* NOBLESSE / OBLIGE.

[nobledson]

hi, i’m working on revamping the theme here a little bit, but in the meantime, check out a thing i did.

[mysticmastered-a-blog-deactivat]

I can’t quite believe I’m writing this, because I only did a 300 followers celebration last week, but wow, there are now over 500 of you following this sham of a blog ?? I’m astounded and delighted and so very grateful for each and every one of you !! Stephen is very different from the muses I’ve written in the past so I was a bit nervous about taking him on, but you’ve all been so encouraging and welcoming that all that apprehension has completely disappeared. I’ve chucked together the usual little bias list but because I’m a poop and will undoubtedly forget people ( I’m sorry ! ) please let me say a quick general thank you to you all ! I love each and every one of you.

My bbys whom I love & cherish:

@witchyd, @ardencuore, @youallwillkneel, @scarletchaos, @karlmcrdo, @loyaloutwear, @threerealms, @i-stark, @titanraised, @soulstcne , @duciissa ( + all your other muses! ), @egoire, @hellfirebound, @madcofstardust, @imperisabil, @manyxxmuses

The lovely lot I’m getting to know or admiring from afar:

@firefated, @silvertongued-trickster, @baritoneskies, @hisscloak, @dionadaiir, @zenwhoberiism, @logiclaire, @deathfound, @rcptorwings, @fatewilled, @haloese, @nebxjacny, @ennpath, @imnotdxne, @flaeroatima, @webkisses, @deadlyfierce, @carnivalqueen, @zehcberei, @hisstark, @flcragrcct, @guiltweathered, @hxrstyle, @mystifits, @thesuitandi, @nobledson, @selfexiling, @antlarceny, @empantis, @kicksnames, @bridgetowakanda, @persevereandendure, @personatvs, @fiercemade, @visixnaryx, @endpath, @withblades, @empathiiisms, @oflethality, @avengertm, @webwiings, @webbedfighter, @ofdeadliness, @godveiined, @intcthatgoodnight, @wcrthyofsuiit, @ofxwonder, @emeraldhellfire, @vvitchlin, @pleasureofmyself, @misunne, @ironprince, @boybcnd, @atimebomb​, @siiilvertcngue​, @unspokenthing​, @nctasgardian​, @heroestold​, @lycanblccd​, @smaugiiisms​ & so many more that I know I’m forgetting !!

[sadhoc]

PTSD isn’t just flashbacks. while a lot of movies, books, games etc equate post traumatic stress disorder to having extremely vivid flashbacks in which one thinks the trauma is happening again, this is not the only symptom of PTSD, nor is it a requirement for having the disorder.

other symptoms of PTSD include

problems sleeping

nightmares 

hypervigilance (constantly checking surroundings for safety, looking for any possible threat)

being easily startled

being emotionally numb or not experiencing joy

seeing the world as a terrible place

memory loss 

trouble relating to others

physiological or strong emotional reactions to reminders of trauma 

intrusive thoughts about the trauma

(full list of criteria here)

flashbacks are not the be all and end all of PTSD. it’s a much more complex disorder than it’s portrayed in a lot of media, nor is it military exclusive. i hope this post can at least help educate some people beyond the incomplete and in some cases outright wrong information that a lot of people have.

[servesthrone-deactivated2018062]

‘would i ever lie to you?’

different ways to say ‘i love you’.

eyes do not leave his, and okoye searches the face of her king. he is a soft man, brave and strong but gentle, made of mountains and valleys and stars. she loves him the way she has never loved anyone in her life, the way she has never loved even herself. it’s hardly romantic; she is married, after all, and she loves w’kabi——she married him by choice and out of love. but still, her love and loyalty to this man before her run within her like a persistent RIVER. no. no, he would not lie to her. she knows.

“no,” she shakes her head, no shame or shyness in her. her eyes bore into his, honesty and loyalty SPILLING from them. “you would not.” now she bows her head, gestures soft and respectful. “I trust you, my king.” and she does. she always have, and she always will. he is her king, her friend, a man she would die to protect. she knows him well. she knows he will eventually always make the right choice, however difficult it might be. he may doubt himself, but okoye knows——wakanda has never been BLESSED with such a king. 

[jonas-brothers]

Justice will come soon enough.

[nobledson]

‘i bought two.’

( different ways to say i love you. ) // ACCEPTING.

      “i can’t believe it. my little sister? thinking of me?” he’s teasing of course, boyish amusement growing in the lines by his eyes and subtle uptick of his lips. it’s a moment of mundanity ---- normalcy t’challa is desperate for right now ---- and he lifts his hand in a quick motion to both beckon her forward and claim his newfound prize. “come on then — before it melts.”

[memestockpile]

different ways to say ‘i love you’. 

‘i’ll make you something, yeah? your favorite dish, just for you.’

‘let’s get you back to bed.’

‘shh, it was just a nightmare.’

‘you like this, don’t you? i remember you saying that.’

‘i drew up a bath for you.’

‘you need rest.’

‘you ought to be asleep.’

‘i bought two.’

‘here. you can have the rest.’

‘i thought of you when i saw this.’

‘i like your smile.’

‘you have a cute laugh.’

‘stay there. i’m coming there to get you.’

‘it’s okay, i’m here, we’re okay.’

‘be careful.’

‘look both ways.’

‘you mean so much to me.’

‘i can’t lose you.’

‘i thought i might have lost you.’

‘how to you feel about the nickname, (insert nickname)?’

‘it looks good on you.’

‘i’ll make you soup.’

‘ah-ah-ah. you’re sick. you need to stay in bed.’

‘are you okay in there?’

‘that’s it, that’s it. get it all out. shh.’

‘it’s a remedy i knew. helps with your throat.’

‘it’s a lullaby. would you like me to sing it to you? would that help you fall asleep?’

‘i’m worried about you.’

‘what do you want to watch?’

‘where would you like to go for dinner?’

‘close your eyes and hold out your hands.’

‘we’ll figure it out.’

‘oh, it’s not big deal. you’re fine.’

‘i brought you some medicine for your cold.’

‘you’re important to me.’

‘this is your favorite song, right?’

‘you’re like a son/daughter to me.’

‘good luck!’

‘you’re like a mom/dad to me.’

‘don’t say that about yourself.’

‘want to come with?’

“wow! you look really nice.’

‘goodnight, (insert term of affection).’

‘it’s okay. i couldn’t sleep anyway.’

‘you can have half.’

‘come here. let me fix it.’

‘your tie is crooked.’

‘c’mere. shh, it’s okay.’

‘i’m not going to hurt you.’

‘can i touch you?’

‘can i kiss you?’

‘can i hug you?’

‘promise.’

‘would i ever lie to you?’

‘i think you’re very beautiful/handsome.’

‘hey, good-looking.’

‘of course i care. you’re my family.’

‘one more chapter.’

‘i love you.’

[nobledson]

fun little character game !     fill in the below categories with 3 — 5 things that your character can be identified by.     repost & tag away !

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS.

compassion.

devotion.

courage.

regret.

love.

COLORS.

antique gold.

blackberry cordial.

warm gray.

seal brown.

SCENTS.

the forest after a good rain.

cologne ; brand preferences do change, but they all carry the same light but simultaneously poignant undertone. think something along the lines of cinnamon, mint, rosemary.

burning incense / wood --- the aroma that comes with faint smoke.

CLOTHING.

sandals / open-toed shoes. usually easy to slip in and out of -- he appreciates as little restriction as he can get. 

anything muted in color and simple. dark hoodies, jeans, suits, tees. even his most festive royal garb is understated, though by no means less beautiful.

peacoats / tailcoats, a staple of his day-to-day style. in some ways, it’s his own statement - a modern re-imagining of the royal wardrobe - but in others, it’s as traditional as it comes. they all boast the same intricate wakandan patterns, the same elegance of more traditional robes in their length. 

OBJECTS.

his father’s ring ---- it never comes off. 

the first gadget shuri ever made for him. she always insists on taking them back, on upgrading them ; but he was careful to store this one away. for him, it’s a symbol of how far they’ve come and a reminder of what matters, what to keep close.

the panther challenge mask ; perched on his bedroom mantle.

VICES / BAD HABITS.

impulsive and at times volatile behavior, especially in moments of emotion.

overbearing nature. always well-intentioned, but it crosses into the realm of suffocating pretty easily.

dwelling, specifically on the past. at its best, it's a distraction ; at its very worst, it’s all-consuming, which rarely leads to anything good.

BODY LANGUAGE.

hands folded behind his back, shoulders carefully squared.

sleeping on his side, always facing the door. sometimes holding a pillow ; other times, a body ; a few times, himself. more often, though, he’s empty handed, curled up tight.

eyes turned towards the sky ; unyielding even at sunlight.

moving on the balls of his feet, in battle, at home. careful steps, purposeful steps.

AESTHETICS.

sunrise after a sleepless night, rays broken through your fingertips.

the rhythm of drums through open valleys ; echoes over rolling hills and past roaring rivers. the entire country moves in unison. your heart beats in time.

bare feet over fertile earth, soil between the toes. 

SONGS.

weary, by solange. i'm gonna look for my body, yeah; i'll be back like real soon.

black panther, by kendrick lamar. king of the past, present, future, my ancestors watching.

seven suns, by raury. and still I try with this burning will.

tagged by: no one technically, but borrowed from @m60s!    tagging: @gaisgeach, @falsedking, @strangcrdanger, @panthrpaws, @servesthrone, @zcldrizes, @halfdvine, @battlefall and anyone else that might be interested!

[tobiasforms]

[nobledson]

WAKANDANSECURITY ; w’kabi.

The sight of T’Challa did little to heal the festering wound he carried with him across continents. W’Kabi wanted to look away, walk out of his friend’s life again and avoid him a couple more months or years, but he knew better. The more he tried avoiding the inevitable, the more likely T’Challa would dog his every step.

If people were looking their way, W’Kabi ignored them. He was accustomed to the surreptitious glances and blatant stares after being away from Wakanda for so long. 

“Am I needed back home, my king?” There was no hint of hope or warmth in his question. It was a question with just the right mixture of courtesy and professionalism: a question from a commander to his king.

the question is impossibly weighted ; adding tons to an already suffocating tension because it’s as hard for t’challa to answer for himself as it is to answer w’kabi. he had come to him with longing, yes, nursing an acute sense of emptiness that he hoped this conversation would fill. but it’s hard to say where that longing ends and hurt begins, where the warmth of their memories isn’t tattered by betrayal’s hungry claws.

which all begs the question: is w’kabi welcome back home yet?

is he welcome back home at all?

t’challa’s first attempt to answer falls flat, lips parting without a sound as the words stick at the back of his throat instead. a beat passes and he settles for a shaky, deep inhale paired with a slower exhale, which crafts the perfect pause of him to gather his thoughts. as much as one can, anyway.

“in due time, w’kabi.” his name feels foreign, the syllables awkward ; t’challa swallows nausea down and pushes on.“right now, i am simply here to talk.”

[nobledson]

                                    A GOOD MAN, A GOOD HEART.                                    independent t’challa of black panther & infinity war.                                        mcu & headcanon based / penned by sami.

[nobledson]

he’s come to this hill many times to seek refuge, its paths as familiar as the lines in his palm. still, t’challa climbs with a sense of uncertainty, usually fluid steps stilted, tense. it’s a testament, perhaps, to what’s become the new normal. this world is one he does not recognize ---- one that finds his people snuffed out by the hundreds  ---- and not even his safest place feels aligned at a time like this. 

finding someone else there, then, isn’t particularly surprising. the spot isn’t hidden by any means, but it’s far enough from most places ---- including the palace ---- that it’s rare that anyone end up there besides him. but if their presence bothers t’challa, it doesn’t show. if anything, he gleans a certain comfort from it, regarding them first and foremost as a comrade in this forlorn feeling.

he announces himself in a muted cough ( knowing better than to sneak up on anyone tonight ) and when he stills, the king is beside them, sinking into the grass with a breath that sounds almost as drained as he feels. “you should be resting.” 

[falsedkingarchived]

@nobledson​ / ‘ sup. ‘ 

[hilokaul]

[withoutquestion]

ignitesme:

Bury me in the ocean with my ancestors who jumped ship because they knew death was better than bondage.

[nobledson]

hello, hi -- i’m actually gonna be more active here so like this & i’ll hit you up for plotting! preferably for long-term things, but thread-focused ideas are a-okay too!

[falsedkingarchived]

erik never knew quiet. not during his childhood of constant noise, police sirens intermingling with traffic and base-hard music in the distance. drowned out by the words from his father’s stories. not stationed in war-torn countries with the cacophony of bullets and foreign shouts keeping him company  — alertness required when he didn’t trust his assigned partner, southern-pride and white nationalist (took a week before he broke their nose with the end of his HK Mk 23). those few seconds in-between absolutely nothing and life, of ripping his way into existence, were mute. 

then it was searing pain melting into his bones, sudden cognizance when his eyes opened because he knew he shouldn’t be there. it took every ounce of the mental training he learned through the years, flickering assertion, to grind that scream down. he bit his lip, tasting the familiarity of copper on his tongue — aching lungs and grit-filled eyes. two minutes before he realized who he was. n’jadaka. erik stevens. killmonger; in that order. ignoring outcries of ‘our true king’ from some insurgent group, praising him in xhosa, who brought him back and were readily willing to use him to take over. but he was never anyone’s pawn. three minutes before he incapacitated half of the group, using their weapons against them. 4 more bodies to add to his count, 4 more bodies of his own people. and he was gone as quickly, not lingering back to acknowledge his failures displayed out in a ritual. 

he decided to lay low under ambiguity in johannesburg. swindling and stealing as he went, collecting money from the occasional hit placed out within the underground. as erik knew how. because nothing would alter the foundations that made him up. not defeat. and certainly not death. redemption was nothing erik seek. he wasn’t born to kill, but he was conditioned. erik had enemies lurking in every crevice of the world, in every country he left his marked within. south africa was no exception. he’s maneuvering through the backstreets of old buildings, beretta strapped to his side  — hidden from view, fixation bowie combat knives in his boots. he knows when he’s being followed, can feel it under his skin and he moves, not to get away, but to lure them into a corner.

[nobledson]

drums of battle sound in the hollows of his chest, their rhythm as frantic as it is deliberate. it’s a haunting overlay to johannesburg’s cityscape, rendering otherwise mundane sights ominous; threatening. but t’challa imagines that’s how it always is. the world does not stop turning at times of war ---- it does not rest. and when this particular anarchy is his and his alone, he can’t expect much different here. 

so forward, the king marches, empty hands at ease by his side as he traces erik’s footsteps with his own. between the dora milaje and the element of surprise ( negligible, he’s certain ), this could have ended hours ago, with the other ambushed and, with enough luck, in custody. but t’challa is resolved to this alternative, to confronting his cousin himself and alone. which is neither folly nor some misplaced hubris, but as an olive branch of sorts ---- he is tired of treating family like any other enemy of wakanda.

it’s what’d gotten them here in the first place.

still, there’s something heavy sprouting within him, gnarly vines taking root in the space between his shoulders. he wants to call it nerves, but the chill along his spine bespeaks something far darker. dread, perhaps? he knows erik is no less dangerous now than he’d been emerging in his throne room for the first time. for all he knows, the other’s even more of a risk today, having risen from a grave that t’challa, intentionally or not, had put him into. 

but, this, like most acts of politics, is a necessary evil. erik being alive means that there are bigger problems ahead, larger battles to fight. and t’challa can think of no better person to face them than the man who’d set the wheels in motion in the first place.

he turns the next corner with purpose alit in his eyes.

[nobledson]

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

meme: forty-two character development questions!

to the naked eye, t’challa’s movements embody what one would expect of a king —- deliberate, elegant, dignified. but it’s important to remember that, as a prince, he moved confidently, but subtly. muted was his default setting, and he only made his presence known when it was appropriate ; when he wanted to.

so, the transition from prince who moves beside his father to king who stands at the forefront is a sharp one ; and that shows. compared to his father, there is a stark contrast in the way they own the elegance associated with kinghood. in a lot of ways, t’challa can resemble a boy trying to balance in his father’s shoes — back a little too straight, steps a tad too clumsy. it’s most obvious in situations like the council ; the way he comes into the room or settles on the throne with an acute physical awareness of the attention — and expectations — on him.

all that said, these are growing pains more than anything else — the sort of stiffness that takes a muscle when you try to teach it something new. it’ll fight back at first, but with time, the motion becomes second nature. and the more time t’challa has to get completely used to the change, the more the thought behind his elegance will turn to muscle memory.

as far as rhythm & energy go, that hasn’t particularly changed. he’s always been a well-paced, well-balanced person, and tends to operate with learned consistency. he moves in anger the way he does in moments of calm, with the only real difference being the way he thinks, feels or speaks.