#brunnhilde — study.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Art: Brünnhilde, LXV, Sir Christopher Le Brun PPRA (b. 1951)

* * * *

We know that it is the people who do not know enough about their own shadow and their own dark side who are most likely to fall victims to evil influences. If one knows the evil possibilities within oneself, then one develops a kind of second sight or capacity for getting a whiff of the same thing in other people. A jealous woman who has realized her own jealousy will always recognize jealousy in the eyes of another woman. The only way, therefore, not to walk through the world like an innocent well-brought-up fool, protected by father and mother from the evils of this world, and therefore cheated and lied to and stolen from at every corner, is to go down into the depths of one's own evil, which enables one usually to develop the instinctual recognition of corresponding elements in other people. Marie-Louise Von Franz, Individuation in Fairy Tales {Centre of Applied Jungian Studies}

[abricadabra]

dont perceive me

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I couldn't stop thinking about an Tony Stark!Reader. I know Tesla would be foaming at the mouth to meet them😆 Id love to see the fighters reactions to their intelligence, inventions and suit.

All except for Tesla are just sitting there like 😶 cause they don't know a thing about what's being talked about between the two

-Brunnhilde was hoping that you were going to be able to keep Nikola from blowing up the lab again, keeping him entertained with your intelligence. She had told the scientist that she was bringing a surprise for the lab, but only if nothing happened- no explosions, no bodily harm, nothing bad!

-When you walked in with Brunnhilde to the lab, Nikola came over, surprised to see that his surprise was a person as you held out your hand, “Y/N Stark- nice to meet you, big fan.” The man wasn’t clicking immediately as you noticed the other human fighters were present as well as a few of the gods.

-You didn’t seem at all bothered by crashing the get together as you shook hands with Nikola who looked like he was studying you, trying to figure out why your name sounded so familiar.

-Brunnhilde told you both with a stern glare, “Behave!” you just grinned, not at all bothered, “But that’s no fun!” her glare darkened, and you grinned, finding it fun to rile her up.

-She left and Nikola spoke, “Where do I know you from?” you smirked, pulling your glasses off and you set your briefcase down, “Perhaps I should show you instead.”

-Your briefcase opened, and everyone went wide-eyed, seeing the pieces coming out, attaching to your body, covering it with a suit of armor as your hands came to your fists, “Most call me Iron Man!”

-Nikola dropped to his knees, crying crocodile tears as a light was shining from the heavens above, completely stunned that he was meeting you.

-You removed the piece and instantly he started in on the questions, asking you about the materials your suit was made out of, how it attaches, and the inner working mechanics.

-The two of you were speaking as if you were talking about banana bread recipes, but to everyone else who was in the room, now forgotten, they could only sit there, trying to decipher the language you and Nikola were now speaking.

-They ended up leaving after about a half hour, their brains hurting and you both said goodbye when they did the same, as you were excited as well, getting someone so intelligent to talk to.

-Not three hours later, a massive explosion rocked the lab, and it had Brunnhilde running, shocked to see what happened as Nikola was crawling out from under a desk while you sat up after being blown into a wall, coughing out black smoke, “Write that down!”

-You both quickly had lumps on your heads as you were being scolded by Brunnhilde, both of you being banned from the lab for the next week, not listening to either of your whines as her temple throbbed from anger.

[kylo-wrecked]

Horror themed sentence starter: ❛ there you are, my darling! ❜

A harbour full of ships stood as a tribute to the bustle of Singapore. Rows upon rows of them, coming and going with goods and people and the dreams of magnates sitting in high offices far from the open sea. Like its port, the city it was always moving. Writhing. Ebbing. Flowing. Layers upon layers of goods and people and dreams. The air was weighted by the equator. The streets were cleaner than New York. 

He’s in a cafe. His hair is longer. She wondered if it bothered him, to have it curl around his ears like that. She wondered if he knew he was being watched. If he knew that a man drinking a latte four tables away studied his every move. She wondered if he knew the man was armed. If he knew the trouble he was in.

She wondered if he still took his coffee the same way. 

His trouble smelled of red-ink and rubber. The kind that came in a sealed envelope with newspaper clippings, photos, and page six nicknames that were unkind but not, perhaps, untrue. There was a number too, attached to his mother. This wasn’t an assignment she’d normally be given. Special request. Drowned in red tape and red flags. It’d piss off her father. She’d accepted. 

His features were sharper than the fuzz of memory had allowed. Sharp, like words said on concrete streets and through mobile phones. Sharp enough to puncture. To wound. To maim. Sharp enough. 

She approaches from his peripheral; pressing the past down with training and stubbornness. The latte in the corner shifts. So did a cappuccino by the window. An unexpected inconvenience, dressed in silk. 

“There you are, my darling” her arm slips around him, hands moving the way lovers do. Her lips press to his jaw, tangling a whisper into the hair that curled around his ears. “Play along.”

There were other words she’d have said first, under different circumstances. Probably ‘fuck’. Probably fumbled over. She sits opposite him, gaze quiet and unwavering. “Are you ready to go? I have so much to tell you.”

For him, mornings were Kopi-O and kaya toast. Mornings were passing by barefoot women in front of Sri Mariamman Temple, as junior college students lined up for chicken rice lunch on the corner, and crows feasted from the nearby hawker center, barking at humans who dared intrude upon their trays. A walk. Chinatown stone, savory drafts from the bakkwa shops, sun. Solitude. Sequestration.

This late morning brings Ben to Clarke Quay, a cluster of rowhouses and boats splashed with the colors of the rainbow, a bobbing tourist trap. A good place to disappear, to observe unbothered, because his presence here, as an ex-pat, is rote. He can linger (behind charcoal Moscots) and languish (in washed linens). Without being watched, or so he thinks.

Ben should know when the hairs on the back of his neck prick or when the café conversation he's been scrawling bits and pieces of in a paper bag notebook takes a precipitous departure:

'She's Ah Lian.'

'No, she's just white, la. Only crazy rich Americans come to SG dressed like that.'

'Good looking Americans.' 

[Hokkien] 

'Ew, la! So crass.' 

The tone and volume of their conversation morphs again into something more delicate. Of course, Ben jumps. His heart jumps. He doesn't take the touch for a stranger's, but he doesn't take it well. Gripping his pen, jaw tensing into something slicing, eyes narrowing beneath the cirrus of dark locks he refuses to brush aside. Can she feel him twitch?

He leans his brawn (notably sparser, hollowed out by heat and a persistent dullness he can't kill) as far back as the wall and chair will go without him toppling it. Ben wonders if this is easy for her, if Brunnhilde might even take pleasure in the scheme. He doesn't wonder why she's here or meet her gaze. He stares into the coffee grounds at the bottom of his cup, reads his omen. A black scud of an omen.

"What a pity." Ben sucks his teeth and raises his eyebrows. "I was just on my way to see my attorney. Give me the elevator pitch, and he'll take it from there." 

Then he rises, stretching his long legs. Settles his bill with cash and his notebook on his person, lights a cigarette on the curb while he, unbelievably, waits for Brunnhilde until she joins him outside, rustling silk, lithe, lightly freckled shoulders. Briefly, he wonders how she's not sweating, if the fabric's supposed to cling to her navel, or if every inch of it's drenched. 

"Seriously?" Ben turns to her and lays his gaze over hers. Smoke on his lips. "I don't want to know who cleared this." 

His gaze is not quiet, though his voice is. Ben keeps it low. Exhales into the baseline resounding from Chupitos, the spider's web paned canopies, the mash of bodies, slippers, t-shirts, tudong. 

No offer to share the cigarette. No sea, no tangle of bedsheets.

"I'm ready to 'go.'" he says. "Shall we?" 

[valkxrie]

Roleplaying Profile Meme:

PLEASE REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG!  Feel free to add to any of your answers!  The purpose is to tell your partners about the way you write!  For the multiple-choice ones, BOLD all that apply and, if you want, italicize if it’s a conditional answer!

– B A S I C S –

NAME:  Alex

ARE YOU OVER 18? Yes / No

IS YOUR MUSE? Yes / No

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG? No / Semi / Yes / Highly / Private

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU FOLLOW ON THIS BLOG? No / Semi / Yes / Highly / private

IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH DO YOU ADHERE TO CANON? Not at all / A little / Somewhat / Mostly / Strictly / OC

(there are a lot of myths/poems/stories about Brunnhilde, and they all vary - plus interpretations in modern culture. my character was born of multiple things)

WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE? One Liners / Single-Para / Multi-Para / Novella 

DO YOU USE ICONS AND/OR GIFS? No / Gifs /Icons/ Gifcons

DO YOU WRITE ON OTHER PLATFORMS? No / Yes

WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE? Unplotted / Open-Ended Plots / Semi-Plotted / Fully Plotted Epics

(i am open to general direction, seeing how it goes, full blown plots across extended timelines, little one-offs... etc. throw it at me).

HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS? I am a Turtle on wheels /Slow / Fast  / Very Fast*

(i am usually quick to reply - within 24 hours if not less. however, there is no obligation to reply as quickly. take days. take weeks. take months - i only ask that you reply because you want to)

WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) Fluff / Angst / Smut / Action / Tragedy / Domestic / Family / Conversational / Hurt-Comfort / Fantasy / Dark

(i will write most things. i am drawn to anything that contributes to the depth / texture / study of a character / relationship)

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romance / Drama / Action / Adventure / Espionage / Everything

ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? No / Yes  

DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS? HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? No/ Yes

(but i do try to tag anything that may trigger others - let me know if there is anything you need me to tag more specifically and i will)

– S H I P P I N G –

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic /Familial / Physical / Sexual / Enemies

WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial / Physical / Sexual

DO YOU HAVE OTPS? No / Chemistry only / Yes

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? - Heterosexual / Heteroflexible / Bisexual / Homoflexible / Homosexual / Pansexual / Demisexual / Asexual / Questioning

(verse dependent - human B is bi, valkyrie b is pan)

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? - Heteroromantic / Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible / Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Grayromantic / Aromantic / Polyamorous / Questioning

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? No / Selectively / Yes

ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER? No / Sometimes / Yes

DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No /Sometimes / Yes

DOES CROSSOVER SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No / Yes / Depends

tagged by:// @kylo-wrecked

tagging:// you

[opera-ghosts]

Lillian Nordica - Miserere [Il trovatore] - 1906

From Yankee diva; Lillian Nordica and the golden days of opera by Glackens, Ira, 1907-:

Lillian had not progressed very far when the door opened and she saw the stately figure of Madame Tietjens standing there signaling her to go on. Tietjens came into the room and, taking Mrs. Norton's place at the piano, continued the accompaniment. When the aria was finished she asked the young student to sing "Tacea la notte" from Trovatore, the very opera of that day's bill. When it was over Madame Tietjens said, "Work ahead, and you will be great."

Through the hot, humid summer of 1876 Lillian took three lessons a week with Madame Maretzek in New York. Funds for this sojourn in the city were supplied in part by Eben Tourjee. Lillian studied the soprano roles of twelve operas. The first was Trovatore, an opera hedged round with vague and splendid memories of Parepa-Rosa. She likewise studied Lucia, and even Aida, first American production of which had occurred only three years before. But best of all, Madame Maretzek took her pupil on complimentary tickets to all the important musical events, and Lillian had not heard so much good music since she used to crawl through the grille at the Boston Music Hall.

"Miss Norton was very unfortunate in her selection, the Miserere Scene from Trovatore. She has a good voice, telling in quality of tone, but she has very much to learn before she can do any kind of justice to such an operatic selection."

[...] The next day at Lillian's hotel Madame Maretzek went over the score of Trovatore, the first role she had taught her, giving her, Lillian said, many suggestions. For Bertucca Maretzek had heard many famous Leonoras in her day, and the two could discuss how Tietjens had phrased the cavatina, how Parepa-Rosa had embellished it, and many other interesting details. "The dear kind soul!" Lillian called her.*

Thus Lillian first appeared at this opera house through the back door, a member of a touring troupe. She sang Leonora in Trovatore on March 27, 1890, with Tamagno, who got most of the notices. "Triumphant Tenor Tamagno Twice Takes High C Amid Great Enthusiasm," the New York Herald proclaimed next day. "Mme. Fabbri a dramatic Azucena. Lillian Nordica, the American soprano, makes her rentree as Leonora."*

The first 'off night' at the Metropolitan proved a pleasant surprise," the Herald kindly added. "The attendance was far larger than might have been expected on the morrow of a Patti performance, and 'Trovatore/ superbly sung and acted awoke unhoped-for enthusiasm." The Musical Courier thought the whole cast magnificent.

The next night she reappeared as Leonora in Trovatore, and William Henderson of the Times found her the conspicuous example of a whole cast which demonstrated "the beautiful delivery of trained voices coupled with dramatic intelligence." Her work in Wagner's music dramas had a good effect on even her earlier Verdi, for her Leonora had gained in breadth and significant action. "Her singing was a splendid example of the grand style which made the life of Italian opera in its palmy days."

She sang in Trovatore, both in Brooklyn and in Baltimore, and then caught a cold and notified the management. This was just what Mr. GattiCasazza was waiting for. Mme. Nordica continued to be announced in performance after performance, in spite of her protests, until the number of appearances guaranteed in her contract had been fulfilled. At the last moment another singer was "substituted." That counted as an appearance, because she had been announced.

Mr. Holding was to play a Beethoven Sonata, Mr. Kirby to sing "Che gelida manina" from La Boheme, and Mme. Nordica, besides songs ranging from Liza Lehmann and Bemberg to Brahms and Schumann, was set down for "Ritorna vincitor" and Brunnhilde's Battle-Cry, and with Mr. Kirby, the Miserere Scene from Trovatore. Lillian was harking back to Gilmore's Band for a number long experience had taught her was effective on the concert platform. Among her encores was "The Last Rose of Summer," which may have been her final one, and actually the last notes she ever sang.

[themculibrary]

Canon LGBTQ+ Characters

A New Reality (ao3) - kickcows loki/mobius E, 39k

Summary: Loki finds himself stuck in a new branch of reality, and seeks guidance from the one person he knows will help him - Mobius.

Destroy You As I Am (ao3) - Pandorica loki/sylvie E, 71k

Summary: Sylvie is on a mission to destroy the man who killed her family - notorious sex club owner Nathaniel Richards. When a mysterious stranger, Loki, helps her get access to Richards' inner circle, their lives become intimately entangled in a confusion of dominance, submission, sex, exhibitionism,  and espionage. But can she trust him to help her take everything she's ever wanted? Or is he out for his own game entirely?

first love/late spring (ao3) - leonsknees loki/mobius T, 5k

Summary: “I don’t care about Mobius,” Loki growls bitterly, and staggers to his feet. “Would you knock it off? I knew it was going to make everything worse having you here.”

Sylvie just smiles knowingly, and shakes her head. “He cares about you.”

Loki curls his hands into fists, and raises his chin in defiance. “Perhaps, but I don’t care about him. Some predicament, huh?”

Fumblings (ao3) - Griselda_Gimpel phastos/ben M, 689

Summary: Phastos and Ben's first time, complicated by the Phastos' alien god biology.

funny you’re the broken one (ao3) - thorbiased T, 4k

Summary: “Judging by the numbers on the lime-green digital clock on the stove, it’s three am when Thor wakes up on Brunnhilde’s kitchen floor.”

Thor patches things up with Valkyrie.

Heart of Iron & Steel (ao3) - risingoftime shuri/riri E, 1k

Summary: Shuri wanted to learn Riri’s anatomy, studying and caressing her most delicate features. Listening to her moans and cries like a melody almost drove them to sweet insanity.

Jealously in the Making (ao3) - tummytrouble loki/mobius/sylvie N/R, 6k

Summary: Mobius loves Loki, and so does Sylvie. But Loki has more than enough love to go around. After tender love making, it sparks a rivalry between the pair, but Loki is determined to show that he doesn't pick favorites.

Missing you is like missing a part of myself (ao3) - Mimisempai phastos/ben G, 1k

Summary: As Ben receives a message from Phastos announcing his return, he thinks about how much he had missed Phastos.

our way, no takebacks (ao3) - dinosuns loki/mobius T, 20k

Summary: Destiny is a deception and fate is a fiction. They're doing this their way.

The Nature of Phastos (ao3) - Griselda_Gimpel phastos/ben T, 544

Summary: Even before Ben learned the truth, he knew his husband Phastos wasn't ordinary.

The Scientist (ao3) - vampirefreakism pepper/tony, loki/ofc T, 359k

Summary: In the events following Asgard's destruction, Loki finds himself on Earth seeking refuge to await the inevitable. Much to his surprise, it comes from a source he would never have expected.

Torn Down, Full of Aching (ao3) - Webtrinsic T, 1k

Summary: America is under the impression Stephen cares about her because he has to, not because he wants to. She couldn't be anymore wrong.

To Touch Her Again (ao3) - incogniteau valkyrie/natasha T, 756

Summary: After getting caught up in Ultron’s invasion and unsure what is happening elsewhere in the US and the world, Natasha is reunited with her love, Brunnhilde, her Valkyrie.

we will make a home someday, one full of love and light (ao3) - delphiniumblooms sersi/ikaris, phastos/ben T, 1k

Summary: Sersi and Ikaris pay Phastos’ family a visit.

you’re not broken (ao3) - helloilovefanfiction yelena/kate G, 1k

Summary: Yelena and Kate are kissing, when Kate wants to go farther. Yelena panics and pushes her away, leading to a conversation about asexuality.

Young Gods (ao3) - CloudAtlas kate/america, clint/jessica T, 13k

Summary: WOMEN’S SELF-DEFENCE CLASSES it reads, with HOPE VAN DYNE, TRISH WALKER and AMERICA CHAVEZ.

The start date is next Monday.

[ao3feed-thor]

burn burn burn

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/nb3zyV7

by covestone

Sometimes she wonders if she's cursed.

aka what happens on the statesman stays on the statesman

Words: 4682, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Heimdall (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Bruce Banner

Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Thor (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Thor (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Kinda, POV Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Character Study, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, First Kiss, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), fuck odin all my homies hate odin, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), POV Third Person Limited

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/nb3zyV7

[valkxrie]

@starlsssankt

Instinct climbed Brunnhilde's spine, watching the shadows, sensing their depth. His depth. He was a well of power; one that plunged into the earth itself and whose leagues had not been measured. The world went dark; light only visible from behind him as his shadows prowled the room.

He had the upper-hand here. He had darkness, and he had robbed her of the sky. He had robbed her of much of her power. He had stolen her freedom. But not yet her tongue.

"Keep talking like that and we'll have to establish a safe word." She watched, and listened to her spine, and kept her breathing steady so the heartrender might not report much once the door inevitably locked again.

In the silence, she took one step, and then another, weighing his expression between her brows. The motion took her away from the walls and the shadows that held them. It brought her nearer to where she might read his face. To where he might read hers.

"We both know I'm not going to be a good little prisoner." She's within striking distance; close enough to study the eyes, close enough to grip by the throat. "You want my power - but you don't know what it is, or how it will kill you."

Brunnhilde did not fear death nor pain. She would endure both to keep her power; to maintain its status as mine.

"Do you even know my name?"

[lay-z]

close as can be | os

MCU | Valkyrie/Brunnhilde x F!Reader

Summary: After Thor names her leader of New Asgard, Brunnhilde asks you an important question.

Warnings: Domestic fluff, established relationship, kissing | Mention of a deleted scene between Thor & Valkyrie in Endgame.

Thank you @bamposworld​ for requesting this! I hope you’ll like it. I’m sorry this turned out so short 💗

The wind whips around you, making you shiver as the tall grass sways on the hill around you. You watch in awe as the huge spaceship disappears into the endless sky, beyond the somber grey clouds.

Eventually, your eyes shift to the woman standing a few feet in front of you, at the edge of the hill overlooking the town. Her head is tilted to the sky, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her cozy vest while her long, raven hair cascades down her back.

After saying your goodbye to Thor, you left to give the two old friends some space of privacy to say their own farewell.

When Brunnhilde finally turns around to face you, you notice her shoulders heave when she sighs heavily, a gloomy smile on her closed lips as she approaches you.

You can see the torn look in her dark eyes; sad for her king leaving, happy that her friend is ready to start the journey of finding his new purpose.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy, but should I be worried about him leaning in to kiss you?”

Brunnhilde snorts, baring her perfect teeth as she smiles before leaning in to peck your lips. She wraps her strong arms around your midst, and your heart flutters violently as you close your eyes; it always does when she kisses you.

“Never”, she mumbles against your lips, chuckling softly. “I think he got hit in the head one too many times”

“Good”, you retort, reciprocating her hug. “but just so you know, I’d definitely fight a literal God for you”

“Of course you would” Brunnhilde pulls back just enough to nuzzle your neck. “my fierce, little human”

Your heart swells with warmth and pride, and you hug her a little tighter, grinning to yourself.

“Thor named me ruler of New Asgard”

It’s a quick confession, and her warm breath tickles the side of your exposed neck. You’re speechless for a moment, distracted by the way she kisses your pulse point. You swallow hard, inhaling through your nose.

“Then he finally made a right choice after five years of wasting away”, you answer finally. “You’ve been the one leading and taking care of the people since you got here anyway”

Suddenly, Brunnhilde pulls back, and her deep-brown eyes gaze up at you with a mischievous glint.

“Aye, true that”

She takes your hand and you let her lead you down the hill, back towards the town of Tønsberg.

“I could use some good people on my council, reliable people”

“I’m sure you do. I don’t know much about ruling, but I heard it’s not an easy job”, you chuckle, stopping when she squeezes your hand lightly. “What?”

Brunnhilde is looking at you, one eyebrow raised as she grins.

“I’m talking about you, dummy –”, she retorts, shoving your shoulder with hers. “a great Queen needs at least one clever advisor”

“And have your people think that I only slept my way to the top? Nu-uh, thank you, your grace”

You snap your fingers in a sassy gesture and earn another playful shove.

“Well…you did, but come on –“

Brunnhilde half-whines, half-laughs, and you pull her closer as you stop mid-walk. You try your best to look serious and stoic as you speak.

“I know nothing about advising people, honey, let alone a Queen, but I’ll support you on this journey the best I can. Will that be enough?”

She tilts her head to the side as she studies your face, and when you open your mouth to repeat your question, her lips move faster.

“Move in with me then”, she suggests, shrugging, and her voice holds a challenging edge to it. You’re very familiar with that tone of hers already. “We’ve talked about it before”

“Uh –“ Your eyes flutter as you process her words. “We – we’ve never talked about moving in together”

“In my mind I have”

Her answer is bold, and her witty remarks are proof enough that she has thought about this conversation before. “So, what say you?”, she asks, playing with your hands absentmindedly.

“Yes”, you answer under your breath; your heart now pounding in your chest.

“Yes”, Brunnhilde repeats, grinning triumphantly as she cups your face. You pull her closer by the waist and you let your hands roam over her curves.

Despite the breeze sweeping across the grassy hill, you feel nothing but hot in her embrace. As always, her kiss oozes dominance; she guides you the way she wants, and you gladly let her. Opening your mouth with a soft groan, her tongue slips past your lips then teases your own.

“Be aware that you cannot get rid of me afte I’ve lodged myself in your place, your grace”, you chuckle against her lips.

Brunnhilde nips at your bottom lip before pulling back, smiling.

“Luckily, I don’t plan to”

[abricadabra]

val tags .

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Could I request a male teen reader bringing home his boyfriend to meat the ror family and the didn't know he had a boyfriend,up until recently reader referred to his boyfriend as his partner

-They didn’t know it, how could they? You didn’t tell them, and they just thought that B/N was just another friend you brought over to study with. B/N had been over quite often and nobody in your family thought about it, because whenever any of them would check on the two of you, bringing you snacks or something like that- you would both be studying.

-It was like that, at least at first for you and B/N- the two of you were just friends, but as time went on, you grew closer and closer, and new feelings started to arise in both of you. You didn’t feel strange or odd despite that you were both male, you felt comfortable, like this was right- like it was meant to be.

-B/N was the one who confessed first, surprising you, but seeing him with his bright red face and determined eyes made you feel at ease as you smiled, leaping into his arms.

-It was that day when you arrived home with him, the two of you holding hands, that made everyone freeze, staring in slight shock, surprised by this revelation.

-You steeled your nerves and smiled as B/N squeezed your hand softly, “You all know B/N- my partner- my boyfriend.” B/N just gave a weak grin, as he knew how protective your family was over you, greeting everyone like normal.

-Brunnhilde, who seemed to be the only calm one, held an open hand towards Loki and Buddha who both handed her a large bill, winning the bet and you were surprised, “You knew?”

-She gave a smile with a wink, “I could see there was something there and I figured it was a matter of time.” Loki and Buddha were quick to tease you, poking at your cheeks, pouting that you didn’t tell them all sooner.

-You were glad they were okay with this, as was B/N who had his hair ruffled by Adam, giving him a soft smile as they approved of the relationship.

[hellishparadiseforthelost]

🗡️ Brunnhilde stared at him with almost a deadpanned expression. Certainly he did not believe those words? Hermes, after all, was a very far cry from an idiot. He knew the nature of the Gods as well as herself, perhaps even better. It was because she had an idea just how attentive and quick witted he was that she did not believe those words. They had encountered one another to surmise the very basics of Hermes. How dangerous and unreadable he can be. Any assumption she has made..is based on body language, intonation and speech.

And yet, she had an inkling that barely scratched the surface of who Hermes was. It was intriguing..and yet, it was never wise to lower one's guard with such a crafty individual around. He, of course, had her respect but the Valkyrie was no fool either.

If Hermes had to pick a side..it would be neither humans nor Gods. It would be a side that catered to him and benefited him the most. Brunnhilde did not judge him for it. After all, he brought her information from time to time. He knew exactly what he wanted and knew just how to play the 'game' to get what he desired.

In this, they were the same..to a degree.

"You would think so..but imaginations and tongues tend to run amuck..Gods and humans alike can both be quite gossips."Humans, after all, were made in God's image.

...Every breath was excruciating. Even with her remarkable level of endurance and high pain threshold courtesy of being the oldest Valkyrie, Brunnhilde could feel her magic beginning to become undone like a band-aid that was losing its stickiness. Her finger pads pressed more firmly against the fabric of her gown.

If it were not for the magic, Brunnhilde would be looking quite worse for wear and in more dire circumstances. For now the magic was keeping her blood where it belonged, a rib or two in place while healing what it could. The medicine in the infirmary was the only way she could ensure her wounds were properly and thoroughly cleaned, not to mention the analgesic effects. The latter would prove beneficial as she ran around tending to the next round of Ragnarok.

At the very least..the cause of her current predicament had been taught a very brutal lesson. Brunnhilde was a warrior as much as she was a leader, a strategist, an older sister. She was a soldier of Asgard and not one to be trifled with. Her prowess was as terrifying as her temper--something they sorely came upon.

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?", she asked bluntly, studying his features, the way he stood and his very presence.

'Had he noticed something..?'

Brunnhilde was far from pleased..But the longer she waited, the worse the pain would become. Delaying treatment would make recuperation that much slower.

"It is unnecessary..", she stated, almost as a last ditch effort to shake him off. "However, it would be rude to refuse the company and assistance from Lord Hermes."

'DAMN IT!!' Was Brunnhilde screaming internally? Yes.

Reluctantly, she took his arm with her spare. "Satisfied? Are you that bored that you would risk contempt and rumors just to walk with me to the infirmary?" Of course Brunnhilde knew it was something else. Curiosity? Nosiness?

Either way, it was going to be a difficult walk.

A brow rising, Hermes protests. “‘Conspiracy,’ you say? I should think that wouldnt be the case; surely there are more pressing matters to be worried about.”

He isn’t really telling the truth here, as he actually still fully agrees with Brunnhilde. It’s simply more that he doesn’t really care if someone sees things that way. There are many who have aired grievances about him, to him, with him, that the possibility of garnering a few more neither worries nor distresses him. And if any being happens upon them along the way...well, he knows how to handle those who’ve seen that which they weren’t meant to.

Still, he supposes if he is turned down so thoroughly, it would be better for him to simply do as she asks. He is not a forceful god when he doesn’t need to be, so if she wishes to go alone, he is far from one to stop her. He would sigh, honestly, out of exasperation, were this any other situation in which the Valkyrie were simply being her stubborn self, but...

...his gaze, ever calculating and observant, does not miss the tightness in her gait, nor the way her arm presses taut to her body, now that he is looking at her properly. He had assumed it was whatever was troubling her, he hasn’t failed to notice her displeased mood, that had the Valkyrie tense, but now he thinks there may be another reason. She does not tremble, but she does look a little haggard; it is clear she is trying to hide something, but that something seems to be on her body. It brings a multitude of questions to the forefront of his mind—Why was she so far down in the arena? Should he let on that he has seen? What could she be hiding?—but he manages to push them into a corner of his mind so as to try and decide his next move.

In a broad sense, he has no obligations to seeing her off to the infirmary, now that she has shot down his offering to accompany her. He still wants to, however, if only to get to the bottom of what has brought her to this state. And he was so very used to denying himself of nothing, especially in a situation where his curiousities were concerned. Surely he could not be expected to simply do nothing.

“It couldn’t possibly be an inconvenience,” he says reassuringly, careful to hold her gaze, now that she has stood back up. Perhaps if he doesn’t directly address the fact that he has noticed, she will keep up the act, which he hopes will get her to agree. Far be it from him to force her to stop, after all, so all he does is offer his own arm and smile.

“Lord Hades is preoccupied with speaking to Lord Zeus and brother Ares, right now, at any rate, so my presence is not needed. Rest assured, I am more than free to tag along on the journey.”

[valkxrie]

Interesting Questions for Muns:

1. Would you say that ever since you started writing for your muse you have become more similar to your muse? In what ways?

Yes and no. No, in that Brunnhilde and I are very different, but yes in that there are parts of her that I do genuinely admire - and that have brought out something better in me. Brunnhilde is strong in who she is. Unapologetic and without the desire to be anyone else. In almost every myth, she is fierce, capable and - importantly - she knows her worth and is not prepared to accept less.

I first learned about Brunnhilde while obtaining an advanced lit degree from an enigmatic professor who challenged my notions of humanity, femininity, and the role of women in history every single day for several years. It took me a long time to adopt Brunnhilde as muse - and even longer to start writing her. Engaging with strong female characters was a huge part of me giving myself permission to actually live in a way that was true to me, who I want to be, and the adventures I want to have.

2. Do you self-project yourself into your muse? If so, then how?

I will use my own experiences to inform some plot points; like how things taste or feel, but all of my characters are uniquely their own. They are not me and I spend a lot of time getting to know them - much as you would a friend. There is a study that goes into their creation, not projection.

3. Do you regret writing any of your past muses?

No. Some of them I look back on and go “yeah, you know what - I could have done that a lot better”. Or I will look back and see that they were just a means to understand my own life - not a way to tell a story. All of it has been a journey of growth. I wouldn’t be writing who and how I am writing now without past muses and stories.

4. Would you like to become more like your muse someday? Brunnhilde is not good. She is morally very grey, she can be bitter and resentful of the fact that she’s been used as a tool by powerful men, and she can be a bit of a Leroy Jenkins. I do like her confidence, charisma, tenacity, loyalty... she is very sensual and can be a lot of fun. She has a lot of ownership and autonomy that I really respect. But would I want to be her? No. I am happy with who I am, she is happy with who she is, and we don’t need to be like each other.

5. Do you agree with your muse's decisions? Why or why not?

Long story short; Brunnhilde, for all her loyalty, her adventurous nature, and her strength of spirit, can be cruel. She harnesses her anger as a tool, and... I’d like to think I am a lot more mellow and a lot more forgiving. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. As I said, she can be bitter and resentful. She can also be spiteful and selfish. She’s not very forgiving, and she might deny someone Valhalla because they wronged her. I don’t think I could ever justify doing something like that myself - even if I can justify it for the sake of a plot, but that’s a whole other field of discussion.

6. If your muse came to life, do you think you would get along with them?

I would be shit scared of her. And then I would ask her to for work-out tips.

7. Would you say that your attitude changes when you get 'into the zone' of writing your muse? (ex: when you write for your muse do you begin to sort of talk like them? do you find yourself feeling grumpy after? etc)

I'd like to think I am pretty good at keeping the line between me and a muse separate.

8. Do you like to tell people that you like to RP on tumblr? If not, then do you think you'll tell anybody?

It's not a secret - it just so happens that many of the people in my life aren’t writers and are not very interested in Fiction. Those who are - it's their job and those conversations come with expectations.

Tumblr has given me a community where I can be creative and explore ideas and themes without expectation. It's just for me. I don’t have to send anyone on Tumblr a first-draft for approval; I can just be here and have fun. There’s a freedom to it.

No one in my ‘real life’ has ever really asked to read what I write here - and it doesn’t bother me. They sometimes see Tumblr open while I am supposed to be working, and will give me shit about procrastinating, but that's about it.

9. Has your muse taught you anything about yourself and/or the world?

She’s taught me that courage and confidence are beautiful things. That you can be strong and adventurous and beautiful and sensual; that limitations and stereotypes are all made up. You can be whatever you want so long as it is true to you and it doesn’t harm others. Differences are good - and it's okay for you to be different too. It is good for you to be different.

10. After a writing slump, how do you manage to get your muse back?

Music, mostly. I’ll find a song that inspires that muse and listen to it while driving, or at the gym... etc. I will literally just tune out and think of scenes that align with the rhythm of whatever I am listening to.

Also - just give me a deadline and I’ll probably procrasti-write on Tumblr instead. Half the reason I am so fast with my replies is that I, almost always, should be doing something else.

--- Tagged by: I actually filled this in last week, but then saw @kylo-wrecked​ share it and figured "fuck it, it's Munday". Tagging: Whoever wants to do it. Godspeed. 

[wizardofrozz]

The Fall of the House of Odin

Thor Odinson x Asgardian!Reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, Nebula, Carol Danvers, Rocket, Sif, Brunnhilde (Valkyrie), mention of Loki Laufeyson

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: swearing, murder, alcohol consumptions, grief

A/N: I make no apologies about my love for Soft!Thor 🤷‍♀️ 

Taglist is open

Part 1

The slowly setting sun threw shadows across the floor, our shapes stretching across the wooden panels in the dimming light. I stood at Steve’s side, my eyes flickering to each of the Avengers briefly, never taking my eyes off Thanos for long. Nat stepped closer to Bruce, drawing my attention, and I glanced down the line at Rhodey, Carol, and Nebula. Thor lingered at Thanos’ left with Rocket at his feet, and I could see his chest heaving under his armor as he tried to stay in control. Even from my spot behind him, I could see the tension in his jaw and hands as he stared down at the Mad Titan.

           “I am inevitable,” Thanos’ breathed, drawing my eyes to him again.

           “We have to tear this place apart, he – he has to be lying,” Rhodey insisted, glancing between the heroes around him.

           “My father is many things, but a liar is not one of them,” Nebula countered, taking a hesitant step forward.

           “Ah…thank you, daughter. Perhaps I treated you too harshly,” Thanos hummed, his smile making my stomach turn. My muscles tensed when I picked up on the faint buzz of power flowing through Stormbreaker. Thor let out a cry filled with rage, guilt, and pain before bringing the ax down, the electricity ringing through the small hut. The thump of Thanos’ head sounded like an anvil hitting the floor, the thud seeming to echo around the remaining Avengers. My heart ached for Thor as I watched him stare down at the lifeless body of the Titan, but I didn’t dare approach him.

           “What did you do?” Rocket breathed, his mouth hanging open in shock.

           “I went for the head.” Thor’s voice rumbled through the hut like the echo of a clap of thunder; I couldn’t think of a time that he ever sounded that broken. Thor lingered for a few seconds, his lips parting in something that sounded almost like a gasp before turning away, his eyes briefly meeting mine. I stayed at Steve’s side, watching Thor walk into the sunlight, standing tall, his crimson cape floating behind him. Despite his attempt to look like a strong warrior and King, I’d known him long enough to see the weight of his sorrows pressing down on him, threatening to bring him to his knees.

1 week later (1 month after The Snap)

I stood near the canal, flipping through the work orders and receipts that made my head hurt, trying to make sure the recent shipment had everything we needed.

           “That’s all, ma’am,” a short man in a grimy knit hat huffed.

           “Thank you,” I sighed, smiling at him. I watched the few delivery men close up their trucks and waved as they started back up into the rolling hills surrounding New Asgard. I turned back the handful of Asgardians separating the materials, jumping at the sharp orders from the cranky Valkyrie I put in charge. I snapped to attention at the sudden bark of my name, my eyes immediately finding Brunnhilde waving me closer. I rolled my eyes, my lip twitching up with a smile, and moved closer, shaking my head when she barked another order before jumping down from the pile of wood she was standing on.

           “Sorry, probably shouldn’t have used your name,” Brunnhilde huffed with a shrug as I approached.

           “Now isn’t the time for me to worry about formalities,” I sighed, nudging her to walk with me. I glanced between my clipboard of papers and the slowly forming piles of materials scattered around.

           “Speaking of not using formalities, where’s the brick shithouse you call a husband?” Despite the countless years of studying proper etiquette, I barked out a laugh, immediately covering my mouth, but it only seemed to amuse Brunnhilde more.

           “Don’t let him hear that,” I chuckled, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t in earshot. “But I think he’s helping the teams clearing out the old furniture.”

           “Explain to me again why we aren’t just using magic,” she grumbled, coming to a stop at my side when we reached the end of the scattered materials.

           “Woah, I never said we weren’t using magic at all,” I started, not wanting to even think about that stress, “we figured letting the citizens that can’t use magic have free reign to build and decorate would be a good idea. We also don’t want to overwork the citizens that can use it by asking them to build an entire village.”

           “I’m hiring someone to do it for me,” Brunnhilde scoffed, crossing her arms.

           “You mean bully someone into doing it for you,” I snorted, rolling my lips into my mouth.

           “Close enough,” she insisted, absently waving a hand.

           “Anyway. Did you pick somewhere yet?” I flipped through the pages again, searching for the list of residents, grumbling under my breath about the stupid amount of paperwork humans produce.

           “Near the cliff where the castle will be,” Brunnhilde supplied, nodding towards one of the homes on the hillside, “ya know, in case I wanna throw myself off after a while.”

           “Gods,” I laughed, dropping my head and closing my eyes. “Also, stop calling it a castle.”            

           “What the hell do you want me to call it then?” she asked, raising a challenging brow at me.

           “I don’t know; it’s not a castle,” I grumbled, flipping the papers down and shoving the clipboard under my arm.

           “No, it’s just the building the king and queen will live in and run the village from,” Brunnhilde snarked, rolling her eyes.

           “Shut up,” I mumbled, glaring at her, “I offered for you to live there too.”

           “I’ll pass,” she laughed, leaning against the railing around the canal. I shook my head and scanned the street that I could see, smiling at the citizens that waved or bowed as they passed until my eyes caught another figure moving through the streets. Thor’s dark blonde hair was wind blow from being up in the hills for so long, and his strides were lazy as he strolled closer. My jaw ticked when I caught sight of the beer bottle dangling from his fingers, but I pushed the sour taste down and sucked in a deep breath, standing taller.

           “My Queen!” Thor bellowed, a blinding smile spreading across his face as he threw his arms out.

           “He’s drunk,” Brunnhilde gasped beside me, standing straighter.

           “Apparently, piss drunk,” I agreed from the side of my mouth before returning his smile. “Hello, my love.”

           “Your Majesty,” Brunnhilde hummed, bowing her head.

           “How is the clean-up going?” Thor stumbled, looking down at his feet to glare at the nonexistent object he tripped over before throwing a heavy arm around my shoulders.

           “Wonderful,” he rumbled, catching the attention of a few passing Asgardians, “we’re nearly finished.”

           “That’s great,” I exclaimed, genuinely smiling this time. “We should be able to get the castle sorted out for tomorrow.”

           “Excellent,” Thor hummed against the lip of his bottle. He tipped his head back, swallowing down the contents in one gulp and letting out a satisfied sigh before turning to look at me again. His usually sharp blue eyes were hazy with alcohol, but he blinked a few times, focusing on my face, his lips turning up in a soft smile. “Is everything okay down here?” he asked, suddenly sounding more sober than I thought.

           “Do you doubt me?” I chuckled, resting a hand over the zipper of his heavy coat.

           “Never,” he replied immediately, his smile slipping. “We’d crumble without you.” Thor pulled me closer, trying to hide his sorrows from me, but it was useless. I withered under his gaze, watching all of the lighthearted amusement leave his face as a dark cloud settled over him, making him look older than 1500.

           “Hey,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his waist. He loosened his grip but kept his head bent, so our foreheads rested together, blinking hard once before meeting my eyes.

           “I’m sorry, darling.” Thor shifted forward to press his lips to my forehead, one giant hand closing around the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles there as he rested his head on my shoulder. The rhythmic kneading was hypnotizing and paired with the steady puffs of Thor’s breath against my neck; it felt like I could float away.

           “Excuse me, Your Majesty?” Thor’s fingers stilled, and I blinked out of my fog as the weight of his head left my shoulder; Hildegund stood at Brunnhilde’s side, her eyes pinned to the ground. Thor looked down at me, a flash of what looked like longing flickering over his face before he cleared his throat.

           “Yes?”

           “I was hoping I could speak to you for a moment,” Hildegund whispered, glancing up at us before everting her eyes again.

           “Go,” I whispered, cupping Thor’s face to tilt his head down, “she just lost Volstagg, and I can’t leave yet, or I would talk with her.” Thor’s eyes darted around my face like I held the answer before he swallowed and nodded, ducking his head.

           “What do I say?” he whispered before our lips met.

           “Whatever comes to mind,” I assured, gently brushing our noses together. “You’re not her king right now; you’re her friend.” Thor sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders lifting as he did, and nodded again, bumping our noses together before moving the last few inches. The kiss almost felt like a relief, like both of us were realizing we still had each other, and I ignored the lingering tang of beer on his lips.

I approached the warehouse near the water that had been turned into a sanctuary for the Asgardians until the houses were livable again, taking a deep breath before entering. I wandered around the clusters of families, offering soft reassurances or an ear to listen as the buzz of voices grew quiet with the fading sunlight. I made it about halfway through the temporary beds when I turned too quickly, nearly running over someone. Warm hands closed around my arms, holding me steady, a cheeky grin and bright green eyes greeting me.

           “Good evening to you too, Your Majesty,” Sif snickered, patting my arm before dropping her hand.

           “Lady Sif,” I greeted, pursing my lips to hide my smile.

           “May I speak with you?” Sif glanced around the room, nodding to the Asgardians watching us, and cleared her throat, raising a condescending brow.

           “Of course,” I hummed, jerking my head, beckoning her to follow me. Twilight was settling over New Asgard, the ocean breeze raising goosebumps on my skin, and I pulled my thin flannel tighter around myself.

           “The cold will be an adjustment,” Sif sighed, standing at my side, watching the waves with me.

           “I think it reminds Thor of Loki,” I whispered, my eyes following the rhythmic roll of the waves in the distance.

           “How is he? I haven’t had a chance to check on him or you for that matter.” Sif turned to look at me this time, and I could see the concern in the lines of her face.

           “He’s….” My mouth opened and closed as I tried to find something to say, but I had nothing. Thor was far from okay, and in the craziness of the last few weeks, we’d barely had a chance to see each other, let alone talk. “I don’t know, and that pains me.”

           “I’d say talk to him, but….” Sif trailed off, flapping a hand in the direction of the village.

           “Exactly,” I sighed, mindlessly rubbing a hand over my cheek.

           “How are you?” Sif ventured, her brows pitching up in concern.

           “Empty,” was all I could think to say. “We lost half of our people, half of the Einherjar, half of the Avengers, and we’re trying to rebuild our home on a new planet. I have an entire population of people to care for, and my husband’s barely holding it together, so I think you can figure out how I feel.” I finally turned to look at Sif, my heart squeezing when I met the crumpled look from one of the strongest warriors I’d ever met, and I couldn’t help but feel even more hopeless.

           “Just tell me what you need from me,” Sif whispered, holding an open hand towards me. I glanced down at her hand, a brief smile flickering across my face as I took her hand, squeezing it.

           “Thank you, my friend,” I croaked, letting her pull me into a sideways hug. We watched the last of the sun dip below the horizon, huddled together but saying nothing more; the echoing shout of our names drew our attention.

           “Brunnhilde,” Sif hummed with a smile, pulling the dark-haired Valkyrie into a one-armed hug.

           “I see Tyr finally released you,” Brunnhilde laughed, smacking Sif’s shoulder as she took a step back.

           “He wasn’t happy about it,” Sif snorted, glancing towards the warehouse. I stood back, watching my dear friends laugh and make small talk for a few minutes, relishing in the normalcy of it, forgetting about our harsh reality for a moment.

           “Oh, your man is looking for you,” Brunnhilde called, grabbing my attention again.

           “Is he inside?” I asked, forcing a long breath through my nose.

           “Near the canal,” she corrected, dropping her eyes. The Valkyrie’s unwillingness to meet my eyes only soured my mood more; her demeanor made me dread what I was going to find.

           “Thank you,” I huffed, patting each woman on the shoulder before following the path around the side of the building. Thor’s dark figure melded with the outline of the railing he was leaning against, the gentle ocean breeze ruffling his hair. I could smell the sharp scent of beer from a few feet away, and my heart sank, but I continued forward, leaning my arms against the railing next to him.

We stood in silence until Thor’s low rumbling voice cut through the air. “It’s cold here.”

           “It’ll take some adjusting,” I repeated Sif’s words, keeping my eyes on the outlines of the houses in the distance.

           “The warehouse is almost empty,” Thor noted quietly, pressing his cheek against his shoulder to look at the building.

           “Most of the homes are nearly ready,” I agreed, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. We fell quiet again, the soft lapping of the ocean and the buzz of insects in the dark filling the air around us.

           “Hildegund and the children are near where the castle is to be built,” Thor mumbled, his head rolling forward, hanging between his slumped shoulders.

           “I want to visit them tomorrow,” I added, looking down at the dark water at our feet.

           “She’d like that,” he whispered, his voice was unsteady as he shifted his weight.

           “Are you coming to bed? It’s been a long day,” I asked, turning to look at him, my eyes trailing over his rigid body.

           “Not yet,” Thor breathed, his head dipping lower. I wanted to say more, press him to talk to me, but I couldn’t find the words, and after a few seconds, I deflated, nodding into the darkness before walking away. In hindsight, maybe if I didn’t walk away that night, things would’ve been different.

Part 2 | Masterlist

Taglist:

@itsafansworld07​ 

[babatunjixoxo]

Works Masterpost

in order of creation

besides honor, a compromise Erik/T’Challa [non-con]

pendulum Erik/T’Challa/Nakia [ot3]

this one is happier Erik/T’Challa [one shots]

bloody waters  Erik/T’Challa [Canon Divergence long fic]

A Traditional Breeding  Erik/T’Challa [a/b/o]

Mating Run  Erik/T’Challa [a/b/o]

in reverse T’Chaka/N’Jobu [canon divergence]

we change shapes Erik/T’Challa [shapeshifting]

two old panthers, in love  T’Chaka/N’Jobu [canon divergence]

foreign  Erik/T’Challa

horns like a devil Erik & Loki [character study]

rules of kingship and other rites T’Challa/Group

all men must die Game of Thrones [Time Travel Fix-it]

a knight and his queen Cersei/Jaime [Canon Divergence]

guest of honor  Erik/T’Challa [AU]

blame it  Erik/T’Challa

familiar  Carol/Monica

nine times out of ten  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe, Wakandan Empire]

All Hail  Erik/T’Challa  [Canon Divergence]

double date  Erik/T’Challa | Tony/Rhodey    [Canon Divergence]

all for us  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe, Wakandan Empire]

chance meeting  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe, BDSM Universe]

take care  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe, BDSM Universe]

heartbeat | love lies  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe]

long distance  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe]

fallin' (ai, ai, ai)  Erik/T’Challa [Alternate Universe, University Setting]

wretches and kings  Erik/T’Challa

Black Panther Ships (attempt) Map 

do-re-mi  Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe]

praise for the mother (the third) Erik & Ramonda [Alternate Universe]

Brevity in Death Erik & T’Challa  [Time Travel Fix-It]

a game for 3 Erik/T’Challa [bloody waters omake]

heavy duty Erik/T’Challa

tell me why you gotta look at me that way Erik/T’Challa  [Alternate Universe]

Head of House Erik/T’Challa [non-traditional a/b/o]

Elevate Tony/Rhodey [a/b/o]

if hover-boards were wishes...  Erik/T’Challa

so, my darling Female OC/Female OC

Gatekeeper (Sing To Me)  Erik/T’Challa [One Shots]

school these kids (they can't read)  Erik/T’Challa [kid-fic]

homebound Erik/T’Challa [Canon Divergence]

night and day. Brunnhilde | Valkryie/Hela

S.I.H  Erik/T’Challa

the only thing to fear is never being scared Nakia/Shuri

this jackal doesn't need to hide Erik & N’Jobu [Time Travel Fix-it]

adjustment period T’Chaka/N’Jobu [Canon Divergence]

call Erik/T’Challa [kid-fic]

shape of you Erik/T’Challa [age regression AU]

Do You Trust? Erik/W’Kabi

Sorry for Now Erik/T’Challa

Nice To Have M’Baku/T’Challa

something sweeter Erik/T’Challa

fallin (temptation) John Walker/Lemar Hoskins

puzzle of us  John Walker/Lemar Hoskins

lost it to trying  John Walker/Lemar Hoskins

four letter words  John Walker/Lemar Hoskins

kneeling on broken knees (what's up danger?)  Erik/T’Challa

Broken Mirrors T’Challa [What-If....?]

fault line N’Jobu & Erik

pyre Erik & Rhodey

Not Friends Tony/Rhodey

longing T’Chaka/N’Jobu

dreamgirl Ramonda/Erik

stopping point  John Walker/Lemar Hoskins

one more time (walls down)  Erik/T’Challa [Resurrection U]

catch up (dangerous) Eric Effiong/Adam Groff [Sex Education]

two souls Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter [Canon Divergence]

look at this heart, can you see the floor? Erik/T’Challa/Erik [Dimension Travel]