#she's a beautiful nubian princess now

[madderhatter]

how is Megan Fox going to get upstaged in this collage by the bald swan...

#she's a beautiful nubian princess now

[widowsofchaos]

Pretty please do #51 with Steve Rogers.

Sweet Dreams

summary: the Captain has only eyes for you.

pairing: darkish!Steve Rogers x black!reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, drunk reader, dark yet soft yandere Steve, somnophilia, vaginal intercourse. dub non-con. Requested prompt 51: “Are you trying to seduce me? Depends. Are you seducible?”

a/n: Finally writing for my fav Captain. <3 requested from this prompt list. shoutout to @punani for helping with the “isn’t this your dream, princess” line for the smut. Thanks so much, boo. <3 xoxo T

do not repost my works!

“You’re doing it again, pal.”

A gruff chuckle could be heard behind Steve - earning a grumble under his breath. The greenery that swirled in his oceanic orbs blackened, and dilated into inky madness; his thick brows peering over his muscular shoulder.

Staring, gawking -- admiring.

“I’m not doing anything, jerk.”

“Punk, please–” an airy snicker, “I know you like the back of my metal hand.” Another snicker, “Even after over seventy years, and you still can’t talk to a dame.” Bucky took a quick gulp of Asgardian ale, his upper lip sneering in satisfaction.

Fueling his mischief.

“Shut it, jerk.” A forced chuckle slipped from Steve’s pink lips, finally facing his long-time companion, grumbling at his best friend’s smug grin. Clicking his jaw tightly, not willing to admit it.

No one can read Steve like an open book like Bucky can.

No one ever.

Brotherly adoration manifested in sibling bickering, always prodding and pushing each other’s buttons.

“Go talk to her.” Bucky’s stormy baby blues searching for a familiar Nubian beauty among the obnoxious faceless crowd that’s festering within the extravagant Stark party.

In his view, he found you sitting on the couch next to Sam, adorable tipsy giggles escaping you. Friendly coziness, you were resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. Now aware why his best friend is fuming at the ears.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” A huff of breath escaped through Steve’s flared nostrils. Denial beating against his fractured mind like a Cherokee drum.

A smirk grew slowly on Bucky’s chiseled bearded jaw, he tsked, his eyes focusing back on Steve’s face, “Alright. Good to know.” Bucky deadpanned — with a touch of a tease, deliberately taking small sips, never wavering his eyes from Steve.

Steve’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “I’ve been meaning to ask Y/n out anyways...” Steve snarled at Bucky. Bucky leaned over, wagging a finger in Steve’s face.

“I’m gonna dunk my dick in her–”, grinning placidly. “Jerk!” Steve roared in a raspy hush at Bucky, punching his metal arm repeatedly, rearing metal meeting Steve’s swinging knuckles.

Tears were forming in Bucky’s eyes as he belly-laughed, doubling-over in his stool— Bucky’s snorts was gaining other party goers’ attention.

Steve’s entire face was reddened – resembling a cartoonish bull fuming — quickly realizing that confused, and amused eyes were zeroed on the super soldier duo.

Nervously his dilated eyes scan over multiple faces, incoherent apologies slip from his lips, only to stumble upon you chuckling, giggles fumbling over your manicured fingertips muffled your lips.

Steve quickly tore his gaze away, his forearms crossed on the marble counter. Sulking and hiding himself against his arms; like an angry toddler.

Muffled embarrassment could be heard within Steve’s arms, his choppy groans and breaths fogging the transparent counter glass, an amused guffaw hissed through Bucky’s teeth.

Patting Steve’s sculpted shoulder blade, “Twah. Don’t worry about me, Stevie. Because tweety over there would probably beat me to the punch. Have you seen the way he gawks at her?” A sing-song jab.

Push. Shove. Goating Steve to grow a pear, hit a nerve for him to finally snap. Knowing full aware that Steve deserves an ounce of happiness – two men forced out of their time, lost possible futures due to out-of-control occurrences, but now?

Why not try to make a new future finally by their own hands? Take what they want. Bucky and Steve deserve it after everything they knew was ripped from them.

Steve’s blonde-head short up, “Don’t say that!” A raspy bark, but no bite — not for Bucky at least. A wolf ready to chomp a particular bird’s head off.

“Then ask her out!” Bucky jabbed his finger in Steve’s chest. “I’m tired of you moping around, staring at her like a sick puppy.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“All that pining -- just get your dick wet already, Stevie.” A harsh cough caved through Steve’s throat.

“Jesus -- what’s with you tonight?” He grinned at a howling Bucky, a swell of relief but mild humiliation bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

Right before his eyes is a vision from the past, this is the closest Steve has witnessed Bucky to three sheets to the wind in a long time -- a cocky sailor-mouthed Casanova slurring flirty innuendos in a dame’s ear, promising necking behind the church, and a call back that will never occur.

Or the curious sixteen year old, who snuck miniature polaroids of stag porn; claiming it’s from his father’s stash -- gawking chuckles, and bashful gasps stifled in the silent night -- two curious boys beyond their years.

It’s refreshing. Bucky, the one last link to Steve’s past that reminds him of home. Bucky is his home -- but now, there is a beautiful being--not more than five feet away from him--who he yearns to create a garden within her heart and soul; you.

A grin slowly faltering to a genuine solemn smile, “You deserve it, Steve. You deserve her.” There he is. An emotional chameleon, faux cheeky ego veneering battle scars, years thick of abuse, and loneliness -- a molded machine guising a little boy. A flicker of vulnerability sheens in Bucky’s eyes, tittering hope of an old soul.

Steve opened his mouth to succumb to his natural instinct of denial, but Bucky cut him off, “Stop it.” A soft demand, gesturing his hand for Steve to shut it.

“How long are we going to suffer?” a swallow, “Reminiscing on what could’ve been. Imaging years after the war, getting married with kids. The all-American suburban dream.” He was getting misty-eyed.

“A pipe dream -- I’ve finally come to realize that it was never intended for us.” Bucky croaked, laughing it off as he downed more mead.

Steve sniffled, projectile vomit churning -- those aren’t his dreams anymore -- at least, not for a lost era. Those late-night thoughts ending with day-dreams buried in a tear-soaked pillow.

“I used to think if I dated Sharon -- I could regain a piece of Peggy back. Fulfill that hole in my heart.” Remorse, and disgust gurgling inside himself, “But -- I know that wasn’t right -- for either of us.” He stammered, his index finger tracing the rim of his glass.

“Peggy wasn’t the one for me. I just got attached to the first woman who saw me as myself -- she saw beyond the swarny loser.” Steve snorted, his throat constricting.

“You were never a loser.” Bucky spoke tenderly, “A loser wouldn’t have accomplished all that you did.” Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulder, a squeeze of reassurance.

He mumbled a thanks Buck with a curt smile. Steve hung his head a bit, gulping the last drops of his beverage.

Attached. What a silly word to describe the Captain’s past affection for Peggy Carter. He looks back to a time where he would’ve gotten on knee for her, and proposed.

Propose the promise of a better life together, with a bunch of rugrats running around, and saving the world.

Now? It’s a memory. The past. He’s learned to let go, accept his life for what it is -- despite having no choice in the manner. A man out of his time, adapting to the 21st century -- with its entertainments, trends, fashion, and evolved society.

Don’t even get Bucky, and himself started on food. Both men have engorged themselves on cusicines, vowing to never eat plain boiled meals again.

Steve’s genuinely thrilled that times have changed with more liberation for marginalized groups -- people being treated as humans, and exercising their rights.

But if anyone asked Steve Rogers what was the first thing he enjoyed since he got out of the ice? He would say you. Without a doubt, you have brought a light in his life -- a light he has been searching his whole life.

Your strength, poise stature, your sweet voice -- always following his orders on the battlefield, but stood your ground, a perfect dance of partners.

Your beauty is unmatched, classy, but never a prude. Sexy, intelligent -- he can go on, and on.

Steve leered over his shoulder again, his eyes focusing on you. Your head was still perched on Sam’s shoulder, Steve huffed.

How he desperately itches to snatch you off of Sam, and just cradle you all night. He sighed, rubbing his temples, “Hey Buck, I’m gonna take off.” Steve stood up, stretching his muscles, “Awh already, old man?” Bucky teases, snickering. “Goodnight, jerk.” Steve laughed, lightly punching Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve began trekking towards the elevator, passing by buzzed individuals. “Stevie.” A familiar seren voice beckoned him, followed by pitter patter. He turned a little too fast, but he didn’t care. It was you.

“Steve!” a slurred glee shrieked out of you, arms extended out to engulf the sculpted Herculan -- ensnaring him tightly around his neck, curious fingers twirling his combed angel-hair, his ears were forming red. A shiver crawled down his spine -- your touch is intoxicating. Your scent -- mouth-watering.

Quickly stilling your swaying, rubbing your face against his broad chest, “How are you?” your words muffled against the tight fabric, “I missed you.” A surprised huff left Steve, searching for Bucky, only to see his friend wiggle his eyebrows suggestively from the distance.

Ever so the gentleman, he didn’t dare lower his hands to a tantalizing region, locking his grip on your waist, “I’m okay, doll.” He chuckled, “How are you?” Sweetly shifting your body against him by the guide of one forearm on the nape of your back -- petting your curled dome, and swiping wild curls from your doe-eyes.

You hummed, squinty hooded-lids, a blissed placid smile, it's a bit goofy -- adorable nonetheless.

“S’good, Stevie.” Your head bobbled a bit, stifled giggles biting your lip. You lazily titled your head towards the elevator, then sloppily turned back to Steve.

“Where ya’ going, Stevie?” You pouted, and Steve just wanted to trace your bottom lip -- dig his thumb between your lips.

“I’m just gonna head to bed.” Steve’s babifyed his tone, “Sleepy too.” You murmured. Steve internally awed, as your head leaned back on his chest.

“C’mon, doll. Let me help you get to bed.” Steve chuckled. “Oh, how about I put you to bed, Cap--tin?” You slurred, stretching his formal title with a pause -- your eyes fluttered for a second, lazily jabbing his bicep with your finger.

Steve’s ears were dusted pink, shocked at your flirty attitude, catching onto your teasing manner. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Steve’s brazen confidence soared for a momentary lapse. A bit disappointed that most likely, you won’t recall any recollection of tonight’s event.

“Depends. Are you seducible?” You cheekily lightly smacked your lips, with a pout. Steve desperately wants to kiss that pout forever. But he restrained himself.

“Let’s go, Y/n.” He smiled sweetly. Steve lifted you more upward, guiding your feet so you won’t fall on your face.

Walking into the elevator Steve pressed your numbered button, his eyes caught Bucky, who wiggled his eyebrows, mouthing hushed words just for Steve’s advanced hearing, “That’s my boy.” Steve rolled his eyes playfully.

-

During the journey in the elevator, you fell out like a light. Steve carefully hoisted your limp body in bridal style. Steve gazed at you happily, the slope of your nose, your spidery lashes, ruffled curls -- how your breasts heaved under your purple sun-dress.

The ding of the elevator alerting Steve that you both are on your floor, interrupting Steve’s haze, he grumbled a bit but he began walking out towards your room.

Steve gracefully walked to your room, not even paying attention to his steps, focusing on your peaceful sleepy face. The path to your room is already memorized.

“FRIDAY, open Y/n’s door.” Steve pecked a lingering kiss on your forehead, “Of course, Captain Rogers.” The lock of your bedroom clicked open. Steve made himself home, a natural occurrence of him.

Strides towards your bed, gingerly placing you on the bed. Steve gulped, his fists straining at his side; his eyes stared up at the ceiling, counting to five.

Reprimanding himself; reminding himself that he should leave you be. Just like the times before.

But one look at you, and he’s a goner. He has to just touch you — oh God, please.

Shaky palms reach for the hem of your dress, grazing your skin as he perched the fabric upward. Savoring the smoothness against his fingertips.

Toned curves and planes of soft-scented, smooth sepia flesh; his heartbeat drumming out in a rapid rhythm, serene sleepy smile rests on your face. Pouty heart-shaped lips -- Steve’s cock twitch at the mere idea of slipping his veiny dick in your warm mouth, your slurping tongue gagging on his swollen balls.

But not yet. The scenery isn’t fitting -- next time.

Gingerly kneeling on your carpeted floor, Steve delicately seized one of your ankles, pinched tips toying with the leather straps; leisurely unclipping the sandals, he licked his bottom lip.

A wolf playing with its food, favoring the image of an anxious boy unwrapping his prize.

As his nimble fingers unlatched the straps off, steadily he tugged the sandal off, silently placing the shoe on the floor -- he repeated the exact action with the other foot.

Steve internally awed at your dainty feet, a small whine restrained by a tight-lip smirk. Hiking his clutch on your ankle, peppering modest kisses on the tips of your toes.

He couldn’t help but to worship you.

Hosting himself upward, tenderly repositioning your leg against the mattress.

Limbs spread eagle, your forearms perched above your dome like a mid-froze ballerina, the hem of your dress hiked up -- bundled, and wrinkled -- to your navel, exposing your lace thong.

A shuddering groan crawled up his throat,swallowing thickly, calloused fingers skate past the terrain of ankles to legs -- thumbs rubbing, savoring -- to waist, kneading slightly but only to flinch away.

Scared to break you, as if he’s too broken to handle your beauty properly. Steve grew the confidence within him, and quietly began removing your dress off your body.

His fingers sneak underneath the cotton dress, slipping it up towards your chin; clutching one arm to maneuver the short-end sleeve off.

A small groan vibrated in your throat, but you remained in a drunk slumber. Steve’s breath hitched, fearful for you to awaken with him hovering over you. To scare you off -- he just wants a taste.

To feel what’s his.

Presented before Steve was your bare essence; and he just wants to fall to your feet. All his sketches of your sleeping form doesn’t do justice, being able to view the entire masterpiece beyond hidden sketches.

“You’re so beautiful, doll.” He murmured, his lips foraging your chavlices.

You sleepily mumbled, a lazy smile curling just a bit. A lingering kiss on your hairline, Steve lowly hummed happily. Your bare breasts heave with your calm breathing, Steve littered your sheen skin with small kisses, a few kitten licks on your nipples -- the tip of his tongue swirling on the erected nubs.

Little whimpers, and moans swelled Steve’s cock. “My sweet little doll is so responsive … so sensitive.” Steve cooed. With much silent vigor, Steve unbuckled his pants, fumbling the fabric below his ass; just enough space to release his weeping cock.

His fingers hook your flimsy lace, tugging it by the side -- salivating at the mouth at your glistening mound. His thick fingers wrap around his cock, love taps by his swollen tip against your clit. You softly mewled in your sleep, a cute whine. Involuntarily your hips shifted, your body yearning for contact.

Steve tsked playfully at your impatience, “Even in your sleep, you need me.” Steadily Steve inserted himself inside your soft velvety walls, biting down on his lip to prevent a lew groan. He shivered internally, you feel heavenly.

Steve languidly thrusts, his fists crumpling your sheets underneath you. Slowly leaning half of his weight onto you, his light pants fanning on your face. Steve indents his elbow that was sunk just a bit in the mattress, trapping your head between himself.

“Isn’t this your dream, princess? Isn’t this what you’ve desperately wanted all this time?” Steve whispered in your ears, “Flirting with your Captain, naughty girl.” His fingers caressing your arms, soothing you back to a fluid state of sleep, a small loose smile adorning your face.

Licks his teeth, as he gently pushes his girth inside of you. Mumbled whines alert him, he shushes you, pecking little kisses on your cheeks while maintaining an agile insertion. Trembling slightly at the heavenly touch that is you, Steve hissed under his breath.

He preens as he finally is at a full brim. His pelvis against your vee, fully satiated between your thighs.

His heart pounding, snapping his hips slightly, your body jolts a bit underneath him. Steve’s chest tightens, as he pounds into you, the squelching wetness coating his cock.

His limbs twitches, struggling not to groan, or growl in pleasure. Steve’s head glides down to meet your heaving breasts, suckling onto the nipple.

Blinded by lust, he suckles, imagining it’s full of milk, a muffled grunt leaves him as he pictures you swollen with his child -- another on your hip. He rolls his hips, losing his control as the mellow pacing turns faster, more needy.

One day — one day, there will be a ring on your finger; and a litter of your own together. The Rogers — Mrs. Y/n Rogers; oh this is just beginning.

Eyes screwed shut, he keens to feel your rapid breathing spike, tremors shudder throughout your body. His golden hair is sweat slick against his forehead, a little pop from as he detaches himself.

Flickering the tip of his tongue against the nipple. Steve changes the angle of his cock, you jerk in your stupor, high-arch keen off the bed.

“That’s the sweet spot.” He hummed to himself. His voice scraped in a hush, “I can feel you tightening on me, doll.” It’s like a vice on his cock, blurry visions you dream -- his veiny cock pounding into you with no mercy.

“Steve …” You murmur, Steve leans more into you, a goofy grin of joy stretches on his face. “My sweet doll is dreaming of me. You can feel me.” Steve’s is over-joyed, his heart flutters, butterflies are rapid in his belly. You’re thinking of him. Pressing his chest against your breasts, “I’m going to cum, doll.”

Sneaky fingers snake itself between you both, rubbing your clit in circles, a breathy gasp escapes you.

“I love you.” Steve whimpers, painting your walls white -- not daring to let any ounce of cum escape. Biting his lips till it draws blood, preventing any roar.

His nose scrunches up, his muscles tighten. You exhaled, you slick dripping down Steve’s pants.

He kisses your lips gingerly, “Sweet dreams, doll.”

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #steve rogers x reader #captain america #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers smut #dark steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #dark marvel

[thebrokenblackman]

The Nubian,the Colonizer,the Rastafari, and the “mixed”  women caught in between.

Yesterday I awoke at 4:00 am to make salaah. After doing so I decided to check twitter. When I did I learned that the grandson of the romanticized British monarchy and the son of late Princess Dianna, Prince Harry, was getting married. Nearly half of the black women in my timeline were genuinely emotionally invested into the wedding as if it was their own. I saw hundreds of supportive tweets for a “Black” woman marrying the European prince. This bothered me, but this is also the reaction I would have expected knowing that abundance of the Nubian people here in America have been successfully white-washed and have now began the process of perpetuating self-hatred so deep that they don’t notice they hate themselves.So, I just stated my general opinion of disapproval of black people supporting this, retweeted others with similar views, and engaged in a few healthy philosophical debates. In my mind the issue of black people celebrating this marriage was something that I knew was too far embedded in us for my opinion to change anyones thought. So, I didn’t plan to make this blog nor even talk about the subject any more. That is until my girlfriend,who is bi-racial, came home from a day at the Chicago’s Art Institute with her best-friend. She does not identify with black people nor our struggles. She like Meghan Merkel, identifies as mixed due to what I sum up to a lack awareness,but I respect her decision to take her image and “being” into her own hands even if it is at the expense of empathy for half of her that is oppressed historically by the other half. She like many mixed women have have taken the power back from society by defining and promoting self-image and individualism. This is something you must applaud, but even this accomplishment is not without its flaws. The major issue with in my standpoint is by defining yourself as individual you remove yourself from a community. In doing so, like my girlfriend the bi-racial woman who identifies as mixed becomes desensitized to the pain of the people she came from.She makes decisions based on what is best for her and her pleasure as oppose to what is best for either of her racial denominations.

With that being said, she decided to make small talk with me about the wedding even though she knows my politics are afrocentric and marxist. She looked through pictures of the wedding with a glimmer in her eye and clearly the royal wedding incited something within her. She was so happy for Harry to be getting married, how beautiful the features of the ceremony was, and how Meghan was making history being a black woman in the Royal Family. I just listened. When it was finally time for me to talk I said, “Baby, she doesn’t Identify as black”. She Argued that Meghan Merkel did identify as black, but after research she simply said “O” and became rather quiet. Her quietness was not from being proven wrong, but from realization- Realization that Meghan Merkel was just like herself.  In order to avoid argument that could be harmful to our relationship I avoided going into the complexities of the psychological mind state of the mixed dutchess and how it effects the Afrikan diaspora and just simply said, “ She- wether she identifies as “Black” or not is marrying into a White Supremacist Family who still colonizes the afrikan continent and exploits afrikan people. They won’t even give us (Ethiopian) the artifacts they stole 150 years ago through imperialism back ( https://bit.ly/2GzQ1us). The point is they have way too much of my people’s blood on their hands to care about the wedding and If Meghan Identified as “Black” it would be worse because she is selling us out. That’s like you marrying the grand wizard of the KKK.” As, I have come to expect of my girl she just ignored what I was saying and continued to scroll through the pictures of the wedding in complete flattery. Even as disheartening of an experience as this was. I treated my girl just like the women of twitter. I had the same expectations for them both,so it did not bother me nor did it inspire me to write this blog. 

What inspired me and filled me with uncontrollable emotions somewhere in between pity and disdain was what happened a hour or so later. While I was sitting in the family room my girl and her two friends-one whom is white and one whom my girl says identifies as mixed - began to speak of the royal wedding. Her white friend said, “I just don’t understand people. You just can’t be happy for someone?”. I felt my blood pressure rise. What was the knock out for me was when from the corner of my eye I saw my girl point at me (she says they had changed the conversation in sign language but if so the timing was awfully quick and awfully bad timing) in what was supposed to be humor ,but was not funny to me. I got up and removed myself from the environment which had become toxic to me by ONE STATEMENT, One rhetorical question. “You just can’t be happy for someone?”. What was probably so simple to her hit my mind with the depth of the Atlantic ocean.  It was complex. It was puzzling. But most of all it was inadvertently racist. These few words totally dismissed the concerns, thoughts, pain, and history of a whole people.

The lack of empathy for the concerns of my people who don’t support the wedding was angering. I can understand why you would be happy or why others would be happy, but you cant understand why some may not? Well allow me to explain to the white women, black women, and mixed women alike who share these sentiments. To do so I must give a brief history lesson;

The relationship between the Afrikan continent specifically Ethiopia and Britain is Infamous. It  is not one of free trade, glorious alliance, and equality. It is lopsided like a teeter-toter with a fat white kid on one side and an anorexic black kid on the other. This relationship is one of a virus or plague that sweeps through a land causing complete famine and leaving nothing but air and space. Worst of all it has been glamorized and romanticized as “just” due to what the europeans of latter day called “civilizing” or what they call today “humanitarianism/anthropology” . Since the 1600s when William the Orange took the british throne from James II after their so called “Glorious Revolution”Britain has been invading Afrika as an Imperial power pushing a supremacist agenda and believing that a white God has Ordained them to do so.By 1690 the British were the leading slave traders passing the Dutch. Britain went on to seize the land and resources of Gambia,Sierra Leone,Gold Coast/Togoland,Nigeria, Tanganyika, Angol-Egyptian-Sudan,Zanzibar,South Africa, Kenya, Uganda,Somilia land, and Zimbabwe by brute force.They had come raping our women, cutting off the penises of our men, cutting the tongues of both so that they wouldn’t speak tribal language, taking our drums, and pushing their christianity on us.

In 1867 Emperor Tewodros Of Ethiopia had written Queen Elizabeth in search of alliance, but in her arrogance and totally disregard for Afrikan Royalty and holy lineage she didn’t respond. Not until His Majesty Ras Tafari Aka Haile Selassie took the throne did an Africa Nation ,a sovereign one at that, have an alliance with Britain. Or at least what they thought to be an Alliance. When Benito Mussolini ,prior to the world war, invaded Ethiopia with intention of (in his own words) “Conquering a backwards people” and “Building a new Roman empire” H.I.M. Selassie I went to Britain for military aid against the fascist leader. They gave nothing more than a cold shoulder. They would not dare help an afrikan nation fight a white nation. Oh No! Haile Selassie then went to the french colony of Somoliland in exile. Surely Mussolini and Italy were to conquer Ethiopia. Not until Mussolini and Hitler started invading parts of Africa that Europeans “owned” and european countries themselves did Britain apply pressure to Mussolini which allowed his majesty to come back to Ethiopia and retake his throne. 

On September 9, 2017 his Great-grandson tied the knot with a “Bi-racial” Harvard grad named Ariana Austin whom he met while he was attending The Mecca aka Howard. The Royalty’s wedding received minimal media coverage which is a shame because this is real royalty. A royalty indigenous to the land it rules not one who took their land and keeps it by mass murder and oppression. Ariana is a rare type of mixed woman, the best type of mixed woman who let’s the world know she is mixed and appreciates both cultures she comes from ,but identifies as black because she knows what features dominate her DNA, how society classifies her, and most importantly that one half of her ancestry has put the other half through genocide. So when it comes to how to identify herself she takes the side of the oppressed rather than the tyrannical. She didn’t know her husband was royalty until after they had been together for multiple years,so this means she had embraced the black man whole-heartedly already and was willing to commit herself to one long time. She understands that the mixed black woman is nothing more than a light skinned BLACK WOMAN. She does not differentiate herself from her fellow lighter skinned sisters as if her struggle is somehow different. Black women were not so quick to embrace this royalty but have whole heartedly embraced Meghan. But why is that....

Meghan is who they want to be. She has the best of the all the worlds to them. She can be black when it is enjoyable & profitable to be and mixed when she wants to avoid the negatives that comes with being black. She is married to a white man also and not just any white man an insanely rich and influential white man. This is the deepest fantasy of the majority of our sisters whom suffer from subconscious self-hate. The American Society has propagated Anti-Afrikan imagery to the black woman since she has arrived on on the shores in ball and chain. From the Mammie (Above) in the reconstruction era to the White Washing of our historical figures (Sheba,Nefertiri,Etc) to The Barbie doll to the idolization of the Kardashians. This vigorous agenda to make the black woman and girl think their natural features are ugly and Marilyn Monroe and Kim K are beautiful has done its job effectively. If you do not believe me click this link (https://bit.ly/2bxEGAH ) and prepare to be amazed. Do you think this programmed Afrikan hate disappears with age? No, It merely gets masked with excuses like “I do it for myself” or “I just want to look pretty” that contradict the message of Self-love they are intending to get across. Meghan may or not hate herself. Who knows? Mixed Women like here may or may not hate themselves. Who knows? But, these were not the women on social media showing support in the mass for Meghan. It was the BLACK women. The same black woman who have through outcry brought to the forefront the depths of colorism and society’s perception of beauty that holds the WHITE WOMAN above all. The repressed black women is now eager to claim any and everyone as one of her own that has achieved status in the White world. Like Meghan- even if she herself says “Don’t call me black”.

Once again this is as I expected because America is good at what it does, which is oppressing Afrikan being. Sad enough no matter how hard the european attempts to wipe our existence and/or being off the face of the map they have not. There were Black women/men speaking in protest to this wedding! But why? Because of you all! You all have attached Meghan to the black community when we don’t want her nor does she wants to be apart of such. In addition to that she is joining a monarchy who has gained its power off the blood of all things black. This is possibly the most racist family on earth and she has married into it.She has not taken it over nor infiltrated it. She has joined it. Is this who we want our daughters to idolize? To aspire to be? A woman who put the history of her blood aside to get a spot in the bed and a seat at the table with the white man? She stands as a symbol that is recognized by the Black Nationalist Diaspora as a “FUCK YOU” to both us and our ancestors. The Imperial conglomerate that is The Royal Family is still today very much white supremacist. Apart from Prince Harry dressing as a nazi for halloween while one of his friends was a Klansman and the other was in Black Face like an old Mickey Rooney Movie, out of Britain’s Unemployment Rate Blacks make up 45%, Black men are nearly three times more likely to be arrested than white men, and black children three times more likely to be excluded from school. With that being said Britain is also still colonizing and exploiting over 37 sub-saharan Afrikan countries through high interest loans and mining companies. 

So i ask you “why should we just be happy?”. If you got raped and later in life you found out your rapist was getting married or better yet getting married to you family member would you be happy? Harry’s Crimson hairs reminds us of the Asante and Xhosa blood spilled in the Afrikan grasslands.The wrinkles on his father’s Face look like the waves of the oceans that our people were thrown in from the Slave ships. Meghan is nothing but a light-skinned Omarosa. To you that wedding symbolized integrationist-based accomplishment ,but to the awoken, the 5%, the hoteps, the pan-afrikans, the vanguard that wedding was just another step further away from the  New-Afrikan civilization we’ve dedicated our mind, body, and souls to.

We understand there are black people who the european has made incapable of thinking like us. We understand that europeans will not think like us. We accept this. And we need you to accept that we can not think like you because to do so would be to discard all that is important to us just to applaud two people making a public spectacle of a ceremony that is supposed to be sacred. So instead of asking us “Why we just cant be happy” ask yourself “Why cant I understand why they aren’t happy?”. 

With Love for the Sake of Allah (swt)

-Hakeem Ture.

#rastafari #royalwedding #british royal family #british royal wedding #ethiopia #mussolini #Haile Selassie #H.I.M. #Catholicism #White Supremacy #pan africanism #revolution #jews #judaism #christianity #meghan markle #prince harry #colorism #darkskinned girls #mixed girls #light skinned girls #melanin #blackgirlmagic #blackgirlsrock #black lives matter

[disneyelite]

Disney on Broadway Concert Series

One of the highlights of Epcot’s Festival of the Arts event is the Disney on Broadway Concert Series. Not only does this production deliver stellar performances from some of our favorite Disney musicals, but it also features well-known and amazing artists who played these beloved characters on the Broadway stage itself. It’s like having a touch of New York City theater in your own backyard. Though in this case, it’s the Disney World theme parks. To start off its fourth year, Disney brought in two of its four-time veterans of the Epcot stage to open the event, Kissy Simmons and Alton Fitzgerald White. Both starred in the Broadway adaptation of Disney’s The Lion King, which is now the third longest-running musical production, only behind theater greats Phantom of the Opera and Chicago.

Both Kissy Simmons and Alton Fitzgerald White kicked off the show with “A Star is Born” from Hercules, which is the newest Disney musical to hit the stage. It was the perfect way to set the tone for an upbeat production of some of Disney’s greats, while also giving a tasteful plug to see the show. Kissy Simmons

Source: Disney Parks Blog Kissy Simmons was the first to showcase her amazing vocals with a solo from The Lion King written exclusively for the Broadway production. Kissy played Nala in the musical, a role initially held by Heather Headley, who also happens to be one of my absolute favorites. The song, “Shadowland,” is a powerful number that our warrior lioness sings after Scar primarily drives the pride lands into drought and famine. Nala knows the only way to ensure the survival of her people is to leave her home to find help. Below is the official lyric video posted by Disney on Broadway, which is sung by the original Nala, Heather Headley. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPJqaxkBRro The second song Kissy sang was from another musical starring Heather Headley and, like The Lion King, was written by Elton John and Tim Rice. Disney’s musical, Aida, tells the story of a Nubian princess who is taken captive by an Egyptian captain with who she later falls in love. Sound complicated? It gets worse. Not only is the handsome captain off-limits and engaged to the Egyptian princess Aida is a handmaiden to, but her father is also captured. The only way to set him free and protect her people is to betray the man she loves. This onslaught of tension gives rise to the musical number “Easy as Life,” which is yet another masterful tribute to the range and depth of Kissy’s voice. Alton Fitzgerald White

Source: Disney Parks Blog Not to be outdone by Kissy’s phenomenal performances, Alton also gives a nod to his time as Mufasa in the Lion King musical. As it stands, Alton has played this role over 4,000 times and is the longest-running Mufasa on Broadway, spanning over a decade on the show. His first solo was also a Lion King musical original, “They Live in You.” A version of this song later made its way into the opening of The Lion King II, which came out the year after the musical opened on Broadway. The song is performed by Mufasa during a heart-to-heart with Simba. He explains that the kings of the past offer guidance that continues long after they are gone. Below is the official lyric video posted by Disney on Broadway, which is sung by the original Mufasa, Samuel E. Wright. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JUvj9uIOts The second solo Alton sings in the Disney on Broadway Concert Series is a song from the Beauty and the Beast musical. The song, “If I Can’t Love Her,” is another Broadway original performed by the Beast (originally Terrence Mann), who honestly doesn’t get nearly enough singing time in the animated classic. The song depicts the Beast’s anguish over his love for Belle and his current cursed condition. It provides the character with even more depth than its animated counterpart and allows audiences to feel for the Beast’s plight truly. Alton’s deep, soulful voice executes the song perfectly and leaves audiences speechless.

The great thing about the Disney on Broadway Concert Series is you get to experience a whole new set of songs beyond the animated classics. While we love songs like “Can You Feel the Love Tonight,” and “Under the Sea,” the Broadway adaptations provide Disney fans with a whole new glimpse into the characters and stories we already know and love. The songs in each show are also specific to the singers. So where Kissy and Alton focused mainly on songs from The Lion King, as well as those from singers of a similar vocal range, performers like Adam Jacobs and Michael James Scott will likely sing songs from Disney’s Aladdin. The only way to know for sure is to come check it out for yourself. Be sure to also look out for new entertainment at Epcot and stop by Animal Kingdom to witness the majesty of the Festival of the Lion King Show. Either way, there is still plenty of time to enjoy the Epcot Festival of the Arts, which ends on February 24th along with its performances of the Disney on Broadway Concert Series. Read the full article

#disneyelite #disney #epcot #epcotfestivalofthearts #festivalofthearts

[bundeslihaha]

A New Hope Denied

Two classics meet in a tale of Light and Dark – or should I say, yellow and red?

This is a crack AU based on Der Klassiker, written in 2014. Happy late Star Wars Day, by the way! May the Fourth be with you!

Borussia Dortmund was the embodiment of Light.

Standing tall and powerful, he was blessed with a sword fighting skill little could match – one he perfected himself, I might add – called gegenpressing, taken from the old Allemand word for ‘counterattack’.

Not to mention his physique – the beautiful climate of his home planet, Estfalia, bestowed him fair, almost golden hair he liked to keep messy in order to match his charming smile, high cheekbones and a perfect body, but the most striking feature in him was his eyes. Contrasting greatly with his pale skin, his eyes were the color of the most potent caf, a mark of the endless passion inside him.

Despite all his fire, though, Borussia had a kind heart – it beat with unconditional love and a thirst for peace.

But every beacon of light had a Darkness to balance it – such was the way of the Force.

This being of hatred had been born innocent. Naive, even. She’d been the apple of her loving guardian’s eyes – her parents had been executed for reasons undisclosed, long before the war – a bright child who saw the good in everything and everyone… especially her graceful teacher Miss Löwe. Years passed, and the little girl was now a young woman devoting herself for her homeworld… a world aligned with the revolution movement. A world torn apart by the Jedi. And with great skills and the Force inside her, she rose up through the ranks quickly...

But not quick enough. The Liberation of Bavaria, as the attack was called in Republic history books, killed her foster family.

And she felt alone.

So alone.

Until Miss Löwe came to her guardians’ funeral.

And she told her a secret: She was a Sith, a Force user, and she saw her potential. “I will train you, my child,” Löwe cooed, rubbing calming circles on her back as she stared at the strangers burying her family’s ashes, “and the Jedi will be no more. Our home will be free for our loved ones. And for eternity.”

And she was dubbed Bayern München – meaning one who dies for Bavaria.

But she didn’t die with her planet. It never did.

She brought it into the spotlight, instead. After years of training, she exposed her master for being the war’s mastermind and had her “executed”, gaining fame and sympathy from all parties involved.

Then Bayern pulled some more strings. Estfalen joined in the fledgling alliance, with leaders Queen Leva and King Oriam signing a treaty. The alliance then spread its influence all over the galaxy, awashing people with fear. Fear that the Jedi wasn’t a good enough guardian, an ineffective force that was incapable of exterminating the growing threat of extragalactic invaders.

So new leadership was arranged, with Bayern as its head. The people was satisfied with her quick action in “decommissioning” the Jedi (replacing them with special forces), building public facilities and reducing taxes, but the Dark Side twisted her good intentions… and the New Empire turned into a dictatorship in a matter of months.

A new revolution started, led by former Estfalen senator and defector Hansje Watzke with the Delegation of 2000, politicians who stayed loyal to the Republic’s democratic ways. The few remaining Jedi also joined the so-called Rebel Alliance, followed by groups of the oppressed.

They would strike at the Empire’s strongholds, infiltrate organizations and gather intelligence. They won some and lost some, but their most important victory was a personal attack on the Empress by their best Jedi Master, Jürgen Klopp, who managed to cut off two of her appendages at the cost of his.

Of course, the high expectations shifted to his healthy ex-apprentice, the aforementioned Borussia Dortmund. The young Jedi had mixed feelings for it, for he was only twenty-two, for Force’s sake! And he had a life! A really beautiful one, at that! And her name was Princess Alké Koenigsblau of Gelsenkirchen.

It was a pity she had her eyes on that stupid pilot. What was his name? Erwin? Klaas? Julian?

He decided not to care. And oh, look! There she was… after brushing his hair back with his fingers (she liked her boys sharp), he approached her with a subdued version of his usual swagger.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he greeted, grinning as he tried to emulate a Nubian-style curtsy.

Alké raised a trimmed eyebrow (though it was still as thick as kark) at his boldness. “Good morning, Master Dortmund.” Her voice was deep and controlled with a condescending undertone, a picture of perfect regalness.

“Oh, come on, Alké, you know I’m not a Master yet,” Borussia said, nudging her side playfully, "Just call me Borussia."

There was a long pause. The Jedi's dark eyes started to twinkle, inviting the princess’ blue ones to cave in- a flicker of annoyance, and the princess' chest heaved, as if preparing for a long speech. Finally!

"Well, Borussia," she replied, turning elegantly on her heels to face him, “Perhaps it would be wiser if you wait for lunch break if you wish to chat with me. Now if you’ll excuse me… I have pressing matters to attend to. Come, Erwin.”

A towering humanoid with gray hair, beady eyes and inexplicably large nose in blue and white followed her. Borussia shuddered as they passed him by. That thing was Erwin?

Apparently Erwin knew what he was thinking about, because he glared at the young Jedi with the force of Tatooine suns. Caught red-handed, he hastily sent the aide a strong Force suggestion. Stop looking at me! Follow her! Thankfully, he did what he was told, leaving Borussia in the empty hallway. Phew! he thought, rubbing his chest in relief, that was close!

What was close?

Borussia almost jumped in surprised at his former master’s call, but he tried to compose himself like the perfect Jedi he should be… and failed spectacularly. A fruit doesn’t fall far from its tree…

Er, well, just… a little, uh, royal affair… nothing you should be worried about!

The Jedi Master’s Force signature seemed to be facepalming when he said that.

‘Royal affair’, he repeated incredulously, ...did you flirt with Koenigsblau again?

Borussia groaned inwardly. No! And even if I do, I’m not a Padawan anymore. You can’t stick your nose into everything I do, Kloppo! He added his mentor’s nickname for good measure.

Very well, the quirky Master sounded like he was nodding, just don’t come crying to me when poodoo hits the fan, okay?

Sure thing, Master, Borussia replied, rolling his eyes. Why doesn’t he trust me with women, anyway?

To (not) be continued…

This is one of the weirdest things I’ve written (note the extreme bias towards Dortmund!), but whatever xD I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D

#der klassiker #FC Bayern München #Borussia Dortmund #Bundesliga #Bundeslihaha #football #soccer #parody #Star Wars #crossover #crack #crackfic #gijinka #personification #fc schalke 04 #schalke 04 #bayern munich #fc bayern munich #fc bayern #schalke #dortmund #jurgen klopp #juergen klopp #jürgen klopp

[dazombi3fari3]

Hey doll hey!!! How’s your day going? Great I hope. I’m doing OK today. Still in a bit of pain but much better than I have been. I didn’t sleep well last night, was up several times, this happens a lot with people who have Fibromyalgia… we often do not get a restful sleep… So I’m a bit sluggish today.

I’ll be doing another food related post today. I’m making homemade Puerto Rican Chicken Soup. It’s different from American Chicken Soup… it’s heartier and more of a thick stew … it’s a meal all in it’self and is amazing for rainy or chilly days (it’s a bit on the chilly side here in Florida so soup it is).

For today’s perfume I am wearing JLo Love and Glamour. I didn’t really has a dirrection I wanted my makeup to go in today, I just developed the look organically as I went…. Now, let’s jump into today’s Face of the Day …

Base:                                                                                                                                                         I first primed my problematic pore areas with Tarte Clean Slate Timeless Smoothing Primer ($39 at Ulta) and then primed the full face using VDL Pantone Collection Lumilayer Primer ($32 at Ulta). My foundation today is Tarte Babassu Foundcealer Skincare Foundation Broad Spectrum SPF 20 ($39 for a full size bottle at Ulta) in the shade 27N Light/Medium Neutral. I contoured using Charlotte Tilbury Contour Wand ($38 at Sephora) in the shade Medium/Dark. I highlighted the tops of my cheek bones, bridge of the nose, center of the chin, and high points of my forehead using Charlotte Tilbury Glowgasm Beauty Light Wand ($38 at Sephora) in the shade Glodgasm. I concealed my under eyes using 3 dots of  NYX Born to Glow Radiant Concealer ($9 at Ulta) in the shade Fair. I set my under eyes using Laura Mercier Secret Brightening Powder for Under Eyes ($28 at Ulta) in the shade 1 and then set the rest of my face using the  Too Faced Born This Way Ethereal Setting Powder ($33 at Ulta and Sephora) in the shade Translucent. I then warmed up the perimeter of my face using Tarte Limited Edition Park Ave Princess Waterproof Face & Body Bronzer ($34 at Ulta). I am using Rimmel London Stay Matte Powder ($4 at Walmart) in the shade 011 creamy natural as my touch up powder today.

Eyes:                                                                                                                                                           I set my brows using Believe Beauty Eyebrow Styling Gel ($4 at Dollar General) in clear and then filled in my brows using Benefit Precisely My Brow Pencil ($24 at Ulta and Sephora) in the shade 4.5 and then I primed my lids using P.Louise Base ($10 pound sterling/ $12.08 USD on their website… can also be found on the Morphie website for $15) in the shade Rumour 0.5 and I also used a little of this to cut my brow line. For today’s eye look I used the Juvia’s Place The Nubian Eyeshadow Palette ($20 at Ulta). I started with the 3rd shade of the 1st row (Nude Brown Matte) from lash line to brow bone. I then deepened the outer 1/3 of the mobile lid and the outer v of the crease using the 2nd shade of the 3rd row (Brown matte). I then patted the 2nd shade of the 2nd row (Light Gold metallic) over the middle 1/3 of the mobile lid and then I patted the 1st shade of the 1st row (Iridescent Pink metallic) over the inner 1/3 of the mobile lid. I felt that the middle 1/3 needed to have more of a pop so I used a bit of NYX Glitter Primer ($6.50 at Ulta) and then pat more of the light gold metallic shade over top of that. I then highlighted my brow line using L’Oreal Infallible 24-HR Eyeshadow ($9.47 at CVS) in the shade 899 Endless Pearl (a creamy vanilla matte). I created a subtle drop shadow using more of the Nude Brown shade and then deepened the lash line with more of the Brown shade. I them took more of the Light Gold shade and ran that along the inner 1/3 of the lower lash line and then buffed more of the Brown shade over top of that to add a hint of dimension. I highlighted the inner corners using Hikari Creme Pigment ($15 on their website) in the shade Honey Dew (icy pink with slight silver reflect metallic). I lined my lower waterlines using ColourPop BFF Gel Eye Liner ($6 on their website) in the shade Get Paid (rose gold metallic) and then coated my upper and lower lashes with 2 coats of Milani Dangerous Lengths Mascara ($9.99 at Ulta).

Cheeks and Lips:                                                                                                                               For blush today I am wearing Tarte Amazonian Clay 12-HR Blush ($29 at Ulta) in the shade Captivating (bright peach matte). I lined and filled in my lips using NYX Suede Matte Lip Liner ($4 at Ulta) in the shade Wipped Caviar (a reddish pink nude) and then topped that off with L’Oreal Rouge Signature Lightweight Matte Lip Stain ($5.99 at Ulta) in the shade 448 I-Tease (a soft taupey pink matte) and felt that this was too muted so I tapped a few dots of Makeup Geek Creme Stain ($11.99 on their website) in the shade Jitterbug (an intense coral matte) and then I felt that this was too dry looking so I topped the whole lip off using NARS Lip Gloss ($24 on the NARS website) in the shade Strip Tease (a muted nude).

Final Thoughts:

Juvia’s Place The Nubian Eyeshadow Palette: Grade A+++: This is the first palette I have ever owned from Juvia’s Place and I’ve gotta say it is DIVINE! The shadows are finely milled and not to creamy (there are somewhere in the middle of creamy and dusty … it’s a perfect blend). The shadows have the perfect pigmentation… not to over powered and definitely not understated. There was just a tad bit of kickback in the pans but there was zero fallout on the face. The shadows blended out perfectly without going patchy or skipping. The shades buffed into one another seamlessly to perfection. I am so in love with this palette! I have already placed several more Juvia’s Place palettes into my cart for next month’s beauty buys.

Laura Mercier Secret Brightening Powder for Under Eyes: Grade A+++!!!: In yesterday’s haul post I said that because this powder is so light that I didn’t think it would set my concealer well. I now take that back. Just the smallest amount of this powder set my under eyes so well that I now understand the hype behind this product. It doesn’t feel like I have powder on and it doesn’t look like I have powder on. There are several key pros for this powder. #1 this powder did not deepen my under eyes (most powders I’ve used to set my under eyes causes my concealers to oxidize). #2 I truly only went in with the smallest of taps of this powder and it set the under eyes beautifully. and #3 This powder brightened the under eyes superbly without giving a white cast to the look. My under eyes have never looked so good before! See…. I knew there was a reason I love Laura Mercier so much… She just does makeup products so well. I already know I will be repurchasing this powder… in fact I have another jar already in my cart for next month.

VDL Pantone Collection Lumilayer Primer: Grade A+: In yesterday’s haul post I said that because of the  slight pink pearlescent sheen that this wouldn’t be the type of primer that can be used on it’s own… I rescind that statement. Once this primer is blended into the skin it just leaves the skin luminous and healthy looking with no pearlescence at all. I’m not sure how well this one will hold the foundation all day, but I don’t even care about that…. this primer just makes the skin look amazing and foundation over top just glows (lit from within, not greasy looking). I’m glad I tried this one…. I purchased it after watching Robert Welsh’s YouTube Video called Zoom Makeup Tutorial | makeup for video calls FaceTime zoom and Skype . I saw how beautiful it looked on his skin and just couldn’t help myself… I purchased it straight away. Dolls …. I am so glad I did. I can already tell I will be repurchasing this one when I run out.

NYX Born to Glow Radiant Concealer: Graded A+++!!!!: This concealer deserves 4 billion exclamation points behind it’s grade mark! This is such a pretty concealer and a little went a long way. I added only 3 dots and it completely covered my under eyes. It also completely covered my dark circles. It’s super creamy without being overly emollient. It didn’t sink into my fine lines and it didn’t go cakey or patchy even with using a sponge. I truly like this concealer. It left the under eyes looking fresh and dewy and didn’t look heavy at all. This is 2nd concealer from NYX that I have fallen for and I hope and pray that they do not discontinue this one! I can see that I will be repurchasing this one on repeat.

Tarte  Babassu Foundcealer Skincare Foundation Broad Spectrum SPF 20: Grade A+++: This foundation left my face looking super supple! It left my skin looking radiant and hydrated. It’s really truly pretty. I only purchased the mini (Tarte foundations are hit or miss for me so I didn’t want to commit to a full sized just yet) and now I’m kicking myself in the behind for it. It leaves the skin looking like skin without looking like a mask or cakey or patchy. The only thing was I had to pumps several pumps… this pump dose not disperse much product at one time. I really love this foundation and will be purchasing the full sized next month.

Well that’s all for now dolls. Stay tuned later when I shade my recipe for homemade Puerto Rican Chicken Soup. In the meantime I pray that you are in good spirits and health and that you enjoy the rest of your day/night. Remember dolls … Save a spoon for a bit of lipstick.

XOXO

Gold Neutral Eye Face of the Day and Product Review Hey doll hey!!! How's your day going? Great I hope. I'm doing OK today. Still in a bit of pain but much better than I have been.

#Beauty #Charlotte Tilbury #Face of the day #Juvia&039;s Place #Laura Mercier #Makeup #makeup review #NYX Cosmetics #Product Review #Tarte #VDL

[dawnajaynes32]

Elaborated Lives

Elaborated Lives

Photos courtesy Jonathan Tisevich

Sarah Marie Young

Brandon Michael and Joy Ellis

By Tom Wachunas

…Too many choices tear us apart / I don't want to live like that / Too many choices tear us apart / I don't want to love like that / I just want to touch your heart / May this confession be the start

- lyrics from “Elaborate Lives” by Tim Rice, from AIDA

     In the beginning of the Players Guild production of Aida, the Tony Award-winning musical by Elton John and Tim Rice, several people are strolling about the beautiful set designed by Joshua Erichsen in a convincing evocation of visiting an ancient Egypt exhibit in a museum. Emerging from a display niche, a statue of Amneris (Sarah Marie Young), daughter of a Pharoah, comes to life and intones the song, “Every Story is a Love Story.” It’s a richly sung summary of what will soon unfold, wherein we hear the solemn reminder, “…This is the story of a love that flourished in a time of hate.”

   In this highly moving chronicle of forbidden love, divided loyalties, and treachery in an era of tyranny and war, we meet Aida (Joy Ellis), a Nubian princess stolen from her country and enslaved in Egypt. There she struggles mightily to reconcile her growing love for Radames (Brandon Michael) – a imposing Egyptian soldier already betrothed (for nine years!) to Amneris – with the pressing burden of remaining a faithful leader to her own beleaguered people.  

   As he has done for so many past productions, director Jonathan Tisevich has assembled a wondrously gifted group of performers. Amid the ethereal lighting designed by Scott Sutton, the sonic magic from the live, 11-piece orchestra conducted by Steve Parsons, and further energized by Michael Lawrence Akers’ exotic, often sensual choreography, this 27-member cast effectively morphs the smallness of the Guild’s arena theater into a place of epic dimensionality.

    Tisevich has always been a thoughtful minister to his performers’ agency for articulating emotional and psychological authenticity in their characters. And nowhere does that agency have more depth than in the portrayals of Aida, Radames, and Amneris.

  In expressing, indeed exclaiming, all of Aida’s tortured heart and crisis of conscience, Joy Ellis is a thoroughly riveting presence. Her singing is a mesmerizing force in itself – plaintive and wounded when she sings the bitterly ironic “Easy as Life”; alternately fierce, plaintive, and tender elsewhere. Among of the evening’s most touching and powerful passages are her duets with Radames, such as “Enchantment Passing Through,” and the soaring “Elaborate Lives.” 

     It’s fascinating to watch Brandon Michael, a wholly compelling singer in his own right, as he navigates the changing tides in the heart of Ramades. The conquering soldier is conquered by Aida’s nobility and courage. He falls inexorably in love with a slave, though not without a price.  

   Speaking of changing hearts, an equally fascinating catharsis transpires as you watch Sarah Marie Young’s stunning portrayal of Amneris. Through half  of the story she’s a feckless, self-possessed, swaggering imp with an inflated sense of entitlement. In the hilarious “My Strongest Suit,” she and her women-in-waiting strut about the palace like so many fashionistas sporting ridiculously bizarre outfits and headwear (marvelous costumes by Stephen Ostertag). But as Ramades grows more distant and cold, the reality of her plight becomes all too clear. Now humbled and resolute, she pours out her woundedness, her surrender, in one of the show’s most heartrending songs, “I Know the Truth.”

   The evening flows fairly consistently with other memorable characters and interludes. David Everett plays Zoser, the stern and sinister father of Ramades, and who is slowly poisoning the Pharoah (Corey Paulus). Jeremy Clarke plays Mereb, a clever and tender-hearted Nubian servant who knows his way around the royal bureaucracy. He sings with palpable urgency in “How I Know You.” Aida pleaded with him to not reveal her true identity to the rest of the Nubians, but doesn’t keep her secret for very long. Destiny was calling.

   An electrifying choral high point comes at the end of Act I with “The Gods Love Nubia” – a thunderous cry for release from suffering, sung by Aida, her friend Nehebka (played by Sunayna Smith), and the Nubian captives. That anthemic single moment, replete with gravitas and grace, with its stratospheric harmonies gripping and soulful, embodied the entire spirit of this production. Call it a prayer of longing, love, and hope, and hauntingly relevant to our own time and circumstances. 

    AIDA, in the Canton Players Guild W.G. Fry Theater, 1001 Market Ave., N. Canton, Ohio /  THROUGH NOVEMBER 18, 2018 / Shows Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., Sunday 2 p.m. / additional performance at 8 p.m. on Nov. 18 /Single tickets $32, 17 an younger $25, Seniors $29 / www.playersguidtheatre.com / Box Office at 330.453.7617

Elaborated Lives syndicated post

[unabridgedwords]

May 23rd, 2017

The sweetest two things I heard today 😌 So Chelsea, the little black girl I coach for New River, as soon as I get to practice, she says "Hey Coach Shima, I wanna tell you something." And I'm like yea what is it. Then she looks at me with the shyest smile and she says "You have the nicest skin." At this point I'm like awe omg she's serious. So I look at her and laugh saying "Trust me this skin didn't get this way overnight. Middle school was hard for me too." I wish I would have told her she had beautiful skin too. Now onto the second thing!! I was talking to Coach Rose about everyone going up to PA now and something else about college, and Papa Rose starts talking, to us also, and he says that when I go up to Felician, when they think about me they'll think Nubian Princess. Lol cause that's what I remind him of. To think that he see's me like a Nubian princess. Wow. I am beyond happy that they think of me this way. That makes me feel unstoppable to say the least.

#2017

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4AM (5)

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MASTERLIST --- BEFORE you read this chapter, read WATERFALLS.

4AM 

“Mama, do I have to go?”

Behati looked up from her vanity, almost doing a double take as she took in the sight of her only child. Sometimes it scared her just how much Bashira looked like her, from her beautiful light brown eyes, her full lips, and even fuller figure.

Bashari inherited almost nothing from her father. She was the spitting image of her mother.

“Of course you do, child!” She exclaimed, standing up and sauntering over to her daughter. “You must be there when Zuri announces that Bast has chosen you.”

Bashari rolled her eyes. “Mama, you cannot seriously believe that it is I who the prophecy speaks of. Prince T’Challa loves Nakia.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes and pulled down the front of Bashira’s dress to expose more of her cleavage. “He loves how easy it is for him to sneak between her legs.”

“Mama!”

“Did you know that girl gave herself away to him when she was but fifteen?” Behati gossiped, licking her thumb and laying down Bashira’s baby hair. “Fifteen. For Bast sake, when you were fifteen, you never even thought of such illicit activities.”

Bashira said nothing, maintaining her stale expression. If only her mother knew that she had her first experience of oral sex when she was fifteen.

Behati would take a whip to her backside.

“How could Bast not have picked you? Look at you, child. You are the embodiment of beauty and grace. Men stumble at your feet for just a second of your time while women watch from afar with envy. Jealousy eats at them for you are the woman who could steal away their lovers with just a look and snap of her finger.”

“Mama, you act as though I am Bast herself.” Bashira was irritated. Truly. She’d spent her whole life being praised on her looks.

Bashira is so beautiful.

Bashira is a vision.

Bashira is a goddess among men.

It was exhausting, being exalted over something as trivial and temporary as looks. No one cared that she was always the smartest student in her class or that she was told that she’d make an excellent War Dog one day if only her mother would have let her start training.

Sometimes she wondered if her mother’s days and experiences as a War Dog had anything to do with her trepidation about Bashira following in her footsteps.

Behati never got excited when Bashira was honored for scholastic and merit achievements. None of her accolades were hung on the Wall of Honor like Nakia’s.

Bashira’s saving grace, at times, was truly her father.

Akili tried to treat both of his children with the same amount of respect and admiration, doting on both of the princesses, but his position among the council often occupied most of his time.

There were instances were the girls would not physically see their father for days as he left at the break of dawn, before they awoke for school, and did not return until late at night, long after they were put to bed.

However, Bashira adored her father because he would always have one of their servants sneak a book in her room. He knew that she loved to read, preferring books over people for much of her upbringing.

But he also knew that his second wife did not want their daughter to become so enamored in books and education. She always believed that it was a waste of time as Bashira was so beautiful that she would easily find a man who would take care of her.

Never mind that was not what Bashira wanted. She wanted to be like her older sister Nakia, who was always adventurous, going on safaris and other thrilling activities with T’Challa, Erik, and their friends.

Meanwhile, Bashira was stuck at home with her mother, being forced to learn how to be a “proper lady.”

It was frustrating. The different ways in which the girls were reared.

There were even times where Bashira wished that Palesa was her mother instead of Behati. At least then she would have had more freedom.

But Palesa despised both Behati and her daughter for reasons not even Bashira knew.

Bashira was a pretty face.

Nakia was a pretty face and everything else.

Brave, strong, intelligent, and beautiful.

Everything that Bashira couldn’t and would never be.

¥ ¥ ¥

Pregnant.

The word oscillated in Bashira’s head.

It was such a strange and unfamiliar feeling, finding out that there was another life growing inside of you. In 7 ½ months, an infant would feed on her nipples, cry in the middle of the night for her attention, and look to her as if she was the only person in the world who mattered.

She was going to be a mother.

And she was fucking terrified.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Yes, she knew that she would eventually have to produce an heir but so soon? Although many believed that the young couple should have conceived by now as T’Challa was already fresh in his thirties. She, still but 24, going on 25. They were in their prime.

However, age did not equate readiness.

How in the hell was she supposed to care for another human being? She could barely take care of herself half the time.

Half.

The child was half his blood. She honestly did not know how to process that information. A part of her hated that her child would have such a heartless individual for a father. Would his cruelty extend to their child? Would he shun his own flesh and blood just to smite the mother? Would he be an absentee father, leaving her to practically rear their child on her own?

Bashira scoffed and wiped at her eyes. She hated the fact that she felt the inherent need for T’Challa to be actively involved in her child’s life. If she herself didn’t need him, then why did their baby?

He wasn’t exactly the poster child for ideal fathers anyway.

Look at how he treated his wife.

“Great Bast, Bashira?”

The queen froze from her seat on a bench in the palace gardens. That voice. She recognized who it belonged to but couldn’t believe that it was actually him.

She stood up and turned to her right. “Thom?”

The newly appointed queen eyed the man before her, distinctly recalling the last time she’d seen him, how he lashed out and cursed at everyone who agreed he was out of control.

Thom and Erik were best friends growing up, always finding themselves in trouble, truly toxic for each other in that they both had problems with respecting authority. However,  Erik was the quiet “bad boy.”

Thom was loud, intimidating, people around their school knowing not to aggravate him. Erik would look at a person to frighten them away.

Thom would resolve to more physical means.

Bashira always felt uncomfortable around Erik because one could never predict his next move, but Thom absolutely scared her because everyone knew exactly what he would do if aggravated.

It was why he was eventually forced to become a War Dog, his father, the elder for the Border Tribe, believing that going out into other parts of the world would help calm him down, and it did. To a certain extent. However, Bashira still sensed dangerous vibes from the man the last time she saw him which was at her wedding to T’Challa over a year ago.

“Oh, forgive me.” He chuckled and saluted her. “Queen Bashira.”

She swallowed deeply. Just her name on his tongue sounded strange. “You have returned?”

“Indeed.” He nodded as she crossed her arms, hating how his eyes immediately fell to her chest.

Thom always behaved inappropriately around Bashira, flirting with her when she was still a teenager and himself, in his early twenties.

As much as she despised T’Challa and cared very little for Erik, neither men tried to approach her when she was underage. Erik would only start his innuendos after she turned 18 and even then they were in jest. T’Challa waited until the last possible moment to try and “court” his future wife.

Thom, however, consistently tried to get close to Bashira.

He even went after Nakia, but T’Challa put an end to that when they were all in high school, both boys suspended for a week. It was the first time Bashira learned about the future King’s temper.

Then again, she also believed that it had more to do than just Thom taking it too far with the prince’s girlfriend.

The two boys always had it out for each other, Thom trying to one-up T’Challa in everything from sports to academics. However, he could never surpass T’Challa in any category which only exacerbated the tension.

“Um, welcome home.” She managed a small smile despite her discomfort. “Erik is also-“

“Here. I know.” He cut her off with a smirk. “That’s why I figured this was the best time to come home. Catch up with old friends.” A beat. “Perhaps even make some new ones.”

His unrelenting stare caused the pregnant woman to slightly move back, her arms still across her chest. “Yes, well, I should get-“”

“You really grew into a beautiful young woman, Bashira,” His eyes moved to study her figure from head to toe. “Beautiful, indeed…..”

Bashira suddenly wished that she hadn’t been so quick to run out of the medical room once T’Challa revealed the stunning news. She also was deeply regretting sending away Ayo so that she could be alone.

“I-uh-,” she stammered, looking everywhere except for the man in front of her. “I really must-“

“Tell me something, Bashira.” He stepped closer, prompting her to move back. “Do I make you uncomfortable? Do I frighten you?”

She thought back to the boldest advanced he’d made on her when she was only 16, cornering her in her bedroom, arms on either side of the wall, proposing that same exact question. If not for Amari coming to knock on her door, she didn’t know what would have happened.

After that, she told her father about him, and the advances became far less intense. Still present though.

The amused gleam in Thom’s dark eyes unsettled her. He was toying with her, and she was in no mood or emotional state to play into his games.

She needed to get the hell away from him.

Bashira again started backing away from the War Dog when she collided with something strong, solid, warm.

She looked up to see none other than T’Challa. A part of her wanted to roll her eyes and push him away while the other part wanted to quickly maneuver to hide behind him.

Bashira hid her shock when her husband easily lifted his arm and put it across her, lightly pushing her behind and beside him.

She did not attempt to move away.

T’Challa was the opposite of the man across from him. He was of few words and preferred to attack without any prior indication of what he was planning or thinking. Few could read him, and even fewer challenged him.

“As children, I hospitalized you for making her uncomfortable.” Bashira chilled as memories of the scandal that followed the epic showdown returned to her recollection. T’Challa always was protective of Nakia. “As a man, I will kill you if you even think of again making that same mistake.” Bashira again concealed her shock at T’Challa’s words. “You will not speak to her, look at her, nor inquire any information about her, and if I found out that you laid even one finger on her, I will drain the life from your body with my bare hands.” Pause. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Crystal, your highness.” Bashira could practically see the smug smirk on his face just from the sarcastic tone of his voice. “Wakanda Forever.”

Bashira instinctively grabbed the back of T’Challa’s shirt as she could sense he was getting ready to lunge at Thom.

“Let him go,” she mumbled as she heard the sound of footsteps, waiting until they were no more to release her hold on him. “Well that was-“”

“Where is Ayo?” He snapped as he turned around to look down at her with frustration. “Why the hell are you out here alone?” Bashira wanted to be shocked by the switch of his anger from Thom to herself, but she couldn’t be. Of course, he would blame her. “And with him of all people?”

“Is it not obvious? I am in search of a new lover in honor of this exciting news.” She smiled, rubbing her belly, and then scowling. “What do you think, T’Challa? I needed time alone to think-“”

“You can think in the palace, Bashira.” He spoke through gritted teeth as she ran his hand over his face. “You are with child now-“

“Really? I hadn’t realized it.” She turned to walk away when he grabbed her arm. “Let me-“

“Damnit woman, I cannot protect you if you won’t fucking listen to me!”

“Protect me?” She chuckled bitterly. “When have you ever wanted to protect me? You only care to protect those you actually give a fuck about and/or who you find beneficial, and we both know that doesn’t include me.”

He narrowed his eyes in irritation. “You foolish woman-“”

She growled and attempted to pull her arm from him, but it was no use. “Do you think me a fool? That unnecessary display of brawn was nothing more than you feeding your ego and validating your pride! I am now carrying your heir so you need me for the time being, and we all knew that you wouldn’t dare allow anyone to harass my sist-”

“Are you really that daft?” He sneered, his chest falling and rising as he attempted to control his volume. “Nakia could take care of herself.” A beat. “You couldn’t.”

Bashira immediately stopped struggling against him. Was he trying to imply that his brutal beating on Thom was because of her? It couldn't have been. He barely even spoke to her at that time. Never paid attention to her when they were in the same vicinity. How could he have known what Thom was doing to her?

Her jaw faltered as she struggled to get words out. “W-what?”

T’Challa’s eyes shifted, softening for a quick second before hardening again.

“From now on, you are to have a guard with you at all times. If you wish to behave foolishly and put yourself in precarious situations, you may do so after my child is born. I won’t give a damn then.” T’Challa barked out something as she heard the sounds of footsteps in the distance. It was Ayo.

She quickly turned her glare on his back as he turned to walk away after finally releasing her arm. Bashira turned up her nose as her lips trembled from pending tears. “I hate you.”

T’Challa stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder. She expected him to say something, but he didn’t. He just kept walking away.

Like he always did.

A/N: I changed a few things with this chapter in that I didn’t expound much in terms of the prophecy.

 I wanted you all to get a feel of Behati’s relationship with her daughter and Bashira’s family dynamic in general.

Thom is Erik’s friend....I’ll let you be the judge of that info.

T’Challa is.....complicated. 

We’ll get the ball rolling after this one! 

#t'challa x reader #t'challa x black!reader #t'challa udaku #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine

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T’Challa was finishing up his shower when his Kimoyo beads started to light up, signaling that she was in need of something.

The young king quickly finished dressing and walked out of the large bathroom to find his girlfriend fast asleep, her body sprawled out on the bed. She was completely oblivious to the fact that her own bracelet was flashing away.

He cracked a small smile. She was exhausted.

He stealthy made his way out of the room and across the hall, entering the spacious nursery that was adorned with all types of lavish decor.

Sure enough, she was wide awake, those big brown eyes of her searching the room, widening when they landed on him.

“Sam Isipho,” the young father started out with a large grin on his handsome face. “What are you doing up?”

The princess responded by continuing to babble, lifting her arm and wagging it around.

T’Challa chuckled and leaned over the crib, gently cradling the heir to the throne in his strong arms. “Hello to you too, inkosazana wam omncinane.” (my little princess)

Bunme stared up at her father, eyeing him as though he was the best thing that she’d ever rested her eyes on. Her eyes, those big, brown, addictive orbs reminded him so much of her mother. Yet, they also reminded him of himself. Everything about her at her tender age reminded him of Nala. She was so tiny, weighing exactly five lbs when she was born, so fragile, yet her smile was so contagious, always eliciting a grin from anyone who was important or close enough to even be in her presence.

It was almost foreign and inhuman, the intensity of his love for his daughter. From the moment that he held her, he was captivated. In her, he saw unadulterated innocence and from there the stringent desire to always protect her. The world could burn to ashes and yet he’d never let a flame touch her.

Or Nala.

“Are you hungry?” He found himself asking as he walked over to place her in his crib so that he could fix her a bottle. However, as soon as he started to move to put her down, her smile dropped and the whining commenced. “You are spoiled, you know that?” Yet, T’Challa found himself bringing her back, her smile reappearing from her victory.

It was true. He could not deny that he’d already spoiled his firstborn. Whenever Bunme started to make sounds that even alluded to the onset of crying, he was at her side, lifting her into his arms, rocking her until she started to talk a hole in his head.

At one only month, he’d already had the designers constructing her room for when she transitioned from a crib to a regular bed.

He had her playroom finished before Nala even entered the third trimester.

“And just who do you think is to blame for that?” T’Challa looked over to see the love of his life leaning against the door. “What with you coddling her every second of the day.”

T’Challa chuckled and allowed Bunme to play with his index finger. At only a month, her motor skills and overall development was off the chart. It was still to be determined if she’d inherited her mother’s powers, but he had an inkling that he’d certainly passed down some of his abilities.

Just the thought put a large smile on his face.

“I make no apologies, sthandwa sam.” T’Challa watched her walk over, the sway of her hips momentarily distracting the young ruler. Obviously, she’d yet to shed the weight from carrying their child, but he had no complaints. The additional pounds only further added to his already insatiable desire to slide between her thick legs whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Nala rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t.” Bunme’s eyes easily darted over to Nala, the baby smiling broadly and resuming her babbling, greeting her mother. “Why would you?” Reluctantly, T’Challa allowed her to take Bunme from his, the absence of her small, warm body against him immediately noticeable. “She already has you wrapped around her tiny fingers.”

“She is my first child.” T’Challa brushed aside her comments. “What do you expect of me?”

“She is your only child, T’Challa.” Nala suddenly narrowed her eyes. “That I know of, at least.”

T’Challa chuckled and led his family over to the rocking chair, sitting down before pulling his twointo his lap. “She is. For now.”

Nala rolled her eyes as Bunme continued to talk away, her eyes searching for T’Challa as his voice filled her mini ears. “Barely past a month, and here you are discussing more children.”

T’Challa pushed her faux locs to the side and placed a chaste kiss against the back of her neck. “And the problem with that is?”

“You were not the one who was wobbling around and unable to see her feet for nine months.”

“Technically, you only started to really….expand-”

“Expand?” Nala couldn’t help her smile as the infant continued to talk. “And this is why I studied an area revolving around children and you-”

“Now have a child,” he interrupted, his arms going around her as she reclined into his chest. “A beautiful baby girl.” He murmured, his hand moving to lightly caress a sighing Bunme’s head. “Because of you.”

Nala grew quiet as she briefly recollected over the past almost two years. If anyone told her that she’d be the mother of a superhero/king’s child, living with him after being disowned by her own parents…...she’d call them insane.

T’Challa was a thorn in her side from the moment she laid eyes on the arrogant SOB. But then, they’d been forced together, required to interact for longer periods of time. And she started to see him, not the playboy persona that he played into a little too well. She began to know and understand the man behind all of the titles, and she liked it.

She liked him.

That “like” leading into a sexual relationship which quickly complicated matters as she realized that her feelings were becoming more than just profound interest. Even though it took her some time to realize it, she found herself falling for the man and him, her.

Then that fateful day when she urinated on a stick and discovered a plus sign, the test confirmed as she made a doctor’s appointment and walked out with a prescription for prenatal vitamins.

She’d been terrified, frightened to her core, locking herself in her apartment for almost an entire weekend as she debated on what to do.

She knew that at 22, almost 23, she was still rather young to be a mother, but she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to terminate the pregnancy. It was certainly her body, her choice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she at least owed it to him to inform him that she was carrying his baby.

However, she felt obligated to first tell her parents, the young woman surprised, yet not, when they coldly informed her that she was no longer their daughter and forbidden from ever returning to Niganda.

Her heart was shattered from such a reaction. Yet, she wasn’t taken completely off guard.

After all, her parents were never the ‘loving’ type.

Next, she was forced to tell T’Challa.

It was difficult to open up, but she’d done it, crying into his comforting arms about how sorry she was, about how she never intended for it happen, how she didn’t know what to do.

Nala wasn’t expecting a specific reaction, not really, but she was certainly taken by surprise when he gingerly cupped her face.

“Be honest with me,” his voice was so soft, so gentle, so warm. “Do you want this baby?” Four years her senior, she was always amazed by the maturity he could display at times.

She still remembered how easily her answer came out, without barely any thought, she responded from her heart. “I do.”

He didn’t even try to hide his relief at her answer but quickly moved his fingers to wipe at her tears. “Then I promise you, on my father’s grave, I will be with you every step of the way. You nor our child will ever feel alone nor be it because I will take care of you, the both of you.”

Though she’d never admitted it to him, that moment, when he poured out his heart and pledged his dedication to her was the moment that she realized she was in love with the then Prince of Wakanda.

And he’d kept to his promise.

He and she both finished up their time at Oxford before he brought her to his home, Nala being the “first” outsider to learn the truth of what she and everyone else thought to be a place of destitution.

T’Challa had been thrilled to not only introduce her to his country but his family. Nala immediately being received with open arms from almost everyone except his mother. Queen Mother greeted her with a certain aloofness that T’Challa quickly handled by informing her that she was carrying his heir and would be treated with the respect that was required of such a woman. Not to mention, she was still, technically, a princess.

He also suggested that if his mother could not accept Nala and unborn child, then she was more than welcome to relocate to another of their dwellings outside of the palace because he was not going to tolerate unnecessary negativity plaguing Nala’s pregnancy.

And he meant it.

Nala could not recall one incident where he wasn’t either catering to her every need or having one of their servants ensure that she was as comfortable as possible.

He was always feeling her belly, having full on conversations with their unborn child even when Nala would glare as Bunme kicked her for hours on end just to hear his voice. If her back hurt, he would massage it. Same with her feet. Morning sickness was made slightly more bearable as he was almost always there to hold her hair and rub her back. When her body ached, he’d run lavish baths for her. When she was hit with a mood swing (which happened on more than one occasion), he’d calmly dish out whatever she threw his way, even offering to take her somewhere to get her mind off whatever was bothering her.

T’Challa’s dedication to her extended to their daughter, Bunme Udaku, as soon as she left her mother’s womb.

Nala could still recall the undeniable glow of pride, love, and adoration upon the king’s face as he held his little girl for the first time.

Tears were shed by all parties present, including the parents.

“Great Bast, she’s so tiny!” Shuri had aww’d over the newborn.

“Oh, T’Challa, she is divine.” Hawla sniffled as she held onto her husband’s arm.

“Yes. Glory to Hanuman, it seems as though she’s taken after her mother.” A chuckling M’Baku commented before being harshly scolded by his wife.

“I guess she is kinda cute,” Erik shrugged, his arm wrapped around Nakia. “Even if she just made it that much harder for me to take the throne.”

“Son, you were never going to see that throne.” N’Jobu chuckled, a wide smile on his handsome face.

“He speaks truth,” Nakia had giggled as Erik lightly slapped her butt.

“It is truly a blessing and an honor to have another addition added to the royal family,” Okoye provided, a small and graceful upon the fierce warrior’s face.

Yes. Nala may have lost her parents and even her country, but she’d certainly been compensated, earning a family.

“Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you?” She asked softly and saw that Bunme’s eyes were starting to flutter as she attempted to fight her sleepiness. She noticed that her precious baby girl was either extremely nosy or simply already deeply attached to her parents as she always wanted to be up and awake whenever they were in her presence.

“You have given me my first child, our child.” He replied quietly. “Nothing I do could ever add up to that, my love.”

Nala blinked away her tears and looked over her shoulder, smiling warmly. “You really want that second child, eh?”

He chuckled and frowned in disappointment as she got up to place a now sleeping Bunme back in her crib.

“We will certainly produce another heir,” he exclaimed with the boldness befit for a king, standing behind Nala as she put their daughter back in her bed. “But not until we are married, and you are officially my queen.”

Nala unsuccessfully attempted to hide her smile. T’Challa was always expressing his intentions to marry her, making statements as though it were already set in stone.

And while she was certainly not going to decline him should he ask her such a thing, it was always entertaining to play with him.

She turned around, her back against the crib. “Oh?” Her hands reached out to rest on his bare chest. “And what makes you so sure that I will accept?”

He smiled and brought his hands to her hips, pulling her into him. “Because you are home, in you lies my heart, and with her,” he nodded his head over to Bunme. “-my soul.”

Nala dropped her head and smiled through the tears clouding her vision. The man was just too perfect at times. She truly was in absolute love with him.

“You know….” her fingers trailed down his chest. “Just because we cannot actually produce an heir right now….does not mean we can’t try.” She looked up over her eyelashes to see him battling with hesitation.

“She just went to sleep-”

“-which gives us at least two hours.” She finished with a smirk.

T’Challa smashed his lips on hers, quickly lifting her up bridal style.

“I suppose a quickie will suffice.” He smirked, and she moaned as he led them out of the room and into their chambers.

Nala had no complaints and could not imagine her life any other way than what it was.

She was truly home.

---

A/N: There you go! A lot of people always comment about how T’Challa would have been/reacted/felt had Nala just told him she was pregnant from the jump.

So, I figured that I’d treat you guys to this little AU scenario. I hope you like it, and I’d be willing to do a part 2 with Bun Bun as a toddler, if anyone is interested! :D

Again, this is just my small way of thanking you all for always being so supportive of me and my works. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#t'challa x reader #t'challa udaku #t'challa x mutant!reader #t'challa x black reader #black panther #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction