#caftans for females

[indiatrendzs]

Bohemian tunics, cotton tunic tops

VISIT OUR ONLINE STORE AT MOGULINTRIOR WALMART Bohemian tunics, cotton tunic tops, embroidered silk tunics are the zen of conscious fashion. Embellished tunic tops, tunics kurta shirts are synonymous with bohemian style. Long Indian tunics with side slits or the short hip length kurta with chikankari embroideries worn with denim shorts and knee high boots, are a country festival style. Bohemian…

[museblooms]

desert magic 🌵🌸✨ made for New Crop Shop 08/30/17

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Fashion History

to try to include in your poem/story (pt. 2/3)

Exomis - a short, asymmetrical wrap garment pinned at the left shoulder, worn by men in Ancient Greece

Eye of Horus - or Wedjat eye, is an ancient Egyptian symbol that represents the eye of the falcon-headed god Horus and symbolizes healing and regeneration and was often worn for protection

Faience - a man-made ceramic material that was often used in ancient Egypt to make jewelry and devotional objects; it is usually a blue color

Falling Band - a flat and broad white collar often with lace on the edges, worn by men and women in the 17th century

Fibula - served as a pin to both hold garments together and to show status of those with prestige or power within society; was popular in Greek culture

Fichu - a triangular shawl, usually worn by women, draped over the shoulders and crossed or fastened in the front

Fontange - a linen cap with layers of lace and ribbon, worn flat and pinned to the back of the head

French Hood - a rounded headdress for women that was popular in the 16th century (from 1540)

Frock Coat - a collared man’s coat worn through the eighteenth to the twentieth century; rose to prominence mainly in the nineteenth century, especially Victorian England; characterized as a knee-length overcoat, buttoned down to the waist, that drapes over the lower half of the body like a skirt

Frogging - ornamental braid or cording that can function as a garment closure, or be solely decorative

Gabled Hood - a woman’s headdress that is wired to create a point at the top of the head and has fabric that drapes from the back of the head

Gigot Sleeve - a sleeve that was full at the shoulder and became tightly fitted to the wrist; also called leg-of-mutton sleeve

Guipure Lace - a type of continuous bobbin lace made without a mesh ground; its motifs are connected by bridges or plaits

Himation - a rectangular cloak wrapped around the body and thrown over the left shoulder worn by the ancient Greeks

Huipilli/Huipil - a woven rectangular shirt worn by women in Central America beginning in ancient times

Jerkin - a close-fitting men’s jacket, often worn for warmth, sometimes without sleeves; worn over a doublet in the 16th and 17th centuries

Justaucorps - a long-sleeved, knee-length coat worn by men after 1666 and throughout the 18th century

Kaftan - (also caftan) is an ancient garment, which originated in ancient Persia but then spread across Central and Western Asia; a kind of robe or tunic that was worn by both men and women

Katazome (stencil printing) - a traditional Japanese method for printing designs onto fabric using a stencil and paste-resist dyes

Kaunakes - one of the earliest forms of clothing; made from goat or sheep’s wool and meant to be worn around the waist like a skirt, it is recognizable by its fringe detailing

Kente - a Ghanaian strip woven textile that has striped patterns and bright colors with corresponding meanings

Knickerbockers - or “knickers” are full or baggy trousers gathered at the knee or just below and usually fastened with either a button or buckle; were initially worn by men in the late 19th century and gradually became part of women’s fashion; the garment was usually worn as sportswear and became especially popular among golfers and female cyclists, hence the term “pedal pushers”

Kohl - a black material made out of minerals such as galena and used for eyeliner and eye protection in ancient Egypt

Labret - a type of lip-piercing worn by various cultures to indicate wealth, prosperity and beauty

Love Lock - a lock of hair from the nape of the neck hanging over the chest to show romantic attachment; it was a popular hairstyle between 1590-1650

Lurex - a shiny synthetic fiber made of aluminum-coated plastic with a glittering metallic sheen

Mantua - a jacket-like bodice with pulled back overskirt that bustled in the back, often in elaborately patterned fabric, first worn in the 17th century

Medici Collar - a collar that stands upright on the back of the neck and opens in the front; this type of ruff was introduced to France by Marie de’ Medici in the 16th century, taking her name two centuries later

Moccasins - a type of soft animal skin shoe that were worn by Indians in North America

Muff - a tubular padded covering of fur or fabric, into which both hands are placed for warmth

Mule - a backless shoe

Muslin - a simple plain-weave textile made out of cotton and available in varying weights and finishes; historically, there were also varieties of muslin in silk and wool

Needle Lace -often known as “needlepoint lace”; is a term referring to the technique in which the lace is made of entirely needle work; it developed in the 15th century and then became very popular throughout the 16th century

Nemes Headdress - starched, striped linen headdress that draped on the shoulders and had a tail at center back worn only by royals in ancient Egypt

Panes/Paning - a method of decoration using long parallel strips of fabric arranged to reveal a contrasting fabric underneath that was fashionable from the 15th-17th centuries

Panniers - an under-structure used in eighteenth-century fashion that created a shape wide at the sides and flat at the front and back

Pantalettes - (also referred to as pantaloons) are loose, pants-like undergarments that covered women’s lower halves in the late 18th and early 19th century

Particolored - the combination of different colors within the same garment along the vertical axis

Passementerie - an additional accent or embellishment in silk or metallic threads, such as an embroidered braid, tassel or fringe

Pattens - wooden-soled platform over-shoes, which were commonly worn from the 14th century to the 18th century

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Fashion History More: Word Lists

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 2

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader, minor Colin Shea x Female Reader

Word Count: 5418

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking, explicit language, bad boyfriend, self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. The reader's having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: We're back! I so enjoyed writing this part. I hope you like reading it! Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you thought will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You were stretched out on one of your lounge chairs by the pool, sunglasses perched on your head, wearing a bikini with a sheer coverup draped over your shoulders and an aperol spritz in your hand as you tried, for the third time, to get through this script.  It was unbelievably dull. And the female lead was barely a person. You were clearly wrong for it. At least ten years too young, for a start. But your agent, Wilford, was insistent that you read it. Some up and coming guy was attached to it and apparently, he could be ‘talked into you’ for it. And as Wilford always said, “It’s not what it is, it’s what it represents.” So you would read it. And you’d tell him why you didn’t like it, and he’d talk you into it anyway. Same as it ever was.

  You heard the door to the patio open and close. Michelle and Curtis had both been out doing who knows what and now you figured one of them was back and needed something from you. You’d been grateful to have the time on your own after a few days of Curtis’s careful glances. You didn’t remember exactly what you’d said or done after your fight with Colin outside the club, but you woke up with the feeling that you’d said something to Curtis and the way he’d watched you since seemed to confirm it. But he hadn’t said anything, so you hoped that you hadn’t embarrassed either of you too much.

When you looked up, it wasn’t either Curtis or Michelle who was standing on your deck.

“Mom!” you said. You blamed your shock for the fact that the next words out of your mouth were “Who let you in?” She was supposed to go through Michelle if she was going to visit, give a few days notice, let you prepare yourself.

“Who let me in?” she asked, aghast, her Chanel bag swaying aggressively from her arm. “That’s how you greet your mother? Who let me in?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice small. You were not prepared for this today. “I was just surprised.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You and your rules. Well, if you must know, it was the young man with the goatee and muscles. I don’t think I’ve seen him before. He’s not nearly as rude as the other people that work for you.”

“He’s new on my security team. His name’s Jensen.”

She waved dismissively at that. Of course she wouldn’t be bothered to remember. She sat down on the lounge chair next to yours and fanned her long, floral caftan out around her. “I bet you don’t give your father this runaround.”

Your father only ever called you on your birthday and at Christmas, content to live with his new family in Utah and only drop your name when it could get him something. So technically no, you never gave him the runaround.

“Well, how are you darling?”

“Um,” you bit your lip. Conversations with your mother always felt like a game you didn’t know the rules to. “Fine, I guess.”

She hummed in affirmation. “You’ve been all over the gossip sites.”

You groaned. “You shouldn’t look at those. It’s all bullshit.”

“Well, maybe if my daughter called me occasionally, I wouldn’t have to resort to a google alert to see how she’s doing. People on deux moi are saying you’re rude to your fans. And then there are reports of you fighting in clubs with your boyfriend.”

You shrunk in on yourself. Michelle did her best to keep all that away from you, but you still knew how people talked about you. “I told you. It’s all bullshit,” you mumbled.

“Well, it’s not the sort of reputation you want to have.”

“I know,” you said weakly. 

“Whatever happened to that other boy you were seeing? What was his name? Jimmy? With the snowboard? I liked him”

“Johnny? I haven’t talked to him in, like, a year,” you said. She’d only met him in passing when you’d unexpectedly run into her at a restaurant opening. It’d been right in the middle of the one month you’d dated him.

Your mom scoffed. “Well, who can be expected to keep up, with how quickly you go through them?”    

You clenched your fists where they rested on your thighs. This was just how she was. Feeling hurt by her never did any good. “Why are you here, Mom? Do you need something?”

“I’m here because I am your mother and I want to have a relationship with you, even though you don’t seem to want one with me. But,” she paused and you fought the sinking feeling in your stomach, “now that you mention it, Luka and I are going to France next week and what you’ve given me for the month just isn’t going to cover it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. Of course this was about her allowance. “Mom,” you said, focusing on the part of her request that didn’t have anything to do with your money, “who is Luka?”

Her face went hard. “You would know who he is,” she said, “if you ever listened to me. You’ve always been so self-absorbed, you know that? You never think about anyone else.”

Your hand moved to grip the chair beneath you as you tried to take a deep breath. You were sure she’d never mentioned him before. You would remember. For all she gave you a hard time about dating around, she was just as bad, if not worse. The only difference was that her hookups didn’t get reported on. But you didn’t have the energy for the screaming match this would devolve into if you pointed that out, so you just said, “I’m sorry. I must have forgotten.”

“Sure,” she scoffed. “He’s someone who’s very important to me. And so is this trip.”

“You know I don’t control any of that. You have to go through my accountant.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, frustration bubbling over. “I already called him, obviously. He said you have to sign off on it first. It’s like you all think I enjoy having to come here and ask for money. When it was my hard work that got you all this.”

She loved to do this, bring that up. And you knew that she’d worked hard and sacrificed a lot. You did. She was the one who got you an agent and drove you to auditions and acting coaches and put your team together. But both your parents acted like you were just a doll that they’d placed in front of the cameras and then pulled your string to make you talk. You’d worked hard too and you were just a kid when you did it.

But, again, if you said any of that it would just start a fight and if you’d learned anything on all those sets as a child, it was that fights with your parents were to be avoided at all costs. You would never win. So you just said, “I know, mom. I know everything you’ve done for me. I’ll call him and tell him it’s fine.”

She started to brighten. “Today? You’ll do it today?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it today.”

She patted your knee and smiled warmly at you. You did your best to pretend that it didn’t feel like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “You’re such a dear,” she said. “We’re trying to get everything booked, so time is of the essence! Text me the name of the place you stayed last time you were in Paris. Your pictures were incredible!” She was getting up now, hoisting her bag back up her arm.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, disappointed despite yourself. 

“I’m so busy, honey, So much to do! But let me know as soon as you talk to him. And we’ll have dinner as soon as I get back, you, me and Luka! And you can bring your boy too! I want to try that new sushi place, down on Vine? They’re booked out for months, but I’m sure they’ll have a table for you!” Just as she was getting to the door back into the house, Curtis came out of it. He stepped out in front of her, narrowing his eyes, and pulling himself up to his full height. “Perfect timing,” she muttered, “your guard dog is here.”

“Mom,” you sighed.

She just rolled her eyes at you. “Calm down, it’s fine. He knows I’m joking. Don’t you, Carter?” You grimaced, but Curtis didn’t react.

“Ma’am,” he said, without any inflection at all. You could see her bristle at the address; she hated anything that reminded her that she was old enough to have an adult daughter. But she didn’t say anything else, just gave you one final wave and then moved past him into the house.

You took a deep breath, and then another, wrapping your cover up around yourself as tightly as you could. “Are you ok?” Curtis asked, startling you. He was closer now than you’d realized, standing right beside you. You’d never understand how a man that large could sneak up on you like that, but you were always surprised by the reality of him.

You shook your head and his brow furrowed. You shook it again, “No, I’m fine. I’m fine, it’s just–” you trailed off and shrugged. She always left you so jumbled. “It was fine.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said, sounding deathly serious. “Jensen’s been talked to. He knows better now. It won’t happen again, not without Michelle’s say so.”

You nodded and picked at your sleeve. “Do you think I’m awful?”

“Why would I think that?” he asked, his voice so soft.

You shrugged. “She’s my mom and I make her jump through all these hoops just to see me.”

He nodded slowly and stared out over your pool. “I think,” he started, but then paused for a moment. “I think that you aren’t the kind of person who would just do that for the sake of it. I can’t imagine you ever being that spiteful. If this is something you need, then there’s a reason for it.”

He did that sometimes, made statements about your character that left you reeling, that made you wonder about the person he saw when he looked at you. It always seemed so different from the person you saw in the mirror. 

You looked up at him, but he was still focused somewhere on the horizon. You were struck by how beautiful he was, as the sun shone down on him. His broad form, immaculate stubble, long lashes. You tried to think of him as just the wall of muscles that protected you from the world, but it was getting harder every day to ignore the ineffable Curtis-ness of him. He was so much, too much.

“What’d she want?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Money, like always.”

“You ever think about saying no?”

You shook your head. “She’s not wrong when she says she sacrificed a lot and worked hard to get me here. She did. I wouldn’t be here without her. If this is what she wants from me,” you shrugged, “I feel like I should give it to her.” 

He hummed at that and went quiet again. You looked down, went back to picking at the thread on your sleeve. After several moments, he said, “I think if you looked at all the sacrifices you made to get yourself here, and everything you’ve already done for her, you might see that you come out more even than you expect.” He finally looked back at you and nodded to himself. “I’ll leave you alone now. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

As he walked back into the house, you felt like your skin was too tight. You tried to shake it off and grabbed your phone. It was too quiet. You needed something to distract you. You pulled up Colin’s contact and sent a quick I want to see you text. Then you threw your phone on the lounger, shrugged off your cover-up, and dove head first into the pool.

When Colin showed up a few hours later, he was on you immediately, pulling you out of the pool and back over to the lounge chair where he settle you between his legs. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he breathed into your chest as he laid back, bring you with him. When you resisted, he sat up, pushing his face into your neck and starting to trail kisses along your collar bone.

“Colin, it’s been a weird day,” you said, trying to push him down. Instead of backing off, his lips found your chest, just above your bikini. You tried again to slow him down. “Hey, hold on. Come on. I’m trying to talk to you. My mom stopped by out of the blue.”

Colin finally sat back with an annoyed huff. “Okay?” he said, “And?”

“And, I don’t know, seeing her always makes me feel really off and I just wanted to see you. Wanted you to come over and make me feel better.”

“Isn’t that what I was doing?” he asked with a grin, running his hands down your sides and then up your back, stopping to play with the string tying your bikini together.   

“Colin, I’m being serious! I just, like, want to tell you about my day and have you listen to me. Okay? I just need someone to listen.”

He looked up at you and you leaned back a little at the annoyance in his eyes. “You seriously dragged me all the way out here to talk at me about your mom? I left a studio session early for you.”

“Ok, well, I didn’t know you were busy! You could’ve just said.”

“You’re so hot,” he said, starting to paw at you again. “How could I say no to you?”

Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the best way to make you feel better. What good would talking do? What you really needed was to stop thinking. You leaned into him again and he picked up where he left off. “We could go out,” you said. “Get real fucked up.” 

“Mmm,” he said, with his face in your neck and his fist in your hair. “That sounds fun. You gonna promise not to abandon me in an alley this time?”

You pushed back against his shoulders and sat up with a glare. “Don’t be a dick.”

He rolled his eyes. “It was a joke. I’m joking.”

“It isn’t funny. I already apologized. And you never apologized for flirting with that girl.”

“This again? Seriously? I didn’t apologize because I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t flirting, you’re just insecure.”

“Fuck you,” you said, standing up and putting as much distance between you as you could on your deck.

He rolled his eyes at you again and started picking up his stuff. “You’re so fucking high maintenance, you know that? One of these days, I’m going to wake up and decide you aren’t worth it.”

“Yeah?” You sneered, the pit in your stomach that started with your mom’s surprise appearance growing bigger. “Is that going to be before or after you use my instagram account to boost your album sales?”

“Fuck off. You think you’re so important. I don’t need your help.”

You threw your arms in the air. “Then why do you keep demanding it?”

“Whatever. I can’t believe I came all the way out here for this.” He shot you one final glare, before heading back out the way he came. 

You stood at the edge of your pool and looked out over the canyon that expanded beyond your property. “Fuck!” you shouted. It didn’t make you feel any better.

You picked up your phone and started scrolling through your contacts. You didn’t want to be alone right now. You just needed someone to talk to. But everyone in your phone was a ‘going out friend’ or an ‘impromptu house party friend.’ And suddenly, the thought of going out, with the loud music, and flashing lights, and all the paparazzi yelling at you, made you want to crawl out of your skin. You scrolled through your whole contact list again. You didn’t have a single person who you thought might drop everything and come spend the night on your couch with you. You didn’t think you ever had. You felt tears starting to gather in your eyes and quickly wiped them away. This was dumb. You were fine. You could spend one night alone.

You walked back into your house to find Curtis glaring at his phone, leaning against your kitchen island.

“Hey,” you said, trying to get his attention. When he looked up at you, you saw him take all of you in. Your wet hair, bikini, tense shoulders, and your eyes, which you could feel were still damp. He straightened up, looking very concerned. “Um,” you looked down, feeling like you needed to avoid his gaze, “I’m not going out again today, so you’re free to go. You and Jensen.”

“Ok,” he said. 

You looked back up to find him still looking at you carefully. When he finally started to move, you panicked and added, “Or, um, I’m probably just going to order a ton of food and just, like, watch TV, so if you wanted to, you could, um, you could stay. And, like, just hang out.” What the fuck did you just do? You were so pathetic. Why would you do that? What was wrong wit–

“Yeah, sure, I can stay.”

“Oh!” You didn’t know how to keep the shock off of your face. Or the intense relief. You started to feel yourself calm, just a little bit, for the first time all day. “Ok, great. I’ll just order the food – Thai ok?” He nodded. “And then take a shower and change. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” he said. “I’ll let Jensen know that he’s good to head home.”

You just nodded and went upstairs.

After a long shower, you dressed in your comfiest pair of sweats and a large old t-shirt, clothes that usually stayed buried at the bottom of your drawer. You went down to your living room to find Curtis unpacking the bags of food onto your coffee table, the TV softly playing at a low volume.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

He looked up at you and nodded. “I grabbed a couple beers too, that ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, grabbing one and pressing yourself into the corner of your large sectional.

“You want a little of everything?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he started making you a plate.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He handed you a plate piled high and a fork, then started serving himself. “You doing ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shrugged, “just a shitty day.”

He sat down a few spaces away from you. “Colin wasn’t here very long,” he said with a practiced casualness. 

“No,” you frowned, “he wasn’t.”

“Can I ask you a question that’s none of my business?”

You looked at him warily, “Sure.”

“Why on earth are you with him?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Uh,” you stopped to think, “the sex is pretty good.” He’d known where your clit was, which was more than you could say for a lot of your exes. “He can be fun to go out with. And we look good together. I don’t know, he gets it, which not a lot of people do.”

Curtis looked at you confused, “Gets what?”

“The whole thing. Just, what it means to be with me. Like, that I’m going to get recognized when we go out, and there’s always going to be paparazzi around, and sometimes I’m going to have to be on location for months at a time. It’s just there’s all this stuff around me. Being with me, it’s asking a lot, you know? But he gets recognized too, sometimes, and he doesn’t mind getting his picture taken and he goes on tour and stuff. He’s more willing to put up with it all.”

His brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t be something to be ‘put up with’”

You shook your head and waved his comment away. “You know what I mean. Anyway, moot point, probably. I think I’m done. He wasn’t very nice to me today and I’m just kind of over it.”

“Probably just as well. His band is terrible.”

You let out a big, loud laugh at that, head thrown back, as you felt some of the stress of the day slide off of you. When you glanced at Curtis, he was watching you, pleased. Proud of himself. It sparked a little blossom of warmth in your heart, and you ducked your head. 

After a few moments of comfortable quiet, he cleared his throat. “For the record, anyone who makes you feel like it’s hard to be with you probably isn’t worth being with.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You could feel him watching you but you were suddenly too afraid to look at him. After too long a pause, you said, “Well, you just described all of my exes, so…” with a weak little chuckle. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel your feeble attempt at a joke fall flat. You focused intently on your plate and shoved some food in your mouth for want of anything else to do. After a few minutes, you tried to change the subject. “I feel like now I should get to ask you something that’s none of my business.”

“Yeah? What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know,” you said, looking back at him. He leaned back into the couch, plate balanced on one thigh, a beer in his hand. It was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him. “I don’t really know anything about you.” You studied him carefully, feeling like this was your one chance at something, you weren’t sure what. “What were you like as a kid?” you asked without thinking, and then immediately regretted it. What an embarrassing question.

He didn’t laugh or roll his eyes at you, though. He just took a drink of his beer and then said, “Angry. I was really angry all the time.” You didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he’d volunteer more information or change the subject. He took another drink, then added, “I grew up in a few different foster homes and I was just mad, at everything. An angry little thing. Finally, when I was a teenager, I crossed paths with someone who gave a shit. Helped me figure out how to channel it, move past it.”

You sat for a moment, deathly afraid of saying the wrong thing. You didn’t want him to think you felt sorry for him, pitied him. You didn’t. But it felt glib to say you admired him for it or that he must have been so strong. You settled on “Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded and took a bite of his food. Once he swallowed, he asked “What about you? What kind of kid were you?”

You blanched slightly. You normally hated talking about your childhood, but in this moment it felt like it might be ok, like you didn’t have to sugarcoat it. Like you wouldn’t get in trouble for being honest. “I was really lonely. Um, I was never really in school? Or, I guess I was for the first couple years, but my parents were constantly pulling me out for auditions and commercials and stuff. And then when I was 9, I booked the show, and so from then on it was all studio tutors. And there were never really any other kids on the set. So, I don’t know, I was just by myself a lot of the time. Or with my parents.” You grimaced. “Even now, I feel like if I’m not working, I don’t really know how to interact with people. Never really learned how.” 

“You’re doing fine right now,” he said, voice so gentle it made you squirm a little bit.

“You don’t count.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you shrugged. “I’ve always been comfortable with you.” You weren’t sure why that felt so much like a confession, but when you met his eyes and saw how serious they were, you knew he felt it too. You took a sip of your beer. “My turn.”

“Your turn?”

“Yeah,” you grinned, “it’s a game now.” He rolled his eyes, but smiled and gestured for you to go ahead. “Are you seeing anyone?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t date much.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “I have other stuff going on right now. And my work hours can be kind of weird and unpredictable.” He must have seen the way your face started to fall, because he rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and said. “This isn’t your fault. I just have other priorities right now. I’m sure that if there was something I was looking for, I’d be able to find it.”

“Yeah, you definitely would,” you said with a laugh. He looked at you somewhat quizzically and it was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “Oh, come on! I know you know how hot you are.”

He cleared his throat and let out a small chuckle. “Uh,” he said, as he rubbed the back of his head and you noticed that his ears were turning red. He was uncomfortable. You had made your big, scary bodyguard bashful. It immediately filled you with so much glee. “That’s maybe been mentioned to me, once or twice,” he finally choked out. Just as you started cackling, he cut in, “Ok, me now. When was the last time you took a break?”

You looked around with a slightly furrowed brow. “You mean, like, other than right now?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean, I’ve been with you almost two years now and you’ve worked nonstop pretty much the entire time. When was the last time you took a real, sustained break?”

“Oh, um,” you had to stop and actually think about that. Everything had always been go go go, ever since you were a kid. And even once you were an adult, everytime you thought about slowing down, there was always something to capitalize on, an opportunity that shouldn’t be ignored. “Oh! The summer I was, I think, 12? Maybe 13? I didn’t book anything for hiatus and my parents were so mad. But I just got to hang out all summer. It was amazing. There was this girl my age who lived down the street. And we would just like, hang out in her backyard, or go to the pool, walk to get ice cream. Whatever we wanted to do. I was so excited to have a real friend. It was the best summer I ever had.”

“Did you keep in touch?” he asked softly, startling you when his fingers brushed against yours.

“No, the next season was when they started to really beef up my role, which meant I got paid more, so we moved. I never saw her again. Which was fine. It was really fun while it lasted.”

When you made eye contact with Curtis, there was a touch of sadness there that you couldn’t stand to look at, so you went back to your food. You were fine. Look at everything you had! You were good. You had no reason to be sad.

“You should think about taking a year off,” he said quietly.

You looked back up at him and scoffed, “A year?!”

“You just told me you haven’t had a real break in 13 years. I think a year is reasonable. I know you’re doing fine financially. You should think about it.”

“Maybe,” you said, but you were sure that no one involved in your career would let that happen. You couldn’t even imagine it. “Okay, my question. What do you do when you aren’t looking after me?”  

“Aside from sleep?” he asked, laughing at himself. You were instantly mesmerized by the sound. You didn’t think you’d ever heard it before. Dry chuckles, yes, but an actual laugh? You felt instantly addicted to it. “Uh, I go to the gym most days. I like to read, whenever I have the time. I’ve kind of been teaching myself how to cook, here and there. I don’t know, I’m not that interesting.”

You begged to differ, but saying that felt like too much. Like it would reveal more than you even realized. You were done eating now, so you put your plate on the coffee table and shifted to get more comfortable, bringing your legs up under the rest of you. As you did, your knees brushed against Curtis’s thighs. You stopped, surprised, and looked at where your bodies touched. Without realizing it, at some point during the conversation, you’d both eliminated the space between you. Wanting to see how far you could push it, while ignoring just how much you wanted the physical contact, you adjusted yourself again, so that now your thigh pushed against his. You watched for his reaction very carefully, while trying to look like that was the last thing you were doing. Something fluttered inside of you when he pressed imperceptibly closer. “It’s your turn,” you whispered. 

He turned so that he could look at you fully and just watched you for a moment. You could almost see him thinking, trying to find the perfect question. Finally, “What would you do if you weren’t acting?”

You felt your brain short out for a second. “Like, instead?” You asked dumbly. He nodded. “Um, I have no idea? This is all I’ve ever done. I don’t think I’m really good at anything else.”

“I highly doubt that,” he said and you were thrown off by how sure he sounded. You weren’t sure anyone had ever sounded so confident about you before, especially when it was so unfounded.  

“Well, it’s true,” you said and wincing internally at how harsh it sounded. “I don’t know. I don’t like that question.” Your skin was too tight again and you felt so, so small. He was seeing all of you now, how little there was, and had surely found you wanting. 

“Ok, that’s fine,” he said quietly, like he was talking to a spooked horse. Something about it made you want to flip over the coffee table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry.” You just nodded and folded in on yourself. “We can stop playing.”  

“No,” you said. “I still have one question left.” There was really only one you wanted an answer to. “Why did you stay tonight?” 

He didn’t stop to think before he answered. “Because you seemed like you needed me to.”

“That’s not part of your job,” you said, feeling defiant without really knowing why. 

“No, it’s not.”

You didn’t know what to do with him. This wasn’t how people treated you. You were either something to be vaunted or something they could use. Your parents, your friends, the people who worked for you, the people you dated. They all wanted to get something out of you. Curtis never seemed to want anything from you. But he didn’t put you on a pedestal either. He had always treated you like just a person. It was unnerving. What were you supposed to do with that?

You turned back to the TV, finally registering what was on. It was some reality show you’d never seen before. “I have no idea what this is,” you said.

“Me neither.”

Whatever comfortable calm that had existed between the two of you on this couch, it was gone now. You curled up, placing your chin on your knees. “I’m probably going to fall asleep.” You were exhausted, not just today, but in your bones.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked. 

All you could do was shake your head and let out a small, whispered, “No.” As all over the place as you felt, you knew you weren’t ready to be alone yet, weren’t ready for him to leave.

“Ok,” he said, softly, as you felt his arm moving behind you to rest on the back of the couch. “I’ll stay.”

Part Three

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 67″

Masterlist HERE. NSFW. Smut. 18+.

"But for now He moves so proud He dips, he pirouettes; The Mambo King Floats around the ring His hands like castanets; He sways, tugged back Gravity grows slack He's propelled by strings of rhythm He forward stalls, Yes, to dance is all' Yes, dance while you still have Breath."

David McLansky - "Riff on Rita Dove's Mambo"

N'Jadaka approached the viewscreen of the Royal Talon Fighter. A storm cloud of thoughts rested above his mind in a gray funk, but he pushed it aside to enjoy the sight of thousands of Wakandans dotting the beach below his royal aircraft.

"Baba, so many people!" Sydette squealed, standing next to him.

Riki held his hand and Joba stood in front of him peering at the spectacle below them. Behind them, the Udaku royal family sat in anticipation. Disa and Yani were among the group as were Dante, Umama, and Baba Z. Nakia sat next to T'Challa holding onto his hand with quiet affection.

The shoreline rippled with people dressed in the colors of the sea paying their respects to Mama Wati. Six men carried the platform of a giant blue-black statue of an African mermaid with long serpentine locs decorated with shells and starfish toward the warm water where revelers piled an offering boat with gifts. All eyes were averted to the Royal Talon Fighter as it hovered above a cleared pathway for the king. The excitement of his presence was palpable. Ramonda handed him an extravagant blue sugar and azure floral arrangement in the shape of a giant nautilus shell. The Talon Fighter ramp opened and N'Jadaka stepped out of the aircraft with his family behind him.

Drummers startled his children as the Birnin S'Yan elders from the Mama Wati Temple greeted them, holding their hands out in a sign of respect.

"Ukumkani, we are so honored you could join us on this special day," said a male elder draped in all white with blue glass beads around his neck.

The rulers of Wakanda normally handed over their family offerings from inside the palace, rarely attending the festive site in person. N'Jadaka wanted to be seen all the time and in all parts of the country. The wide-eyed stares all across his family hinted at how detached the Udaku clan had been for decades. His children were an extra rare treat. They were ogled as much as him. Their mothers stood behind him and there were slick glances their way too. As always, Disa stayed covered up with a flowing blue caftan, dark shades, and her hijab. Yani wore a light blue skirt with a white netted top layered over a blue-green half tank with loads of long, cyan-blue seeded beads. She decorated her face with white dots fashioned after Shuri's flashy style.

"I present to you our family offering. May Mama Wati accept our gift," N'Jadaka said.

A female elder took the nautilus shell from his hands and carried it over to the lead boat where it was gently placed at the top of other beautiful offerings completing the ritual procession. The Udaku family stood to the side of the gathered temple priests and witnessed the prayers and incense given to the deity. The stimulated energy from all those present crawled along his skin and he noticed the reactions to the projection of power he displayed physically from his hair to his cobalt blue robes. Nine Doras mingled nearby and watched the crowds. Birnin S'Yan wasn't particularly fond of the transition of power. A small but vocal minority in their governing territorial body didn't want T'Challa to cede power to him. It was also the original root of the Phuri and it was better to be overly cautious with security. The Kingsguard also kept close to his kin and his Onyx Squad spread out among the revelers.

Yani moved closer to him and leaned up against his arm. She kept a watchful eye on his physical bearing. He had rested for days before the celebration, however, she stuck to him all the way from the palace. She must've clued Disa in because both women peeped his every move for any signs of fatigue.

"It's so beautiful… and calm," Yani said, watching the offering boat sailing over small waves.

She threaded her fingers with his and squeezed them gently, then pressed her cheek into his arm. Ramonda cleared her throat, reminding them to keep aware of their surroundings. Public displays of affection were to be full of reserve, but N'Jadaka ate it up. Yani touched him first. He released her hand, but they stayed close to each other, their children enjoying the Black mermaid display once the boat was too far to see anymore. Ritual singers chanted a sailing song for the boat and attendants on board released the offerings into the sea.

White incense swirled in the air across the waters once the boat was emptied of gifts, and ululations broke out accompanied by raucous music tumbling all around them with wild abandon. The raging flares of sunlight bounced off of elaborately decorated blue and white umbrellas that shielded smiling faces adorned with crystals and paint. The contagious release of joy spread beyond the shoreline giving the flavor of a second line. Yani and the children shuffled their feet and bodies with the Wakandans near them and the urge to shake his hips seeped into his marrow. Disa clapped her hands encouraging their little ones and he thought he would abstain from moving to keep a reserved image. But Shuri wiggled her hips with Ramonda, while T'Challa rocked on his heels next to Nakia's body rolls. N'Jadaka shook his arms and shoulders causing a rush of excited clapping from his people, egging him on to cut loose more. He watched Yani twirl around with Joba and joined them, shaking his body in time with the drums and stringed instruments. They widened the circle and let Riki and Sydette in, as his eldest tugged on Disa's hand forcing her to link up too. The crowd made their way toward the parade route and the Udaku clan shuffled behind to find their roped-off section of a raised platform to view the continued grand festivities. Yani shimmied her shoulders and he couldn't help himself from dancing behind her. She grabbed his hand and he swung her around in a wide arc, pulling her back in close. Their eyes met and he let her go, aware that everyone stared at their brazen playfulness with each other that bordered on intimate affection. Pulling back from her, he took on a cool persona again, helping Riki and Joba up onto the risers.

He checked on the family around him and caught Disa tapping her kimoyo before peeking over her shoulder toward the visible mountain range that led to the Jabari lands. She smirked at him when she turned her gaze back toward the festivities in front of them. Her face glowed and he winked at her to let her know he understood her feelings. Despite the fun of being with everyone, she wanted to be somewhere else.

The parade delighted his children, their precocious eyes were wide open in wonderment marveling at giant aquatic creatures floating past with angelic grace. Dancers, acrobats, singers, rhinos, elephants, and giant, long-horned bulls marched past. A beautiful woman dressed to represent Mama Wati floated past on a platform tossing out gold shell-shaped wrappers filled with chocolates and his kids went nuts squealing, trying to catch them with other children along the route. An hour went by, and there was too much more to see.

"This way your highness, we would like to show you the family altars," a male elder said.

The entire family followed him and they played tourist to the elaborate altars and other fanfare. In the distance, he saw the section marked off for the diaspora delegates who watched respectfully. As the formal ceremony ended, the foreign guests were allowed to view a few altars before they were escorted away for a lunch spread above the bluffs where they could continue to enjoy the celebration. There was a fair and more activity in the city for them to participate in too.

Yani and Disa chatted about the altars and their children collected seashells and flowers that had blown off of displays. They cruised along to the boardwalk on foot and looked over brightly decorated vendor booths where souvenir items could be purchased. The sugary smells of sweet candies, grilled corn on the cob, fried dumplings, and meaty kebabs scented the air making his stomach grumble. Food vendors gladly gave him free samples and asked for pictures with him. He shook hands, smiled for holopics, and talked to enthusiastic citizens.

Joba grabbed Disa's hand and dragged her toward the fair with Dante and Shuri. Riki and Sydette matched her pace while tugging Marisol and Twyla along. Nakia and T'Challa straggled off in another direction. Their security team split up accordingly. Baba Z, Umama, and Ramonda walked ahead of him. Yani stayed by his side. Music blasted around them.

"Reminds me of Juvay and carnival in Brazil," he said.

Yani nodded.

"This is more ceremonial… serious," she said.

"You don't think people were shaking ass hard for Mama Wati?" he teased.

She punched his arm playfully and he clasped her hand in his. He kissed the top of her knuckles. Ahead of them was a large tent. N'Jadaka stopped in front of it.

"Let's go inside," he said.

He read the display sign next to a young woman with stars in her eyes as she stared at him.

"Is it all statues?" he asked.

"There is other artwork too, my king," the woman said, keeping her eyes downcast from shyness.

Ayo and Aneka stepped inside first and checked every part of the tent. A few Wakandans stepped out and his Onyx Squad blocked the entrance so that he and Yani could enjoy the vendor tent by themselves in private.

"Oh, look at this," Yani cooed at the first large, framed photo.

A vivid color photo of the Black Mermaid statue that represented Mama Wati gave notice of the splendor inside. Every picture was a stunning photographic lesson on the importance of the annual holiday. Each display became better than the last, and they walked in silence until they came across a photo of his father and uncle when they were young teenagers standing in front of the palace handing over a family offering to the sea.

N'Jadaka grinned.

"It's funny to see my Baba all skinny and without a beard," he said.

Both boys held the offering with giant grins on their faces. There was love there. Pure brotherly affection.

"Things could've been so…"

He didn't finish the obvious.

"I like these," Yani said.

She drew his attention to several small statues representing Bast and Sekhmet, Mama Wati's sisters.

"Oh, and this one!" Yani said.

N'Jadaka read the placard. The statue Yani fawned over showed a depiction of a more ancient onyx Mama Wati with an extended pregnant belly with a curved fishtail that she rested on. She had a bald head and closed eyes making it seem like she was sunbathing herself and her full belly.

"Looks like you," he said.

Yani beamed and circled around the statue.

"I was almost that big with Dumplin," she said.

She touched the belly button of the figure and he touched it too, rubbing it a little. Yani's eyes held a dusky sensualness. He let his finger trace up the statue and onto her arm. She shuddered and he slinked behind her, lowering his head to kiss the back of her neck. Peppering kisses along the bare parts of her shoulders, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back comfortably and molded her soft frame against the hard muscles of his chest and stomach.

"You're still my Black mermaid?" he whispered in her ear.

Yani trembled and a breathy sigh escaped from her glossy lips. He nibbled on her earlobe and rocked her in his arms.

"Don't want to answer me right now?" he teased.

She tilted her head and he hummed her name in the shell of her ear and she giggled.

"Okay… okay… I see I have to get my formal courting on point before you accept me. Bet."

He released her and she turned around keeping her warmth against his warmer body. She raised her head up and he stared at her lips that were parted and ached to be kissed. Her hands slid up his chest and folded like little doves on the nape of his neck making him feel romantic and wishing to escape out of the tent and return to his palace home so they could really be alone together.

"I did well today, Yani. Didn't overexert myself or anything."

She nodded in agreement and he became so conscious of her body pressed into his with snug assurance. N'Jadaka's dick plumped under the royal robes and he relaxed knowing there were enough layers and beading on it that she wouldn't notice his arousal while holding her.

She kissed him.

Dammit!

Their lips connected and her tongue sought entry into his mouth right away. Being next to one another all day led to a fusion of plush lips, soft moans, and needy swirls of fingers against necks and waists. He angled his neck for more comfort and groaned when Yani figured out his erection disturbed his royal clothing. She sucked on his tongue and then licked across his upper lip, grinding her lower parts into him.

"See… I was tryna avoid this," he chuckled.

He adjusted his robes and she teased him by brushing sneaky touches on his privates.

"Show some respect to the king," he commanded.

She reacted to his tone and her eyes turned dreamy. He snaked a hand around her neck, holding her still. The air crackled with new energy and he wrenched his eyes away from her and toward the front of the tent.

"Someone's coming," he said, stepping back at an appropriate length between them.

Okoye rushed into their area and flanked his side.

"King N'Jadaka, you are being summoned by Captain Lebohang," Okoye whispered in his ear.

He looked at Yani and reached for her hand.

"I'll meet you when I'm done checking in with my naval officer," he said.

"Okay," Yani said with concern in her eyes.

"It's alright, Yani. I'll see you in a bit."

He kissed her cheek and she rested her hands on his chest.

"Don't stress yourself out," Yani said. "Today is Mama Wati's day… a day for family and fun."

He noticed Ayo waiting in the corner.

"Ayo. Please escort Princess Yani to where Lady Galiber and my children are."

"Yes, your highness," Ayo said.

N'Jadaka followed Okoye in the opposite direction of the vendor tent. The general led him to the well-guarded Royal Talon Fighter. Several stinger ships and wasp crafts flew above it for extra protection. T'Challa stood at attention inside, with an image of Captain Lebohang floating on the work console.

"Captain," N'Jadaka said.

"The Talokanil have attacked three more ships in the upper Atlantic. C.I.A. and Navy Seals connected. This time they sank them. A distress signal made it to their leadership and they are blaming us, your highness," Lebohang said.

"Shit," N'Jadaka grumbled.

"We intercepted a cryptic message to the United States Secretary of Defense and he is due to meet with their president later today," Lebohang said.

N'Jadaka turned to Okoye.

"Bring Fury to my office immediately. I'll be there shortly," N'Jadaka said. "Lebohang, what do they have exactly as proof that they think it's us?"

"Nothing. The hulls of the ship were damaged making the vessels sink. We know for sure that they are searching for vibranium."

Lebohang patched in audio of messages relayed before the ships were destroyed. N'Jadaka glanced at his cousin.

"I'll have to go to the states earlier than planned," N'Jadaka said.

"They are impatient for our resources and technology," T'Challa said. "Their search for vibranium will fail."

"Yet somehow, they keep getting on the Talokan radar," N'Jadaka said.

"They cannot detect vibranium. K'uk'ulkan is being reckless and the blame shifts to us," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka projected a map of the globe and Lebohang marked off areas of ship attacks around the world that were not reported to the public.

"Show me a twenty-year overlay of classified American naval attacks," N'Jadaka commanded the Talon Fighter's griot.

Crimson markers sprouted up all around the world.

"They have a vast territory," T'Challa said.

"We barely know what's beneath the surface… looking at all of this… they could be legion and no one would know," N'Jadaka said.

N'Jadaka studied the data and compared intel from when he was a child on the Atlantic until their present state.

"I see a pattern," N'Jadaka said.

He tapped the projected screen and the Shuri-led Wakandan Group Design outreach facilities popped up in purple near the West African coasts from Senegal to Angola.

"The C.I.A. is searching wherever we are entrenched," T'Challa said.

"They won't be working alone. France has their foot on our neck too with the U.K. pretending to be patient with their former colonies who benefit from our research facilities," N'Jadaka said.

"We are providing desalinization machines, new fertilization techniques for agriculture, and diversification of seed farming, as well as medical training with advanced tools," T'Challa said.

"All benefits due to vibranium hardware," N'Jadaka said.

Okoye and Ayo ran back onto the Talon Fighter.

"King N'Jadaka," Okoye said.

N'Jadaka sensed her deep distress and followed behind her. They moved past the aircraft and stepped onto the edge of the boardwalk. Wakandans who stayed on the beach stood staring at the water. Okoye handed him a pair of slender binoculars.

"It arrived nine minutes ago and has been staying in that position ever since," Ayo said.

Peering into the binoculars, he observed a lone whale tail fin breaching the surface and standing still.

"This is not our season for that particular species of whale to be in our waters, and a spy drone detected traces of vibranium on the barnacles coating its underside," Okoye said.

N'Jadaka looked at T'Challa.

"He knows where we are," N'Jadaka said.

"A warning?" T'Challa said.

"A promise."

He peered through the binoculars again.

"The fuck?"

Several Wakandan leisure sailboats floated too close to the whale. One large boat sported the Udaku family crest. N'Jadaka tapped his kimoyo beads and contacted Noxolo.

"Where are you?" N'Jadaka barked.

His kimoyo GPS locked in on his children and their mothers. He knew the answer before Noxolo spoke.

"The royal family is taking a boat excursion," Noxolo said.

"Head back to shore now!" he shouted.

N'Jadaka ordered the Royal Talon Fighter to power up. A stinger aircraft zoomed above the whale and kept a tracking device on it.

"Take me to the boat," N'Jadaka said.

T'Challa's Black Panther suit swarmed over him and he jumped aboard a military quad aircraft that raced out to the whale. The Talon Fighter swooped down to the pleasure boat that carried his family. Okoye maneuvered the aircraft ramp onto the boat. He swept down to greet his people.

"What is happening?" Ramonda asked as she helped Umama and Baba Z onto the ship.

"Time to return to the palace," N'Jadaka said.

"Aw… but we wahn to go back to the fair again," Riki grumbled.

Sydette stared into his eyes.

"Baba knows best," Sydette said, pushing her little brother to move faster.

Disa and Yani kept quiet, already understanding that something wasn't right without asking him about it.

Nick Fury didn't try to hide anything from N'Jadaka.

He stood before the Wakandan king unguarded with his emotions and body language.

"The U.S. has been waiting to move on you," Fury said.

"What's stopping them?" N'Jadaka said, watching the man from behind his desk.

"Greed and collecting irrefutable evidence. We want you to hand over your vibranium and tech now. But we also want boots on the ground here just like we did in Iraq and Afghanistan. The success of your community centers and outreach facilities prevents an outright attack. Several U.S. senators have voted against pressuring the U.N., but the president will support covert operations from within and from our allies," Fury said.

Fury curled his lips into a sneer.

"You already knew that, king. Why the concern about it now?" Fury asked.

"I want full transparency from you, not the PR explanation."

"I could stand here and tell you we need your tech for the space threat, but our president looks beyond that. We want total control of this country and how you move. The U.S. is not beyond doing you like we did Japan in 1945."

"Destruction and then puppet master," N'Jadaka said.

"It's all we ever do."

"I will go to war if America feels froggish."

"You have a right to defend your nation. But you have no true allies anywhere. Your African neighbors look at you with distrust, even as you attempt to help improve their lives. Wakanda is a country without equals and you are a threat to everyone," Fury said.

N'Jadaka stood up from his seat and moved around to the front of his desk. He handed Fury a large cigar from a gold and mahogany humidor box. Lighting up the smokes, they both puffed and eyed each other warily.

"How soon?" N'Jadaka asked.

"How soon…?"

"Fury, now is not the time to jerk me around. When does the U.S. plan on coming for us?"

"The U.S., Spain, and France have drafted a joint plot to destabilize after the Asgardian problem has been resolved. China and Russia are already looking to disrupt parts of West Africa to get a foothold on any advances you share outside your borders. They all plan to reverse engineer anything they can take from you and retcon their previous calls to work in partnership with this country. The axis of global power is in your hand… just yours. Your assassination is on the table. They want T'Challa back in power. He is deemed flexible and more willing to do business."

N'Jadaka grinned and took a long drag on his cigar.

"I wanted to hear you say it out loud," N'Jadaka said.

"Yeah… well… before they come for your head, they want to use you. May I?"

Fury pointed to his controlled kimoyo beads and N'Jadaka's comm tab interface. N'Jadaka turned on his view screen projector. Fury tapped his beads against the floating screen.

"Received these images from your probe two hours ago," Fury said.

"What am I looking at?"

"To the military, a UAP—Unidentified Aerial Phenomena— to you, me, and the American president, little green men. Expect a call soon. We assume that whatever is coming from up there has sent a scouting team. An elevated orange alert is in effect."

"Place of impact?"

"There was none. It entered the atmosphere and went off the radar. The last known trajectory was over Western Europe. Scotland to be exact."

N'Jadaka rolled his neck and smoked. Both men stared at the images of bright lights streaking across the earth.

Fury told him a lot. N'Jadaka wouldn't reveal the Talokanil to him no matter what amount of intel he gave up. The whale sighting unnerved him, but he accepted the message K'uk'ulkan sent. The god-king knew where they existed just like Wakanda grasped their territories too. He studied war in the navy long enough to know how to be strategic. Talokan hated surface dwellers but had a vague connection to Wakanda. That made them neutral. The current threat floated in front of him.

"I want to leave Wakanda tomorrow morning. The Avengers have to be gathered," Fury said.

"I'll be in Switzerland next week and then I'm heading to the U.S. to meet the president on his home turf," N'Jadaka said.

Fury stared at him hard.

"You have international delegates coming here—"

N'Jadaka waved his hands at the man.

"I'm canceling all that shit. Shutting up shop. Telling them all that to their faces. Plotting against me? Nah, I'm coming to your house and setting everybody straight at one time and in one place," N'Jadaka huffed.

He crushed the last of his cigar in a brass ashtray and tapped the projected screen. Fury swiveled his neck to look at the new image above N'Jadaka's desk.

Agent Everett Ross.

"I'm familiar with him," Fury said.

N'Jadaka slid the government issue photo to the side and added another next to it. A slightly blurred picture taken on the Nigandan border from Nakia's bodycam long ago.

"I'm going to kill him," N'Jadaka said.

"Wait a minute…."

Fury held up an index finger and gave a nervous smile of disbelief.

"You can't kill a spook—"

"Ross came into Wakanda and pretended to be friends with my family. I shot him four years ago. He's supposed to be dead. T'Challa saved him because of Nakia. That spook came here, downloaded everything he could gather about us and our security, and pressured some unhinged Wakandans to go up against the royal family. He nearly orchestrated the death of my grandparents and helped murder civilians to stir up a coup. We captured one of the terrorists he instigated and supported, and I got a full confession in person with proof. I'm only telling you this so you can put some distance between yourself and us. I'm taking him out after I place Nakia in the States."

"King… N'Jadaka….listen…."

Fury ground out his cigar and furrowed his brow.

"He played in my family's face and disrupted the peace here. Threatening the safety of my children and their mothers is unforgivable."

"Why not use him? Huh? Play him like he played your people."

"No."

Fury held his palms together and closed his eyes for a second.

"His ex-wife is now the new head of the C.I.A. If you kill, you'll lose access to the root of all your problems. The Feds are hot for your head. Don't give them ammunition to come here early."

"We'd kill them all before they even reached the hidden border."

Fury paced the floor.

"I understand the fucked situation Ross put your people in—"

"Good, cuz there's no fuckin' way Wakandans should've been working with a C.I.A. agent in the first place—"

"But delay the revenge kill. There's a lot on the line on my end and I need that man alive."

"He orchestrated the destruction of the Hall of Panthers. The place where my ancestors rest, bruh. Umama and Baba Z were there to prepare for my parent's arrival back home… my three kids were in school not too far from where they could see and hear what was going on—"

"If you could find it in your power to hold off…for a time… I won't stand in your way. He isn't going anywhere. You said Nakia is heading to the States…best believe he'll be there close to her and T'Challa. Listen, I have no love for that man one way or the other. But I'm telling you as your only friend on the outside, the project I'm overseeing needs Ross and his contacts."

The urge to end the agent subsided. A coolness at the top of his head tamed him and he accepted the nudge from Bast to fall back. N'Jadaka did have time, and it would be smart to use Ross for a few more months by feeding him false intel and shadowing him. It took him over twenty years to be king. He could wait a year to snuff a rat.

"I'll give you twelve months," N'Jadaka said.

"Thank you."

"I'll have you set for departure after breakfast tomorrow."

Fury extended his open hand to the king.

"Let's meet in the States when you come over. I get word before you do about the UAP, I'll hit you up. We'll need everything Wakanda has if this turns out as bad as those refugees warned us about."

N'Jadaka shook his hand and summoned palace guards to escort Fury back to his personal villa. He missed dinner with the family and was shocked that Yani didn't send a message to remind him. Grabbing some leftovers in his office staff room, he heated up a vegetarian meal of slippery zucchini and pasta in a light cream sauce. He texted messages to his children that he would see them before bedtime and headed for the palace pool. Thoughts of murder and mayhem receded to the back of his mind.

Walking into the pool room he headed for the shower room first and shucked off his royal robes. Hot steam puffed around his nude form. His kimoyo lit up. A vid message from Yani. He played it.

"Hey! The kids are resting early. They want to see the fireworks tonight from the moon deck, so no storytime at nine. We can meet you there before they start. There will be ice cream too!"

He grinned and her image winked out. Stepping out of the showers he padded away from the fancy parts of the upper pool and headed down to the simple mineral water whirlpool section. Dropping down into the balmy warmth, he waded past a colored water display that sat in the center and discovered Yani already indulging in the soothing pool that bubbled and gurgled around her. She stood up and revealed her own naked form.

"I thought you were at the house. Got your message," he said, grinning so hard his cheeks stretched wide.

"Shuri and Marisol entertained them until they were knocked out for later tonight. Twyla and Disa went to a party and I didn't want to tag along."

"Decided to come here for a skinny dip, huh?" he said.

"Yeah."

"Me too. Some stress relief… wind down and shit."

"Was your meeting with Fury good?" she asked.

He could barely concentrate on her words. Staring at her in warm water with full breasts pearling with liquid droplets blotted out an answer to her inquiry. He shook his head and tried to focus on his hands swirling in the pool water.

"It was a good meeting. He's leaving tomorrow."

She nodded and turned away from him, heading for the stairs. He followed, watching her backside bounce as she moved in the heated water.

"Damn," he muttered while staring.

She bent over to fix a fluffy turquoise towel she had at the edge of the pool, and her ass cheeks parted enough where he could see the back of her vulva. Her folds glistened, not from water, but from her own sticky arousal. Had she been down here thinking about him being naked?

His dick jumped and he didn't try to stop it from reacting by thinking of mundane things. He embraced what was before him. She turned and lifted herself onto her towel. He moved between Yani's open thighs and held her by the waist.

"Why do I feel like you're really here to check up on my health again?" he said.

She batted her eyelashes. Her face was lightly made up and she smelled like sugar and vanilla. His body tingled up a storm so close to her and he was aware of her feeling the same way by how coy she played being there in the nude. He couldn't stop grinning while staring at her face and lush body. Yani knew that he needed to see her at the end of a long day and presenting herself fully naked and vulnerable was an invitation to love on her as he did in the past. He ignored the fat dick hanging between his legs poking at her thighs. Her big seductive eyes trapped him, turning his insides into mush. The heat of his love for her flowed out like it was a cloud of smoke and surrounded her, making Yani's fingers spring into action as they traced lines on his cheek and lips. A king needed a woman to come home to. N'Jadaka left his worries back at the office and slipped into the welcoming warmth of Yani's presence.

He held up a hand and she threaded her fingers with his and they pressed their foreheads together enjoying the peace of water and love floating through them. She would return to work in the morning with his older children and the separation ate at him.

"Yani, I love you."

Her gaze lowered and her eyes welled up, staring at his chest.

"It takes so much for me to be the king, but having you here with me means everything."

She placed her arms around his shoulders but still wouldn't look him in the eye again. Soft sighs fell from her lips and she listened intently. He wanted her in his home, but she valued her space away from him. A surge of energy reared up within him and she trembled, feeling it on her skin. He was a force of nature. As cliché as it sounded to him, he understood that his power was truly visceral, and everyone would always become affected by it when they were near him. Even his woman.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

She looked up at him then, her round moon-lust eyes so glittery with desire. Yani moved her face closer and he enveloped her lips with such tenderness that she cried. She needed his love and the weight of her heart pressed on him making his hands tremble as he held her face.

"You're so beautiful… gave me beautiful children… gave me life again," he said with soft words.

He kissed down her cheek and planted more kisses on her throat and in the middle of her chest where her breasts rested in wet glory. He palmed them, kneading the fullness until he plucked at her nipples, pinching them hard to make them pebble into high peaks. Lifting the royal dick that bobbed in the water, he fisted himself and sucked on a nipple. Yani threw her head back and moaned. He groaned while beating his dick, his fist bouncing from the wild hairy root of his dick. The thick thatch of hair that he kept ungroomed turned her on.

He released her plump nipple and lifted her legs out of the water, widening her thighs so he could stare at her pussy. Her folds were wide open and her slit dripped with slick arousal.

"Look at that pretty pussy," he said.

Yani whimpered and her pussy throbbed open, blessing his eyes with wet pinkness surrounded by smooth brown outer lips. He slapped his dick against the lovely sight and his tip spewed precum all over her clit.

They acted dangerously.

Her pussy was the gateway to paradise. They both knew it. His stiffness stood like smooth hardwood and slapping it against her folds made her weak. Her opening twitched and revealed heaven and he felt entitled to claim all of her. He was the king after all.

Dropping lower into the pool water for a better position, he smothered her folds with his mouth and sucked on her pussy lips and clit. Yani cried out and clutched at his locs. Coming up for air, the lower part of his face shined like a glossy welcoming to a new bond between them. He knew other men had been with his woman while he had been away. But there was no way any of them flooded her walls with cum. Her pussy was too precious for that after having royalty in it. He licked all around her vulva, even sucked on her meaty inner thighs to chase every nerve ending that came alive inside of her.

She had been his heart, the soft part of his soul when he worked for Klaue. Yani gave him kindness, and confidence to love again, yearning for a home of his own with a family of his own. She had nothing and yet gave him everything. She allowed him to be like his father. A provider. A protector. A lover. He was the one she came to when she needed reassurance and confidence in her own abilities. She followed him all the way to the end and despite the horrors of violence, a long separation, and emotional turmoil, she still loved the hell out of him. It poured out of her as she came on his lips, crying out his name and arching her back. He stood and stroked his dick, pressing the wide head against her opening, watching the aftershock contractions of her pussy making her shudder on her back. Being bold, he slipped the head in and she squirmed, raising up on her elbows to stare at his hooded eyes.

"Tell me nobody else came in this pussy," he insisted.

Her shiny eyes were drenched with an insatiable lust for him. A possessive streak rose in him.

"I want to hear you tell me… nobody came in this pussy," he barked.

His girth stretched her pussy lips and she gazed down at the brazen entry into her tight rings of muscle that squeezed at his tip. She closed her eyes, her lower body tense with expectation. Although he rested at her entrance, the bulbous head was still too much to take with the teasing. Yani could only shake her head, denying that anyone else had that type of close intimacy.

He relaxed and gripped the root of his dick, guiding the length out so that it smacked at her swollen folds again, testing the limits of her arousal. Her wet entrance curled around his girth as he shoved the head in again, not moving at all. He squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples with gentle tugs. His tip pulled down on her clit, the friction bringing her intense pleasure and edging him closer to oblivion. The urge to plunge all the way in tickled his resolve, but he forced himself to keep control. He had to stay strong. Every second with her weakened him and he wanted to show Yani that a king had power over his own body and his word. He was supposed to court her properly. Not revert back to his island ways. The heat of his dick had her lips twisted up in agony. Her dewy eyes pleaded for merciful relief. He sighed knowing he would fail at restraint.

The gods inside of him watched with amused indifference and he was quite sure that Yani sensed that commanding otherworldly force. Her body definitely reacted to it. He wiggled his hips and her pussy contracted and squirted a drizzle of fluid that leaked onto his length. N'Jadaka kissed her and his tongue teased her mouth, drawing out scattered pants and mewling sounds. She squirmed and reached out to hold his shoulders, but he shifted back and pulled out of her entrance.

A king didn't need to play around in a pool.

He tongued her down properly, fingered her clit, spreading her wetness around, and helped her climax on his hand.

"Stay with me tonight," he said after she stopped shaking.

"People will talk."

"People are already talking about us. That can't be helped."

"I don't want our children to be confused… but I want to… I really do."

"We can have them stay with Grandpop. In the morning we can have breakfast together in my quarters and see them off to school."

Her hesitation felt more for his sake than hers. The king of Wakanda sneaking around the palace with the mother of his children sat in her cautious eyes. They both wanted to make love, not gossip. The public had accepted his domestic situation, however, there were still Udaku protocols about relations with royals. Technically, since Yani wasn't his wife, she would be looked on as a consort if they started a regular sexual liaison. Ramonda would find the need to keep it private and discrete. Umama and Baba Z would want a public formal courtship ending in a betrothal march. Grandpop would want more grandbabies.

He walked out of the water using the steps and lifted Yani to her feet. He kissed her again and palmed her ass cheeks. They filled his hands and made his dick spill more pre-cum onto her belly.

"Come with me," he said, pulling her toward the entrance.

"We have to shower and dress first," she said.

He let her saunter in front of him and he spanked both her ass cheeks. The dimpling on her backside and thighs had him cement hard. They stepped into the showers and warm jet sprays doused them. Rinsing away mineral water and sweat, N'Jadaka turned to look at Yani and she dropped to her knees and took his dick in her hot mouth.

"You like this, your highness?" she asked, with her lips pressed against his frenulum.

"You're starting trouble already," he groaned, rubbing her freshly cropped hair.

She slurped and sucked and stared at him, pleasing the king.

"Suck Daddy's dick," he moaned.

Yani sucked on his dick with such care that his legs wobbled to keep balance. She grazed her lips across his tip and played with his slit, swallowing pre-cum and playing with his balls. Her sensual touches and kisses served him the way he wanted to be catered to.

But playtime was over. He needed to cum in his woman. Needed her thick thighs and legs up in the air with his balls pounding against her fat ass. A king deserved exquisite pussy and he wanted to hear his ancient bed squeak with his thrusts into her. She hadn't had her ass cheeks clapped properly in four years. Her pussy was made for his royal dick. A princess required king things on his level.

He sensed nervousness from her.

She slurped on his erection and throated him down to his balls, and yet Yani was afraid of what he could do to her after all those years and as a new man. Her fingers played in the thick bushy pubic hairs that surrounded his heavy erection. He held the back of her head to help guide her mouth work. Pulling out from between her lips, she expected him to cum all over her face. He denied her that honor.

The king of Wakanda was going to cum deep inside of her.

In her pussy.

In her ass.

And all down her throat.

"Get dressed," he ordered, reaching for his robes after drying off.

Yani tumbled back onto her feet in a daze. He rubbed on her backside as she fastened her top, slipping two fingers in her pussy from the back. Licking his fingers before clasping her hand in his, he pulled her out of the poll room. His dick tented his clothing and he didn't care if the guards saw it. In the private elevator, he rubbed against Yani and she was already lost to anticipation, writhing against him. She was surprised to arrive at his home through his elaborate bedroom.

"This elevator was for concubines to secretly come up and please the king," he said.

Yani didn't like the sound of that. He smirked.

"Looks like you'll be my first," he teased.

She didn't like that either.

"I'm a princess," she said, stepping into the splendor of decadent bedroom furniture.

His round bed was on an elevated platform hidden behind beautiful ethereal red drapes. She took in all the artwork, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking parts of the royal garden and grand river with a serene smile. Darkness had fallen and blanketed the sky with lavish twinkling stars. He started a fire in the fireplace and lit romantic scented candles around the bedroom giving a sensual ambiance. Yani spun around to admire more of the fixtures and antiques from the thirteenth century.

"This is amazing. It doesn't even seem to be a bedroom but a whole living space," she said.

"Come here," he said, holding out his hand.

She kicked off her shoes and padded over to him with slow steps. Without his asking, she undressed him, folding each garment and placing it on a small wooden smoking chair in front of the fireplace. Firelight danced in her sultry eyes, and she took her time relieving him of clothing. When she finished, he took his time undressing her, fondling a breast and her rump as he did. She was perfect. He gently patted her vulva and the heat down there was ready for him. Yani turned away and wandered over to his giant bed, climbing onto it and opening her legs for him. She rubbed on her clit, beckoning him to kiss her there again. He obliged her offering, grateful to watch her open her silky folds and finger her pussy. She was still nervous, the enormity of what they were about to do making the room feel heavy. He buried his face in her folds, licking and kissing, but the king in him took over and he mounted her like royalty had down for centuries in that bed when it was time to get down to business. He thumbed her clit with a gentle caress and watched her pussy contract rhythmically.

"You want the king?" he asked.

She had to know his intent. Taking him inside of her once more would change the world again. Their union would solidify her place by his side. If she had any doubts about him still, he wanted to give her time and grace to leave of her own volition.

"I want you, N'Jadaka," she said with a throaty declaration.

So be it.

Chapter 68 HERE.

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[fashionbooksmilano]

Caftani

Daniel Rey

Fotografie di Jacques Paul

Idea Books, Milano 2008, 257 pagine, 26 x 34,5 cm,   Testo Italiano, Francese e Inglese,   ISBN  9788888033617

euro 79,00

email if you want to buy :booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Patrimonio, nel XVIII secolo, i caftani sono oggi il simbolo della cultura femminile marocchina, l'elemento che rivela lo stato sociale di chi li indossa, l'abito che testimonia l'arte di vivere di un popolo in piena evoluzione, legato alle sue tradizioni e nel contempo volto alle tendenze artistiche dell'Occidente. Il libro, vuole essere un viaggio attraverso l'arte della moda, ripercorrendo la storia dei caftani attraverso le collezioni di Tetouan, Fès, Rabat, Salé: caftani appartenuti alle famiglie reali e principesche, e a quelle dei ricchi commercianti del Marocco. "Caftani" si sofferma inoltre sulla sua evoluzione da quando, abbandonato all'inizio del XX secolo, è tornato di gran moda grazie alla grande creatrice Tamy Tazi e ai nuovi stilisti quali Barada, Mao, Fadyla El Cadi, Nourredine e molti altri, che realizzano veri e propri capolavori sartoriali dai quali prendono spunto anche grandi stilisti come Yves Saint Laurent e Jean Paul Gautier. 

Caftans opens the doors of the greatest collectors of caftans of the past, and of the most secret and prestigious ateliers; meets both innovative creators and those more tied to tradition; witnesses thrilling fashion shows; and places devoted entirely to paying homage to one of the most fascinating chapters of female fashion.

21/01/23

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[mybeingthere]

Gustav Klimt once said about himself: "There is nothing special about me. I am a painter who paints day after day from morning to night. If you ever want to know anything about me, you should take a close look at my paintings." In fact, Klimt, who liked to paint dressed only in sandals and a caftan, played a decisive role in the development of the Austrian art scene and is today one of the most famous painters in the country. His paintings, which can be ascribed to Viennese Art Nouveau, are full of symbolism. His preferred theme was the female body and an open representation of sexuality, which was perceived as provocative in his time. Klimt was of the opinion that every form of art has something erotic about it. He is said to have had numerous affairs, including with many of the women he portrayed for his clients. However, he was always extremely discreet. (meisterdrucke.uk)

[gaga-cc-finds]

Lady Gaga wearing Alon Livné Fall 2014 rose pink silk dolman-sleeve caftan gown with hand-beaded plunging neckline and belt.

Adult Female / Casual + Formal

download

[dankusner]

Jennifer Lopez Is Becoming an Elizabeth Taylor for a New Generation

Ms. Weiner, a novelist, writes frequently about gender and culture.

Nothing gold can stay.

Children grow up.

Parents grow old.

Summer’s warmth gives way to winter’s chill.

Add to this list of sad inevitabilities the Jennifer Lopez-Ben Affleck breakup.

After months of speculation and internet chatter, on Wednesday the news broke that Ms. Lopez had officially moved to dissolve her union with Mr. Affleck — on the anniversary of their 2022 wedding ceremony at a recreation of a Georgia plantation, no less.

“She was done waiting and the date she did it speaks a ton,” a source told People Magazine.

This marriage was, of course, the second time around for Ben and Jen, who’d first been engaged in the early aughts, and who had found their way back to each other in 2021.

It was a love story for the ages — or, at least, for second-chance-loving pop-culture fans of a certain age seeking pandemic-era distractions. Had romance conquered all?

Or was another of JLo’s relationships destined to take a turn on Fortuna’s wheel? The reports that the couple did not sign a prenup suggest they were of the former belief.

Call it the triumph of hope over lawyers.

This will be Ms. Lopez’s fourth divorce, which puts her at risk of becoming an Elizabeth Taylor for a new generation: a multitalented female celebrity who is best known not for her vast creative output nor even for her undeniable beauty and charm, but, instead, for her many marriages.

Over her eight decades, Ms. Taylor was married eight times to seven men (the discrepancy owing to her two walks down the aisle with Richard Burton).

At 55, Ms. Lopez has married, in addition to Mr. Affleck, the producer Ojani Noa, the backup dancer Cris Judd and the singer Marc Anthony; she was also once engaged to the baseball player Alex Rodriguez.

Which means she’s just a few Larry Fortenskys away from hitting what future historians may refer to as the Taylor line, where what gets covered is your love life, and not your life’s work.

But there’s a big difference between JLo and La Liz.

Growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, I was too young to know Ms. Taylor as the violet-eyed phenom who first dazzled in “National Velvet” and went on to be perhaps the most famous, the most glamorous movie star in the world. I was, however, just the right age to experience her as a pop culture mainstay and occasional punchline. This was Ms. Taylor’s frosted-tips-and-caftans era, when she appeared in front of a camera only to make soft-focus perfume ads, parodied by “Saturday Night Live.” It was the time of her union with Mr. Fortensky, a construction worker she’d met in rehab, and whom she married at her friend Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch. The news media that had once so eagerly built her up was all too happy to lavish attention on her decline, as well.

But here’s the thing. In between getting married, divorced and married again, Ms. Taylor found time to leverage her brand for an unglamorous but utterly urgent cause: She put her fame in service of people with AIDS.

She did it early, in 1985, when many still wrongly feared that H.I.V. could be transmitted through casual contact, and people with AIDS were pariahs. Some hospitals didn’t want to treat them. Some landlords didn’t want to rent to them. Some schools didn’t want to teach them. Religious conservatives called the disease God’s judgment.

And there was Elizabeth Taylor, holding fund-raisers, giving money, urging Ronald Reagan to make a speech about AIDS (a word he had for years been reluctant even to say in public), rallying Hollywood friends and lovers to the cause, even when some colleagues warned her that aligning herself with such a reviled disease and the strident activism that was associated with it could end her career.

Who cares about careers, she demanded, “when the people, without whom we wouldn’t have a career, are dying?”

“I resented my fame,” her biographer, Kate Andersen Brower, has quoted her as saying, “until I realized I could use it.” She used it, and changed the world.

Jennifer Lopez could do it, too.

Unlike Ms. Taylor, who’d retired from movies in her latter decades, Ms. Lopez is still a fantastically successful entertainer. This has not been her best year — there was a much-mocked, self-financed multimedia project, a hastily canceled world tour, and a spate of think pieces about where it all went wrong and why social media had turned on her. But let’s not forget that in 2023 Ms. Lopez starred in top-streaming movies on two separate platforms. In 2020 she performed at the Super Bowl, and in 2021 she performed at the Biden inauguration. Even during this, her annus horribilis, she found time to serve as a co-chair of the Met Gala, where she appeared in a stunning Schiaparelli gown. She’s got beauty and charisma for days, work ethic for weeks.

“Here’s an entertainer determined to enter-freaking-tain,” Wesley Morris wrote, in his review of “This Is Me … Now: A Love Story.” “Her sort of generosity shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

With that generosity, she could be fighting the good fight on behalf of any number of worthy endeavors and making a tremendous impact. But so far, her most celebrated victories are those against Mother Nature and Father Time.

Read enough about Ms. Lopez and two things are quickly evident: She wants to control her own narrative, and she yearns for love and affirmation. “In Jennifer’s case, I don’t think there’s enough followers, or — or movies or records,” Ben Affleck says in the behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of Ms. Lopez’s latest album, “to still that part of you that still feels a longing and a pain. Ultimately that’s the work that you got to do on your own.”

“When I was a girl they’d ask me what I’d be/A woman in love is what I grew up wanting to be/It’s my melody/The symphony I sing,” Ms. Lopez sings in the “This is Me … Now” title track. “True love does exist, and some things are forever,” she told USA Today. “ Please don’t give up on that because that’s all that matters in life … love.” Ms. Lopez is hardly the only woman who wants to fall in love (and to look amazing while she’s doing it). But she is one of a very few who can also command the attention of millions of fans, whose voice can draw attention to the plight or oppressed group of her choosing, whose words could change the world.

I wouldn’t be presumptuous enough to tell Ms. Lopez which cause to embrace, nor to trot out the hoary old advice about how you’ll fall in love not when you’re looking, but when you are pursuing your passions, living your best life. She’s a queen — and she’s already pursuing her passions and living her best life. I hope she gets her heart’s desire.

Meanwhile, I hope she knows that the kind of cultural capital she wields can be a tremendous force, reaching far beyond the bounds of the movie theaters and the tabloids and the satellite-radio broadcasts. If JLo is going to be our generation’s Elizabeth Taylor, I hope she’ll lean into the best, most empowering parts of that story — Ms. Taylor as world-changer, speaking truth to power, not Ms. Taylor as the eternal bride.

[indiatrendzs]

Caribbean Cruise Wear Essentials, Cruise Caftans & Sundresses

VISIT OUR ONLINE STORE AT MOGULINTRIOR WALMART Daytime on a Caribbean cruise means hot and humid weather, beautiful sights, and tons of exciting activities to choose from each day! When deciding what to pack, making sure you’re comfy and sun-safe is the biggest priority. Readers say their cruise essentials are bathing suits, cute coverups, lightweight tops and dresses, and flip flops for…

[illuminussy]

Andre Leon Talley. A formidable yet sensitive soul with the most exquisite taste that ever graced this earth. I wish he had confronted his childhood trauma and been able to find the love he so desired before he died. His life reads like a tragedy to me. A self-imposed perma-courtier of the fashion elite, always trying to remain in the good graces of powerful people and institutions that didn't give a damn about him, holding onto slivers of love and kindness and decency like treasured objects, afraid of intimacy because of his childhood abuse (and I imagine the homophobia in his churchgoing upbringing) and seeing the gay men around him die in hoards in the 80s, clinging to beautiful things for a sense of meaning, eating to fill the hole in his heart, knowing that his fear and trauma prevented him from finding love and meaning and lasting connections with people who actually value him, but being too proud or maybe just too hopeless to drop his shield of fabulousness and make the changes he needed in his life to actually be happy and fulfilled. He died alone with financial problems and never got to produce the line of caftans he wanted. He had terrible mommy issues and spent his life trying to please whatever powerful female figure was #1 in his life at the time; in the end this was to his detriment. He was so brilliant, it hurt to see him go out sad like that. I just wish he had found the love he wanted more than anything but never had the courage to prioritize.

[kemetic-dreams]

The informal version of the dashiki is a traditional print or embroidered dashiki. Three formal versions exist. The first type consists of a dashiki, sokoto (drawstring trousers), and a matching kufi. This style is called a dashiki suit or dashiki trouser set and it is the attire worn by most grooms during wedding ceremonies. The second version consists of an ankle-length shirt, matching kufi, and sokoto and is called a Senegalese kaftan. The third type consists of a dashiki and matching trousers. A flowing gown is worn over these. This type is called a grand boubou or an agbada.

There are several different styles of dashiki suits available from clothing stores. The type of shirt included in the set determines the name. The traditional dashiki suit includes a thigh-length shirt. The short sleeve, traditional style is preferred by purists. A long dashiki suit includes a shirt that is knee-length or longer. However, if the shirt reaches the ankles, it is a Senegalese kaftan. Finally, the lace dashiki suit includes a shirt made of lace. A hybrid of the dashiki and caftan worn by females is a traditional male dashiki with a western skirt.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

hey! just wanted to inject some nuance into the dwd conversation (sorry for the length but... oof people talking about this make me frustrated). right off the bat - i totally agree that a lot of people are way out of line with the response to dwd and to olivia wilde in particular, like that one twt account ppl mentioned in the tags (just vile). but i think that there's layers of context here where there are legitimate reasons for people to be upset, they just are... high jumping over any kind of nuance or reasoned discussion and right to weinstein rape apologist language.

it was definitely decided that the promo for this movie was going to play up harry styles' sex appeal and draw attention that way. i mean, the first trailer included an oral sex scene. there was a deliberate decision made to include that, knowing that it would get attention. now, we don't know if that decision was olivia wilde's, or a studio marketing department's, or (most likely) some combination of both, but it did occur! it's not just the fans making it all about the sex. from what i've heard from those who've seen early screenings, there isn't actually a lot of sex in the movie outside of what's in the trailers, because the sex isn't the focus of the movie itself. so, again, this is how they chose to market it, and it did get attention for that.

i think olivia wilde herself, as the main person promoting and speaking about the movie so far (in interviews, etc) has gone along with that marketing strategy. the full context from the vogue story of the sex quote is that first, in the preceding paragraph, olivia is the one to bring up sex in movies.

“The 1950s get this rap as a very controlled, conservative era, when in fact it was incredibly debaucherous. My grandparents on my mother’s side loved to party,” Wilde says. One of Wilde’s aesthetic reference points for her film was Poolside Gossip, Slim Aarons’s photo of coiffed women in caftans chatting over cocktails in a Palm Springs backyard whose manicured perfection can’t help but imply some Lynchian rot lurking beneath; another was the thrillers of Adrian Lyne, like Fatal Attraction and Indecent Proposal. Those movies are “really sexy, in a grown-up way,” Wilde tells me. “I kept saying, ‘Why isn’t there any good sex in film anymore?’ ”

then in the next paragraph, they ask about that scene in particular, and you get the "though she readily volunteers that she intends for her audience to 'realize how rarely they see female hunger, and specifically this type of female pleasure.' " quote.

again, the sex isn't the focus of the movie and we don't hear anything about how the sex relates to the themes of the movie (other than aesthetically). they could choose not to talk about it. but this is the promo strategy they went with, and it obviously has worked at drawing attention. on a more personal to olivia note, a lot of people took issue with her sharing an instagram post from an account called the clit.test about good sex in media approving of dwd (again, focused on that scene in the trailer).

moving on with more nuance - the non-con of it all. again, a lot of the response has been 'how dare this movie depict non-consensual sex' which is... not the most productive way to engage with art. BUT i do think it's valid that people are feeling some ick about having watched the trailer, having absorbed the messaging of the headlines around the film, having felt one particular way about the sex in it, and then learned that it's non-consensual. i don't blame them for feeling uncomfortable. for example, the clit.test actually took back their instagram post when they learned about it (also apparently after a healthy dose of harassment from all sides, so... great job guys). this is also where the way the larger themes of the movie have been framed gets (for lack of a better word) problematic, and is more directly tied to olivia.

again, full quote for context, but this is how olivia teed up the themes of the movie (and they've stayed consistent) at cinemacon, with the first trailer drop:

“I want you to imagine a life where you have everything you could want,” she told the crowd of theater owners. “Not just material, tangible things… like a beautiful house, perfect weather and gorgeous cars. But also the things that really matter, like true love or the perfect partner or real trusted friendships and a purpose that feels meaningful. What would it take for you to give up that life, that perfect life. What are you really willing to sacrifice to do what’s right?” Wilde asked. “Are you willing to dismantle the system that’s designed to serve you?”

this framing - implying pretty heavily that florence pugh's character has "true love" or "the perfect partner", or that her situation is a "system that's designed to serve [her]" when her consent to the sex they're having is dubious at best, because of her lack of awareness and agency in the overall context is... it's just a yikes.

so - just trying to give context, that while most of the backlash against the movie has been over the top, misogynist, and bullying - there are some actual potential issues with it, and i wish people talked more reasonably about it instead of just going with "boo olivia wilde evil boo".

Oh anon. I know I'm not really one to talk - but that's a lot of words. And all it suggests to me is that you don't know what nuance means.

I disagree with your central premise and also think this ask is steeped in media illiteracy, hypocrisy and a terrifying view of consent.

I can't tell if your argument is that it's wrong to try and make sex scenes sexy, with this premise (I'll try and avoid spoilers). Or if your argument is that it's wrong to include sex scenes in the marketing campaign or a movie with this premise. I don't think either argument is sustainable - and are incredibly limited and controlling attitude towards art. (The same thing is shown with your bizarre reading of Olivia Wilde's quote, which suggests you have completely missed the point she's made).

A few more points:

Profile writers don't always replicate the order conversations happened in their profile - so 'this paragraph came first' is not evidence that it happened first in the conversation.

We do know who makes the decisions when it comes to how movies are marketed: marketing departments. The fact that you don't speaks to your lack of interest in the subject, not that it's mysteriously unknowable.

The premise of this movie makes large elements of it non-consensual. (I cannot believe that anyone who is trying to take the moral high ground would call something that is clearly non-consenting dubious consent).

Harry has talked about doing sex scenes in this movie. Harry has used sex to promote his art. Harry has made art where sex is one of the key themes. He's made unclear references to lack of consent in his art. The hypocrisy of fandom is really clear.

[basketpod]

What's in the Basket

The highlights and lowlifes of Hollywood history. A classic film podcast for the people!

What’s in the Basket is a female-hosted film history podcast that combines research, humour, and leftist politics to deliver the absolute hottest of takes on Old Hollywood, modern movies, and fan culture.

21. The Mummy (1932): He's Got On a Caftan and He's Very Dry

With just enough time for one more spooooky Halloween episode, we're busting open Imhotep's tomb to cover The Mummy (1932). Join us as we discuss the film's roots in the Egyptomania craze of 19th and early-20th centuries, its place as a lesser entry in the Universal horror canon, and whether or not we think Boris Karloff pissed his pants. Webbys do not interact!

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[ourimpavidheroine]

If you don't mind me asking how do keep all of those characters different?

Hey, that's a great question!

(I do not mind.)

So for me, it's about the small things that make a character. I think a lot of this comes out of my background in theater. I have BA in theater and have been acting since I was about seven and my speech therapist (I had a stutter) realized that if I was pretending to be someone else I didn't stutter. (In retrospect I am pretty sure that was echolalia, but I digress.) They did actually teach us a lot about character work in getting that degree! (Something which is seriously lacking in a lot of American movie stars vs trained actors but that's a rant for another time.)

What it comes down to is the little things. That's what makes a character unique.

What I mean by that are the sort of everyday things that all people have about them, the things that we just do all the time without thinking about it. Not a stress reaction, not something that we only do when consumed by lust, fear, aggression, whatever.

So for example, from my fics, about the canon characters:

Mako has a sweet tooth, and he particularly loves coconut. Over the years and through my fics this is brought up numerous times. He also loads up his tea with milk and sugar and has a weakness for fruit tarts. He also reads the newspaper at every breakfast.

Wu does not curse. Instead, he says my gracious or my goodness or I never (he has cursed aloud in my fics exactly twice; once over caftans and once when his oldest daughter blew up his driveway). He also has an irrational dislike of caftans. And has absolutely perfect, gorgeous handwriting.

Bolin can't dance choreographed steps and does not hold his alcohol at all. He's also the hankie guy. (If you read my fics, you know what I mean.)

Lin's incredibly foul mouth and the way she enjoys it when people argue at the dinner table and how she gulps down every drink she has.

How both Baatars push up their glasses with their forefinger and thumb, which signals when they are uncomfortable and/or want to change the subject.

The Beifong Hand Flick, which was canon in the show itself and which has been passed down through the generations.

Su Beifong dominates every single conversation she has in all of my fics. Except for one. With Bolin. And yes, that was on purpose.

Huan disappears at the first sign of conflict and, once he leaves Zaofu, wears very loud and pretty much tasteless clothing.

Ikki hums when she eats something she really enjoys, blows air up through her bangs when she gets frustrated and is nearly always moving the air about her in one way or the other.

Opal narrows her eyes when she gets pissed. When Opal's eyes narrow, watch the fuck out.

Wei flirts with everybody. Male or female. Flirting is in his bones. It's when he isn't flirting - or flirting very badly - that we know something is wrong with him.

Wing blushes when he gets embarrassed or flustered and it travels all the way to his ears.

So this is what I mean! You just have to find those little things and bring them back in naturally. It goes for the OCs as well, of course. I mean. Nuo's whoosh whoosh. I rest my case.

And look, I do get that it is a lot of names and a lot of characters, especially the ones that one show up a handful of times. Which is why I need the whole character list. Which I need to finish. SOMEDAY. But that's a lot of how I keep them straight in my mind. Each of them has some small character thing - Jinpa the weaver has arthritis! Miwa the Majordomo's favorite color is blue and she has a crush on Qi! Lady Chun is a fucking fashion plate and elegant down to her bones! Sonam gargles butter tea and makes Baatar want to murder him! San loves apples! Everyone tells Poppy to shut up on the regular! - and that's how they don't all run into a blur for me. (Although I think they do for a lot of you reading it, lol.)