tells you as though you don’t know. “I will see a new land, and new people. They will have no idea that they will soon kneel before a new god.” His fingers flex as though physically reaching out to grasp this power. “Will you stay?”

You stare at him and realise you can no longer picture the world outside this laboratory. Your silence seems enough for him; you almost think he pities you. You are particularly vicious with your ministrations that time, reducing him near tears before he’s even slipped unconscious. Dottore watches, the ever-present spectre, smiling and smiling and smiling.

The Balladeer tries one more time before he leaves, in his own way. “Sometimes I miss that little mouse,” he says ruefully. “Now? You’re nothing. You’re worse than nothing. You’re just as bad as him.”

You know you’re beyond saving, because that idea makes your stomach flip. 

You’re under no illusion that Dottore cares for you. Dottore cares for nothing beyond his own experiments and deductions and projects. He doesn’t care about the Fatui. He doesn’t seem to even really care about the Tsaritsa. Only what she can offer him. Dottore is more likely to cut you up and decorate the lab with your insides than confess any sort of love. But it’s alright, truly, because you don’t love him either. You suppose he’s become something of idolatry for you, in the worst possible way. You despise him for what he did to you, but now you cannot picture being any other way. The Balladeer may miss the little mouse, but you certainly do not. Gone are the days of your weakness. Now, in the darkness that Dottore had pumped into you, one injection and cut and fever at a time, there is power. 

Maybe one day you’ll grow to consume him whole. Maybe it starts with spitting in his face and hitting back, but maybe it blossoms to something more. Maybe one day you’d get him down on that operating table, prise that mask of his away to see the way his eyes widen in surprise. Maybe you’d get the scalpel or the wires or the syringe and turn him into the false gods he was so obsessed with puppeteering. And maybe he’d be your little mouse, afraid to catch your eye. 

Idle daydreams. Sometimes you think he can see them in the corner of your eye, because there are days he regards you almost with wariness. But he never exiles you. You suppose, in the way you’ve grown attached to him (as disease grows attached to a person) the same can be said for him. 

You’ll take advantage of it, sometime. You can’t wait to feel his insides on your hands. 

[fredfrilledshark]

Nectophrynoides asperginis

Translated from Greek it's name reads "Autistic Son of a Bitch"

its abdomen and digestive system are transparent, it has a Bugatti side panel during adolescence, its ears have no openings on the outside, so it barely hears the haters, and it has to yell extra loud to be heard by its own kind, it's lived in one small area its entire existence, where mother earth provides the ideal conditions, everything was fine until they had too much pot tree, and the rhiz bringers move in on their turf, and thanks to online commissions it was kept safe, when a group of scientist found them, because two males were arguing over a girl, flexing over who had the shiniest rock, puffing out their chest and slamming their fists on a rock table, now they're in captivity chilling in a jacuzzi, 6 feet apart because they're not gay, working on their skincare routine, so they can act cute in front of the ladies, and get a spring tail.

all of what i just said is technically true, but they can no longer survive in the wild, and if they don't start a family soon, they may just disappear all together.

furries, this, this is your ideal species right here.

this needs to be the furry icon.

oh and you haven't heard the best part. despite social workers trying to get them to get it on...

straight up, no cap. the government are literally putting chemicals in the water that turns the "fucking" frogs gay.

[angletic]

Officially licensed 2012 Princess Peach-themed Nintendo 3DS case from Japan.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source

[thesupreme316]

aew stars reacting to their gfs being a boss ass bitch 🤭

nick wayne x female reader, darius martin x female reader, hook x female reader, action andretti x female reader, dante martin x female reader, Eddie kingston x female reader, ricky starks x female reader! even for fun throw in anna jay x female reader, skye blue x female reader, and/or Julia hart x female reader????

AEW Stars React to: You Being A Rich and Famous CEO

Pairings: Nick Wayne x Fem!reader, Darius Martin x Fem!reader, hook x Fem!reader, Dante Martin x Fem!reader, Eddie Kingston x Fem!reader, Ricky Starks x Fem!reader, Julia Hart x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Supreme Speaks: hey all sorry for being late/m.i.a, i started school (senior yearrrrr) and been trying to adjust my schedule. i is back now . thanks to my baeee @hooks-martin for requesting. i hope everyone enjoys it. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: this is my perspective of a "boss ass bitch" may have indications that reader is a suga momma (hey at least you got money), I kind of cut Andretti out cause I didn’t really know how to write him without being repetitive

Taglist: @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom @eddie-kingstons-wifey @cassie0sstuff

Every woman must ask themselves a question:

How are you a boss bitch? WELL BITCH LEMME TELL YOU

You are the CEO of a popular brand (cooking, makeup, clothing, etc.)

At one point you were featured in Vogue, Forbes, TIMES, everything

Rich? Check. Gorgeous? check. Smart? Check. YOU CHECKED ALL THE BOXES (and you do irl, don’t doubt yourself)

Everyone bowed to you as you displayed class, poise, and grace

But also you weren’t afraid to get tough if pushed in the wrong way

Which is what made you so likable and relatable

And that’s what made your boyfriend fall for you

Ricky Starks

MANS LOVE IT

This man was made for the luxury lifestyle

Don’t think this would be a one-sided relationship

He would spoil you too (IM A BELIEVER THAT RICKY SPOILS EVERYONE IN HIS LIFE)

Flowers, nice ass clothes from unpopular brands, things even you didn’t know existed

Would constantly brag about you on Instagram and in promos

“I think y’all are just mad that you don’t have a smoking hot, hardworking, intelligent, and rich girlfriend.”

Will do anything to make sure you feel well taken care of

Will play jokes on you like pretending to use your card when paying for dinner

“I mean you can spare 15 dollars…what do you mean no? Cheapskate.”

Nick Wayne

He found out by accident tbh…I think he genuinely didn’t know that you were rich

Or he didn’t know how rich you are

Nick is so sweet and I think he would be so humble about this

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you

Will feel at first weird about receiving gifts from you

I think he would be a little bit insecure about what he can do for you

But over time will start accepting them

Your attitude? He loves it

He loves how you’re able to take charge in spaces

“Babe, it’s just ketchup. I don’t like but I’ll eat it- please don’t argue with the cashier.”

I think he likes being taken care of…..cause he’s a lil baby

Darius Martin

Mans was enamored with your intelligence and your determination

Truly loves how your mind works and he uses you as a form of inspiration

Loves how you can tell off haters and people who dare to challenge you

Sometimes will forget that you have money or that you’re a CEO

“How did you get those shoes? Those came out this m-wait, you’re rich.”

Is always surprised with how much time you can make for him in your busy schedule

I feel like Darius will spoil you too like Ricky but with stuff that you would not really buy

Like lil trinkets and food

Would quietly brag about you and your accomplishments

Darius will post pictures of your achievements on insta and will block people who dare to trash talk you

Hook

Hook loves how humble you are about it

You would never flash your money to people just out of nowhere

But he also likes how you would quietly flex

Like he would get random gifts from you when you were away from him

Taz: What are these boxes?

Hook: Oh, Y/N got me some Jordans, new hoodies, and hair products……they were on sale, I think

As he is a private person, no one would know about your relationship except for close friends and families

And ya’ll prefer it that way; no eyes, no pressure, no one in your business

I also think that Hook would try to stop you from paying and buying so much

Sometimes, he’ll buy something before you so that way you can save money and not waste it

Knowing you, you’re gonna send that money to him and continue to shop

Dante Martin

Like Nick Wayne, HE’S A BABY

Like his brother, he would often forget that you’re rich

Because of the fact that Dante likes you for your personality

Doesn’t know how to react to your gifts

Feels overwhelmed, and grateful, but feels kind of embarrassed (cause he’s not used to this type of affection)

Is grateful for everything but assures that you don’t need to buy him anything

Will try to buy you things, but forgets that you basically already have it

“I got you this-oh you have five of them already.” (Cue you throwing the ones you already have away)

I also think he would do things that he thinks is unique for you

Like mans would create a finishing move and name it after you

Eddie Kingston (I’m finna go in)

MANS DOES NOT BELIEVE THAT HE DESERVES YOU

Also did not know how rich you were

Like he is in denial that you really like him, and would try to make sure that you don’t spend any money

Sometimes, he thinks that you’re spending money on him as a pity/sympathetic move

Cause of that, you two agreed that major presents/spending are only acceptable for special occasions

I think he also keeps track of how much you have spent on him and puts himself in debt to you

Becomes self-conscious around you, it was like pulling teeth with him to tell you

“Doll, I just think I can’t do anything for you. I don’t deserve you at all. But I love you so fucking much.”

Y’all give each other another perspective of the world and slowly Eddie starts accepting that you guys belong together

Julia Hart

Like Ricky, this woman THRIVES in this relationship

She would be private about your relationship like Hook, barely making any posts referring to you

But takes everything you give her with a smile and gratitude

Cause do ya’ll know how expensive goth and alternative clothes are?

Loves to go on shopping trips with you, loves to travel and try new things

“Can we go here? Yeah I know we went there last week but it was pretty”

You also start using her as a model for your company

This would be a beneficial relationship for the two of you as she always gives back

With dates, gifts, and straight-up surprises

She also sets you up with security services from the House of Black

[beef-fajitas]

i just finished watching the ninjago pilot (which somehow, id never watched before??) and as i was watching it, i put down my fav parts and my reactions :3

its a pretty long post if youre on mobile so ill put everything under the cut

"its called four weapons, not for browsing. either buy something, or go peddle your insults somewhere else" KAI.

ONE OF THE SKELETON HEADS POPPING OFF ITS BODY AND THEN BITING KAIS ANKLES IM DYING

random small detail i noticed, the shop has a landline? i wonder if it still works and if so, who they would even call-

"ouaugh. so failed." master wu is kais biggest hater rn and im loving it

HELP KAI USING HIS TOOTHBRUSH TO FIGHT OF THE REST OF THE NINJA IS SO FUNNY

ummm the way cole interrupts jay trashing kai when they all finally talk? and kai sassing him back??

"wait a minute. im still black" cole 😭

wu: jay is blue, master of lightning jay: heh, thats not all im the master of. i do a little inventing, i dabble in model building, touch of cooking, a little poetry. cole: more like mouth of lightning

kai letting out like a little laugh when wu announces cole?? and then "nice to meet ya, kid. i got your back. and for the record, there aint nothing in this world im afraid of." jhisdiaugivdsahiojoi they make me soooo ibogyuvfwBIQORYBEGFHIUirgyhiiobpyfuhogiuybpty 😔👉🏳️‍🌈

jay: gasp we're saving a girl? 😳 is she hot? 😏 cole: jayy 😒 jay: i- i just wanna know w-what we're getting ourselves into… 😟 does she like blue? 🤨 kai: back. off. 😡 wu: 🧍‍♂️

cole being the front of the horse carriage theyre all pulling??? symbolic who 🤭

"do not use the weapon. for its power-" "yeah yeah yeah, its too much for us mortals. alright guys, lets chop sockey this lemonade stand"

the random skeleton. grunting? groaning? ambience 😭

"ohahahahaoh! i found something!" "ughh thats another rock, you bonehead!" "but its shaped like a donut! i wonder if it tastes like one…" random skeletons u will always b so funny to me ⭐️

OMG AT THE TIMESTAMP 17:28 JAY WHISPERS TO KAI BUT IDK IF THE SOUND QUALITY IS JUST SHIT OR WHATEVER, BUT IT DOES NOT SOUND LIKE JAYS REGULAR VA. IT LWKY SOUNDS DEMONIC

"hey before you race off again, you need to remember. we're a team." "yeah, whatever" kai honey, cole is trying his best. pls reciprocate just a little bit. :(

coles little whimper when he comes face to face samukai 😭😭

jay making sound effects as hes fighting all the skeletons <333

omg jay is the first to figure out spinjitzu aaaaa!! i always wondered abt that ngl

oh. oh thats interesting. we get a look inside jays tornado. whats interesting is that hes moving at his normal speed (maybe a tiny bit slower? not rlly noticeable tho) but all the skeletons around him are basically turtle slow/not really moving at all. but hes also holding a conversation at normal speed with the ninja outside of his tornado? and theyre not even doing spinjitzu? ugh sjhjqhyturw;qkjkhtvgiulqbor i NEED to know how that works right NEEEOOOWWWW

"i sense you do not stand a chance 😏🤨" zane that was so smooth??? and for what??? 😍

cole flexing and saying "ha, guess they dont want another serving of these babies" while the camera pans to jay and kai just. absolutely hating on him. plasma being hater bfs is SO canon 😘

"no, kai, sensei told us not to!" "then you better keep your mouth shut." kai that was so rude wtf 😟 for once its not actually jays fault my dude

kai and cole high fiving after getting out of there :3

"i told you not to use the scythe!" "he did it-" "i warned him not to, sensei-" jay and cole both stepping away from kai and pointing at him 😭

____________

IN CONCLUSION: kai is a dickhead, jay is a fuckboy, zane has weirdo rizz, and cole is perfect <3 (/hj cole is actually the mom friend)

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.72 The ambassador

On our way to the Arboretum, I highlighted a few noteworthy features of the neighborhood, including a shameless plug for my yoga classes at the Celebration Center. Clear skies and warm sun made it the perfect day for this tour. Though, there was never a wrong time to visit San Sequoia. Every day was perfect.

"This is Gilbert Gardens," I said, vaguely gesturing around us. "It's my favorite place in San Sequoia because it has so much to do for all ages."

"I can't get over this weather. Is it always this nice?"

"Amazing, right? That's one of the best parts about San Sequoia."

The warm rays beamed down on us while a cool breeze whisked back and forth, ensuring we remained comfortable. Dub glanced around, shaking his head in disbelief at the gorgeous weather.

"Henford is usually covered in snow right about now," he said with a hint of snark.

I chuckled at a memory that popped into my head.

"I've seen snow exactly twice in my life. It doesn't snow much in Willow Creek. That's where I've spent the most time."

"I think snow is overrated," Dub huffed, waving dismissively again.

"You might be right. I mean, it's super cold...you can't see if it's too thick...and you have to clean it up!"

He slapped my arm.

"See? I knew we were in sync."

"Playing in it looks fun, though."

"That's overrated too! I don't like my hands being cold. There's no fun in that!"

He was hilarious and I know he wasn't trying to be, but the fake outrage amused me.

"I might have to agree with you there," I said.

We got halfway around the lake before I realized I hadn't shown him much. I made a terrible tour guide, but I think we both enjoyed the company more; I know I did.

"I teach at that spa over there sometimes," I said.

"What do you teach?"

"Yoga. I also lead guided meditations."

"So, yoga videos and classes? You must really love it."

"I do."

His eyes squinted a bit, like he was processing my words or something. I hadn't said anything too deep. Was he one of those yogi haters?

"A good friend of mine just told me she's into it too," he said. "She says it's for therapeutic reasons."

"Good for her. I think everyone should be into yoga."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's great therapy. I think everyone should learn healthier ways to deal with stress. Sims turn to so many self-destructive ways of dealing with their problems, only to make it worse. Having a healthy body leads to a healthy mind."

"I'm sure Maia would agree. She made me promise to try it with her."

"I hope you do."

I hadn't heard of many men who had platonic relationships with women. Even I had some sort of physical attraction and a bit of lust for my female friends. What was his relationship with this friend?

"So...Maia, huh?"

"Yeah, she's my friend I mentioned."

"I see... Well, I'm glad you'll try it. I think you'll find it helps a lot.

He didn't catch it that time, but I wouldn't let him miss it the next time, and there would be a next time. I was sure of it.

"Over there, you have the splash park. Mostly kids hang out there. We can swim in this lake."

"It's huge!"

"Tell me about it. My dad and I jogged around it once. I think I nearly killed him. There's all kinds of trails around here, but this is my favorite."

As we approached the trailhead, Dub looked around in awe, exactly like I did the first time I visited. The garden was what made it exceptionally beautiful. The way they expertly arranged the flowers and creatively teased the topiaries, it truly was a work of art.

"Woooow. I never would have seen all this back here."

"They call it the Arboretum. You ready to go?"

"Always."

We stretched, and I recommended we take it easy and pace ourselves, but Mr. Funny Man had other ideas. Good thing I was also athletic. I accepted the challenge, but of course, I had to flex on him a few times.

I asked about his family. The fact that he was the oldest of three boys amazed me. With no brotherly figure or close friends in my life, I found it difficult to imagine the dynamics of such a relationship. Would I enjoy little brothers? Would they annoy me? Maybe both because little sisters could be fun and annoying. Dub and his brothers grew up on a farm, and he hated it. Memories of the sights and smells of cleaning out chicken coops and milking cows disgusted him all over again. I would never laugh at anyone's pain, but he was so easily grossed out. I almost wanted to try it to see if it was really that bad.

Naturally, he returned the same questions, and I told him about our family dynamics and how my sister and I bounced between Willow Creek and Evergreen Harbor our entire childhood. I kept it casual and didn't say anything emotional, but he remained silent. Maybe he was contemplating my situation just like I was considering farm life with a bunch of brothers.

We took a few breaks, and he guzzled his water as if he were on fire. I shook my head, secretly laughing at him for dashing off like it was a race. Eventually we arrived back at our starting point, winded but feeling like a million simoleons.

"That was a good run," he said. "Maybe the longest I've done so far."

"Yeah, before I ran around the lake it was my longest too."

"And it was very scenic, like you said."

"You should see it in the summer! It's amazing."

I could tell by how golden the sky was, and the emptiness in my stomach, dinnertime was near. I had another idea I hoped he'd be keen on.

"I'm usually having dinner about now. If you have more time, you wanna go to the best restaurant in San Sequoia?"

"Yeah! Uhh, actually, let me check with Maia first."

See? I knew he'd bring her up again. This dude was in love and didn't even know it, and it was so fun to watch. Even the way he said her name had hearts all over it.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble or anything," I said in a cheeky way.

"Whatever, man!"

He may have sounded offended, but I did not forget that grin. One way or another, I'd get their story out of him. Ugh...I was unquestionably my mother's child.

Wade Banks by @mysimsloveaffair

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 1

Author's Note: You must have read the "Black Boys Bloom Thorns First" series before trying to dip into this new book!

"I will be one of the greatest That is a vow, yeah, that is a promise Always wanted to be famous Just being real, yeah, just being honest

My haters gon' always be nameless Give them no cloud, I give them no power

Creators built different, they ancient Sooner than later, all will be ours…"

Iniko—"The King's Affirmation"

King N'Jadaka Udaku of the Panther Tribe from the kingdom of Wakanda sat at the head table for the Congressional Black Caucus's newly minted Pan-African symposium/dinner. Housed inside of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the event brought together Black leaders from all over the world that wanted to shape their future with the influence of Black American politicians after the great disaster of the Infinity War.

The king sipped from a glass of lemon water with his young Executive Assistant Mpilo by his side, very much aware of the eyes dragging across his intimidating figure in the midst of seventy-five world politicians of African descent with their various entourages. Women and men allowed to participate in the momentous occasion chanced glancing his way to assess what kind of man he was on this rare occasion that N'Jadaka visited Washington, D.C.

He grew accustomed to the staring. King N'Jadaka became the legend made flesh among them, the rare Black man of real power surrounded by other Black leaders that tried to balance governing in the face of American neo-imperialism. The people in that room would've given up their firstborn child just to be in his presence, especially the representatives from Sudan and Ethiopia. Thanos's ridiculous plan to snap problems away only created more dire ones on earth and Africa suffered as a result. The rise of new warloads and the loss of faith in democracy sprouted far and wide. Slavery, coups, and genocide had ramped up. Troubled nations in the motherland looked to Wakanda and not the U.S. for leadership, and that made N'Jadaka's stay in his former homeland dangerous. The C.I.A. had a bench warrant of death on his head. Western powers wanted the king of Wakanda eliminated.

The Golden Jaguar sighed and pressed his hands on his thighs and flexed his fingers to offset the ribbons of tension coursing through him. Despite it being an all Black affair, there were enemy ops in the conference hall among them. The Dora Milaje and his Onyx Squad remained visible and dispersed throughout the perimeter, their smart-looking uniforms marking them as superior protection among the American security hired to keep unwelcome outsiders from trying to sneak an audience with the Wakandan king.

This attempt at a heavily-publicized gathering of Black international elites became a way for powerless Black politicians in the U.S. to rival and possibly supplant N'Jadaka's influential UDC creation that made waves in under a year. No matter what power-to-the-people slogans were used to get them in office, Black American politicians were still…politicians. No different than their white counterparts that only worried about getting re-elected and stuffing their pockets with money, connections, and a fat board member assignment or consultation position on some corporations dime after retirement. No matter the pithy declarations about supporting the Black community he heard all evening, there were wolves in the room seeking access to more power. The white American power structure lit a fire under the CBC's ass to put together something that would convince diaspora Africans to join with them instead of the Wakandans. N'Jadaka knew what it was and decided to participate anyway. Just to let the CBC know he was watching them closely and feigning diplomacy. America was a weak and decaying order. The bored king found solace knowing he would be its demise.

N'Jadaka tapped his hand on the fancy table cloth. Mpilo took note of his mood and quickly checked his comm tab for the expected time of arrival for Yani and the children. The trip abroad had lasted over two weeks, most of it spent at the United Nations in Geneva, and meetings in New York, London, and South Africa. N'Jadaka cancelled a trip to Saudi Arabia when one of the crown princes of an oil billionaire insulted him on a viral vid. He made an example of them by snubbing a much-anticipated visit there. Any form of anti-Blackness anywhere was swiftly aired out. Mexico, Argentina, Spain, France, Italy, and the Dominican Republic were already smarting from his public call-out of their treatment of Black people due to an increase of racialized violence targeting poor Black citizens in their nations. With Yani's urging and Ramonda's powerful voice as an ambassador, there was a rallying call against global femcide in the wake of the disappearance of so many people.

The U.S. didn't let the great loss of citizens stop their continuing encroachment of resources and they took advantage of pumping predatory capitalism along. What could've been a moment of self-reflection, a shift in priorities, and a new way of being for the country as a whole was simply an opportunity to prey on weaker nations even harder. Their only hindrance in achieving more power was the rise of Wakanda under N'Jadaka's leadership. He instilled fear in every nation that wanted life to go on the same way, and he also gave hope to those parts that saw a chance at progressive changes aligning with Wakanda. The western powers still gasped at his U.N. speech criticizing colonial apartheid in Palestine and Gaza. The gasp turned into full-fledged choking when he charged genocide co-signed and funded by the Americans. Once he pontificated on the historical similarities between Gaza, South Africa, and the Black American segregation of his own people, his War Dogs got wind of Mossad operations trying to penetrate Wakandan intelligence through the C.I.A.

Back home, the continent was split.

African nations that had long been ignored and left to suffer on their own benefitted from supporting Wakanda. N'Jadaka flooded their lands with tech support, agricultural advances, doctors, and a quick rebuilding of infrastructures with his Wakandan Humanitarian Corps that embarrassed the U.S.. At N'Jadaka's urging, Azania and Caanan had stopped selling uranium, colbalt, and platinum to anyone outside of Africa in exchange for advanced agricultural expansion. Mining had ruined and polluted their lands with run-off depleting usable soil and water. Rapid climate change didn't help them either and the neighboring nations were on the verge of famine. Wakanda helped clean their water, soil, and air for free, allowing farmers to produce a bumper crop that saved millions from starvation and prevented them from becoming refugees in other nations. Those who had been malnourished received the best medical treatment, and once snatched from the brink of disaster, Azania and Caanan were staunch allies for good.

Niganda and Mohannda were a different story, currying favor from the CBC leaders and complaining to the U.S. president that Wakanda was a global threat to sovereignty. The other African nations galvanized by the freely given help, threw all of their allegiance to the Wakandans, thus leading other unaligned African nations to fear him creating a United States of Wakanda to rule them all.

It wasn't a bad idea.

He never acknowledged those types of concerns and just let the rumors grow to keep his enemies on their toes. His own father N'Jobu had flirted with visions of a united continent under Wakandan rule in his journals. Currently, N'Jadaka scrambled to replace War Dogs lost to the blip in order to keep his finger on the pulse of other nations.

"Princess Yani will arrive within the next two hours. They have crossed onto the Atlantic," Mpilo said.

N'Jadaka nodded. He gave Mpilo a full-time job as his personal assistant since the loss of his father in the snap. The king had no idea the young man suffered that loss until months after the memorial honoring the lost ones. Mpilo continued to do his work professionally until Yani brought the news to the king's attention. She recognized Mpilo's family name from one of the palace attendants sending personal condolences to their staff on her behalf. When N'Jadaka questioned him, Mpilo broke down in tears in the king's office. His father and two oldest brothers had vanished leaving behind his mother and baby sister. Barely an adult, Mpilo now had the responsibility of looking out for his immediate family. N'Jadaka terminated his fellowship and gave him a permanent job title as his executive assistant.

The king let out a sigh of relief.

He needed to be with his family again. Normally Yani would be with him, but she was on her own global tour promoting her book, "The Wakandan Way of Birth". Their children traveled with her and he caught interview segments of her in three countries. The world was enamored with the exotic princess. It was her first appearance outside of Wakanda representing the nation. N'Jadaka grinned thinking about the reaction of the Caribbean. The entire region went nuts finding out officially that an island girl had snagged the most powerful man in the world.

She promoted the book in St. Thomas first, and he hated not being there with her. She traveled to Jamaica next to visit the land of her father and paid her respects to their relatives there. In the midst of the new global normal, Yani's book became a smashing success. All proceeds went to funding her midwifery scholarships to further the number of Black and Native midwives and doulas learning at the Wakandan birthing centers. The money allowed women to focus fulltime on their craft without monetary constraints. She planned to give more once she became queen because the palace allotted a salary for Queen Consorts that she planned to use for more income-based scholarships. Wherever there were Black and Indigenous women in need, Yani made sure they took priority over anyone else.

Everyone wanted their hands on the book. A Wakandan publishing company mass marketed the coffee-table sized manauscript, and they looked exquisite. The cover was created by a Birnin S'Yan artisan who made a vibranium-tinged dye that was threaded into a gorgeous royal purple and silver cloth overlay. The book had fifty full-page color photos that Yani spent months agonizing over from a total of 200. The cover photo itself deserved to hang in a museum. It showed a young woman holding her newborn daughter and they were both dressed in the vibrant colors of the River Tribe.

When the pre-release online sales skyrocketed, Yani made the decision to only provide non-online sales out of Wakanada through global Black bookstores. The international brick and mortar stores made bank with the flood of non-Black customers wanting their hands on something from Wakanda. Even people who weren't even interested in childbirth or culture clamored to snatch up a copy just to get a glimpse of what Wakanda looked like from the inside. The first print sold out in one week.

The talks finally ended and the affair moved into a spacious outdoor dining area where a small jazz trio played music in a corner. The balmy weather made it comfortable to be outside and he took in a deep inhale of D.C. air.

Okoye and Ayo kept the pre-dinner rush to talk to the king at a distance, giving N'Jadaka time to snag a moment of peace. After ten minutes he shook hands and greeted caucus leaders, trying not to look annoyed at their requests for selfies with him. He obliged to be polite and to give an air of camaraderie. Everyone wanted everyone else to think they had connections to him by how loud they talked or laughed with him. He knew the drill.

The hosts ushered his entourage to their dining seats near the front of another podium. No one pretended to be sly about sneaking candids of him with their smartphones.

"King N'Jadaka, your son is here to see you right away," Ayo whispered in his ear.

N'Jadaka looked around and spotted Riki walking out from the museum with his personal Dora, Quamba. All the diners stopped to watch the prince of Wakanda walk through with his hands behind his back and his eyes searching for his Baba. Some people tried to snap photos of Riki, but all of N'Jadaka's children wore necklaces that thwarted any cameras from getting clear pictures of them by jamming up electronics and flash photography cameras.

Riki looked too clean.

Yani braided his hair in the spiral style of his Wakandan ancestors, threaded with shells and beads that bounced around his shoulders. This week, Riki wore jade and black fingernail polish decorated with mini panther claws in bright gold which was the rage of young children in Birnin Zana who loved their local team that played a popular sport called ukudlala ngomlenze…leg play. It was a game that required balance, and intense leg flexibility as two teams battled each other on a low swinging wooden bridge that moved across a deep body of water. One member of each team took turns standing in the center of the swinging bridge as the other team members of the challenging team split up on either side to rock the opponent off their feet, without any of their own teammates falling over too. The narrow bridge swung higher and higher, pushing athletes to go against gravity, their exhausted limbs put to the test for long durations. N'Jadaka had promised Riki a trip to the national competition in the River Tribe territory once they returned home.

Riki's black royal sash rested snug across his chest with the family crest emblazoned on it. The boy was seven-years old and sprouting a bit of height. He was almost as tall as Sydette and would probably surpass her by the time he was eight. The freckles on his red-brown skin were more pronounced, covering his nose and cheeks. Riki's eyes lit up when he spotted N'Jadaka.

"Baba!"

The boy ran past chuckling adults who admired the tailored royal suit and polished shoes. N'Jadaka held his arms out and his son jumped onto his lap and kissed his cheek. The happy king wrapped his child up in love.

"I've missed your busy behind," N'Jadaka said. "Where's your Mama and the girls?"

"Changing clothes. I couldn't wait to see you," Riki said, squeezing his arms around N'Jadaka's neck.

"Good trip, Dumplin?"

"Yes. People went crazy for Mama and her book. I'm ready to go home though. I don't like this country…the people here are so fake. They only like you if you're rich or famous."

"Hungry?"

Riki nodded and scanned the tables for the evening's selection. He scrunched up his nose at the servers placing rolls and butter on the tables.

"Can we eat this food, Baba?" Riki asked.

"We have people watching the chef in the kitchen."

The Udaku children had been taught to reject outside food unless their parents permitted them to partake. N'Jadaka had become cautious with poisoning and normally had his own personal chef make all of their food, but he opted to watch the American cooks this time around instead of turning down a plate. The head chef for the evening was a famous Black American from New Orleans who read that N'Jadaka liked food from that region and wanted to create a menu to impress the powerful king.

"Sit next to me," N'Jadaka said, pulling out a chair for Riki.

Mpilo took a seat across from them at the circular table that seated twelve. Members of the CBC organizing committee greeted him then took their seats at other tables. The jazz music grew softer as guests took their seats all throughout the guarded space. A congresswoman from Philly took to the podium near N'Jadaka's area and announced the arrival of Yani and Ramonda. Eager applause broke out and N'Jadaka stood up from his seat. He helped Riki stand in his chair so he could see his mother and aunt enter.

N'Jadaka's Uncle Bakari escorted Yani and Ramonda together as Sydette and Joba walked in front of them wearing matching purple dresses with their hair twisted and pulled back with amethyst panther-shaped hair clips. Yani mesmerized the crowd in a shimmery emerald green dress that revealed all her rounded curves. She styled her hair with extensions in an upswept fancy roll that denoted her status as queen-to-be. Ramonda had the crowd transfixed with her tall purple isicholo and deep purple gown. Uncle Bakari appeared dapper in his black tux. N'Jadaka's grandfather Dante escorted Bakari's wife Shavonne and they all made their way toward the front where their Dora Milaje escorts brought them to the king's table.

Sydette and Joba dashed to him first and he picked up both girls and smothered their faces with kisses amidst their squeals of delight for being with him again. He put them down the moment Yani reached him and he couldn't hide from the world his love for her.

He wrapped eager arms around her tight and pressed his forehead against her brow. The tense energy in his body drained down into the floor and he exhaled a long breath. Yani rested her arms around his massive shoulders, her perfume drowning him in memories of their shared bed and the last time they had been alone without the world watching their every move.

"Baby, I missed you so much."

"I know. I couldn't wait to get here and hold you."

"You know these niggas is starin' so we better play it cool for Ramonda's sake."

Yani giggled and pulled away from him. He kissed her hand and turned to Ramonda, giving his auntie double kisses on both cheeks. He hugged his grandpop next and finally showed love to his American aunt and uncle who raised him after his parents died. They all took their seats at the dining table. Yani sat at his right, and Riki, Joba, and Sydette took over his left side.

As the first courses of salads, soups, and finger foods were brought out, announcements were made. The head chef was brought out and recognized. N'Jadaka allowed the nervous man to take a picture with him holding up a plate of sausage gumbo with rice. There was special recognition given to Yani, along with a surprise plaque presented to Ramonda for her role as an ambassador fostering goodwill between America and Wakanda.

N'Jadaka caught up with his aunt and uncle and the family chatter reminded him of being home except they were being watched like fish in a fishbowl. When dessert and coffee were brought out at the end of the meal, Ramonda switched seats with Riki and leaned in toward the king.

"President Mubiri would like to have a nightcap with you during the mixer inside the museum," Ramonda said.

"Why?"

Ramonda's sharp eyes observed the guests.

"He believes D.C. is neutral ground and he would like to discuss rumors of you inciting a coup in his nation."

"Sounds like C.I.A. bullshit."

"Even so, it wouldn't hurt to appear cordial. Get some photos taken that shows two rival nations talking together. Yani is your icebreaker. Madame Mubiri is here, too. A nice photo-op of beautiful African women mingling will make the CBC very happy."

N'Jadaka glanced at Yani's fingers. She had on her deadly finger armor. Hopefully she wouldn't threaten the man again.

He signaled for Quamba and several Onyx Squad security to take his children and grandfather back to their penthouse suite at the hotel they were lodged in for the weekend. He hugged and kissed the children promising to read a bedtime story to them later. People moved out of the way and stared at his heirs. All three children walked like royalty, heads held high, backs kept straight.

The after dinner mixer started inside the lobby of the museum where a giant abstract art installation above their heads looked like the unfurling of giant bronze ribbons. N'Jadka read the description of the sculpture that was supposed to represent the swinging motions like a band of angels coming down to carry Black Americans back home like the old spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot". The artist, Richard Hunt, used suspended cables to anchor the work, and the swooping arcs of the bronze bands reminded N'Jadaka of his mother's arms around his body when he was small.

Several servers traipsed the lobby carrying drinks and savory finger foods. A D.J. played contemporary R&B and the guests relaxed into full-blown partying mode. Bakari and Shavonne headed toward a display of Harriet Tubman's shawl further inside the museum and Mpilo escorted Ramonda to meet some caucus members who were dying to be seen with her.

N'Jadaka held out his arm and Yani rested her hand on it. She walked with a majestic stride that matched his and they mingled for a bit. Yani's charm was her greatest weapon and they spent a considerable amount of time discussing her book and tour. Her radiance overwhelmed a few people who couldn't stop admiring her even as they moved on to other guests. The allure of power was a true aphrodisiac, and Yani wielded it well. All of her Wakandan training and years of experience dealing with all sorts of people paid off in spades as she delighted American dignitaries. He couldn't stop staring at her himself. Her voice lit up his face and he smiled at everything she said. Yani's youth also surprised people. She would be entering her late twenties soon enough, but carried a greater maturity and self-awareness in the last year representing Wakanda internationally.

They worked the first three corners of the lobby before the mixer branched out to the rest of the museum, and they headed toward President Mubiri and Madame Mubiri who lingered near a replica of a slave quarter. The Mohanndan president stood with a glass of liquor in his hand entertaining cronies as his wife watched her husband's dour animated face with his uppercase gums spilling over his lowercase teeth. Her eyes sparked up when Yani approached holding out her hands toward the woman.

"Madame Habiba Mubiri, I finally get to see you again in a less formal setting," Yani enthused.

Yani ignored Mubiri and immediately pulled Habiba away from her husband, touching her hand in informal friendship.

"Mubiri," N'Jadaka said, offering his hand. Mubiri shook it.

"King N'Jadaka."

Yani reached for a glass of wine from a server that had been freshly poured from the bar. She presented it to N'Jadaka using the ancient submissive stance of queens in Wakanda, holding the glass up to him with her right hand, while her other hand cradled the elbow of the serving arm. N'Jadaka caught the lust in Mubiri's eyes again for his fiancé. He took the glass from Yani and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, baby," he said.

"May I please borrow Madame Mubiri? I would love to introduce her to the head organizer," Yani asked Mubiri.

It was clear that Mubiri didn't want his wife to do anything, but Yani's seductive voice couldn't be denied. She played on the man's need to control women by asking his permission. Her earlier exaggerated submissive act toward N'Jadaka fed into the man's cultural ego. Yani upped the ante by touching his arm and squeezing it. Her touch ignited something in the president and he lifted his wife's arm and practically threw her at Yani.

"I'm sure you two have some important things to discuss without us present," she added.

"Enjoy yourselves," Mubiri said, his gaze plastered all over Yani's figure as the two women strolled further into the heart of the museum.

N'Jadka pretended to drink his wine while being focused on something else until Yani was gone.

"I thank you for the personal invitation to your wedding King N'Jadaka. I didn't think you would extend us any welcome to your country again."

"It's a time of celebration, not political intrigue. Yani wanted your wife there. They have been corresponding for a time getting to know each other. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"And miss the nuptials of that delightful woman you parade around like a trophy? Never. We will attend and enjoy the splendor."

They both drank in silence.

"Did you like the tour of the museum earlier?" N'Jadaka asked.

"An intriguing history lesson. You must be proud of your heritage here."

"I am."

"Rebels at heart. I see why the Americans want to control you."

"I know you don't want to stand here and shoot the shit about my lineage. You want to know if I'm plotting to throw you out of office."

Mubiri choked on his drink as N'Jadaka stared at his face. The Mohanndan's cronies flicked their eyes away in embarrassment, not expecting the king to be that blunt.

"What would I gain from having you taken out, Mubiri? There would only be another leader who thinks the same as you, so nothing would change. Pinning your hopes on the Americans holding me in check has not paid off in a year. I offer nothing but hope and a chance at directing Africa's vast internal wealth and ancient wisdom back to where it belongs…on all of our people."

"Our people? You Wakandans are stand-offish and think only of yourselves. These little excursions into other African nations giving them little trinkets of your resources reeks of a ploy to rule over us all. At least your uncle acted like a benevolent father-figure in the west."

"My uncle was not the man you all think he was. I am telling you now, to your face Barasa Mubiri…I have no plans for a coup, an assassination, nor war with your country. Did you not read my fiancé's book? Wakandans value peaceful living, enhancements to prolong life, and self-actualization that benefits the whole and not just the individual. We kept to ourselves for centuries even when we had the means to colonize the world and bend it to our will. But we didn't."

"I still think that is an option in your arsenal, King N'Jadaka."

"I am from the school of 'don't start none, won't be none'. My goal is transformative liberation for whomever wants it."

"So-called liberators often transform into something sinister, if given the chance."

The king moved closer to the east African president, closing the small gap between them.

"I only plan to bring hell to those who mean us harm. Do you plan to cause problems for us with this U.S. administration?" N'Jadaka asked.

Mubiri shook his head and smiled.

"I want peace and prosperity for our people too."

"Good. You have heard directly from my mouth what I want. Let's spend the rest of the evening showing the world that Africans can co-exist on the continent without people confirming their biases about us being warlords and despots. We can be civil with our disagreements. Everything doesn't have to be bloodshed, or rumors of hostile take-overs."

N'Jadaka excused himself with Okoye by his side.

"You were very civil, kumkani," Okoye said.

"I promised Umama that I would control my hostile tendencies here."

"She would be very pleased. Princess Yani is speaking to a delegation from the Sudan. Ambassador Udaku is with the Press Secretary for the American President."

N'Jadaka peeked at his kimoyos. He wanted to leave as soon as possible without making it glaringly obvious that he was ready to dip. His declining of the White House meeting with the President didn't sit well among the ruling Republican party.

"Kumkani!"

Mpilo rushed to him breathing heavily.

"You must come immediately," Mpilo said.

N'Jadaka quickened his steps with Okoye at his side. Mpilo led them through a throng of people and Yani rushed forward, clasping his hand in hers.

"What is it?" he said.

He squeezed a protective hand around hers and she pulled him toward another room. His family stood with other guests admiring a wall display. Ramonda stood with Dante and his uncle Bakari had taken off his glasses. Shavonne held an arm over Bakari's shoulder and they made room for N'Jadaka to move in front of them. Yani linked her arm with his.

"We didn't know this was here," Yani said.

N'Jadaka looked at a series of life-sized color photos of his mother Califia leading a Berkley BSU meeting. Her young face looked on fire like her hair as she held up a fist, her brows knitted together, and her mouth open spitting fire. A second photo connected to the first in a collage-styled presentation showed her carrying N'Jadaka on her hip. He was four years old wearing intricate cornrows and they both looked directly at whoever took the picture for a public event in Oakland. A deep inhale filled his lungs. The third image brought the handsome beauty of his father N'Jobu to life. He wore the dark ceremonial royal robes of Wakanda looking noble and fly as fuck. A fourth photo made N'Jadaka blink trying to figure out where it came from. He sported an MIT sweatshirt and his grin looked so innocent long ago. It came back to him. Chocolate City. A school paper had done an article about him and his dorm mates The final photo was a formal publicity photo of himself as the king of Wakanda. The entire collage mural threaded his Black American roots to his Wakandan roots, forming a romanticized link of the diaspora back to the motherland.

He appreciated his family becoming a historical footnote in the museum. Dante wiped his eyes and Yani wrapped an arm around him, helping the older man to reconcile the pain they felt in not having Califia and N'Jobu there with them.

The museum director approached N'Jadaka with a timid smile, her pale brown eyes dazzled by how close she stood next to him and his entourage. She down casted her gaze quickly when he stared directly at her.

"We hope you like this new installation King N'Jadaka. Unfortunately, the artist has been ill, or else he would've been here," the director said.

"Very impressive," he said.

His eyes lingered on his mother's image holding him while Ramonda gazed at N'Jobu's image. He wondered what thoughts went through her mind. Was there regret? Any remains of sadness that he had chosen someone else over her?

"Every time I see your parents, I see our children," Yani said. "You look so much like Riki in this one."

Yani reached out and let her fingers hover under the chin of his childhood image. He wanted to go home. Back to Wakanda. He whispered in Ramonda's ear and she slid next to the director to heap praises on the installation. Clasping Yani's hand, he guided his relatives toward the nearest exit. The Dora snapped to attention flanking them while the Onyx squad scanned for any problems.

Five dark SUVs pulled up to the side of the museum with Kingsguard drivers. Their entire party was whisked away to a luxury hotel in the heart of the capital and they disembarked in an underground parking garage to avoid paparazzi.

N'Jadaka entered his suite with Yani, and their children tackled him onto the floor wearing their pajamas. Dante watched them from a couch for a few minutes before standing up.

"I'm heading to bed, JaJa. What time do you need me to be ready for Joba's grandma?" Dante asked.

"She's arriving with the rest of Disa's family in the half cruiser around noon. We'll pick up some family in St. Thomas and Jamaica too before we travel back to Wakanda. The wedding rehearsal happens on Wednesday instead of Thursday."

"Yani's still doing the Today show interview?"

"Yes," Yani said, pulling Sydette from on top of N'Jadaka's head, "It's the only place I'm promoting the book."

Dante looked surprised.

N'Jadka gave Yani a look to take the children to their shared junior suite. Dante watched the family leave and he moved closer to his grandson.

"What's going on?" Dante asked.

"I don't want Yani in this country any longer than she has to be. We have some credible threats here in the states, and we're doing some culling of problems."

"Culling? You mean killing right?"

N'Jadaka glanced over his shoulder. Yani's voice gently scolded the children from being so hyper and loud before bed.

"Grandpop, things are escalating. Neutralizing threats will become more common for me."

"I don't have any issues with that."

N'Jadaka nodded.

"I'm turning in. See ya in the morning."

"I'm sleeping in."

"That doesn't surprise me."

He squeezed his grandfather's shoulder and watched the older man shuffle off to the adjoining door that led to another private suite. A Dora on night duty greeted Dante and closed the suite door behind him.

N'Jadaka stepped into the bedroom with his children frolicking across two queen beds. Sydette bounced on hers and played with her kimoyo beads while Riki and Joba tried to sidestep Yani's attempts to get them under the covers. N'Jadaka clapped his hands and all three children stopped goofing around and centered their attention on him. Yani placed hands on her hips, her long extensions fallen over one shoulder.

"Hey, what's going on in here? Mama said it's time for bed. Stop playing around."

"You promised us a story," Joba said.

He sighed and tread softly to the younger children's bed and plopped down on it. Pulling Joba onto his lap, he nuzzled his chin on top of her head. She touched his cheek.

"Are you too tired Baba? We can wait for another time," Joba said.

Her soft voice and soft hands brought forth all the mental exhaustion of the day.

"Thank you, Sunshine," he said.

He kissed Joba's cheek and she scrambled under the covers next to her brother. Riki patted his hand and he stroked the boy's braids.

"Night, Baba," Sydette said.

His oldest climbed under thick blankets and blew him a kiss. He pretended to catch it and place it lovingly on his cheek.

"Tomorrow you will go with Grandpop to have breakfast with Uncle Bakari and Aunt Shavonne, then Grandma Theresa will arrive and we'll all meet up for lunch," Yani said.

"When are we leaving this place?" Riki asked.

"Soon," N'Jadaka said. "Get some sleep."

All the children looked relieved. He slipped his hand over Yani's and pulled her out of the room, turning off the lights and closing the bedroom door. Yani threw her arms around his waist and they hugged each other, allowing their mutual warmth and affection to flow through one another. He had his family back.

N'Jadaka's sleep was interrupted not by a sound, but by the missing softness removed from his side. Opening his eyes, he spread his hand out feeling for Yani. A toilet flushed from the bathroom outside of the hotel bedroom and she padded in quietly, closing the door before re-joining him. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand he was surprised to see it was only three in the morning. His body felt like it had slept later than that. He spooned back around Yani's lush form and they threaded the fingers of their right hands together, tucking them under her breasts.

The TV they watched before nodding off played a twenty-four hour news channel. Broadcasts of his visit stayed on loop most of the night, but the current images flashing onscreen highlighted the weather and celebrity gossip.

"At the end of this week we will be married," he whispered into Yani's ear.

She giggled and pushed her rump against his crotch.

"Queen Yani and King N'Jadaka," he said. "Nervous?"

"A little. Our counseling sessions with Elder Efetebo gave me a lot to think about. Umama and Ramonda have helped me too. Feels like I'm a part of something bigger than anything I have ever known in Wakanda…and yet…"

N'Jadaka reached over and turned on a lamp. He turned her face toward him.

"What is it?"

Yani's eyes watered and she blinked quickly. Two small tears trekked a lonely trail down her round cheeks. He kissed them away and cuddled her in his body heat and strength. She continued speaking in a low voice.

"At times…I know many still see us as outsiders on the noble court. They don't come for mi like they used to in the beginning, but I see it in their eyes. I know they want you take a Wakandan concubine. As modern and visionary as our country is, they hold on to these old timey ways to discredit our reign. I can see if they don't want Sweet Pea to have claim to the throne, but Riki and Joba have the bloodline in them. That should be enough. They want you to have a legally sanctioned child with a second wife to make the new line more legitimate…more Wakandan than diaspora. Everyone is scared to say this to your face, so that is the only thing that keeps them in line."

"Zola and Ilana tell you this?"

"They tell me everything. They love us."

"I've been on the elders' asses about that shit."

"There's only so much they can do. They can't stop other people from talking what they feel to be true in their hearts. A segment of the population will always see us diluting the bloodline."

"I will have Zola and Ilana tell me who the gossipmongers are and I will cast them out on their asses."

Yani sighed and burrowed into his arms.

"That will only make them feel justified and maybe cause more trouble for me in the palace. I will deal with it in mi own way."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Right now I'm a weak piece on the chess board. But once that royal isicholo is on my head, I will have more power to play a different position. I won't need to run to you all the time complaining."

"You don't run to me."

She rubbed his bicep and kissed the skin there on his arm.

"I can stand on my own. I have to in order to survive the politics as queen. The more time I spend in the throne room with you, I see why you wanted me there so much."

"Does it overwhelm you?"

"Sometimes. The Council of Elders are so particular…so strict. Like I said, we have the most modern country and I can't get over how backwards they can be with a willful adherence to tradition without even considering the impact of our population being made up of so many young citizens. Nearly half of our citizens are under the age of twenty. Even before the Infinity War. These young people are hungry for change. They want to create new traditions. Look at Zola and Ilana, my staunchest supporters…their desire for new things spills over into every conversation we have together. So much goes on back home and yet, we both have to deal with the rest of the world's problems too. I tell myself I'm up to the challenge, that I can multitask and handle every little fire that breaks out in the Court of Nobles, but it can look daunting at times."

"We have each other. We have our family. There's nothing we can't get through together. I put us all in hell and we climbed back out… you and me. I plan on protecting you Yani, and providing you with anything you need for yourself or our children. The nation will know your power and influence for generations to come. I mean…look at your book tour. The world knows who you are…"

Yani's eyes drifted away from N'Jadaka's face. She reached for the tv remote on the nightstand and turned up the volume on a previously broadcasted segment. Onscreen a male news anchor out of D.C. spoke over a background image of N'Jadaka back in his Killmonger days. Mercenary fatigues covered his body and his short locs had barely curled over his forehead.

"They outed you," Yani said.

N'Jadaka listened to the anchor list his accomplishments at MIT and the Navy before cutting to alleged covert missions for various off-the-grid companies and ghost units. He sat up on the bed as a female political analyst sat in front of an image of the Pentagon. She shared a clip of N'Jadaka's speech to the U.N. and inferred that the Wakandan king's connection to the C.I.A. and mercenary past would prove to be a detriment to African nations seeking true democracy. The overall segment painted N'Jadaka in an unsavory light.

"…King N'Jadaka has stated publicly at the latest U.N. gathering in Geneva that he will continue to interfere with African nations that are in turmoil. Our government can't afford to have Wakanda becoming the world police if the U.N. can't rally around the support of ending genocide in the Congo or demanding that Rwanda and Uganda stop their pillaging of coltan in that region. His calling out of multinationals is dangerous to the progress America is making to help the DRC put an end to the loss of life there. We've sat on the sidelines long enough waiting to see what direction Wakanda will move in since the mysterious ousting of King T'Challa, and now that we know the full background of the rebel king…this by the way is what he is known as in Mohannda and Niganda. Those two nations also have large deposits of colbalt, coltan, and uranium, and their leaders have hinted King N'Jadaka may wage war to secure those resources just like he hoards vibranium from the rest of the world."

"Janice, are you suggesting that King N'Jadaka's background as a C.I.A. operative may provoke a World War Three scenario in the future? He is in our country right now, in this city exactly with other African leaders and Black politicians from around the world. You really believe he will bring us to the brink of another global disaster after we've gone through so much?"

"He is a threat to our national security and the security of other African countries who desire peace and free-trade without violence. It is our duty to protect those people, and to protect the leadership who want to sell resources that benefit all. We are all witnessing the emergence of a secretive superpower under the leadership of a man we trained in black ops and who has no allegiance to anyone. I find this disconcerting and frankly, Bill, I'm shocked at how casual the leadership in this country is taking this troubling revelation."

"Excluding his recent U.N. speech, King N'Jadaka has only spoken out publicly against the on-going genocidal war in the DRC. As far as we know, he hasn't done anything outright on the continent of Africa that should warrant the type of forceful caution you are suggesting. Why are you so adamant about this discourse in the capital?"

"Wakanda is an unknown factor in global conflicts to date. U.S. officials and the Pentagon would like to see it stay that way, but King N'Jadaka appears to be rattling his saber. His training and access to the most powerful weaponry on earth scares me. It should scare everyone, especially with his negative views toward the United States…the land of his birth."

"Genius…decorated solder…Navy SEAL…C.I.A. operative…mercenary…king…you've given us a lot to think about with your upcoming book about Wakanda's place in geopolitics."

"Here's something else to think about. King N'Jadaka —Erik Stevens when he was an American—used to have Tony Stark as a mentor."

"Iron Man?"

"Yes."

"Are you implicating the billionaire superhero in anything to do with King N'Jadaka's spectacular political trajectory?"

"I'm only pointing out how entrenched the Wakandan king is within bleeding edge technology in the military arms race and his close proximity to someone many found problematic years ago as an industrialist. Who knows if these two men are still in contact with one another? Tony Stark should be called to Washington to answer pertinent questions about his past with this king."

N'Jadaka flicked the off button for the tv. Yani placed it back on the nightstand.

"They've been sitting on this shit for a year. Been wondering when the C.I.A. would drop it in the court of public opinion. Of course that bitch pushes her upcoming book during the last leg of your international book tour. I bet all of your book sales that Everett Ross had a hand in being a ghostwriter for it."

"Will they connect me with your mercenary past? Klaue?"

"No. Klaue used aliases on St. Thomas."

"What if they ask you about how we met?"

N'Jadaka lifted a long braid from Yani's face and tucked it behind her ear.

"I was on vacation in paradise and met you…a beautiful island girl. We fell in love and that's all there is to it."

Yani kissed his lips gently and rolled back on her side. He curled around her and they snuggled for a bit. He whispered in her ear.

"I don't want you to worry about anything that woman said. They've been looking to smear me every chance they get. It doesn't take away from those who support and believe in us."

She nodded into his arm and he kissed her temple.

"These people can only speculate from afar. We'll always be ahead of them. The only thing I want you thinking about is how you'll look in that wedding dress when I see you walking down the aisle," he said.

"That woman on tv tried to make you look like a monster, but all of your achievements only made you look like a man they should praise."

"I came up out the mud and took my talents to the last place they expected. They're starting to see what Africa could become once I get these wars abolished. Africa has always been the center of the world. Once we get the rest of these colonial shackles off her feet, I'll make her flex."

"You sound like you want to be king of the motherland."

"Don't tempt me."

Yani glanced back at him.

"Would you do something like that?"

"No more talk about the world. The sun hasn't come up yet and the children are still asleep."

N'Jadaka smashed his lips against hers and hurriedly slipped his tongue in her mouth to hush more inquiries. Her watery mouth tasted of 7-Up that she must've snuck a sip of from the suite's mini-fridge. His mind slowed down the way it always did when he kissed her. The heartbeat thumps in his chest matched the speed of hers. His long locs fanned out around her face and his Golden Jaguar necklace claws grazed her throat. Yani hummed into his mouth while sucking his tongue and he gasped at the initial thickening of his dick.

Pulling away, he stared down at her face, taking in the wide round eyes with curling lashes that fluttered whispery kisses against his neck as he kissed her forehead.

"I hate when we're apart," he said.

"I know."

"I love being with you like this when the children are in the next room asleep and safe…when no one from the outside bothers us. I can have you all to myself…oohhh…."

Yani slid her hands down his chest and squeezed the growing bulge in his pajama bottoms. He leaked a growing spot of precum and she toyed with it through the silk barrier. Her fingers became sticky and slick. He groaned and murmured her name into her hair, lifting his body higher so he could watch her hand do wonders teasing his erection.

Resting against her, he slid his fingers across her chest, fondling her breasts through her gauzy nightgown top. He pulled down on it until her titties spilled out, the plump nipples feeling like fat grapes on his fingertips. Pinching and plucking at them gently, he played with her breasts until he was ready for more. He climbed above her and pushed his groin into her mound, the friction swelling his dick until it poked out of the waist band on its own. He tugged his pajama pants down and gripped the thick erection in his eager hand. Yani lifted off her gown and he pushed the covers back so he could see the blessed globes jiggle.

"Oh shit," he groaned.

He pressed the tip of his dick against her pierced clit and a glistening long thread of precum shined up her labia. Swiping the bulbous head back and forth, he smeared the clear fluid on her fat vulva like icing on a chocolate cake. Yani shifted her big thighs and her ass cheeks jiggled. He smacked the underside hard and the recoil from that position forced a heavy moan from his lips. She had gained weight. He knew her trip back to St. Thomas and Jamaica meant eating good childhood food, and his woman didn't miss nary a meal. It was a gift to him no doubt.

Kicking off his pajama bottoms all the way, N'Jadaka played with Yani's breasts and labia until he was ready to penetrate the pretty pink opening flashing at him. Yani turned on her side and he parted her labia with one fluid motion of his dick sinking deep into her. She whimpered at the stretching of her walls after a long absence.

"I won't go crazy, baby…I promise. Too many people close around," he huffed.

Her pussy accommodated his girth with a tight wetness he was accustomed to having mold like a second skin around his dick. All he could think of was President Mubiri ogling Yani's body, especially her ass. It looked so round and ripe in her dress. He thrust forward knowing that man would never know pussy as sweet and juicy as the one sheathing his exceptional length. Only kings deserved the clenching his dick received at that moment.

"Yani….dassit…baby…damn…"

He grit his teeth trying to keep from shouting. Lowering his head, he dropped his face into the back of her neck and muffled his vocal straining. In and out…her perfect gushy cavern squelched and he dug in deeper, wanting to hear the sounds of his balls smacking her ass.

"Fuck…girl…"

She arched her back and he smothered his body over hers, preventing her from taking control and making him nut too quick. His dick needed to marinate in her pussy. He held Yani's back against his chest and reveled in the snug pussy cradling his dick. Keeping still, he played with her clit without thrusting, making her indulge in the pressure off all that meat stuffed inside of her. She huffed into her pillow and wiggled her hips, but he kept her anchored against him without mercy.

"You miss Daddy's dick?" he asked.

"Yes."

She whimpered pitiful sounds and clawed the sheets, eventually wilting in his arms. His dick could stay hard for hours, the gift from the heart-shaped herb's power flowing through his blood. He rested in her walls for an hour, teasing her clit and whispering nasty things in her ear. She started crying from the delicate teasing of his fingers all over her jewel-pierced vulva for such a long time without release.

"You betta not cum until I tell you…okay?"

"Okay…okay…I can't take much more…"

She bit into his arm and the heat from her mouth made him chuckle. Yani sat on the edge of her orgasm. Her legs shook from the anticipation. He needed the slow revving from her to keep himself in check.

They shared a sex routine they always adhered to on their reunions since their year of living together in the palace. It was a way to protect her pussy from his veracity. He was never allowed to cum in her pussy first when they joined. It took too much out of her to handle him regularly, so he learned to control his first release and saved it for her submission to him on her knees. The king's affirmation was always a facial for his beautiful queen.

If Yani orgasmed too quickly first, he would head straight to pound town, spurting too much semen that always released the beast in him. Uniting their bodies in slow methodical build ups kept him manageable for her. As he resumed stroking her walls after the long delay of cockwarming, he kept tabs on his arousal levels. When it was time to shift the pace before he wore her down, he pulled his dick from her precious pink sanctuary. Yani scrambled off the bed to submit to his need for dominance.

He moved his legs over the bed and spread his thighs wider, giving Yani room to position her knees on the floor properly in front of him. She offered him her tits, smacking them together playfully, and he fondled a nipple, fisting his dick, and watching her big beautiful brown eyes stare up at him.

"I love you like this…looking up at me…yeah baby…open that mouth…stick out your tongue…yeah, just like that. You gon' let me fuck that pussy some more after this?"

She nodded, looking innocent and expectant.

"Sexy ass…" he hissed.

He bent down and kissed her and she sucked on his lower lip, tugging on the skin with her teeth. Pulling back he shoved his dick down her throat, the girth hallowing out her cheeks on both sides as she sucked and worked her neck. She smacked her lips against his tip, releasing it with a loud pop and a sliding of her tongue across her top lip.

"Suck dick so good…suck it some more…right there…let me stretch that mouth. Stop playing with it Yani, take that shit the right way…"

He reached out and softly slapped the side of her mouth and she gave him a sly grin and licked the underside of his thick ridge. He grabbed her hair then, yanking on the braids to remind her of her place. She hit that itchy sensitive part of his dick with the friction of her scandalous tongue. The thinnest part of the dermis seemed to rest there in that spot that gave her tongue-tip the secret combination to start making his dick leak with clear fluid again. His erection was like a rigid pole vault in her mouth and he was so ready to dismount with a fat nut. Yani hummed, and slowly licked along the sides of his dick. His breathing quickened to a pace that alarmed him. She was beginning to control him, making him react like a desperate man under her spell, and that was being disobedient. Her bratty behavior couldn't be corrected in the heat of her deep throating him. That would require major spanking and loud cursing. The last thing he wanted was for their children and security team to hear him curse a blue streak while spanking Yani's ass. She wanted him to hurry up and ejaculate so she could ride his dick and cum.

A surge of semen rose up through his balls. He slapped Yani again for putting a super charged gwak-gwak 3000 on him too soon. She became obedient again and squeezed his fat sack, staving off his release. He thought about letting her milk him and cumming in her mouth, but the decadent and demanding king wanted to paint her face with hot semen when he was ready. It was his way…he craved the ritual of it between them, and also because he knew a little secret about her.

He grinned slyly thinking about it.

Yani had been sneakily watching old videos of him with past lovers. Months earlier he had scanned old computers that he planned on destroying until his spyware cam detected unusual activity in secret files. The spycam revealed Yani's viewrship and he chuckled at the thought of her using him for her personal porn collection. He said nothing, and left the old computers where they stayed in their home, pretending to ignore them as old artifacts from his past life. The most viewed images were his cum shots on women's faces, and he clocked the intense looks of pleasure on her face when he did it to her. She loved submitting to him that way and it was a great help to their energetic sex life. Lovemaking wasn't as frequent as it used to be because their lives were so busy, but the intensity increased because of it.

Yani continued the arousing slow sucking. He watched her glossy plump lips slide back and forth across the top half of his dick. Her fawning eyes stayed locked on his, riling up his body because she made the act of dick sucking look so illicit. So pornographic.

Every now and then she would stop sucking and rubbed her lips back and forth across the mushroom cap creating a delicious tickling. His balls throbbed. She twisted her fingers around the head to give him new sensations, never once breaking eye contact. Yani knew how to chip away his defenses by giving off innocent vibes. She'd stay on her knees looking up at him with her big titties all out, nipples perky and offered to him like delectable appetizers. That look took him back to St. Thomas and the first time he ever touched her. His dick felt heavy between his legs. Thoughts of her back then being a little spitfire towards him ratcheted up his emotions for her in the present. In six days he would wed the most beautiful, cunning, and loving woman he had ever had to call his own. She latched onto him like a ride or die and he never wanted her to be that way ever again. She deserved better…she deserved more from him. His best. No, he would be a ride or die for her. Always.

He palmed her breasts and squeezed them. Lifted them up and down. Thumbing her nipples with wide circles, he listened to her breathy pants of pleasure. She stroked his dick. Yani would soon be the composed queen of a mighty nation in public, but at night, she would always be his nasty little slut…on her knees begging for Daddy dick to be stuffed in all of her orifices. That turned him on as he pushed her tits together. Her eyes were glassy. Lips pouted. She reached down and peeled back the wings of her inner labia giving him peek-a-boo glimpses of her wet pink. She needed his dick and slapped her pussy lips to ignite a wild fire in him.

"Taste mi," she purred.

Yani held up her wet fingers scented with her love and he licked them, opening his mouth wider so she could stuff three digits inside to paint his tongue with the dew. He swallowed her offering and she traced the shape of his lips with her own until the swollen skin on his lips itched for more.

"Killmonger."

Her moist lips pushed out the air to say that name. It ended him. He jumped to his feet and leveled the deep slit of his dick toward her cheek.

"Yani! Fuck! Fuck!"

Hollering out more expletives, a rush of thick hot cum splashed all over the side of her face. It dripped down to her neck in a sticky white deluge. He gulped for air and groaned to the ceiling.

Cumming on her face soothed the raging libido in N'Jadaka long enough for him to gather Yani in his arms and put her back on the bed. She leaned on her side again. Curling around her ass, he lifted her heavy thigh and pushed back inside her pussy.

"…fucking this pussy…."

He groaned and pumped, letting his lust take over, grateful he ejaculated on her face first because he would've broke her back if he hadn't. She took the pounding like a graceful queen, fully aware that he was lost in the pussy, her pleasure forgotten because her loving blotted out all of his senses. He took advantage of his selfishness because once she became queen, their sex life would switch over to ancient protocols that dictated that the queen had to cum first with her pussy being eaten before the king could even put his dick inside of her. Yani looked forward to that, and he plowed into her knowing that he had a week left to be a bedroom bully.

He smacked her ass cheek harder, talked his shit in her ear and knew his dick tugged on her labia long enough. The king pushed her onto her back and mounted her with one purpose: to hear her scream his name in his ear.

"Cum all over this big dick. Show me how much you love me."

Rocking into her, he held onto her bouncing tits and they both watched him pump long strokes into quivering walls. Her mouth fell open and he crushed her with his full weight. Her lips brushed against his ear and he waited to her that old name of his called out.

It didn't take long.

"Killmonger…Killmonger…fuck me…fuck me Killmonger…."

The silky muscular walls of her pussy squeezed around his dick in a constant flow of contractions that only added to his pleasure listening to her cry out for more. The ecstasy of her voice spiraled him out of his soul.

Hunched over her, N'Jadaka pressed his face into her pillow and roared into the cotton. His dick swelled inside of her and the intense throbbing rippled all the way to his anus and down the back of his ankles. He gasped like he was dying, mashing Yani's breasts into his sweaty chest and enjoying the rooted sensation of his balls throbbing and pushing out semen.

"Goddammit," he sputtered into her hair.

His eyes rolled back into watery sockets that blurred his vision. He rolled over and she climbed on top of him, breasts swinging in his face. Yani bounced on his dick and he thrust up to meet her passionate energy. He settled into sucking on her nipples and areola, letting her rock the bed with her own efforts. She gave him nurturing with the fucking, cooing to him and rubbing his locs.

"My man works so hard…you like your queen taking care of the royal dick, Daddy?"

He nodded, groaning at her soft accent and the way her pussy yanked on his dick with perfect timing. She went at his stiffness at the speed and depth that was comfortable for her and he submitted to whatever she wanted to give him. He watched the up and down movements and admired how shiny she made his dick. Her sticky wetness overflowed and made his lap slippery. The sounds of a fat ass smacking on his balls pleased his ears.

Yani leaned forward and her breasts covered his face entirely, smothering him in buttery softness like a fleshy curtain hiding him from the world. Grateful to be hidden inside her warmth, he relaxed into letting go of all of stresses, all of his problems, all of his worries. He let his queen carry him away to physical delights that poured life back into him. That's what she had always been for him. A life giver. A true goddess the way Tahir had called her.

He started hollering and Yani slammed her hand over his mouth. His heels pressed down into the mattress and his toes curled. Yani panted above him, her voice going up an octave as her second release ascended its peak.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming on your dick, Killmonger!"

She whipped her head back and forth. Arching her back, her nails clawed his chest.

"Oh, God….oh god! Killmonger…!"

He grabbed her arms and pressed her against his chest. Thrusting his hips upward, he forced Yani to take all the dick as her pussy contracted and milked every drop of cum he shot into her. Their cries of lust co-mingled into an ancient primordial release.

N'Jadaka's voice became hoarse and Yani cradled his face and kissed him, uniting all of their parts together. Her slow languid kisses centered him once more. He hugged her tight, his face mashed into her breasts, and she rubbed his head. They both could feel his stiff dick still throbbing inside of her.

"Can you take more?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Go to the restroom and come on back," he said.

He smacked her ass cheek and she climbed off of him.

Waiting for her to urinate and put special lubricants on her vulva and inside her vagina, N'Jadaka stretched his body. His dick fell back onto his stomach, the head pulsing and dribbling semen above his belly button.

"Fuck, I miss this shit," he said to himself.

Yani returned and they kissed. He licked a trail down to her pussy and pampered her with plenty of earned licks and kisses. The sweet odor of the lubricant she used to protect her womanly parts excited him. He blew a soft breath on her clit and the lubricant warmed up on her vulva adding more pleasure to their adult play time. The pale lighting of the sky heralded the new morning. Yani came in his mouth with her thighs covering his head.

Before the children arose to greet them, Yani rode his dick reverse cowgirl so he could watch the new weight of her backside gleam from the sunlight. Each time she rose up, he watched how tight her pussy gripped his dick. He kept quiet, swallowing his groans, nearly crying himself looking at how big her ass had gotten. N'Jadaka knew the weight gain wasn't from pregnancy. They had been apart since her last period, but he imagined how she would look with pregnancy weight. He liked her chunky and round like a butterball. Her weight had fluctuated over the last year, but it had settled down in the last two months until she did her book tour.

He watched the massive orbs of jiggly ass cheeks bounce on him. It was insane to have a body like that. But it was all his. Her voluptuous gifts belonged to him.

A new thought floated in his mind.

Part of the royal protocols meant that Yani wouldn't be permitted to take birth control during their wedding and honeymoon. Any child conceived during the first month of marriage to a royal couple was a sign of a prosperous future. The world was missing billions of people. Wakanda needed to repopulate. That meant she couldn't be on the contraceptive shots Wakandans used. She would already be weaned off of it to match the timing of their wedding.

He could get her pregnant right then and there.

Yani arched her back and wiggled her backside. She studied his face over her shoulder as she made love to him in the best way for him to admire her body. His dick seemed to get harder thinking about impregnating her before the wedding.

"Do that shit, Ma. Shake that ass."

Yani giggled and tossed her braids over her one side of her head and continued watching him watch her move.

"Look at all this ass…."

She reached back and lifted her ass cheeks for him, her light pink manicured nails looking lovely splayed out to tease him by digging into the ripeness of that bubble. He smacked her butt hard. They'd been fucking for three hours after the troubling news broadcast. He gripped the sheets admiring the dimpling in her backside. If she grew bigger back there during a new pregnancy, she would probably get stretch marks. Titties would get bigger too. He remembered what they looked like filled with milk and he rubbed his large hands all across both ass cheeks, sinking his fingers into the weight.

Sweat dripped down her body and pooled around the indentations on her lower back. She wound her waist teasing the tip of his dick before sliding back down, clapping her own cheeks for him. The woman knew how to keep him satisfied. He gripped her waist and kept her bounce steady. His balls ached to release. He already knew she was fatigued but kept going because she missed him so much and wanted to show off for him longer.

"Such a good girl, Yani. You took good care of this dick. I can't wait to put some more babies in this pussy."

His loose talk brought a glance back at him. Her pussy squeezed his dick with his baby talk. He laughed.

"You heard me girl. Might get you pregnant right now if you keep playing with me like this…shit. Get down for me…just like that. Arch that back. Yeah baby, givin' me that right triangle action…yeah, there it go…head all the way down…big ass up…"

N'Jadaka wistfully stared at Yani in the doggy position, her head to the side so he could watch her face while he smashed. He held onto her waist and pushed in. They had to hurry or else there'd be a pounding on the door with three sets of feet jumping up and down to get their attention.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Loud. So loud.

Perspiration dropped down from his face onto her spine. His kimoyo beads lit up bright yellow. Okoye was notifying him of incoming reports from Wakanda. He had an hour before the general came to him.

He groaned once Yani hit that spot on his dick with her pussy that felt like lips and tongue suction. The queen had skills that were mindblowing. She started cumming before he did so he rode her wave of pleasure, encouraging her to squirt all over him and fuck up the covers even more with all their fluids on the blanket. He pulled out and palmed her ass, holding the tip of his dick close to her entrance where he shot ribbons of heat all over her labia. Sitting back on his haunches, he admired the way her tight pink opening throbbed and glistened with his cum covering it. She moaned softly at his gentle fingering of the pretty mess he made.

He rubbed her booty and then helped her get under the covers. Kissing her forehead he wasn't surprised to see her drift away quickly from exhaustion. She knew more than anyone it would be some time before they could be like that again until their wedding night. Once back in Wakanda there would be a whirlwind of duties and ceremonial events for their betrothal march.

His dick finally went limp.

He showered and changed into a saffron yellow lounging tunic and slacks. Kora arrived on time to get the children up and ready for breakfast with the rest of the family. He kissed them goodbye and welcomed Okoye and Ayo into the suite.

"Sit," he said.

He poured himself fresh orange juice and nibbled at some breakfast pastries his personal chef sent down from the half cruiser floating invisibly above the hotel roof. Getting comfortable in a side chair, he watched the two Doras on the couch.

Okoye tapped her beads and ten pictures of African men floated above her wrist. She flicked the images above the hotel coffee table and N'Jadaka peered at each one with stern eyes. Each man came from various nations on the continent in service of genocide and predatory exploitation. Okoye tapped each image as she spoke.

"Angola, Congo, Rwanda, Uganda, Sudan, Nigeria, Central African Republic, South Sudan, Somalia, and Ethiopia. Each man neutralized as requested," Okoye said.

She gave him time to inspect the stats on each man's file report before swiping them away and bringing up targets in Eastern and Western Europe.

"Ukraine. Russia. England. France. Germany. Spain. Turkey. Italy. Norway. Sweden," Okoye said.

She went through all twelve countries in South America and ended with combined targets in the U.S. and Canada.

"Any blowback yet? Suspicions?"

Ayo spoke up.

"None kumkani. Each target was studied for months before our War Dogs acted. If there were pre-existing medical conditions, we exacerbated the problem. Others were set up with accidents or placed in precarious positions through threats of exposure. Several committed self-harm when faced with public humiliation," Ayo said.

The women led him through detailed intelligence. Yani eventually woke up and padded past a narrow hall in a long ivory robe to shower and dress. Okoye and Ayo didn't notice her.

"Kumkani, there is one more target," Okoye said.

She tapped her beads and Agent Everett Ross's image popped up along with his ex-wife, C.I.A. Director Valentina Fontaine.

N'Jadaka tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair.

"Since Nick Fury has been gone, Ross is our only reliable plant. I can't take any chances trying to turn anyone around from the inside. None of them can be trusted. Not even the Black ones," he said.

"We are on standby to neutralize them as soon as you give us word," Okoye said.

"I want Ross dead, but not until I've used him up. As long as he thinks he's cool with us, I'll string him along. We can use him to get intel on Fontaine. She's making waves in the intelligence community and they're still somewhat close from what we've gathered so far."

"He wants to meet with you before you leave," Okoye said.

"Nah. I have no desire to talk with him. Just tell him I'm busy with my nuptials and will be unavailable for a month. I'm honeymooning with Yani in Umbono Cove on the houseboat. I don't want to be bothered with anything. Ramonda will oversee everything in my absence. Understood?"

They nodded.

A knock at the entrance door brought them all into guarded attention. Ayo answered. N'Jadaka spotted an Onyx Squad captain standing next to Mpilo.

"Kumkani, sorry to disturb your meeting. I have a private message from the President of the United States," Mpilo said.

N'Jadaka waved the young man over to him. Mpilo handed him a thick beige envelope with the Presidential seal on it. He read the short message inside.

"The President would like a private meeting with me too before we leave," N'Jadaka said.

"Your schedule is under tight security. We would need adequate time to set up additional protective measures inside the White House," Okoye said.

"They don't want to meet at the White House."

"Where then?"

"Camp David."

"The American Department of Defense already has additional surveillance on us since our arrival in this country. Nothing we can't handle if they try something there," Ayo said.

N'Jadaka thrummed his fingers again on the armchair.

"They've set the meeting a day after Yani's television interview."

"Will you go?" Yani interjected from behind them.

Everyone lowered their heads to Yani. She stepped into the living room area dressed in a long cozy pocket dress with vivid colors that reminded him of Black Creek in Wakanda, the place where his parents were entombed. Her hair was elaborately wrapped in a matching headwrap. She took a seat at the small dinette table by the window where their morning meal was set up. Pouring herself fruit juice, she sipped and stared at him. N'Jadaka tossed the invitation on the coffee table.

"I don't want to be bothered," he said.

"I think you should go. At least see what he wants. You won't come here again for awhile and it's time that he gets to see you in an informal place. Maybe you'll catch him off guard without all the eyes here in D.C.," Yani said.

He considered it.

"Leave us," he said.

Mpilo, the Doras , and the Onyx Squad guard removed themselves from the suite. He joined Yani at the table and they fixed themselves plates of food and ate together.

"You really want me to go?" he asked.

Yani stuffed a small Wakandan red berry pastry in her mouth.

"I think President Matthew Ellis needs to see the man that frightens him so much. Think of it as a flex if you want," Yani said.

N'Jadaka grinned.

"And people out here think you're just some sweet faced beauty on my arm," he said. "That means I won't be able to travel back home with you and the kids."

She shrugged and sipped on more juice brought from their new homeland.

"It just means I get to miss you again and we can have another reunion in our bedroom back in Birnin Zana."

He widened his legs and patted his thigh. Yani left her seat and sat on his lap. He rubbed on her booty again and rested his head on her breasts.

"I want to be on a houseboat with you…naked. Making long slow love under the moon and stars."

"We will do that soon enough."

"A whole month, you and me…partially alone."

"Don't remind me. Riki has already complained that they don't get to join us until two weeks into our honeymoon."

"Man, two weeks off with just you and me. Yeah, you definitely getting pregnant Yani."

She slapped his arm.

"Stop putting that out in the universe. We said we'd wait two more years before trying…and trying is the operative word, sir. I'm not taking the man-made contraceptive shots as tradition dictates, but I am taking precautions."

She held up the bluish drink she sipped on.

"This was given to me by Umama. Two glasses a day and it inhibits any eggs from fertilizing. You can shoot up the club and I won't be penalized for forsaking tradition…technically."

"Alright then…practice getting pregnant is good enough for me."

"Aren't three children enough for you already for the time being?"

"Nah. I'm making a whole new tribe with you."

"Easy for you to say, I'm the one who has to carry your big babies."

"I'll be right by your side spoiling you every step of the way. You make pretty babies, Yani, and my family's genes are strong. They all gonna look like me."

He kissed her neck and let his full lips linger there.

"Tell me you love me, Yani."

She cupped his chin and raised it.

"I love you."

"Say it again."

He nuzzled against her breasts and she stroked his lengthy locs.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," she said above his head.

Closing his eyes, N'Jadaka listened to Yani's heartbeat and rested in her bosom of peace.

Chapter 2 HERE.

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[choicesmc]

Really quick drabble I wrote insprired by @jerzwriter [this post] It's not exactly a Valentine's fic but 😭 it was so fitting that I had to!! Will edit later for formatting stuff 👍 (im tired rn)

Title: Happy Valentine's, Hater Book: The Junior (i think) MC: Rin (you haven't properly met her yet!!) Words: 749

Rin chewed the butt of her cigarette. She sat in the corner of the cafe, wrapped in leather from head to toe. The lingering winter chill bit through the freezing leather, but even that was a welcome sensation. A sharp grin spread across her face as Rin flexed her fingers in front. She’d never thought she’d be able to tie up her loosest ends so neatly.  

Somehow, her mother had found her. Against every odd and prayer, Starla Bishop was going to saunter back into Rin’s life like she’d never left. Like she hadn’t abandoned Rin in an empty lot at thirteen while police swarmed the place where all the people Rin knew were being handcuffed one-by-one. 

The older parts of her remembered everything: the blue-red of police cars blaring through the windows, the shattered glass, the pain as she struggled to run alongside her mother. The setting anger as her mother’s back went farther and farther without her. 

And yet, the six year old in her only recalled her mother’s warm smile. Only remembered the occasional chunks of chocolate they’d share on special days. Only remembered the scant good things they were to remember about that wreck of a woman. 

The rest of her kept count of the colder ones, like unsettled debts. Her back remembered the sharp sting of cold, ragged sticks on dark nights. Her ears still stung remembering all the different curses Starla would hurl at her during the day. Her eyes still remembered the pure vitriol leveled at her with every action. Her heart still remembered each disparaging comment. 

So when Starla, voiced pleading –almost repentant– had begged to see Rin, even if just one day… Rin knew it was finally time to settle the score.

The cafe door chimed. 

Rin saw a cloud of grayed hair. 

She heard the clack of shoes against the wood floor. 

Before she knew it, there was her mother. The same height as her. The same smile as her. The same eyes as her. 

Unbidden comments from her childhood spilled into memory. There was a time Rin would sit up prouder after noticing another similarity between her and her mom. Now? The very idea made her itch for a lighter. 

Looking away, Rin gestured to the seat across from her. Tears tethered on the verge of falling, constricting her voice, “Don’t just stand there like a dumbass.” 

Starla’s hands reached out, showing off expensively decorated nails. Her voice was comforting, it was the tone of the mother who’d adored her baby. A voice that Rin could sparsely recall, “Oh sweetie…” 

Yanking away, Rin swatted at Starla’s hands. “Let’s get somethin’ straight,” she said, cold and hard, “you ain’t gotta right to touch me like that or call me like that, clear?” 

Starla nodded, the sort that was too practiced to be genuine, “I understand, Renee.” 

“The name’s Rin now.” 

“A shame, Renee was such a pretty name…” She trailed off, cautiously asking, “is it a nickname for Renee?” 

“No, ain’t want nothing with that name,” Rin responded, flippantly flicking her cigarette towards Starla, admiring when she flinched away, “and that includes you.” 

 Enough hurt painted Starla’s face that Rin felt bad. 

“Renee, sorry, Rin,” Starla said, only looking a little apologetic. Shifting forward, her voice grew thick, tight with tears, looking at her own splitting image glaring at her. “Know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“So? You did.” 

“I was young–” 

“You were thirty.” 

“I was dumb.” 

“I agree.” 

“I want to make things right with you.” 

“I know.” 

Starla perked up, “Rinny? You changed your mind.” 

“Rinny?” Rin repeated, “Who the hell’s that? My name’s Rin.” 

Starla flushed, “I thought it was a cute nickname.” 

“We ain’t close enough for that.” 

“I’m trying to fix that.” 

“I don’t think it’s broken.” Rin suppressed a snort, placing her cigarette back between her lips. She licked over the groove her teeth had made, standing up before she lost her nerve. Callously, she handed Starla a small gift bag. Barely bothering with a glance, she continued, “I wanna a clean break from you. I got you a little something for Valentine’s, in case you ever feel like talkin’ ta me again.” 

Pulling out the gift, she placed the small teddy in front of her mother. Each of its fur-covered paws held half of a broken heart. It wore a black shirt reading: Bye Bye! 

Rin didn’t stick around long enough to know what Starla said. If she said anything at all. 

[ohsalome]

Here is famous jewish-russian poet Iosyf Brodsky reading poem dedicated to Ukrainian proclaimation of independence (translated by Artem Serebrennikov, but without his commentary).

Brodsky is considered one of the geniuses of modern russian poetry. He has a number of awards (including the Nobel Prize), and he had to flee from the Soviet Union due to the fear of state presecution. So, you know, a classic russian liberal.

Dear Charles XII, the Poltava battle*

Has been fortunately lost. To quote Lenin’s burring rattle,

“Time will show you Kuzka’s mother”*, ruins along the waste,

Bones of post-mortem bliss with a Ukrainian aftertaste.

It’s not the green flag, eaten by the isotope*,

It’s the yellow-and-blue flying over Konotop*,

Made out of canvas – must be a gift from Toronto* –

Alas, it bears no cross, but the Khokhly* don’t want to.

Oh, rushnyks* and roubles*, sunflowers in summer season!

We Katsapy* have no right to charge them with treason.

With icons and vodka, for seventy years we’ve bungled,

In our Ryazan we’ve lived like Tarzan in the jungle.

We’ll tell them, filling the pause with a loud “your mom”:

Away with you, Khokhly, and may your journey be calm!

Wear your zhupans*, or uniforms, which is even better,

Go to all four points of the compass and all the four letters.

It’s over now. Now hurry back to your huts

To be gang-banged by Krauts and Polacks right in your guts.

It’s been fun hanging together from the same gallows loop,

But when you’re alone, you can eat all that sweet beetroot soup.

Good riddance, Khokhly, it’s over for better or worse,

I’ll go spit in the Dnieper, perhaps it’ll flow in reverse,

Like a proud bullet train looking at us askance,

Stuffed with leathery seats and ages-old grievance.

Don’t speak ill of us. Your bread and wheat we don’t need,

Nor your sky, may we all choke on sunflower seed.

No need for bad blood or gestures of fury ham-fisted,

Seems that our love is up, if it at all existed.

Why should we plow our broken roots with our verbs?

You were born out of earth, its podzolic soils and its herbs.

Quit flexing your rights and laying all the blame on us,

It is your bloody soil that has become your onus.

Oh, gardens and grasslands and steppes, varenyks filled with honey!

We’ve had greater losses before, lost more people than money.

We’ll get by somehow. And if you want teary eyes –

Wait ‘til next time, guys, this provision no longer applies.

God rest ye merry Cossacks, hetmans*, and gulag guards!

But mark: when it’s your turn to be dragged to graveyards,

You’ll whisper and wheeze, your deathbed mattress a-pushing,

Not Shevchenko’s* bullshit but poetry lines from Pushkin*.

For decades the conossieurs of russian culture has defended Brodsky and denied his authorship of the poem, until this video popped up in 2015. Oh but not russians tho, they don't deny it. They're proud of it! This particular translation I've found on an english website dedicated to popularisation of russian culture :) And of course it had a xenophobic comment expressing support of Brodsky and hatered towards ukrarinians ^)

So yeah, I think we have more than enough reasons to say that any person who claims that russian invasion of Ukraine came out of nowhere and/or that it was not motivated by xenophobia and imerialism towards ukrainians, is full of bullshit.

[context/references explained under the cut, buckle up for a long lecture]

Poltava battle was one of decisive clashes between Sweden and Russia during the Great Northern War. Initially Ukraine was fighting this war on the side of the russian empire as its vassal, but before the Poltava battle we switched sides. There were several reasons for this choice, among the most important - russian emperor breaking the treaty between the Hetmanate and Muscowy. Important context - the head of then ukrainian state, Ivan Mazepa, was very close to russian emperor - you could say, he was his father figure. Mazepa educated tzar Peter in European manner and helped him start the europeisation of the Muscowy. russians see this battle as a huge personal betrayal (the fact that Peter I betrated Mazepa first is always omitted, in russian culture, unlike ukrainian, the person higher than you on hierarchy doesn't owe you shit but has absoulte power over you). That was 300 years ago and russians are still salty about it. and Mazepa is probably the second most hated ukrainian historical figure after Bandera.

"Show you Kuzka's mother" - a phrase meaning "show them hell", famously used by the ussr general secretary Michael Khrushchev adressed to american politicians in 1959.

"Eaten by isotope" - reference to the Chornobyl nuclear disaster.

Konotop - a small city in Northern Ukraine, famous for the Konotop battle that happened between cossacks and muscowytes in 1659. In the modern russo-ukrainian war it became famous for witches that curse russian soldiers with erectile dysfunction. Interestingly enough, a "Konotop witch" has been a phenomena even before that, as refered in a short story of the same name by Hryhorii Kvitka-Osnovianenko, thus giving even more substance to the threat.

Toronto - canadian city, probably mentioned here due to the fact that many Ukrainians flead from the ussr to Canada, thus creating one of the biggest ukrainian diasporas in the world. Canadian ukrainians are known for being very politically active, publishing ukrainian literature at times when it was impossible to do so at home, and fighting soviet propaganda. As a result, Kremlin began a smear campaign painting all canadian ukrainians as nazis, which is effective till this day.

Khokhly - a common slur used against ukrainian. Most probably comes from old slavonic "xoxolъ" that means "bangs" and refers to the hairstyle typically worn by ukrainian men, that russians found funny.

Rushnyks - an embroidered decorative towel, used in home decor and some rituals [examples]

Roubles - russian currency.

Katsapy - common slur used against russians. They will want you to believe that the word comes from phrase "как цап" - "like a goat" and refers to the type of beard worn by russian men at old time, but this is purposeful misleading from the true origin of the word. Katsap comes from arabic "qassab", which means literally "butcher". A legend states that this comes from a single incedent when russian army, after promising to spare a city's residents if they surrendered peacefully, cut down every single person there. But different sources attribute this to different battles (some of which verifyably did not end with the city surrendering), so I don't think this can be bottled down to a single event.

Zhupans - a type of outer clothing popular in Ukraine and Poland [example, another example] Funny trivia - Word of Darkness tabletop universe used this word to describe a subtype of vampires from Eastern Europe, which is incredibly funny for me. Gimme mysterious british vampire warlocks called pullovers.

Hetmans - a military and political head-of-state in some medieval and Renaissance Eastern European countires, including Ukraine (known as Hetmanate back then).

Taras Shevchenko - perhaps the most influential ukrainian poet, artist, ethnografist and political figure, the metaphorical spiritual father of the country. His influence on the modern ukrainian culture is incomparable - half the things in Ukraine are named after him. He is also among the people who have the biggest number of monuments erected in the world - 1384. Taras Shevchenko's life story is extremely dramatic and deserves its own post - born in slavery, bought out of it thanks to his unique artistic talent, imprisoned for criticism of russian monarchy with an explicit ban on writing and painting, spent the second half of his life in exile. He wrote a lot about freedom and things we would call today anticolonialism and antiimperialism.

Alexander Pushkin - one of the "founding fathers" of russian literature, who is attributed with setting the standard of literary russian language. russians call him "our everything", but as far as I am aware he is hardly known outside the countries smeared by russian imperialism with the exception of some black classic literature fans due to being 1/4 black.

[codes]

small, dehydrated brain: Izumi is the Mad Hatter not in personality, but in his exploration of a role specifically meant to confuse the younger audience of the originating text. The Mad Hatter is a symbol of an authoritarian adult world and Alice grows frustrated with the confusing rules and standards of adulthood, highlighting its nonsensical nature against the growing industrialized London society in which children were meant to be seen and not heard. Where Izumi’s struggles with perfectionism and his dedication to be seen as more capable and responsible than how he truly feels, he fills the interesting role of desperately needing an external force to allow this comfort of expression yet various continuous pressures (both internal and external) from childhood have discouraged this. Izumi is both the younger audience of Alice in Wonderland that wants this freedom of childhood and the whimsical nature found within the Mad Hatter.

big, flexing brain: Mad HATER = Sena Izumi

[secularprolifeconspectus]

Radfems genuinely radicalized me into being pro-life. Like I would never considered myself really that pro choice, the closest was "I would never have an abortion but bodily autonomy or whatever", but it was the consistent vitriol I saw against pro lifers and any good-faith neutral party that actually made me change my mind.

Time and time again I saw pro-lifers sympathize and understand pro-choice arguments and women, but the same is never with those ladies. They refuse to even believe that anyone is truly pro-life. They consistently exercise intellectual stupidity with their reverse No True Scotsman.They insult them, call them women haters and compare them to rapist ,(ironically) murders and every dirty word in the book. They cheer when their pregnancy centers (both religious and secular ones) are attacked and bombed, and wonder why people think their sickos.

They are anti science. The statement 'Fetuses are human beings' isn't a pro-life 'arguement' it is literal fact. The fact they read it as some charged statement says much about them. It's really rich for a group of people that constantly tell trans people they are ignoring 'basic biology'

Their ideology also supports femicide and eugenics. Do you know the amount of times I've seen radfems on this god forsaken sight say "pro-choice always!Even that means ableist women who were a 110% willing to have a child until they found out they might have down syndrome"? Like newsflash, that's Eugenics! Systems of oppression are built off individual actors, and a society that normalizes killing the disabled, even if unborn, is an Eugenicist one. If that makes you uncomfortable, then good! One even defended sex selective abortion against girls "if that what the mom really wanted". It's so funny to see a group people that constantly hammer that people's individual actions do not exist in an apolitical vacuum, but to even imply that a country that encourages people to kill their disabled fetuses will have some negative societal consequence on disabled people as a whole will make them explode.

These women are some of the most morally spinless and heartless people I have ever encountered on the internet. They think killing the unborn is a flex tape for women's oppression. They fully support genocide as long as it's women doing it. They are as violent and bloodthirsty as the men they piss and shit about constantly. It takes so much strength for me everyday to realize that they are not representative of the average pro-choicer.

Pro-lifers have genuinely given a more understanding and rational look upon the abortion debate for both sides of it, than any pro-choicer, let alone radfems,has.

So this is a really long about way of saying thank you. Both to you (as well as Pro Birth and Life Advocate Feminist! Those two were literally eye opening!) and to Radfems. So sorry for dropping all of this on you, it has just been eating me on the inside for weeks and I think I finally just hit my breaking point.

Right on! The preborn are people and that fact is a threat to the people who wish to hold power over them. Thanks for the submission!!

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don’t Go Blindly Into The Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus @i-need-help-this-is-my-obsession @devoted-people-hater

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: implied past sa references, ptsd, death, violence, injury

AO3 link

Chapter 63 - Inej

“And you spoke to Bolliger?”

He’d already asked her that. Inej nodded, glancing at Kaz from her perch atop his windowsill. She’d pushed it slightly open and the wind was loud beyond the pane, cold on her skin where it rose as though creeping into the room like the tentacled sea creature of a bedtime story. It was almost enough to tempt her into closing it. Only almost, though. 

“He agreed,” she said, her voice lilting in the air, “Twelve bells?”

“Twelve bells,” Kaz nodded. 

He sat behind his desk, though he didn’t appear to be doing much work. They were both a thrum of nerves, she knew, for the parley that would take place in just a few hours; they were just both too good at hiding it, as well. Kaz had few tells that she had noticed, but since she came in he’d read the same page three times so either he hadn’t looked at it for the first two, it would have been stored inside his head with a bear glance, or he wasn’t actually reading it at all. He glanced down again, and Inej felt inclined to believe the latter even as he turned the page. His dark eyes, catching glimmers of sunlight as they moved down the page, were almost glazed in their unfocus. Inej found her gaze tracing the shape of him where he sat, as though she were etching him into place to last forever. He flexed his free hand and reached without looking for where his cane was leaning against the desk next to him, wrapping his gloved fingers over the ornate crow’s head. 

“You shouldn’t go,” Inej blurted, unexpected even to herself. 

Kaz looked up slowly, his jaw set, one eyebrow slightly raised, his eyes deep and dark and endless. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” she breathed, cursing herself internally and trying to restrain the disturbing quake that seemed to be trying to push its way into her voice, “It’s a trap,”

“This is the way Per Haskell wants it,” he said, simply, “And if you think there’s a trap that can hold me, then I’d have to say I’m disappointed in the lack of attention you’ve been paying,”

Inej didn’t bother to contain her huff of frustration as she hopped down from the window. She landed on the balls of her feet, bobbing herself briefly back and forth to test the pain in her leg. Non-existent. Nina ought to be proud of her work. 

“It doesn’t matter whether it can hold you if you’re dead,” 

Kaz gave her a short, coarse laugh, but Inej felt no humour in return. The Black Tips weren’t playing a game, and they would be well-prepared for the meet tonight. 

“Go to the safe house and see if you can get anything more out of her before tonight,” said Kaz, tracking her with his eyes as she crossed towards the door, “and tell Jade to be on alert in case the Black Tips try anything whilst we’re distracted by the parley,”

“Do you think-?”

“It’s unlikely,” the low burn of his voice grated in the air, the scraping of stone against stone, “but let’s not make Jeluna and Elodie pay for that assumption,”

Inej said nothing as she paced towards the door, her ears tuned in to the tiny irregularity in Kaz’s breathing until it swung shut behind her and she reached the top of the stairs. For the briefest moment she paused, tracking the sound of Kaz’s cane and footsteps. It took a moment for her to figure out what he was doing, but then the soft thud of the window closing reached her ears and Kaz’s footsteps traced slowly back towards his desk. Inej shook her head, then kept walking. 

The safehouse wasn’t too far from the Slat even by the streets, but carrying herself up a drainpipe and over the rooftops to reach it as the crow flies made Inej’s journey even shorter. She felt the slightest, brief twinge of pain behind her knee as she sprang up onto the tiles, but it died down within moments and didn’t bother her again. As the building came into view ahead of her, Inej’s mind quickly flicked through the best approach - she'd be fastest going in above, but she couldn’t go into the flat directly and if she came through a window into a hallway she might risk someone seeing her. She also wasn’t sure where Jade had stationed herself; in the corridor upstairs or nearer to the entryway below. So, instead of her usually preferred method, Inej slipped down the side of a building two streets away and approached the safehouse from the ground. 

She wondered if anyone was watching her. It was a disconcerting feeling, and one she was less comfortable coping with than she would have cared to admit. If Riesen had Black Tips watching the safehouse, trying to prove Jeluna was there so they could damage the Dregs and strengthen their relationship with Kaatje De Waal in one fell swoop, would they even hesitate to pounce on her? I ain’t offering that bitch terms anymore. Inej’s hand drifted to her knives as she glanced in every conceivable direction. Would they attack her right here, out in the open? How many could she take on alone? She wanted to believe they were no match for her, but one thought too many and she was pinned against the paving slabs all over again, Oomen’s body pressed against her own, the press of the blade into her thigh, the panic rising and claiming her senses as its own. 

She could still feel Liesbeth - Lizabeta - in her arms. Her eyes, the fear that lived inside them and danced like a roaring, endless flame, had bore deep inside Inej and found purchase; she could not imagine it ever relinquishing its hold. Inej remembered looking up at her, seeing the trace of tears that trapped within them a mixture of candlelight and moonlight, stars trapped in a looking glass. 

The Black Tips knew what she had done. Inej knew what she had done. It didn’t matter that Lizabeta’s knife was raised above her heart. It didn’t matter that she had held her as she died. It didn’t matter that she had let her hear her name again, or that she’d let a Saint’s tale carry her into the next world as though she were telling her a bedtime story. None of it meant anything. She was still dead. Inej had killed her. 

She had been so scared. Of him? Of everything? She had been terrified. And Inej had murdered her. 

Someone could be watching her. Inej a nervous prickle in her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck raising to alert. Would they kill her, out here beneath the distant, yellow moon? Or would they drag her back to Riesen, so he could finish the job for himself?

No. She wouldn’t let that happen. If the Saints had decided that Inej owed her life for Lizabeta’s, she would at least die here: in the open air and beneath the sky, with the stars above her and the wind in her hair. She would die on her feet with a knife in her hand. 

“Wraith?”

Inej spun; the blade was out of her hand and hurtling through the air before she’d even had time to lay eyes on her target. 

“Saints!” Jade swore loudly, throwing herself back around the corner she’d just emerged from so that Inej’s knife made clattering contact with the bricks instead of her head. 

If someone had asked Inej what the most typical Kerch girl she could think of would look like, she would have pointed to Jade. But despite having been born in Zierfort to two Kerch parents and spending her first year in the Ketterdam Zelvar District, Jade had lived almost all of her twenty three years in the Wandering Isle, only having returned to Kerch a few months ago. It was often quite jarring, particularly if you didn’t know her well, for tall, blonde, Ketterdam poster girl Jade to speak with a stronger Kaelish twang to her accent than half the girls working at the Emerald Palace could’ve managed if they’d tried. 

“It’s me, for Saints’ sakes,” she grumbled from the other side of the wall, waiting for silence to fall and no more knives to fly at her before she stepped back out into the street, “What’s the matter with you?”

Inej caught hold of her breathing as Jade picked up her knife and held it out for her to take, giving herself a harsh internal shake. 

“I thought you’d be inside,”

“Dirtyhands said to stay out of sight,” Jade told her, “I’m just watching the building, seeing who comes and goes, all that. You alright?”

Inej felt her spine straighten, apparently of its own accord.

“Fine. Kaz wanted me to tell you to stay alert during tonight; he thinks there’s a chance the Black Tips will try to make a move on the safehouse during the parley,”

Jade nodded, one hand drifting as though to play with her hair before remembering it was neatly pinned into its updo; her fingers danced for a moment before she began to play with her earring. The earrings, Kaz had told Inej barely two days after Jade had joined the Dregs, were steel replicas of real silver ones that he’d seen on the black market not two months ago. Inej had not been able to help raising an eyebrow - no-one would have described those earrings as small, nor subtle, and if Jade had gone to the trouble of having replicas made before she flogged her own they must have meant something. Or maybe she didn’t know - Inej didn’t know exactly what had happened for Jade to end up slumming it with the Dregs, but apparently whatever money her family had once had was now run dry. Whoever she’d lived with in the Wandering Isle might have sold her earrings and swapped them for replicas without telling her a long time since; they could have coincidentally made their way to one of Kaz’s contacts in more recent timing. Now, Inej watched Jade twist the edge of the metal for a moment and then let her gaze drift to her pinned up hair. She wore it like the merchant wives did. 

“Just me?” she asked, and Inej could tell she was hiding her nerves.

Inej hesitated. It might make sense to get more feet on the ground over here, but if the Black Tips hadn’t already been on to them at the safehouse then setting up a full guard around it would definitely get them talking. And besides, they didn’t need the neighbours running for the stadwatch when half the Dregs showed up on their doorstep. 

“Just you,” she said, “Maybe Milo, or one or two of the others, if I can get hold of them, but we don’t want it too busy out here,”

She glanced up towards the window behind which Elodie and Jeluna were staying. 

“We don’t want to attract attention,”

Jade nodded. 

“Alright,” she smiled, dropping her earring, “You going to the Exchange, then?”

“I will be,” Inej’s hand drifted towards her knives, “I have a job to finish upstairs first. Keep an eye out,”

She began to walk towards the apartment building, but Jade called after her:

“Can I - What’s he keeping up there? What’s he doing?”

Inej paused, looking back over her shoulder. The wind tugged at her hood, playing with the loose pieces of hair at the front of her face. 

“Believe me,” she said, “I wish I knew,”

[foxymoxynoona]

You know, if I had a nickel for every time BTS made me stop listening to them due to their actions- I’d have 2 nickels. Which isn’t a lot- but it’s weird that it happened twice. Neither of these occurrences are recent so feel free to ignore this but I need to rant because I found out about it last night and it hasn’t left my mind since. And I’m ranting to you because you seem to have a pretty strong moral compass and you seem to be able to handle some bad stuff and I respect you. Also if I were to post this on my main- I’m afraid that some ARMYs would doxx me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Anyways this’s got me all in a huff bc last night I found out that during the period I stepped away from supporting them (originally because they worked with Nikki Minaj while she was actively defending her brother who raped his 11 year old stepdaughter. Here’s the link to an article about it, should you want to know more: https://www.essence.com/celebrity/child-rape-trial-begins-nicki-minaj-brother-jelani/. I know now that this was probably less their decision and more their companies but I was also 17 when this info came out and I’m happy that I stuck to my guns then, but I digress) that yoongi fucked up and he fucked up big time.

Anyways- during 2020, when he was releasing his second mixtape, he and two other producers thought it would be a good idea to sample one of Jim Jones’ sermons. And I say him because at the end of the day he’s the artist; it’s his name this will all come back to. Not only that but you have to pay a LOT of money to get any of Jim Jones’ sermons/speeches when you’re not using it for educational purposes (for example in a true crime documentary or a podcast). You have to hunt to get that shit, and it’s not like there’s a lack of information about Jonestown available. This isn’t to say that you can’t employ the words of bad people in media- but you’ve got to do it right. An example that comes to mind is post Malones (not that I’m a big fan of his but he has a catchy song every now and then) song “Jonestown.” Granted, that song still feels icky but Malone demonstrates a knowledge of what happens and that he’s invoking it for a reason. Yoongi doesn’t do that. He picked a soundbyte from a mass murderer and decided to add it to a track that had nothing to do with the context behind the clip. There was no purpose, there was no reference to the harm done during the song. It was a song about “flexing on his haters.”

What he did was stupid. Plain and simple. Because either 1: he didn’t check the source (and he’s notorious for producing his own stuff so this is on him either way) for a soundbyte in a language he doesn’t speak fluently. If this is the case, it reeks of a rookie artist which yoongi is not. He’s seasoned and BTS had been in enough controversies during their early years to know that they should research.

Or 2: he knew and he didn’t care. Unfortunately, due to some comments made after the song was initially released, this seems pretty likely (ie: saying that he was using it because Jim jones was racist to Koreans. Which Jim Jones was known to be racist via a white savior complex and it was mostly focused on black and brown people during the civil rights movement but that still doesn’t have anything to do with the context of the song. It feels like a lazy excuse because he liked the aesthetic of the soundbyte).

But you know what, everyone fucks up now and then. You don’t know what you don’t know- but you can help repair the damage after gaining insight. And the best place to start that process is with an apology, right?

Apparently not, because while bighit released a statement in Korean and not on their main profiles (which is an odd choice because it seemed like it was mostly western fans upset at the usage). Despite saying that they vet the sources seriously, somehow they let this one slip through. You can’t have it both ways; you either vet it or you let stuff slip. And that yoongi was “embarrassed.” If he’s embarrassed he can say that himself. He was 27 at the time, which is far old enough to know better and to be able to take responsibility. In fact, it would probably get him a lot of brownie points if he humbled himself, but he didn’t. He stayed quiet and that was what really set me off.

These are grown men. Adults- Jin was in his late teens to early 20s when they debuted. They’re not stupid- they’re UNICEF reps for gods sake. Yoongi should’ve known better and the group isn’t in the precarious position they were in when they had their first controversy over Namjoon wearing a Nazi cap. That’s when you let your company protect you. This is not like that. I’m sick of the fan base treating these adults like they can’t think for themselves and that they should be protected from the harm they’ve caused.

So that brings me to why I’m telling you all of this as well as how I found this information out 4 years after the fact. It was through a meme. You know that one that’s used mainly for FICTIONAL characters that are evil but well loved (read: hot)? It’s the “my little meow meow” one. So one of the first uses, if not the first use, was an ARMY using it to defend Yoongi’s actions. Why they thought this was appropriate, I don’t know. But that’s what it’s from.

Now why am I telling you this? Well i know that you joined the fan base in like 2021, right? So this would’ve passed you by theoretically. And if I knew that someone I supported fucked up pretty massively, I’d want to know about it. This is also a reminder (not necessarily to you but to the fan base as a whole) that these are men. They fuck up and they don’t need you to defend them. We don’t know them, we have an idea of who they are in our heads but that image is incredibly manufactured. Fanfic and fan art aren’t as serious because they have personas they put on for the camera. But when it comes to posting about the members and sort of glorifying them (again, not you directly but I feel like this could start an interesting conversation) it feels like you’re letting the harm go unnoticed

Anyways that’s my rant. I feel better now. Again, feel free to ignore this. I just trust you with the info because you’re an adult and you seem to show a lot of compassion and a good moral compass not only through what you post on here, but also through what you write

I am actually aware of this and also felt severe disappointment because what I know of it seemed like an example of creatives hyping themselve up and doing something "edgy" without thinking of the real world response, then hiding behind a smokescreen to protect the artist. The apology didn't feel like there was accountability --unlike Namjoon's response many years ago the response to I think War of Hormone and sexism where he went to learn more and self reflect.

There is definitely this harmful cycle that can happen with celebrities where people are willing to forgive them for just about anything, and in turn they are surrounded by people who enable them to drift further from reality and do things that are less acceptable. I have worked with the music industry for 14 years, I cannot emphasize how many hours i have spent debating whether we should/should not work with this or that artist, whether what they did was bad enough to refuse, who has a right to draw those moral boundaries, etc. It's distressing how much of the industry have done really regrettable things --and that's just the stuff we know about. The profits enabel it.

Everyone has to decide for themself what the limits and application of their morality are, who they choose to support and in what fashion. Supporting someone doesn't mean you can't be critical of their mistakes, and everyone has their own line of "I admrie this person but they fucked this up and I want to see evidence of them doing better" and "I absolutely cannot support this person any longer."

Personally, I do think Yoongi learned and grew from this experience becuse while I don't admire that the self reflection was not public in a way that felt sincere, I don't think I've seen repeat behavior since that incident years ago. Could I be wrong about that? Totally. We make the best choices we can with the knowledge that we have.

That meme use is inappropriate and I don't doubt that there are always plenty of folks who are unbothered by what another person considers an egregious behavior. I think that's what you meant about glorifying, those who act like the people they admire can do no wrong. It does both ourselves and the artists and the whole value of "famous" people a disservice: they like us can make mistakes they learn and grow from, and we can learn and grow alongside them, but the hard part for them is that their mistakes are incredibly visible. I don't envy them that.

I'm glad it made you feel better to get this off your chest! And I'm touched that you consider me a safe place to vent your feelings to 😊

[fiercemillennial]

Vanessa Williams Shuts Down Body Shamers With Timeless Elegance

Vanessa Williams is a timeless icon who reminds us that true beauty comes from within. Let's celebrate aging gracefully and shut down the haters! #FierceMillennial

The iconic actress reminds us that aging gracefully is the ultimate flex. Vanessa Williams, the multi-talented actress, singer, and former Miss America, recently found herself at the center of unwarranted criticism after sharing photos from a glamorous event. Trolls took to social media, accusing her of undergoing plastic surgery and commenting on her appearance with unsolicited remarks…