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uzumaki-rebellion · 2 years ago

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“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 61″

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"How much better can I show my love for you Than say "I do, I do, I do"? I do, I do, I do You may not know right where you're going, but I do, I do, I do And all the times you wasn't chosen, well, I'll make it up to you All of the feelings you're not showing When your river's overflowing, mmm It's the truth, swear to you I do, I do, I do, I do, I do"

Yebba – "Yebba's Heartbreak"

Shuri followed behind the new king and watched the gait in his walk. N'Jadaka had taken on a persona so dramatic and otherworldly that she had to question everything she knew about him from the first day she ever met him.

There was a light in him.

Something in the deepest part of him reflected a light so bright that everyone near him fluttered about trying to bathe in the warmth of the aural glow. Shuri was a woman of the mind. Science had taught her that the tangible was real, everything else was fantasy. Raised in a culture that believed in magic and mystical wisdom, she scoffed at all of that and concentrated on a reality that she could see with her own two eyes, touch with her own two hands… but the cousin walking across the bridge in front of her… she wondered if she had been wrong about denying the existence of Bast, Mama Wati*, Sekhmet and all the other deities. A human lived and then died. There was no afterlife.

Did Queen Shuriyah really talk to him?

People clung to the idea of an afterlife to give them comfort, especially if their lives were cruel and full of struggle. It was a construct that held off the fear of knowing there was nothing to look forward to except oblivion. Who wouldn't want to think there was a chance to live again in a better place without needless suffering? Heaven wasn't real. Hell was the torture that humans put themselves through on earth while they breathed above the earth. All of it was make-believe and when she became old and her body could no longer properly function, she would cease being alive and decompose like the plants and animals around them as part of an evolutionary cycle of beginnings and endings, over and over. No ancestral plane waited for her. However, King N'Jadaka brought forth a tiny smidgen of doubt in her mind that was the size of a grain of teff that made the muncu flat bread her people loved. Staying on top of the oldest mountain in Wakanda had transformed him and the change was startling in its visceral impact on all who came into contact with him.

Although her brother had cut quite a fitting vision of royalty while he sat on the throne, N'Jadaka enveloped the seat as if the grand chair had been shaped just for him and everyone else had been babysitting it until he arrived to take his rightful place. Even her own father didn't look as worthy sitting there compared to the new king.

Queen Shuriyah watched over her and was proud? Impossible. The hallucinogenic chemicals inside the heart-shaped herb had spun his neural pathways around. His synapses had invented a fiction, no different from someone having a lucid dream and thinking it was all real.

Shuri stared at General Okoye as she greeted the new king at the bridge entrance to the West Palace. Forthright and not easily swayed, Okoye was a great barometer to see if the awe N'Jadaka struck in everyone else was just… holy Bast!

Okoye's eyes darted down the second N'Jadaka glanced her way, and her lips parted slightly as if she had to catch more air than her nose could provide. The king had his general shaken! Royal drummers inside the West Palace thundered a new rhythm, signaling that the king had arrived. A grouping of children in ceremonial clothing and painted faces matching the color spectrum of purples and mauves sang to him. Sydette, Riki, and Joba giggled and were the only ones not affected by the change in their father. He was simply their Baba, and he kept them close to his side, occasionally touching a braid, tugging on a twisted loc, or patting a puffy bouquet of curls on their heads.

Disa seemed to have eased into a tentative comfort level with him, but it was Yani that drew Shuri's curiosity. The nervous energy she carried was clumsy and sweet. It was obvious to Shuri that there was something between Yani and N'Jadaka that wasn't present with Disa. Yani fluttered like a butterfly tempted by an extraordinary flower, but one that couldn't figure out how to land on it.

N'Jadaka wasted no time jumping into his kingship.

The moment he arrived back at the palace, he held a private meeting with Shuri and T'Challa. He didn't even bother changing from his white robes that smelled of strong incense and the heart-shaped herb. They debriefed him on the military team that inspected the Phase Two structure out at sea and investigated the underwater earthquakes. There was satellite evidence of American military and private research operations occurring in open international waters too close to their shielded territory. Naval sonar evidence had been captured and recorded. That information pleased N'Jadaka. He wanted to gather more evidence before the international delegates came to Wakanda. There were plans to go to the U.N. and make his presence known as the new leader of the free world under Wakanda's watch.

"What do you think they are looking for out there?" Shuri asked.

"Vibranium. They will try to infiltrate this country inside and out. Staying in international waters will only protect them for so long in their search. The tactical gear I've seen, and the vessels used, point to the Navy Seals. They may create a fabricated international incident that will give them an excuse to turn the world against us. They'll claim we hide WMDs, chemical weapons, or even trumped-up human rights violations pretending that Wakandan citizens don't have freedom because we force isolation to hide nefarious behavior," N'Jadaka said.

"Ridiculous," Shuri said.

"America will stoke the fires and get the EU behind them. Classic playbook actions."

N'Jadaka's words were measured, especially when Nakia was brought in on the latter part of their private meeting. The first fifteen minutes of her entering the king's inner chamber had Nakia flustered by the intensity of N'Jadaka's bearing. Not only that, but his interactions with T'Challa were so comfortable and connected. They were confidantes, and her brother seemed to know what N'Jadaka needed to hear without him even asking. Not being the king anymore made her brother more powerful, if such a thing were truly possible. From Shuri's vantage point, N'Jadaka became the sheath to T'Challa's blade. Her brother stood in the office coiled and ready to take on the world, and N'Jadaka trusted him fully.

By the time the meeting ended, N'Jadaka had Nakia laughing, and the new ambassador post he assigned her made the former spy more open to the king. They had reached mutual respect. When Shuri left the king's office with her brother, Nakia stayed behind for a private chat with N'Jadaka.

"King N'Jadaka!"

A male host of the coronation ball jolted Shuri back to her senses, and she glanced around at the grandeur and the thousands of people packed into the ballroom aching to be near the new king. The immediate family went to a dais table to feast on nine courses as proclamations were read and live musicians provided entertainment. The extended family enjoyed the food and libations around the king, and Shuri kept a watchful eye on the citizens. Especially the challengers to the throne at Warrior Falls. The Council of Elders held court at their respective tribal tables while the nobles had the best views of the royal family.

Shuri noticed right away that Remy kept his attention on Yani.

His face looked better from the bruising beat down he took. Shuri could only imagine how all the fighters would be if they didn't have advanced medicine and tools to heal broken bones and swollen faces within hours and not weeks. While dozens of servers brought dessert out on floating carts, N'Jadaka rose from his seat to go around and greet the noble tribal representatives, starting with Nakia and her people. There were handshakes, good-natured pats on the back, and jokes shared, but none of that happened when the king reached Remy. The young noble stood and held his hands in the sign of respect that was traditional, but N'Jadaka leaned in and said something in Remy's ear that made the younger man's body go rigid and his face tense up.

Shuri had been greeting older relatives near the nobles and watched up close the shift in mood from the Merchant Tribe members in that section. Elder Zinzi stood and gave N'Jadaka a warm pat on the back, but he must've said something disrespectful to Remy because another elder grabbed Remy's arm to force him back down into his seat. Thankfully, the twelve-member band struck up a song that broke up the tension, seducing couples to move onto the dance floor.

N'Jadaka spoke to Zinzi with his back turned to the Merchant Tribe head table and Shuri felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Sinjin!"

With no thought about where she was, Shuri hugged her lover, and he squeezed her waist before moving a respectful distance from her.

"How long have you been in Birnin Zana?"

"I was part of the last wave of islanders brought inland two days ago," Sinjin said.

"Where have you been staying?"

"With relatives in Birnin S'Yan, near the high plateau."

"You look wonderful."

"So do you."

Shuri touched the fancy, pulled-back hairstyle she was trying out. The sides and back were shaved low, almost in the same style as N'Jadaka. She touched her nape with shy hands and couldn't keep herself from stepping closer to him in the surrounding crowd of dancers and nobles trying to get closer to N'Jadaka.

"He's finally the king," Sinjin said.

"Yes."

"Feels weird."

"Eh?"

"He's not the same man I fought for."

"He is the same to me, in a way. I think he has become more of himself by being here with his entire family."

"Things are cool with you all?"

Shuri grinned.

"I would not think it was possible over a year ago, but now… he is truly family. A brilliant man."

Sinjin nodded. It was too tempting to touch him, so Shuri moved closer to the edge of the dance floor where they would be openly seen.

"How are W'Kabi and Okoye doing?" Shuri asked.

Sinjin glanced over to where W'Kabi stood with a drink in his hand, speaking to the Border Tribe fighter who had lost to N'Jadaka.

"It is still touch and go. Talks of divorce have ceased for now…"

"But?"

"There is still hurt there. Okoye is hesitant to reconcile fully. Maybe things will change having a new king that they both have to answer to."

"I hope they work things out."

"I hope so, too. King N'Jadaka made many people reevaluate who they really are. He is the change we needed."

Sinjin lowered his head.

"That is no disrespect to your brother, Shuri. King T'Challa was placed in a tough position. King N'Jadaka was a storm that blew through here and it shook up people. To their core. Okoye and W'Kabi have never seen things eye to eye for a few years now. Our civil war underlined that fact."

"T'Challa was a good king."

"We need an exceptional one now."

Shuri's kimoyo beads warmed on her wrist, then lit up with an amber color.

"Excuse me," she said, rushing away from the people and toward a private alcove outside of the ballroom.

Nick Fury's face floated in front of her with a grim expression.

"Princess Shuri. We have a problem," Nick Fury said.

Yani held her breath when King N'Jadaka swaggered past the tables of the nobles he tangled with at Warrior Falls. When he stood in front of Remy, she immediately knew he said something mean because Remy looked like he was ready to fight again right there in front of everyone. She stood up quickly and moved away from the family table to pretend like she was checking on her children, but all the grandparents looked after them. Reversing her steps in another direction, she made sure no one could see her reactions. Checking her kimoyo, they had another two hours to go before N'Jadaka would have to leave for other ball celebrations in different parts of the city. She would have to change clothes and attend them with Disa, but the children would stay with Dante.

Marisol and Twyla caught up with her, and they huddled behind a pillar to gossip about Disa.

"See, look at him… I think there's something more serious going on," Twyla said as they peeked at Disa speaking to a giant man wearing Jabari furs and a leather military skirt.

"I know she likes him," Marisol said, tucking the back of her white head wrap tighter.

Twyla sucked her teeth.

"We all know she likes him, gyal, it's seeing them together like this that's making it obvious to everyone. You think Big Man noticed?" Twyla asked.

Marisol grinned.

"JaJa's so busy working the crowd he can't even relax," Marisol said.

Yani's kimoyo lit up. She turned away from the women. A co-worker at the hospital, a seasoned midwife named Atlarela, gazed at her with a strained expression.

"Princess Yani, I am so sorry to disturb your time at the celebration, but I need your help. Nks. Tshwete has gone into labor and she is having a hard time. I told her you could not be here, but she insists on talking to you. She is in a panic and the baby's heart rate has gone up," Atlarela said.

Yani walked quickly to a quiet area out on a terrace. There were a few nobles lingering outside to catch a pleasant breeze and enjoy the view of the golden city below.

"Do you all mind? I have an emergency call," Yani said.

The group of nobles nodded and left her alone.

Yani sat down on a low cushioned bench and tapped her kimoyo.

"I am here, Atlarela. Let me see her," Yani.

Nks. Tshwete's sweaty face peered at her with worry. Propped in a wide birthing chair with her husband rubbing her shoulders behind her, the mother-to-be visibly relaxed when she saw Yani.

"Dr. Galiber… this is harder than I thought," Nks. Tshwete said.

"But you are a strong woman and so ready to bring this baby out," Yani said in her best Wakandan.

"Ow!"

Nks. Tshwete rubbed her stomach and hissed.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Yani asked, swiping a med screen next to the floating image.

"My back aches… I am so tired."

"Looks like we have you on a low dosage of imifuno enoxolo. I'll up that by five milligrams," Yani said.

She typed in her med code and Atlarela received the change notification on the floating screen that tracked the birth's progress. The hospital room's A.I. Griot scanned the medicine requested and popped out a skin patch from a dispenser on a rolling medical console. moaned with discomfort and her husband nuzzled his cheek against hers. The midwife stuck the small patch on the mother's left arm and checked for dilation.

"She is ready," Atlarela said.

Yani dragged her index finger across her floating screen that synched up with Nks. Tshwete's body scanner to check the position of the baby.

"Time to start helping that baby out—"

"I cannot! I am so weak… so tired," Nks. Tshwete said.

"That is not true. You carried this big baby boy for nine months—"

"Nine months and seven days," Nks. Tshwete corrected.

"Yes, now he finally decided to come out. You know something? My son did the same thing. Mi Dumplin, him got really comfortable in mi belly. Mi fuss every day with him fat self," Yani said.

Nks. Tshwete smiled through her discomfort. Atlarela squatted onto the medical seat in front of the comfortable birthing chair and gently massaged a warm cream along the perineum to prevent tearing. She tapped the side of the chair and it expanded, giving the midwife more room.

Yani clucked her tongue and put a hand on her hip.

"He stayed in mi for six extra days past his due date and I was over it!" Yani quipped.

Nks. Tshwete leaned into her husband's neck and exhaled deeply as a hard contraction took over her focus.

"Rubbed mi Dumplin right on out. Sang to him too."

"What did you sing?" Nks. Tshwete huffed out.

Yani hummed an old lullaby her Auntie Leona used to sing to her when she was a baby. Tingalayo.

"Tingalayo… come little donkey come. Mi donkey fast, mi donkey slow… mi donkey come and mi donkey go…"

Yani sang the song, her voice shiny and clear, like a bell. Nks. Tshwete panted and pushed.

"Mi donkey dance, mi donkey sing… Mi donkey wearin' a wedding ring…"

Mr. Tshwete laughed and gazed at Yani's image floating in front of them.

"Why is a donkey wearing a wedding ring?" he asked.

Nks. Tshwete chuckled until her cheeks puffed out with exertion.

"Them island donkeys like to be married, I guess," Yani explained.

Atlarela pressed her knees onto the wide cushion of the birthing chair, dipping her hands low as the baby's head pushed through.

"Him have a lil coconut head," Yani said.

"Like his father!" Mr. Tshwete joked, wiping sweat from his bald dome.

A young nurse brought the midwife a warm towel to tuck under the baby as his shoulders wiggled through.

"Here he is… look at this… look at this little one," Atlarela said.

Nks. Tshwete closed her eyes and wept, her face exhausted, and her body losing the tension in her shoulders. Atlarela placed the baby on the flat front of the birthing chair, allowing Nks. Tshwete to collect herself in a way that Yani was trying with new mothers. She would guide the babies down and allow the mothers to catch their breath. It slowed down the birth process and gave new mothers a chance to gather themselves before meeting their new bundle of joy. Instead of handing the baby over right away, Yani encouraged letting the newborn sit quietly in warmth as the mother rested in the release.

"Oh, look how well you did!" Yani said.

"Thank you," Nks. Tshwete said while her husband kissed her cheek and rubbed her forehead.

"All I did was watch you do what you already knew how to do, love. Look how pretty you look, Mama!" Yani clapped her hands.

Atlarela winked at Yani.

Nks. Tshwete reached down between her legs and stroked her child's feet first, then explored the wrinkled legs and ran a gentle finger up to his arms and tiny balled-up fists.

"He is beautiful," Nks. Tshwete said.

Scooping her hand under the baby, she finally lifted him up to her chest where she sniffed his skin and nuzzled him under her chin, giving skin-to-skin contact. Yani began singing softly again, and the exhausted mother sang along, calming everyone there.

"The afterbirth is coming," Atlarela said.

The new mother held her squirming child to her naked breast and the ecstatic father cradled his son's round, wet head.

"I will leave you all now. Happy birthday," Yani said.

Nks. Tshwete blew Yani a kiss, and Atlarela turned off the link. Yani touched her cheeks and wiped away a tear. She always cried when helping mothers give birth. So many babies had come through her hands in Wakanda, but each one made her weep with second-hand joy as if she had given birth too. She heard the jokes behind her back that N'Jadaka caused the birthing boom in the country. People made love to forget the war and thousands of babies were born soon after. It wasn't about to let up either. Her work calendar stayed filled with upcoming new arrivals. Wakandans fucked instead of fighting, which the people celebrated because the birth rate had been lower than normal in Birnin Zana.

She heard movement behind her.

"I always knew you would be a success."

Yani turned and the new king of Wakanda moved next to the bench she occupied. She stood, exhaled, and looked at him directly as she nodded her head in deference.

"You never have to do that with me, Yani," he said.

N'Jadaka moved closer to her, and she took a hesitant step back to give him room near the bench.

"I'm about to leave for the next ball location. Wanted to see if you were ready to go," he said.

Yani touched her chin, then looked down at her dress.

"I need to change—"

"Don't. I like that dress on you. It's regal… beautiful. Fit for a princess."

She found a more confident tone and rushed the words out.

"Thank you for that," she said.

"I didn't have time to see you before I left, so T'Challa and the Council took care of the details presenting the title to you," he said.

Her eyes drifted steadily to his face and there was a glow of confidence there that made her midsection relax. He rested in kingship. It fit him like a tailored suit and she thought of all the times back in St. Thomas when he walked around like he was royalty.

The old him… Killmonger… carried the bearing of royalty all the time. She had mistaken much of it as arrogance, but N'Jadaka knew who he was back then. He couldn't even hide it that well. The way he spoke, the force of his words, and his personality made people stop and take notice back there among the deadly mercenaries. She had made love and played house with a prince for two years. A natural-born leader from birth.

"I'll be prepping for the consortium tomorrow. I would like to have lunch with Riki and Sydette in my new office… if that can be arranged," he said.

"I'm staying in the palace for the next two days until my new rotation at the hospital starts. Before I forget, Dr. Bryan is all set to come here from St. Thomas."

"Good. This is going to be a massive undertaking. Thank you for putting in all the extra work to get her here."

Yani clasped her hands in front of her waist.

"How was it up there?"

They both glanced over at Mount Bashenga. He moved over to the protective railing and she followed him.

"It was an experience I will never forget. Even now, I'm still processing everything. I let a lot of things go… from my past and my present. It's like I shed two hundred spiritual pounds to open myself up for a different weight."

"Well, you look good… healthy," she said.

"I feel good. Gotta put in work now."

"Is it everything you thought it would be? Becoming king?"

"More, so much more, Yani."

His body became an imposing figure right next to her. The blinding white of his royal robes, the long, twisted locks, the piercing, the gold teeth, his scent… Yani gripped the railing to steady herself mentally. N'Jadaka sighed.

"This new life won't be perfect until I get things right with you," he said.

"Huh?"

"Had I lived that first time… I would've come back for you and Sydette."

He turned toward her, his eyes burning into hers.

"The day T'Challa stabbed me… I had secret orders to send a ship to St. Thomas. They destroyed it during the battle."

Yani took a step back.

"You don't have to make up stories to make me feel better," she said.

"Have I ever lied to you? Not about who I really was, but how I treated you there?"

She shook her head.

"You gave the good parts of me back to myself, Yani," he said.

She leaned in toward him and he gazed at the mountain again.

"I fucked up by going to Disa based on a promise I made to Grandpop, but I was on a rampage to get here. I hurt you in a way that no amount of sorry is going to make up for because I know what you went through with other men who let you down, and I acted like a basic fool, just like the rest of them that one time. I'm better than that. I acted carelessly… I mean… I guess I didn't care about living anymore… didn't think I'd make it out alive to get back to you, anyway. Weak excuses can't explain what I did. Words don't mean shit to you cuz niggas been spittin' game just to have you. Love for another person is supposed to be a positive action, and I didn't even love myself enough to stop and think about anything beyond getting here and taking everything for my people… for my parents. I got what I wanted and I'm grateful for that. It cost me though. I will own that. All those broken parts, all those lost years… Wakanda gave me my parents back. Gave me peace with my ancestors. United me with my cousins and my grandparents. I have all of my missing pieces back... everything except for you. You are the one. Accepted me for how I showed up, even the bad things. Gave me my first child. One that I didn't even make!"

N'Jadaka laughed, but Yani had a lump in her throat and another in a hollow part of her chest.

"I'm going to spend the rest of my days trying to make up for lost time with my kids… and Yani… I want to make everything up to you."

The lump in her chest stayed solid. Men always said shit they didn't really mean. The high of the day impacted his words. He probably had a lot to drink and wanted to butter her up because of guilt.

Yani ran those thoughts through her head, but the man next to her didn't match up with the energy of the one who crushed her heart. Killmonger broke her by getting someone else pregnant and still loving them. But the man next to her was N'Jadaka. The difference was night and day.

"Yani… is there a chance for me to make up for everything? I would like to—"

"King N'Jadaka!"

Noxolo rushed onto the terrace with Quamba.

N'Jadaka strode toward them. His kimoyo beads lit up. He tapped them and Shuri's image appeared.

"Nick Fury contacted me. I am headed to my lab now, and I need you and T'Challa to come right away. The Americans have found the Asgardian people," Shuri said.

N'Jadaka turned to Yani.

"I guess I won't be able to finish talking to you tonight," he said.

"It's okay. You have more pressing things to do."

"If this doesn't take long, I'll try to meet you at one of the other parties," he said.

"I better get back inside," she said.

Yani attempted to walk past him, but he reached for her hand and pulled her back.

"I meant what I said, Yani."

"I heard you."

"If or when you think I'm worthy… I'd like to start over. Slowly, of course. If you don't feel it in your heart anymore, I'll understand. I want to put it out there so you know where I stand," he said.

His kimoyo beads lit up, and T'Challa's avatar twirled in a circle above his wrist.

"Go," Yani said, pushing his arm.

His Doras turned and walked toward the exit to wait for him. N'Jadaka stared at her. His mouth parted and seemed to want to say more.

"I will consider everything you've said. No promises," she said.

He nodded and when Yani lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, she missed him by a mere two seconds. With his frame gone from her side, the removal of his body heat made the empty space so cold and lonely. A cool breeze rushed over her where his body once blocked the chill. She watched him move with his personal guards and admired the vision he presented, even as it moved away from her quickly.

Once he was gone, she turned back to the railing and looked over at Mount Bashenga. She had to be about her work, too. N'Jadaka had high expectations for his consortium and the Wakanda Outreach re-haul under his command.

It was a new beginning for everyone.

The Royal Talon Fighter landed on a platform outside of Shuri's lab with N'Jadaka and T'Challa on board. They moved in tandem into the building and walked down some spiral stairs where they met Shuri at her revamped computer workstation. She brought up Fury's image.

"Talk to me," N'Jadaka said.

Fury looked from T'Challa to him. His cousin no longer wore the royal clothing of the king.

"Damn, that was quick. You really weren't bullshittin' about taking over," Fury said.

N'Jadaka folded his arms.

"Time is money, man," N'Jadaka said.

"Asgard was destroyed on purpose to protect the people. There was an entity unleashed there that could not be contained and they had to self-destruct to save themselves. Those who survived the initial assault were on course to earth aboard a foreign vessel called the Statesman when they were attacked by what they call space pirates. They killed half on board. The rest used escape pods to get to earth."

"Thor tell you all this?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Thor is still out there somewhere. He's more than likely dead. There's something coming here that is a threat to us all… in the entire universe," Fury said. "These so-called space pirates are fronting it and they are coming here."

N'Jadaka glanced at T'Challa. His cousin moved closer to him. Shuri watched with concerned eyes. Fury touched his creased forehead before he threaded his fingers together.

"On our side, we're collecting as much evidence and corroborating what the refugees from Asgard have told us," Fury said.

"How many survived?" Shuri asked.

"Less than 2,500 were able to make it all the way here," Fury said.

Fury lifted a glass of amber liquid, letting them all know he wasn't on anybody's clock and his intel was for their ears only.

"I need to know how secure your borders are, King N'Jadaka," Fury said.

"Despite our internal terrorist issue that has been contained since you've been here, we're the safest country on the planet," N'Jadaka said.

Fury wiped his forehead nervously with his drink glass. The cool, calm, and collected bravado was gone. The man looked stressed.

"I pray to God you are because what's coming down the pipeline is going to suck you in. Since T'Challa opened you up to the world, we are going to turn to you soon."

"For what?" N'Jadaka.

"Help. To save all of us," Fury said.

Fury gulped down his drink.

"I'm compiling a confidential Asgard report just for your eyes. Shuri, I would like to ask that you recalibrate those probes of yours and start tracking the signatures I've already emailed you… with encryptions. Maybe you can find out where these pirates are," Fury said.

N'Jadaka sensed something more.

"Why are you holding out more information from us?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Need to know is how I play it close to the vest," Fury said.

"With this new intel, will you be coming to our grand opening delegation meet-up?" N'Jadaka said.

"You're still going through with it?" Fury said with a grin.

"Shit, I would look too janky if I pulled the rug on it now with the change in leadership. Gotta pacify these fools somehow before I have my consortium."

"I regret to inform you that I will not be attending the meet-up. But I'm coming to your other private gathering."

"Good," N'Jadaka said.

Fury pointed to N'Jadaka's nose ring and decorated beard.

"That's a lot going on, brotha. I thought you Wakandans kept it low-key."

"New sheriff in town, bruh," N'Jadaka said.

"I'll be in contact again soon," Fury said.

He blinked out and Shuri immediately pulled up the schematics for their hot probes still working in the field. She pushed away 3D images and plucked out others. Data flashed past in bright neon orange sequences and her computer started deciphering code.

"I'm downloading their files and the ones Fury sent me. Tracking highlighted emissions and anomalies shouldn't be hard now that we have trace evidence to go on from the escape pods. All this life out there… incredible," Shuri said.

"Dangerous too," N'Jadaka said.

"I'll get to work with General Okoye and our military heads to prepare upgrades for all security measures and evacuation," T'Challa said. "Go on back to the palace and enjoy the ball."

"I'd rather work here and go over this data that's coming in," N'Jadaka said.

He pulled off his top robe and tossed it over a chair. Grabbing a stylus, he began opening files on his kimoyo beads Shuri sent to him too. T'Challa left them to do their work as he sought Okoye in person.

"Shuri, if you want to go back and be with your mother and the rest of the family, I can dig into all this myself," N'Jadaka said.

"Parties and big social events aren't really my thing. I'm more comfortable here."

"What about your boyfriend?" he asked.

She froze. Still staring at the chemical makeup of one of the emergency pod metal samples, Shuri took a deep breath.

"I'm not tryna get into your business, but I noticed you with him. He looks crazy about you."

"Please… say nothing to anyone else. No one knows about Sinjin."

"W'Kabi's cousin, right?"

"Yes. We met when you came here. During the war."

"I'll keep it to myself."

"Thank you."

She swiped and enlarged the tracking data, then glanced at him.

"Things have changed for you. With Disa and Yani?" she said.

"You can read me too," he said.

"In my time with all of you, I noticed that you have an interesting dynamic with them both."

"How's that?"

"I watched some old videos of your family in Brazil that Marisol shared, and I made an interesting observation. You fell in love with two women who are basically your mother and aunt."

N'Jadaka's face scrunched up in confusion.

"It's true, cousin," Shuri said. "Disa is so much like your Aunt Lia, and Yani is… well, she is a toned-down version of your mother, Califia. At the heart of each of them is a connection that you lost as a little boy. No wonder you love them both so much. The two women you admired most at the beginning of your life were the blueprint for who you ended up loving later as a man. But now… I think… maybe… you have settled your mind about them. You were different with them tonight."

N'Jadaka sat on a stool next to Shuri. Her words sank into him.

"I love them both dearly, for different reasons, but—"

"Yani is the one you want," she finished for him.

He closed his eyes.

"Yeah. She's who I love for all the right reasons, though. I felt like I owed Disa so much. I was so young and naïve when I went after her. She's my best friend, and I promised so much to her I never fulfilled. After all was said and done, I turned her into a single mother, something she was never supposed to be."

"I don't think she sees it that way," Shuri said.

"I do."

Shuri shook her head.

"She is so happy here. Have you looked at her? I mean really watched how she moves in Wakanda? Bliss. There are times I wish I could see Wakanda the way she does. I've been raised here all my life, so I'm used to a lot of things. But the wonder and joy she carries are astounding."

"I promised her the entire world," he said.

"You gave it to her. And you are still friends. With a beautiful child that she adores."

"I hurt Yani, though, and I don't think she will ever love me again the way she used to back in St. Thomas."

"Listen to me. You tried to kill me and my brother. We got over that and love you now. In time, she will see the new you and decide what is right for her. But she is happy too. I see the joy on her face and she loves her work here."

N'Jadaka stared at his cousin.

"You… love me?"

"Of course, I do. You have shown me who you really are, and I've had time to learn about your past. I've healed from it. In my opinion, murderous intentions trump having a child with someone else… don't tell Yani I said that!" Shuri said.

N'Jadaka grinned. Shuri laid her hand over his.

"You were lost and blinded by revenge. She loves you so much and it's just taking Yani a lot of time to heal from your one mistake with her."

"Did she tell you she loves me?" he asked.

"We can all see it. Her eyes never left your presence the entire day. Remind her why she fell in love with you in the first place and let her see that you are the one for her, too."

Shuri removed her hand, and a smirk crossed over her lips.

"What?" he asked.

She tilted her head and began singing.

"She is your queen… your queen-to-be…! A queen-to-be forever… a queen who'll do whatever his Highness desires… she's your queen-to-be… a vision of perfection, an object of affection… to quench your royal fire…"

N'Jadaka reached over and put Shuri in a headlock.

"See, now you got jokes! How did you learn that song?"

"My Dad watched all your corny American movies and swore up and down your Eddie Murphy was making fun of real African countries like ours," Shuri said.

She untangled herself from his loving grip, but he threw an arm around her shoulder.

"I love your smartass, too," he said.

"I am glad. Wakanda is the place of miracles, cousin."

"You are the miracle worker, Shuri. Gave me a second chance."

"Well, put your second-chance self to work. We just received our first clue," Shuri said, pointing to her elaborate 3D images.

"The space dust burned into the escape pods that fell into our atmosphere comprises particles from a meteor that came from deep space," she said.

She pulled in another image of the Great Mound that housed all of their vibranium.

"We haven't seen that type of chemical makeup since vibranium landed in our country inside a meteor two point five million years ago. These space pirates… they may come from cultures older than humanity," Shuri said.

"Hopefully, they bleed," N'Jadaka said.

They worked late into the night until he fell asleep, hugged up next to the computer images. Dozing off, he worried about how advanced the technology was on the other side of the universe.

Chapter 62 HERE.

A.N.:

*I changed the spelling of the actual Mami Wata to Mama Wati to give me the freedom to write about an actual African/African Diaspora deity that I am very familiar with as a Wakandan variation of that water spirit. She is the same one I use in my Namor fic "The Offering".

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#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First #Wet Sugar 2 #Killmonger Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever Fanfiction #killmonger fanfic #Black Panther Fanfiction #pantherverse #Namor #T'Challa #Shuri #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Uzumaki Rebellion

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thevibraniumveterans · 3 years ago

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Moon Knight Ep 5 spoilers!

If the death of Marc’s little brother made his mother resentful of him and led him to create an alter named Steven, and if the casting of Rey Lucas for not just this episode but also next episode…

Confirms that at this particular point in time that Elias Spector is still alive *but will die in the next episode*…

Then…

The death of Elias Spector will lead Marc (or Steven) to create Jake

That’s why the third sarcophagus wasn’t open yet!

Elias Spector is not dead yet! Jake has not been created!

That’s why

In Ep4, Marc sees the sarcophagus but he doesn’t know what’s inside!

He has ZERO context for it!

Marc and Steven revisited memories this episode.

But in Marc and Steven’s memories, they haven’t gotten to the memory where, y’know, the tragedy happens (that would trigger something else) that would lead Marc to create Jake

Fernanda Andrade, who portrays Wendy Spector, dies this episode.

BUT!

She’s coming back next episode, likely for another memory.

So that means…

If Wendy Spector dies before Elias does…

Something truly, truly TRAGIC must have happened to Elias in order to set off a series of events that would eventually lead Marc to create Jake.

Going off the comics - which I’ve heard a lot about - Elias might be murdered, or died in some horrific way that Marc still has to come to terms with. And that might be how Marc makes his peace with Jake. Because, the existence of Jake and the more-than-possible-and-almost-certain death of Elias Spector is something Marc will have to relive.

But Steven though, losing him to the sands is kind of weird. Marc realizes he’s in the Field of Reeds, which is essentially basically…

You remember T’Challa saying, “In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into a green veld where you can run forever.” For Marc to be in the Field of Reeds, he’s not truly dead, since according to ancient Egyptian culture, death is not the end of life, but like, it’s a transition (a stepping off point) into another part of one’s eternal journey.

Why has Marc’s scales balanced? Balanced scales basically mean that… wait. If a person’s heart (their soul) is heavier than the feather, they’ll be forever doomed to wander the underworld… so Steven being trapped in the sands is premature. His heart is also Marc’s heart, and they balance the scales against the feather. But now without one metaphorical heart, the scales are unbalanced AGAIN. Which is why it’s weird that Marc is in the field of reeds, because for two souls (well, Marc is half and Steven is the other half) to balance against a feather would be why Marc wakes up in the field of Reeds, but when there’s only one heart, one soul left, it will be unbalanced. Which means… Osiris - the god of the underworld - may have some arguing to do with Taweret, and maybe even Khonshu. Osiris would likely know that Steven was not supposed to be lost to the sands, because even Taweret acknowledges that there are too many souls coming to the Underworld, and that’s Ammit’s (and as such, Harrow’s doing)…

SO….. not only will Ep6 possibly bring us Jake (and reconcile Marc and Jake) because of Elias Spector’s possible death, Ep6 might very possibly bring back Steven, so all three alters will coexist, and like, it’s not just the internal acceptance that has to go on between Marc, Steven, and Jake, it’s also the external acceptance of all three by Layla, and what’s more, there might also be a battle of the gods too. In the trailers there’s a shot of Moon Knight and Harrow running at each other under the FULL MOON, and they represent Khonshu and Ammit, respectively.

Think about it. Marc can’t really die if he’s got the healing suit, right? We know from trailers that he’s gonna be back in the suit. So…

Steven’s not lost. Not this quick. I think Marc needs Steven as much as Steven needs Marc. Steven’s gotta come back. He has to.

And as for Jake, I guess we’ll see him next episode.

That’s a lot of messy thoughts, what are some of yours?

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tawaubast · 5 years ago

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The Big Bast-Mut Info Post

This is a cross-reference straight from my website at BastMut.org. Please go there for up-to-date information and bibliography references.

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Bast-Mut is a syncretization of goddesses Bast and Mut, creating Bast in her role as Queen.

Labeled in reliefs as Mut-Bast, she was found in Luxor (Thebes/Karnak/Waset) in in the Karnak Temple, Amun Temple, Medinet Habu, and at Isheru lake, where Mut was prominent. In those depictions, she appears both as a lioness-headed woman with the solar disk, and as a humanoid woman. We know that this is her based upon the hieroglyphic inscriptions included with the imagery.

Bast-Mut and Mut-Bast are both the same deity, however, in the Kemetic Orthodoxy Rite of Parent Divination, the Name that comes first is the god that the one divined will best understand. For the sake of continuity, and because she is my divined Mother, I will be calling her as Bast-Mut throughout the page.

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Syncretization?

Bast-Mut is still Bast, but she is also Mut. As an example, let us say that Bast is the color Red and Mut is the color Blue. Syncretized, they form the color Purple. This creates a whole new color that you cannot separate. In this fashion, she gets equal parts of both goddesses and forms it into one. Spend some time researching both goddesses, and you'll get an idea of how Bast-Mut can be.

We can see the goddess Bast-Mut as "Mut-who-is-Bast", which gives us a more queenly and regal Bast upon Her throne. The deity who is named first will be the exterior "shell" or the "primary," which are both in quotes because it's hard to describe and that is not really what is happening here, but it's the best way my brain wraps around them. When in the form of Mut-Bast, this is Bast who is in the form of Mut (which could explain her humanoid appearances in the temples, but that is just another personal theory!)

In essence, they are the same goddess, but there may be differences in how Mut-Bast acts versus Bast-Mut. As we do not yet have any divined children of the former, I have no point of reference as to which to compare.

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When to call upon the Queen

When you need some fierce motherly love.

When you want some direction, and you're in need of a gentle push to get there.

When you are in need of self-care and need a stern but loving Mother to make you do so.

When you're stuck in the past or worrying about the future, and you need a reminder to live in the moment.

When you need some gentle self-care and some help in finding joy.

When you're taking on a leadership role and need help asserting yourself.

For a boost of confidence to feel your best self.

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Working with Bast-Mut

These are my personal experiences with her, and they may differ from yours or from that of others. However, this is a good guideline to start with if you are new or haven't met her yet.

When you first decide to introduce yourself to the Queen, it's important to be formal and respectful. Only in spending more time and experiences with her are you allowed to loosen formalities a little. She is warm and loving, like the sun beaming down in a caress. A nice offering goes over well, as well as honest intentions and being present and respectful in her presence. She is Bast, a lover of joy, rich things, and perfumes, but she is Queen and more directing rather than acting. There is a regal air about her, and she tends to be more on the formal side of things. Share your meals with her, speak your mind, and be open and honest.

In my experiences with my Mother, Bast-Mut, she is very much Mut in personality, but with Bast-flavoring and exterior. I see her as the Royal Cat, large and in-charge, but joyful and kind. She doesn't roll around like a playful kitten, but instead stands tall and looks into your eyes with the gentlest of smiles. She shifts between a domestic cat and a black lioness, which I feel brings in a lot of the Mut influence as she too can be a lioness. I've "seen" her both as a stern queen, but I've also "seen" her in a field of flowers, dancing with sistra in hand, full of light and laughter and joy.

Bast-Mut is like the sun. The warmth and glow of her love shine down and embrace you, never burning. For she is the sun gently kissing the horizon, the one you can glimpse out of the corner of your eyes, still hot and bright, but tender. Regal is her splendor that dusts the clouds in the royal hues of purple and gold. The sky glows for her.

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Click Read More for a TON more information

Disclaimer: Much of the information listed below falls under UPG, or Unverified Personal Gnosis. These are offerings I feel she likes and other tidbits I find important towards understanding Bast-Mut. Much of my knowledge of her comes from both personal experiences and those of others who experience her.

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Representation

Feline-headed woman with double or uraeus modii crown.

Lioness, or another big cat.

A domestic cat with cobra between her paws.

Depicted with the Solar Disk as Mut-Bast.

Shown in humanoid form as Mut-Bast.

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Patronage

Empowerment & Confidence

Self-Love

Protection

Leadership & Royalty

Living in the Moment

Inner Strength

Joy & Beauty

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Epithets

Lady of Heaven

(She) who Shines as Gold(en)**

(She) who Creates Sunbeams**

Lady of the Palace

Lady of the Great House

Lady of the Isheru Waters

Lady of All the Lands

The (Great) Young Lioness

Lady of Life

Great of Strength

She of the Beautiful Face

Lady of Red Linen**

Lady of Cobras

Lady of Joy**

The (ruling) Queen

The Daughter of Ra

The Greatly Beloved

The Greatly Feared

She of the Powerful Heart**

Lady of Food

Great of Magic

The Head of the Goddesses

(A favored selection of epithets that both Bast and Mut have in common. Translated from the LAGG by Akhytsenu.) **Denotes Extra Love

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Family

Wife of Amun-Ra

Mother of Khonsu

Mother of Mafdet (UPG)

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Offerings

Food

Dark Chocolate

High-Quality Meat

Sushi

Fruit

Bread

Cheese

Honey

Drink

Chai Tea

Catnip Tea

Cream Liqueur

Cool Water

Hot Chocolate

Stones and Colors

Lapis Lazuli

Labradorite

Carnelian

Malachite

Jade

Amber

Gold

Greens

Deep Red

Royal Purple

Scents

Sandalwood

Lotus

Vanilla

Jasmine

Cinnamon

Florals

Activities

Self-Care

Perfumery

Song and Dance

Drawing and Painting

Volunteer Work

Anything done with Passion and Love

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Bast-Mut (Mut-Bast) in the Books

"As on the east jamb of the doorway, one expects Mut with a syncretistic name for the lioness-headed goddess. If she is not simply labeled as Mw .t nb .t p .t, she could be Mut-Bastet (as on the east jamb) or Mut-Sekhmet; there is not enough space for Mut-Weret-Hekau. One notes that in the dedicatory text on the east wall in the bark shrine of Mut in the triple shrine of the Ramesside Court, Ramesses II refers to having made the monument for his mother Mut-Bastet (KRI 2, 615/16-616-1). The prominence accorded to Mut as Bastet on the east wall of the triple shrine mirrors the importance of the lioness-headed goddess in the first register scenes on the east and west jambs of the north portal of the Colonnade Hall. One may also note that the word ms survives in the words spoken by Mut-Bastet on the east wall of the Mut shrine (KRI 2, 616/6), recalling the texts accompanying the lioness goddess on pl. 149." - Oriental Institute Publications (OIP) Vol 116

"Words spoken by Mut, lady of heaven, Bastet who resides in Asheru: "O my beloved son, lord of the two lands, Djeserkheperure-Setepenre, I am your mother. I am giving you your suck, that you may suck from my milk, may it enter into you in life and dominion..joy...I have given to you millions of jubilee like Re."" - Oriental Institute Publications (OIP) Vol 116

"Mut the Great, Lady of Isheru, Bast, Mistress of Karnak, possessor of graciousness, sweet of love: I have given you the throne of Geb and the lifespan of Re in heaven." - Oriental Institute Publications (OIP) Vol 107

"Mut, lady of heaven, Bastet residing in Karnak, as she gives all life: I have given to you all life and dominion, all health and all joy like Re." - Oriental Institute Publications (OIP) Vol 1 Part 3

#kemetic #bast-mut #mut-bast #bastet #mut #goddess #ancient egyptian

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walkingshcdow-a · 5 years ago

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🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻 (talk to me u never talk to me u scary girl)

Send me 🌻and I’ll tell you whatever I want | Accepting!

Soooooo scary.

Anyway, that’s 10 things you want me to talk about. OKAY!!!

I have a stack of TBR books by my bed, but on the side that I don’t sleep on that doesn’t have a lamp. It’s the most useless setup. Like, I’m not gonna reach across a queen-sized mattress to rifle through these books before bed. I fantasize about reading them - luxurious bath times, cozy rainy days, sunning myself in the common patio with a book - but I haven’t been able to bring myself to read them. I think I’m scared of being disappointed. I don’t have time to be let down by fiction anymore. Last year, I read so many duds and so this year, I can’t quite motivate myself to read. It’s super lame and I feel like a sham since I’m an English teacher.

My BFF bought me a beautiful oracle deck/tarot deck when we were in college. She knew I wanted to get into reading tarot but that I was superstitious AF about buying my first deck for myself - something I now think is ridiculous, but I was twenty and anxious - so she bought me this glossy, gorgeous deck. I haven’t learned to read it but I want to. I really, really want to. Especially since I’m pretty good at the Rider-Waite tarot deck. Maybe I’ll offer free readings online as I learn the deck. IDK.

I really, really want to play a DnD campaign. I’m really still angry that the last one I tried to DM didn’t pan out past one session. I understand why and it was for the better, but damn. I love tabletop RP. I love board games. I love regular RP. Just let me play games with friends!!!

I cosigned a statue of Sekhmet to my friend’s metaphysical shop. Everyone who looked at the statue kept asking me if it was Sekhmet or Bast and my friend and I were both like The headdress is quintessential Sekhmet. Bast doesn’t wear that kind of headdress. But ngl, the statue looked more like a cat than a lioness so... Who knows?

I binge-watched Season One of Gravity Falls yesterday while I was nursing a sinus headache. I don’t know what my deal is, but I have a THING for chaos twins. I just kept imagining a world where the relatives Dipper and Mabel had to spend the summer with were their creepy goth third cousins on Piffling. It delighted me.

If you have a mask that ties over your head instead of with ear-loops, it’s so much easier to wear when your hair is in a ponytail. I prefer my mask that ties around my head to my ear-loops one BUT MY GOD I WANT THIS MALEFICENT ONE OR THIS ONE. Actually, when I saw the blue and pink on the second mask, my brain was like “Sleeping Beauty is a bisexual film”. All the characters in it are bi. Aurora, Maleficent, Phillip, Diaval. Every fairy. Even the king and queen. Bi af. If you argue with me, you owe me ten dollars.

I bought the more expensive model of Mazda when I bought my car in part because I liked the features but also because I was more at ease driving to Fleetwood Mac than I had been driving to whatever was playing in the first car I tried out. NO REGRETS!! MY CAR IS AMAZING. I drove it through a high water crossing today and it excelled. I say these sentences like I bought my car recently, but like, nah. I got my car while I was student teaching three years ago. I’m just thinking about it because I’m listening to Fleetwood Mac right now and I just drove for 3 hours. I know fuck all about cars, though. I want to learn a few things but I’m scared to ask. I’m very good at calling AAA and talking to the guys at Discount Tire, though.

My sister has spent the last two years trying to convince me that I’m secretly a cat person. I actually would secretly rather have plants than animals because I don’t even feed myself, but I do stay hydrated, so I think I’d do better with plants. I might drag Courtney to help me pick out succulents this weekend. They’re 10 for $10 at Kroger and ADORABLE.

I want to go on an apartment cleanse/redecorating spree. I spent so much of my childhood moving that I’ve never felt very comfortable decorating or making a space my own. It’s time. I also have a ton of stuff to donate to Goodwill.

ICB you want me to make an audio loop of every time someone says “Finnegan” in the 2015 film. ICB I might do it. Why do I love him so much? It’s not like Max Landis gave him a personality. That’s 100% Freddie Fox and the costumer’s handiwork. Well. Plus me. But that’s just between us.

#hcpebelief #x. asks #x. meme response #x. munday #;;told by an idiot | {out of character}#;;signifying nothing | {personal}

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mountphoenixrp · 5 years ago

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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Bastet, the Goddess of Cats and Protection, whose origins stem from Ancient Egypt. She is now a City Council Member and the manager of Stop&Paws.

FC NAME/GROUP: kim jisoo / BLACKPINK GOD NAME: bastet PANTHEON: egyptian OCCUPATION: manager at stop & paws / member of the city council HEIGHT: 5’5” WEIGHT: 115 lbs DEFINING FEATURES:

tattoos:

black line cat tattoo behind her left ear, the outline of two small pawprints on the outside of her right ankle, and the ankh on the left side of her right middle finger.

physical features:

pointed, fang-like canines and vertical pupils like that of a cat’s as well as two fluffy, black ears atop her head and a long, black tail.

PERSONALITY: bastet is a very passionate goddess. she cares greatly for the well-being of others and will do her best to offer help when possible. in the same light, bastet quickly becomes weary of those with less than good intentions and finds herself speaking to them with a heavy filter; she does her best not to allow ill-willed individuals to gain any advantages from her. when she isn’t focused on helping or deterring others, she can come off as a very approachable deity with a somewhat relaxed aura about her. oftentimes, she’ll try to retain a light mood with bad jokes or puns (and quickly apologize after she realizes just how embarrassing the words that leave her mouth are). in other words: bastet is only serious when she needs to be. outside of her nurturing nature, she can be highly carefree and fun-loving — especially when the topic of ever-loveable felines arises.

HISTORY: bastet’s reign has never been too flashy, and though bubastis’ temple of bast became home to hundreds of mummified felines and major artifacts, the days of the lioness bast were fleeting. once, she was indeed revered as a goddess capable of frightening rage and unwavering protection. and yet… that didn’t last forever. her image was slowly but surely changed into that of a domestic cat, and though it was more true to her own god-given powers and nurturing nature, she couldn’t help but feel as if it meant that mortals found her weak. perhaps she was never meant to be regarded as a lioness, but a mere house cat that was to take care of vermin and provide gentle compassion to its companions. sekhmet was always meant to be the true warrior between them, and that became something bastet simply had to live with. even if she didn’t always agree with sekhmet’s methods, she respected the war goddess just as much as she did the others. she took to her own arrangements — punishing not all but some. those who abused others and broke the law would surely catch a plague like no other, and that was her consequence to the evil beings hidden within humanity. after all, a small house cat will always fight off even the biggest cobra.

over time, the goddess became bored within the celestial planes. much like an adventurous feline, she enjoyed movement and fluidity within her life. in the realm of celestials, things were undoubtedly interesting and forever-changing: gods and goddesses had disagreements, followers of deities’ offerings brought both peace of mind and chaos of mind, and mortals as well as some immortals provided more than enough issues for all the gods combined to tackle. it became routine — anything and everything was far too predictable. she did the only thing she could think of to do at that time to pique her own interest: she descended upon the mortal plane to experience humans’ lives first-hand.

her descent didn’t last long as humans proved themselves to be predictable creatures far too capable of boring her. however, within the mortal world she was able to experience the pure, carefree nature of many humans. her heart would swell and she’d cast the smallest charms of protection to ward off the evils within the world on those she considered truly and wholly righteous. she met many humans that made her feel things no god could ever instill in her ever-open heart, and that alone was enough to rekindle her love of humanity. it was much needed, truthfully; humanity stripped her of the title of lioness, and yet humanity made her overwhelmingly proud to carry the title of the cat goddess. it was something given to her — something that differentiated her from sekhmet, something that made her unique.

with a newfound sense of fulfillment, bastet moved on. she was never one to stay in one place for too long regardless and, with the knowledge of a place known as mount phoenix where gods and demi-gods alike dwelt, she began a third life. she could keep a watchful eye over humanity from this celestial city and hopefully fulfill her own desires of an interesting lifetime while staying true to her real self.

( one should never underestimate a cat, no matter how small. lion or not, bastet will hold her head high in mount phoenix. )

POWERS:

enhanced senses - bastet’s sense of sight, smell, and hearing are all greatly enhanced compared to that of a human’s. she is able to smell and hear things from far away and see quite well when in dark areas. on top of this, she is far more agile than most (cats always land on their feet, after all).

wards of protection - as a protection deity, bastet may provide shelter from ill-willed beings to those in need of it. these wards are not something that can be seen, but merely an aura that surrounds the person it is instilled upon that deters those that have bad intentions. the charm is far from permanent when not used on mortals and can only last up to a week on deities. it is able to calm the rage within those bastet provides it to.

feline communication - bastet can communicate with felines of all types and encourage them to carry out her will. this allows cats to be her perfect companion, and for her to be the perfect companion for them as well. she can easily tell the emotions and thoughts of any kind of cat and do what she can to aid and soothe them.

shapeshifting - bastet can fully turn into a black cat with golden eyes for as long as she wishes. she looks just like a normal cat during this time and is unable to use human speech. in addition, she may change her “humane” features, though it is limited to showing or masking black cat ears and tail. her nails can extend into claws at will.

STRENGTHS: compassionate, courageous, charitable, good sense of humor WEAKNESSES: stubborn, idealistic, mischievous at times, reactive

#kpop rp #krp #blackpink #kim jisoo #blackpink jisoo #mp; welcome

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goddessofthundathighs · 6 years ago

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Chapter 1: Tormented

T’CHALLA’S POV

The moon always seemed to shine the brightest in Wakanda. The pinks, yellows, and oranges of daylight had slowly warped into the rich purples, blues, and black of nightfall and I was alone on one of my favorite cliffs. The dense jungle had given way to a jagged piece of rock that stuck out like a sore thumb, much like the rock in the movie about lions I used to watch with Baba as a child. I’d always loved the way the city looked from this far up. The lights of the market dancing in the darkness reminded me of stars dancing in the moonlight. The serenity I found here was unmatched, the quiet of the night allowed me to be at peace with my thoughts.

The soft pad of footsteps and a low growl alerted me that I wasn’t alone. I turned to meet my visitor and immediately fell to my knees. I felt the power of her gaze above me as I looked down at her soft paws. As she stood upright, her chocolate skin glistening even in the darkness. Her long black tail danced playfully behind her, even as she assumed her human form.

“Goddess Bast,” I spoke from my crouched position. I heard her low purr as her lips curled into a sly smile.

“Nice to see you again, T’Challa. I sense that you’re troubled.”

“I keep having this recurring nightmare of me holding my father while he dies and there’s this glowing purple light surrounding us. It’s getting to the point where I have it every night. I need your guidance.”

“Dearest T’Challa, the world as you know it is about to change dramatically. Your father has prepared you and given you all of the tools you will need to carry on in his absence. I will also be there to guide you on your journey.”

With this, she was gone and I was left with more questions than I had before she appeared.

________________

“EVERYBODY GET DOWN!”

The explosion rocked the entire building. Glass and debris littered the floor as everyone recovered from the aftershock. Screams and wails filled every corner as T'Challa took in his surroundings.

“Baba?” he called, crawling to the man’s motionless body. Still recovering from shock, he swept his hands frantically over King T’Chaka’s body looking for any signs of life. None. He checked the pulse on his wrist, silently praying that his dream wasn’t real. The King was dead. T’Challa cried and rocked, cradling the lifeless body of the man who taught him everything there was to know about being a great King. Now who was he to turn to for advice when it seemed like he has lost his way. An anguished scream ripped from his body only to fall on deaf ears.

The saddened prince was still holding his deceased father when the authorities and medical team arrived, clutching his lifeless body as if to give over his own life force so his Baba could breathe again. Then they took him from T’Challa and that very childlike hope was shattered and he was escorted out of the destroyed room to the back of a truck where he was sat and checked for signs of injury and shock. He answered endless questions about his well being insuring them that he was fine and went to sit on a nearby bench in order to separate himself from all the commotion.

As he sat, the weight of his current issues began to hit him at the speed of light. Now that his father was gone, he would now have to take the mantle himself. There would be much to prepare. Ceremonies and rites of passage. His mother and sister. Where were they? Had they heard the news? How were they? He should be hurrying home to console them; To be the man of the family since that was now his job. Would he be able to be a great ruler like those who came before him? What if he truly wasn't cut out for the throne and drove Wakanda to ruin? Above other things, was his father at peace? Was he satisfied with how his life turned out, the achievements he made, the accomplishments? Was he proud of his children? Would he look back at his life with a fond smile? All these thoughts were swarming his head when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a slim figure approaching the bench directly nexts to the one he sat on.

“I’m very sorry.”

Turning his head, he gazed upon the source of condolences. Natasha Romanoff. A member of the Avengers team of who the accords were pertaining to. They had spoken very briefly before the explosion and from what he learned from his research, both publicly and privately, she was one of the only persons in the team that had no otherworldly abilities but was trained with a very specific skill set and was extremely formidable in a number of different ways. He tore his eyes away from the redheaded woman and twirled his grandfather’s ring that he managed to slip off his father’s finger unnoticed between his fingers lightly. It was a family heirloom that both his father and his uncle has received from their father when they were growing up and he would be damned if it ended up in anyone else’s hands but his own.

‘In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green valley where you can run forever.”

T’Challa’s face held nothing but a cold, blank stare when he turned back to Nastasha who nodded her head softly at his words.

“That sounds very peaceful.”

Placing the ring on his finger, he clenched his fist in a ball. An emotion he hadn't felt yet finally making its appearance. Anger.

“My father thought so. I am not my father.”

With a very level-headed voice, Natasha spoke again.

“T’Challa, task force will decide who brings on Barnes.”

Clenching his fist that wore his father’s ring tighter, he stood up slowly. The look of calculated rage and revenge on his dirtied face.

“Don’t bother Ms.Romanoff. I will kill him myself.”

________________

Erik’s POV

“Baba. Tell me a story,” the young boy says as he settles in his bed.

“What story would you like to hear?” his father teased, knowing full well what story the youngster wanted to hear.

“The one about home and the beautiful sunset, and the beautiful sunsets,” the boy responded.

“Alright, son. Millions of years ago, a meteorite made of vibranium, the strongest substance in the universe struck the continent of Africa, affecting the plant life around it.” The boy had heard this story countless times before, but still listened as if it were the first time. Before his father was halfway through, the young one had drifted off the sleep, dreaming of the land of his ancestors.

_________________

“Baba? Baba wake up!” The darkness of the room was the only thing that greeted me when I finally woke up. It was the fifth time this week that I had had the dream and it only made me more anxious for the mission I had ahead. I slowly unwrapped my body from the nameless chick in my bed and made my way to the living room. I pulled my father’s journal from its place on the bookshelf and flipped open to the page I’d read a thousand times before.

"Ungubani? Who are you? I asked this question of myself many times. Often times, I do not know. But I do know I am no longer the man my country once knew.

Maybe love? My son?

It has all changed me. T'Chaka must see what we can do, how we can change the course of time for the people who struggle so much in this land. Strangers to me, but my brothers and sisters still. How can I look at them with the same skin as me, stolen from the same place I come from and not reach out to them? How can I sit idly by and watch in pain and return to Wakanda as if there is nothing to see at all?

Who am I? A War Dog who will not leave the Lost Tribe behind again.

Who are you my son? You will ask this one day and know the answer:

N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu

I closed the book and clutched the necklace that had been around my neck since the day I found him. I twirled my grandfather’s ring between my fingers before settling it against my chest. I am N’Jadaka, son of N’Jobu and heir to the Wakandan throne. And soon, the whole world would know it.

***************************************

A/N: Special thanks to my wonderful hubby @geimidagod-blog for the premise of this fic! Love you! 😘

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TAG LIST: @jozigrrl @itsangeludaku @thehomierobbstark @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @muse-of-mbaku @amethyst1993 @killmongersgurl @killmongersprncss @hdkween @iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @ayellepea @vikkidc @laketaj24 @madamslayyy @allhailnjadaka @purple-apricots @thadelightfulone @panthergoddessbast @theegoldenjaguar

#black panther fanfiction #t'challa fic #killmonger fic #Erik Killmonger #Erik Stevens #my shit #vanity writes #T'Challa Udaku #n'jadaka udaku #i'm an artist #and i'm sensitive about my shit

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echoes-of-kemet · 2 years ago

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Who would you say are your "main" gods? not necessarily major or minor, just who you focus on the most

I'd say the Netjer I focus on the most are; Anubis, Nephthys, Isis, Horus, Osiris, Set, Thoth, Ra, Bast, Khonsu, Hathor/Sekhmet, Meretseger, and Pakhet. That may change as more behind the scenes things go, but that's my present answer at least.

And as a bonus, have a set of wee character synopses for the gang under the cut 👀

Anubis (cis, he/him, pansexual, faceclaim is Keiynan Lonsdale): While he may only be prince of the Duat, he's every bit a goth short king. He inherited Nephthys' quiet and pragmatic character, as well as Osiris' charm and love for nature- animals in particular, dogs AND cats. (And everything else. Ammit was his idea.) Anubis is a soft spoken and fairly solitary individual, preferring to spend his leisurely moments on his own or with very limited company. He's deceptively shy and timid despite his royal standing, not to mention considerably more mellow than most of his family tree. He takes his duties in the Hall of Two Truths very seriously, making sure the scales are well tended and helping the souls of the dead through the hall.

Bast (cis, she/her, bisexual, faceclaim is Zazie Beetz): It comes as no surprise that the domestic cat was specifically crafted for Bast by her uncles Ptah and Khnum, the beasts’ temperament being closely derived from the goddess’ own personality. Companionable but independent, fierce but leisurely, self confident and feisty- though both are closely associated with the safety and warmth of home, they are by no means tame. The goddess herself would be the first to point out that she may be Ra’s current Eye and (in her mind) favorite, her father does not own her, however much they may try to inforce otherwise. That isn’t to say the first Pharaoh can’t be stifling at times- there was a reason she once left to wander the surrounding kingdoms- but she does her best to keep her father’s expectations and demands from dictating who she is.

Hathor/Sekhmet (cis, she/her/[Sekhmet]he, bisexual, faceclaim is Tessa Thompson): Once the Eye of Ra, now the current Queen of the Gods. Both goddesses are their own individuals yet part of the same being, similar yet different; Hathor is vain but Sekhmet is arrogant, Hathor enjoys leisure while Sekhmet would rather spar or run or lift, Hathor is very regimented in her schedule yet Sekhmet hates extensively planning ahead. One thing the two “sisters” can always agree on, however, is beer. Both are equally formidable combatants and have strong, radiant personalities, steadfastly loyal to their father and husband- though which they’d pick if forced to is yet another point of contention between the two.

Horus (cis, he/him, bisexual, faceclaim is John Boyega): Having something like the fate of a kingdom and avenging their father’s murder thrust upon someone at a young age is bound to have some long term effects. While Horus (the Younger) is a magnificent warrior with a good heart and intentions, he’s still quite lost in the role of Pharaoh, relying heavily on his advisors and queen for assistance. Some may (and do) argue that this makes the young king unfit to rule, too unsure and thus a liability, and Horus himself considers this every now and again. And yet he hasn’t destroyed the royal palace, or dried up the Nile, or allowed Heliopolis to be overtaken, or any number of other horrible possibilities. That has to count for something, right? And being able to admit that he’s gifted in leadership but by no means a genius, that it’s beneficial to have the advice of Isis and Thoth, that he himself is not the sole reason the kingdom still stands is a fair quality to have. Even if he’s otherwise overly self confident at times.

Isis (cis, she/her, pansexual, faceclaim is Danai Gurira): With no prior familiarity to the royal family, one couldn’t be faulted for assuming Horus got his egotism and verve from Osiris. But most any of the Netjer would be quick to tell you that while he certainly inherited his father’s graciousness (in some amount), the current king’s drive and intensity came from his mother Isis. Her cleverness and sagacity are well known throughout the pantheon, skillful enough with magic to compete with even Thoth- the very creator of it. And while she is by no means overly boastful, Lady Isis is very aware of her talents and carries herself with a suitable confidence.

Khonsu (nonbinary, he/they, bisexual, faceclaim is Donald Glover): Think Prince Naveen if nothing happened post his parents cutting him off- no Lawrence, no Facilier, no Tiana, no frog adventure- and he had to figure shit out himself. The only difference is Khonsu cut himself off from them- or, more specifically, his father Amun. Mut was every ounce the incredible mother she's known as, but Amun was on the polar opposite, "neglectful, patronizing, self-confidence-destroying dad" side. Along with some other factors, this culminated in a sleazy jackass of a man-child with a gambling problem, trouble making connections with others, and a massive ego to compensate for his utterly dismal self image.

Nephthys (cis, she/her, homosexual, faceclaim is Ruth Negga): By far the most subdued personality amongst her siblings, the goddess of mourning has an appropriately somber, melancholic personality. Beneath this cool outer layer, however, is a shrewd brilliance and natural talent for negotiation, a skill Nephthys employs to at least try and keep the peace. She’s perfectly happy being overlooked and underestimated (most of the time), having learned how to use this for her own gain. She is by no means a malicious, manipulative goddess, caring and compassionate by nature- but she is also not above using various types of persuasion to accomplish her goals.

Osiris (cis, he/him, bisexual, faceclaim is Idris Elba): A king in life as well as afterlife, the eldest of Nut’s children is the very definition of “benevolent ruler”; kind, gentle, compassionate, but firm and harsh when necessary. He has always been one to put the needs of others before his own, continuing his habit of overworking himself even after death. Despite his serious, stoic demeanor, the King of the Dead is still a very warm and bright individual, good-humored and amicable, doing his best to balance between professionalism and being personable with those serving him in the Hall of Two Truths- another habit carried over from his time on the throne of Heliopolis.

Pakhet (cis, she/her, homosexual, faceclaim is Sheila Atim): While not foreign in origin, Pakhet is a goddess that was alienated amongst the pantheon, driving her to a nomadic life of fierce independence. She resents much of the Netjer, with few exceptions held in a more vaguely disdainful opinion. Spitefully embracing the solitude forced upon her, Pakhet wanders the deserts of the world, her only sympathy being reserved for fellow travelers- whom she protects from the venomous stings and bites of the wildlife they face. The only deity with an actually positive relationship with the standoffish goddess is the similarly outcast Set, each other the closest thing to friends as they’ve ever had. Not that Pakhet would ever admit as such.

Ra (genderfluid, he/she/they, asexual/aromantic, faceclaims are Peter Mensah and Marianne Jean-Baptiste): While his reign as King of the Gods has long since ended, the solar god is still very much a ruler- his court is just considerably smaller these days. And despite the time, she is still resentful of her usurpation, as well as every other betrayal she’s perceived. Neither forgetting nor forgiving, Ra holds onto every grudge they’ve developed, keeping the few deities they still trust as close as they’ll let them. That being said, while Ra has abandoned Heliopolis and severed himself from the rest of the pantheon, he has by no means shirked his duties; she still sails Mandjet from horizon to horizon during the day, warding off her twin with the help of her crew during the night. Though their reasons for continuing this aren’t necessarily born of any care for those outside of their circle.

Set (demiboy, he/him, homosexual, faceclaim is Giancarlo Esposito): Whoever said envy was green clearly didn’t take the Red Lord into consideration. Before his banishment, he had always been in someone else’s shadow- Osiris was beloved even before he became king, Isis was celebrated for her cunning wit, Nephthys was never on anyone’s shitlist, even Horus-Ur was better liked by Ra. Until the feather-headed idiot got himself killed by a scorpion of all things. (How Set wishes he could’ve been more directly responsible for his death as well as Osiris’, extinguishing the solar god himself instead of neglecting to mention the venomous beast in his path.) It’s just as well that he was swindled out of his entirely legitimate victory; everyone hated him to begin with, and the feeling was mutual. This way he doesn’t have to deal with any of them, and they don’t have him to talk about behind his back anymore.

Thoth (genderfluid, he/they/she, bisexual, faceclaim is Paul Van Haver): Brilliant. Sophisticated. Exalted. All three are apt descriptions of the long standing royal advisor- though some might add eccentric, condescending, stuck up, and just plain weird. Thoth is acutely aware of the abnormality of his self-creation making him inherently different from the rest of the pantheon- not to mention his appearance being far from godly- yet he’s become a vital part of the royal court despite this otherness. He has served Ra and Osiris, and now Horus as their advisor, scribe, magician, doctor, and arbiter; he has quelled many potentially disastrous tempers, resolved countless troubles, negotiated innumerable confrontations. Even in the Hall of Two Truths, he's responsible for recording every soul that passes through, the goddess Ma'at entrusting him alone to handle her Feather of Truth. With all that in mind, as well as the god's genuine care for Osiris and his family, it's quite easy to forget the fact that Thoth is the God of Balance, and balance is not the same as order.

#asks #anonymous #lore posting #anubis #bast #hathor #sekhmet #horus #isis #khonsu #nephthys #osiris #pakhet #ra #set #thoth

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witchberries · 1 year ago

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i have Megan Zane's "Sekhmet's Servant" devotional book!

Sekhmet's Servant: Kemetic Daily Devotional. The author, Megan, is a friend of mine whose art I love. I knew her even before I decided to leave behind my Christianity. It arrived earlier today; I ordered it from Amazon yesterday. It...has a lot of typos, lol, but then again, it was self-published via Lulu, so I can't be too critical. It took Megan 2 years to finish! All the images in it are pretty gorgeous. I told her I'd do the writing prompts throughout the book on both this side-blog and on my Wordpress blog.

So here is the first prompt!

What has drawn you to the Egyptian gods?

I've always liked the goddess Bast. Initially it was pretty shallow -- She is a deity closely associated with domestic cats, and I was always strongly the designated cat-child in elementary school. I don't quite remember when or where I first heard of Her. It just somehow feels like I've always vaguely known about Her? As I was in the transition of abandoning Christianity in favor of paganism, I was highly intrigued by Her, and it prompted a friend of mine from the TDF community, named Lore to ask me if I would like to join the House of Netjer AKA Kemetic Orthodoxy beginner's class. I was supposed to attend it with them during early 2023, but Lore had some mental distress to deal with around then, so I ended up doing the class by myself. I told everyone in KO that Bast had also led me there because well, I think in some sense, She had, to be honest. (KO's former Nisut, Tamara Siuda, had received an ironclad promise from Bast and Anubis that They'd personally guide people to her organized religion, and I believe that's what Bast did with me.) I might've sent a resignation letter to HoN/KO not too long ago, but it was definitely my stepping stone, and I am not entirely bitter about the experience. I learned a lot there, but it ultimately wasn't where I belonged.

Anubis, Anpu, Yinepu, whatever you wanna call Him, is another one I sort of have the sense I've always known about? It's so odd. I guess it's just that He and Bast are pretty popular in the modern day throughout media? Bast has quickly become a "comfort deity" of mine, the one I, by default, turn to when I don't know Who else I should. On a more general level, though, I am currently drawn to Kemeticism due to how much sense it makes to me, so much more than the Jesus fandom (yes, I'm calling it that) ever did. It blends well with science, and even with evolution, just ALL the things that always niggled in my mind as being more sensible than Christianity's harmful and literal creationism. I have always needed religion; you get me? I have that sort of mind. I tried identifying as an atheist to mimic my father for a time growing up; it always felt hollow and pointless. There is a supernatural/paranormal spark in my life that I cannot deny, especially after specific experiences I had as a teen and, most significantly, the painful demonic haunting I went through at age 22 in 2018.

#kemeticism #ansel speaks #journal

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notbecauseofvictories · 7 years ago

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do you think after all was said and done Tchalla attampted to visit eric in plains of the afterlife.

The sound of the ball against the backboard is like thunder, and it rolls over the plains.

T’Challa doesn’t flinch at the sound. Neither do the panthers lazing at the edges of the basketball court. In truth, “court” is a bad word for it—not much more than a clearing of packed earth amid the grass, lines drawn in the dust. But the hoop is a great tree, tall and straight and true, with a rim glittering gold as a crown. Impossibly high.

Erik moves like he still has the strength of the black panther in his blood. Like he still has blood at all.

“I don’t remember this being here, last time,” T’Challa says, and Erik twitches, but does not turn. The ball pounds an easy rhythm, against the earth.

“Little bit of your people, little bit of mine,” Erik says. His voice is a study in disinterest, but his shoulders have gone tense—even now, beyond the concern of such things, Erik carries himself as though he’s daring T’Challa to strike him. As though he’s itching for it, trying to draw attention to the spot between his shoulder blades and tempt T’Challa into burying his spear there.

(Bast had a sister, T’Challa knows. Sekhmet. The lioness, whose wrath burned the desert sere; giver of disease, bringer of war. Bast had to trick her into sleeping, once, before she drank up all men’s blood and brought the world to ruin.

T’Challa wonders if Erik sleeps here.)

Erik does something quicksilver sudden with his hands, his feet dancing through the dust, and then the ball is arcing, a sun high in the sky over the world-beyond-the-world. It is so bright that T’Challa looks away.

When he looks back, Erik is close enough for T’Challa to reach out and touch him. In Erik’s hands, the basketball pulses with light, bright-dark-bright-dark steady as a heartbeat.

Erik is grinning. “Plus, this place is boring as shit, cuz.”

“Ah. Nothing to kill, when everything is dead.”

This is not said with any bitterness. It is not. But Erik must—know it, anyhow, because his smile sharpens into a sickle. “Believe me, I tried,” he says, and he is watching T’Challa’s face like an animal stalking its prey. “But you know, after the third time I was torn apart by panther claws, I decided to stop trying. Dead and bored is better than undying agony, you know?”

T’Challa cannot quite keep the horror from his face. He looks past Erik, to where the ghostly black panthers prowl the edges of the court, laze in the nonexistent sun. Their eyes are stars in the purple-dark. “You—”

Erik’s sickle-grin looks brittle, suddenly, and T’Challa cannot help but wonder how many times Erik tried to kill their forebearers. He doubts it was only three. “Relax,” Erik says, and T’Challa blinks. “Ancestors taught me my place. Now I shoot hoops.”

T’Challa exhales. “How do you play? I’ve witnessed others play it in America, but never—”

Erik’s face does something strange, or perhaps too many things at once. T’Challa doesn’t know what to read in it, how to answer. But then Erik’s eyes go cold and hard, and even the brittle grin vanishes.

His chin comes up, another dare to strike. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend to be stupid. This is—I don’t know, the afterlife or whatever. I’m dead. You’re beyond lying to me.”

Erik does not have Killmonger’s scars here in the afterworld. Instead they are open wounds, wet-looking and ugly. They weep. But then, T’Challa supposes that is the sort of honesty Erik means.

“Best two out of three, then?” T’Challa asks, and Erik grins.

#it's like you guys know my weakness for liminal afterlife-type spaces and redemption narratives where you can't take anything back #I'm SHOCKED I tell you #SHOCKED #black panther spoilers #Anonymous #this is a thing I made

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sickandtideeeee · 7 years ago

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By Bast - Chapter 5 (Erik x Reader)

I know this probably wasn’t worth the wait lmao but I hope you guys enjoy!

Erik N’Jadaka Stevens sat patiently, still enough that if it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply, one could have mistaken him for a wax figure. Quiet and calm he appeared, as he sat on the throne of the cousin he had so cleanly deposed. Yet the storm raging within was undeniable. Erik was, for the first time of his life since he had vowed to take revenge on the family that abandoned him, unsure of his next move.

This uncertainty was obviously unrelated to his plan for world domination – that was clear cut. He had already announced his plan to the Border Tribe general, W’Kabi - they would deliver weapons to all parts of the world where his kin were being mistreated. The best part is he wouldn’t even bother taking time out of his day to talk to rebel leaders. A quick drop-off of high-tech tools of destruction without any guidance or restriction would lead to just the type of anarchy he needed for a paradigm shift. True leaders knew how to seize an opportunity, and he would be the orchestrator of it all. He would let the whole world burn and build it up from the ashes to his liking.

Yet however smoothly his mission had gone according to plan, he couldn’t shake how unsettled he was by that single person - a woman, no less. Never for a moment had he ever been moved by anything of a woman, whether it was a pretty face, a voluptuous body, or a bright, cheerful smile. In fact, he often preferred when his obstacles were women, for he found them terribly easy to manipulate. A little kernel of attention here, a small act of kindness there. Add in a smile, and they would bend over backwards for him.

Somehow, this wildly insignificant woman had impressed on him more than anyone as unremarkable as she was should have the power to. Maybe it was the fact that when she gazed into his eyes that first day in the throne room, he had felt the world stand still for just a split second. Despite having easily pushed her aside to carry out his mission, the moment he was left to his own thoughts in his holding cell, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. When she appeared with one of the Dora guards, he quickly realized why.

She was the woman in the dream he had the night he first heard Bast.

Erik had been tidying up the aftermath of one of his last kills before he had planned to execute Klaue, his key to the Wakandan border. Removal of evidence for him had become so routine that he often let his mind wander from the task at hand while he covered his tracks. What would he eat tonight? Did he remember to unload the dishwasher? He had a girl at home who threatened to leave every time he was out late, a pretty but more importantly, loyal woman named Linda. He smirked at the sheer thought of her leaving – all he had to do was lay some strategic pipe and she’d clean his slate, again and again and again…

Must you continue to thirst for blood like this?

Erik turned abruptly to survey his surroundings, only to stare into unperturbed darkness. The fact that the soft whisper seemed to have originated from inside his head rather than outside would have unnerved anyone, but the average person wasn’t neatly folding a full-grown human body into a bag to be dissolved in a barrel of acid. After a short pause to tune his ears into any new sounds, Erik swung his load over his shoulder and continued on his way home, deciding whatever he had heard had just been a figment of imagination.

He slipped quietly into bed only a few hours later besides the girlfriend he would later shoot dead at a moment’s notice, now asleep and unquestioning of his whereabouts. He had by necessity never been a sound sleeper but that night he was overcome by a slumber as deep as the grave.

When he awoke, he was somewhere otherworldly to the say the least. As a man who rarely dreamt, he wondered if this qualified as a phantom trip. He wasn’t much of a stoner, but you couldn’t always trust what was in the weed these days.

Off in the distance, he saw a figure comfortably laid against a tree, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her head immersed in a book. Odd.

Before he could call out to her for a clue to wherever the hell he was, a pressure started to build in his ears, as though he were suddenly twenty thousand feet in the air. Then one bodiless voice, the same as the one he had heard during his waking hours, appeared to split into two, and both assaulted his ears at once. In one ear, the same voice was harsh, grating, furious; the other, smooth and sweet.

He deserves revenge! He has no obligation for mercy! He carries out my will, I have imbued him with the rage he needs!

He needs love! He needs compassion! He facilitates his own destruction, let him seek the healing he deserves!

He’s powerful and destructive, Bast!

He’s suffering, Sekhmet!

The voices became progressively louder and unintelligible as they argued, until he was brought to his knees, eyes closed, hands clasped over his ears. Soon, he too was screaming in pain as he felt his eardrums tear. Then as he felt a hand gently press on his shoulder, the voices vanished. He looked up to see you smile wide and reassuringly at him. You introduced yourself with your birth name, and he committed it to memory. Y/N.

Let her heal your heart, Bast said to him. He had awoken fazed, but the thought of someone trying to change him laughable. You wouldn’t be the first woman who tried.

When you finally presented yourself to the new king as composed yet stone-faced as only a person who had begun to accept tremendous loss could, Erik realized how pretentious his thoughts were. You couldn’t care less about fixing him, you were too preoccupied with ensuring he didn’t break you.

Okoye escorted you by the arm into the room, her hand gripping just a little too tight. She released you, bowed to the abomination now ruling the country, and left the room. You just barely heard her scoff. Before the throne you stood catatonically, eyes lowered to the King’s sandals.

“I heard you were causing some trouble last night.” N’Jadaka smirked, the need to dispel the uncomfortable silence underlying his voice. You refused to look him in the eye, and responded only with silence.

“Sit the fuck down.” he demanded, the trickster cadence to his voice now gone. He wouldn’t tolerate that same level of disrespect you’d shown before a second time. You considered a small act of resistance, but were despondent enough that you lacked the energy to struggle against his will. Before the throne, you noticed a low table set up with two plates and a pair of utensils for both. You knelt obediently on the large pillow closest to your side of the table, and N’Jadaka approached from the throne and sat cross-legged opposite from you.

The moment your eyes met, you visualized yourself plunging the fork at your right-hand side deep into his neck. Maybe if you were lucky, you would be able to get the internal jugular, and watch him bleed out. Yet, you banished the image and kept your expression neutral and effaced. Servants quickly ran in and out setting food and drink between the two of you, and you felt one too many curious glances as they delivered dishes. The palace would soon be teeming with yet more fodder for Okoye’s misplaced suspicions. A temple maid consorting with the new king?

“Eat.” N’Jadaka commanded. You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was share a meal with your father’s murderer, but before you could start another internal monologue, he grabbed you abruptly by the chin across the table, dragging you to him. You let out a small gasp of surprise as the cutlery on the table clattered but did not shatter or drop.

“I’m not about to repeat myself.” He barked, face only inches apart from yours, essentially repeating himself. As he let go of your face, settling back into his seat with his arms crossed, the skin of your cheeks stung, but fear never set in. Rather, your stomach growled audibly, and your mind drifted to the red stain you had stared at all night. You quietly stuffed a fried dough beignet in your mouth and chased it with a spoonful of beans. Soon your treacherous hunger intensified, and you ate appetitively. You were surprised you could eat given your whole life had fallen apart – but such was the power of that supernatural calm.

N’Jadaka watched you carefully as you scarfed down the meal as though you had never seen food before, he himself abstaining from the meal. When you finally reached for the pot of coffee in the center of the table, he cleared his throat.

“You ready to talk now?”

You looked up to him, arm extended and cocked your head to the side incredulously.

“What do you expect me to say?” You replied, flatly. Thanks for feeding me? Thanks for the medical attention? Or the imprisonment, the murder of my father, the overhaul of my country, the list goes on...

The muscles in N’Jadaka’s neck tensed. He hadn’t expected an answer like that, but he couldn’t deny he set himself up for it. He let out a deep breath, and stretched his bulky arms out across the table. You withdrew again, instinctively, but this time he didn’t reach for you. He rolled his shoulders back again and relaxed back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He sighed again deeply.

“You know, you really got a mouth on you. Like damn, do all y’all Wakandan bitches talk like this?” He sounded more annoyed than angry, yet you looked at him warily, and then to the rest of your surroundings. The servants had long since filed out of the room and you realized the two of you were alone. You became both nervous and impatient. Your stomach was full, your heart was empty, you needed out.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, reticently.

In his mind’s eye, Erik recalled how you had suddenly rushed him at Warrior Falls, and as he turned, his short spear had pierced cleanly into you like a knife into butter. He recalled how you clasped your hands around the spear, and staring straight at him, the whites of your eyes had rolled back into your head, lips mouthing words that seemed less like expletives but primordial curses. His body had frozen still as you collapsed once you had exhausted that last burst of strength, disarmed enough that T’Challa had enough time to place him in a headlock. Rather than hearing his cousin telling him to yield, all surrounding sound had faded and all he heard was Bast give him a warning: Either you spare her, or you doom yourself.

He had thought of disposing of your body the same way he did T’Challa, but as he approached you, the words seared themselves repetitively in his head over and over again. Now you sat before him and Erik truly did not have the slightest idea what to do with you. Yet he was too, dare he say it, afraid to get rid of you.

You were patiently waiting on a response, and the very fact that you expected him to answer to you irked N’Jadaka to no end.

“I’ll ask the questions here, not you. Got that shit?” he said, rising from his seat. As if on cue, the servants rushed back into the room to clear the table.

“Get the fuck out. I’ll summon you again when I feel like it.” He said.

Something compelled you to keep pressing on.

“I understand, and I say this loosely, what your problem was with-“ you watched him tense up again, “the former prince, but what exactly was your vendetta against my father?” You asked insistently, rising to your feet, despite the two Dora who had appeared by your side to escort you away from the King.

The look he gave you was one full of contempt.

"You mean Uncle James?”

Uncle what?

N’Jadaka rose to his feet as well, waving his warriors back, and stepped to you again. “You know, that nigga was the last person I was thinking about coming to this place, but the idea of this motherfucker running around having some bitch calling him pops after that shit he pulled.…”

He balled his hands up into fists, but then clasped his hands together, flashing one of his trademark sadistic smiles.

“I don’t want to hear about that nigga again, got it?” He paused to let those words sink in, then continued. “Like for real, if I hear about ‘your father’ again, Imma have you executed. You’ve been getting too many chances from me so far, babygirl.”

This time the mischievous lilt in his voice barely covered the fact that his tone was the most deadly it had been since the first time he spoke to you. He gave you a patronizing pat on the head.

“Now if you calm down and don’t cause any trouble, I’ll find a good use for you.”

And with that, a whole new set of layers were added to your confusion. Little did you know, N’Jadaka was as lost as you were, too.

Tagging: @syndrlla97@iwantsomethingeternal@1killmonger@chasingsunlight @hoopshoney@destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @lalasparkles @pessimisfit @youreadthatright @stark-red19, @ruruly20, @bossyboyd03, @autumn242 @heybriheyyy@ thelovelyliterary

[Prologue][Chapter One][Chapter Two][Chapter Three][Chapter Four][Chapter Six][Chapter Seven][Chapter Eight]

#erik x reader #erik x poc!reader #black panther #killmonger x reader

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tapas-and-stuff-productions · 2 years ago

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The Deities Project: Part 8

An early notion for the Keys & Kingdoms universe was to divide its world into sections ruled by three pantheons, and those would be the historical pantheons of Greek, Norse, and Egyptian mythology! As it turned out, the 3rd Edition D&D supplement “Deities & Demigods” included stats for those exact three pantheons, and I carefully studied that for guidance on how to reinterpret those legendary pantheons for use in a fantasy world.

And so began this project: drawing all 53 historical deities depicted in that book. Casey Gosselin drew their symbols and Stacy Lord drew the characters themselves. Neither saw the illustrations in the D&D book, but we stuck to what the book claimed as their symbol, their sacred weapon, and very general appearance. The big project lasted from October 2019 to August 2020. Since then, we’ve been putting more research into the real myths and other gods, but these will still form the foundation for the core members of the pantheons and what they’ll look like when the K&K universe begins.

This is an 11-part series presenting all the art anew and talking about the ideas behind it! Presented in the order in which they were done, which is approximately in the order of strongest to weakest according to their rankings in the D&D book. Don’t forget to check out Stacy and Casey’s own pages:

What little research I’ve done on the Egyptian pantheon has brought forth one rather obvious conclusion: that the D&D version of Bast has a lot more in common with Sekhmet than Bast. Now, I don’t have any issue with combining the two catgirl deities together to streamline the pantheon, but why did they call her Bast when she was very much Sekhmet…? I do want to bring Sekhmet back into the story as an actual character. Lots of iconic deities in all three pantheons who were left out of the book, they can be minor characters in the K&K universe.

Her design isn’t quite what I had in mind… as a fuzzy kitty in this dress, she just looks a bit too domestic. I wanted her cat face to be gaunt and feral, and her dress to be… well, somehow more appropriate for a lady of war, there’s some intangible quality that makes the dress look more like that of a suburban mom instead; not sure what that quality is and how to change it. Keeping in mind that I am bringing Sekhmet into the K&K universe, Bast ought to be more domestic than Sekhmet, but… still, not by this much.

In the myths, Hathor does have a cow motif but not usually the actual head of a cow. Yes, it would seem the D&D folks took a lot of creative liberties with Hathor, making her the daughter of Horus and sister of Bast, and as mentioned the one they called Bast was really Sekhmet… both were actually the daughters of Ra and consorts of Horus… I mean, I’m all for making their family trees less tangled, the famously-entangled family trees of the Greek gods seemingly don’t have shit on the Egyptians.

Anyway, with her cow motif, I thus also gave her very mild Hindu motifs - again, not restricting these characters to the cultural motifs of where they actually come from, so they represent the whole world!

This was, perhaps, the only symbol I asked Casey to redo - her first attempt at a cow’s face looked too much like a sheep.

This obscure Titan was included in the D&D Greek pantheon, I assume, due to the need for one themed around trickery and luck. Always needing deities to fit every domain! And for similar reasons, Tyche later became the inspiration for the 4th Edition goddess Avandra.

Both Casey and Stacy count their work on Tyche among their least-favorite designs: Casey felt Tyche’s pentagram was lopsided and uneven, while Stacy thinks she got the perspective on her face all wrong. Neither are really a dealbreaker for me, I only recall my suggestion that she wear a cornucopia-shaped hat and then… having to figure out alongside Stacy what the heck that actually looks like. Good result!

Here’s a bit of world-building lore I decided on: while Gaia and most of her descendants qualify as Titans, the six children of Kronos and Rhea have a different nature and are Olympians - perhaps due to a prophecy that made Kronos paranoid they’d overthrow him. The six Olympians’ divine-born children are also Olympians, but their godly grandchildren, such as Pan here, have a lesser nature and are instead called Arcadians, so named for Pan setting up a fey sanctuary called Arcadia in this universe.

A favorite design of mine - largely due to the novelty of being the only god who appears as a satyr, when so many are human-looking it got a bit dull after a while. The general anatomy of a satyr in the K&K universe will need some work which results in changes to his design, but one particularly brilliant improvisation on Stacy’s part I absolutely adore - zoom in on his eyes and you’ll see he has horizontal, almost rectangular pupils, just like a real goat. That was awesome.

His syrinx, or panpipe, also needs some work. It’s the only weapon he carries and is also his symbol; Casey’s interpretation looked a bit more like a picket fence. I figure Pan invented the syrinx, hence it also being called a panpipe, and the one he carries and uses as his symbol was his prototype, so I figure it’s very primitive and held together with twigs and twine.

Bes in my research seems very different from the other Egyptian gods - there doesn’t seem to be any common iconography of him that most of the Egyptian gods have from the walls of tombs and stuff. Scholars suggest he was perhaps an import to Ancient Egypt from its less-famous southern neighbor, Nubia. And it would seem he wasn’t so much a deity as a good-luck charm, with many people having little stone statues of him in their home to ward off evil.

Regardless, before doing my actual research, I followed along with how the D&D book depicted him; as a hunchbacked dwarf or gnome, ugly but exceedingly cheerful; instead of the furry club tail he has in that book, I gave him more of a dinosaur tail, but still with the pigmentation of his own human skin for a slightly unsettling look.

#TAPAS and Stuff Productions #Keys & Kingdoms #The Deities Project

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 7 years ago

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Royal pt.2 (T’Challa)

Summary: Freya jumps in to protect an old friend.

Warnings: violence

Word count: 3030

Check out the Masterlist for more

After the blast, the survivors were all ushered outside. They feared more explosives were set nearby and their main worry was that this was done by one of us, the Avengers. I knew that was just a bunch of people speculating, but the notion still made me upset.

The Avengers initiative was started by one of the best agents SHIELD has ever had, someone very close to me; Phil Coulson.

Phil served almost as a surrogate father to me after I lost my entire family. I was just another victim of Hydra's insane quest for power, my parents were their obvious targets as SHIELD agents who served undercover in Hydra HQ for almost six years. When my mother got pregnant, they fled from both organizations to keep me safe. They left and never looked back...If they did, they might have seen them coming before it was too late.

The Avengers were meant to be a group of people with special skills, good people, willing to use their abilities to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. We were supposed to be Earth's defenders, the only thing standing between the powerless and the bad guys, not only from our planet, but other's as well. The whole thing worked perfectly, but accidents happen. It happened with us as well in Sokovia, back in Nigeria... we couldn't save everyone and it didn't resonate well with the masses. Truth is, we had a choice between two evils and we chose the lesser one. Sokovia..Ultron..that was on Stark..but we kept our mouth shut and protected him. Nigeria was a combo of Steve's momentary lapse in judgement and Wanda's inexperience, we still tried to keep it under wraps, but people died. These things aren't easy to hide or defend.

When Tony suggested the accords, I wasn't sure what to think or who to look to. Each side tried to persuade me their way was the right one, but I wasn't having any of it. I didn't let my mind get clouded by the ruins of my relationship with Steve, much less by Stark and his guilt. I'm a woman with a mind of my own, with the ability to see good and evil in unconventional shades of grey and I liked to make my own decisions. I never let anyone dictate how I lived my life or push me into something I wasn't fond of, this time wasn't different.

I chose to sign the accords over being sidelined. I chose to keep the initiative running for Phil, for the people who will need protecting in the future, for those who had no idea what lurked in the darkness right before their eyes. I needed Avengers in my life, I needed to keep it alive..to keep him alive. Call me sentimental, but it was a necessary evil. I'd sign a contract that will keep me on a leash for the people running UN or whoever takes over, but at least I'll be able to do my job. Steve didn't see it that way and it made the rift between us far too big to jump over. I was aware pushing this would result in our break up. Losing him was a price I had to pay and I did. He's a man of many virtues, the kind you keep close, but I did the unthinkable and let him go. I knew I'd survive it, I wasn't the type to weep for any guy, because I had self-respect and too much pride.

I looked around for Natasha and found her being taken care of by a physician. I wasn't in the mood to be touched right now, so I turned the other way. I saw T'Challa sitting on a bench, looking stunned. There's a cut on his head, but it wasn't bleeding anymore. He didn't seem very eager to be looked at either, so I figured I'd join him. I sat next to him, but he kept staring at an ornate silver ring. He toyed with it between his fingers, not caring about the events that unfolded around him.

„I'm sorry about your dad.“ I tell him and he glances at me. I knew I sounded cold and robotic, but it's the thought that counts, right?

„In my culture death is not the end. It's more of a... stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green velds where...you can run forever.“ T'Challa says peacefully, but there's a weird undertone that puts me on edge.

„That sounds very peaceful. I wish I shared those views on death.“ I say as he gives me slight nod.

„My father thought so.“ He puts the ring on his finger. „I am not my father.“ He adds and I stand up, putting my hand on his shoulder to keep him down. I knew he was the revenge type, I recognized that part of him very early in our first conversation. My job was to read people and he was good at hiding his personality, but not good enough. I overheard the officers saying Bucky was responsible for this, but I had a hard time believing that he was that far gone. Bucky and I had a...history..not a romantic one, to be clear. I knew him, he wasn't the type to blow up buildings without a kill order from Hydra and last time I checked, he was out of the game.

„T'Challa. Task force will decide who brings in Barnes.“ I say sternly, hoping he'd clam up and stay.

He clenches his fist in response, his gaze switching from the ring to me. I noticed he didn't have that initial smitten look in his eyes anymore. I guess when your parent's killed before you, a part of you dies with them..I know that for a fact.

„Don't bother, Miss Frost. I'll kill him myself.“ He says, determined to do whatever he could to bring justice to his dead father and walks away. I look at his retreating figure, a weird twisting feeling in my stomach making me sick. This wasn't going to end well.

I turn to Nat and notice she's on the phone. I could see her looking around and I knew one of them was talking to her. Steve was my first guess..it kind of hurt that he'd call her over me, but hey, I'm no one to him now anyways...

I pull out a handy little device I took from Tony back at the tower and place it in my ear. The device allowed me hear things a hundred times better than a normal human would and I always kept it with me in case of a spy emergency.

„You two alright?“ I heard his voice. I knew it!

„Ah, yeah, thanks. I got lucky. Freya got hit a little worse than me.“ Frowning she looks around, then stands up noticing me.

„I know how much Barnes means to you. I really do. Stay home. You'll only make this worse. For all of us. Please.“ She pleads as she calls me over. I stand next to her and she puts Steve on speakerphone.

„Are you saying you'll arrest me?“ He questions and I feel a pesky pang of hurt in my chest.

„Not us, but someone will, if you interfere. That's how it works now. Leave it alone, Steve.“ I tell him and he lets out a deep sigh as he hears my voice through the phone.

„Freya, if he's this far gone, I should be the one to bring him in.“ He speaks, this time directly to me, knowing of my past.

„Why?“ Nat asks and I shush her.

„I can help.“ I add.

„No. I'm the one least likely to die trying.“ He answers as he ends his call and I shut my eyes in frustration, unaware of his eyes lingering on me, checking if I was hurt, not far away from us.

„Shit.“ Nat spat out and I sat down, feeling a little dizzy.

„Get me a doctor and lets go.“ I tell her and she rushes to find someone to stitch me up. Steve wasn't the only one who cared about Bucky, but I seemed to be the only one thinking he was innocent. Why would they jump to conclusions based on one blurry photo?

After some stitches and a lot of convincing, the doctor allowed me to leave. A concussion, a bunch of cuts and bruises weren't going to stop me. I had a high tolerance for pain anyways, so I could deal with it. Once I was out of the hospital I called in every favor anyone ever owed me and I tried finding Bucky. To my surprise, I got a confirmation of his position within a few hours. He was in Bucharest today..I knew he was innocent, because how would he just pop out here and then back there at a time frame of only few hours.

I jumped on a helicopter and took off without Natasha. I needed to get to Bucky and warn him of the storm brewing. I had to help him hide, go deep underground.

I got to his place and to my shock I wasn't the only one there. I stumbled once I spotted him in the dark, my mind a little hazy from the concussion. Steve was just as surprised to see me here, dropping a book on the table.

„What are“ He started but I cut him off once I noticed Bucky standing behind him, staring at him.

„You're Steve. I read about you in a museum.“ He tells him and I look around noticing the small apartment we were in. There's a mattress with disheveled covers in a corner and various bits of cheap looking furniture. The kitchen and bedroom are in the same room. The book Steve dropped had tabs of varying colors sticking out from among the pages.

„They've set the perimeter.“ I hear Sam warn him over the radio and I look around finding possible exit routes.

„I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying.“ Steve tells him and I scoff.

„Not the time, Steve.“ I mutter.

„I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore.“ Bucky says looking at me.

„I believe you. I'm here to help.“ I say and I see him relax, just a little bit.

„They're entering the building.“ Sam warns again and I watch the window as a possible escape opening.

„Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive.“ Steve tells him and I roll my eyes.

„Really, Steve?“ I mumble and motion for them to get a move on. I wasn't ready for a head on fight with an army that was coming our way, my injuries stopping my usual forms of combat, but not all of them.

„That's smart. Good strategy.“ Bucky says and I roll my eyes again.

„Enough with the self-pity. We can do that once you're safe.“ I state, putting my hands on my waist.

„They're on the roof. I'm compromised.“ Sam shouts and I sigh. It was too late to go out peacefully now.

„This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck.“ Steve says calmly and I almost scream in frustration. It certainly didn't have to end in a fight, but his chatty nature got us in this mess. If it were up to me we'd already be five blocks away.

„It always ends in a fight.“ Bucky replies, looking at me, knowing I'd understand. I give him a reassuring nod and prepare for all hell to break loose.

„5 seconds.“ Sam lets us know.

„You pulled me from the river. Why?“ Steve keeps questioning and I punch his arm as he frowns at me.

„I don't know.“ Bucky responds.

„3 seconds!“ Sam shouts.

„Yes, you do.“ Steve says, certain of it.

„Breach! Breach! Breach!“ Sam confirms as a grenade crashes through the window. Bucky kicks it to Steve, and he smothers it with his shield. My eyes widen and I prepare to fight.

The cop slams the battering ram against the door. Bucky shields himself with the mattress against an attack from the window. He blocks the door with a table as cops swing in on cables. Steve pulls the rug from under a policeman, sending him flying. Bucky slams another policeman into the wall, while I join in on the action kicking an officer with my left leg, knocking him out in one move.

„This hurt me more than it hurt him.“ I tell Steve as he looks at me, his mouth open in shock. He smiles at my remark and turns to see Bucky slamming more officers into walls, hard.

„Buck, stop! You're gonna kill someone.“ He warns him, but Bucky ignores him. He slams Steve down and punches a hole in the floor.

„I'm not gonna kill anyone.“ He says and grabs a backpack from under the floorboards and throws it out of the window. Bucky and Steve get behind Steve's shield to avoid gunfire, while I use a table as protection. Bucky shoves Steve and he knocks a cop over. Bucky holds up his metal hand and repels bullets, then slams a cop into shelves, the man losing consciousness in moments. Bucky picks up a large cement brick and slams it into a cop and I gasp at his ability to knock everyone out so quickly. I wasn't judging, I was admiring.

Meanwhile, Steve fights a cop on the balcony. A cop shoots around the door outside and Bucky punches through the wall beside the door. On the other side, a cop descends through a sky-light on a zip wire. Bucky grabs the cop's gun and slams him into the wall. Bucky bashes a couple of cops with the battering ram as more of the police team hurry up the stairwell. Bucky jumps on the zip-line-guy and swings down a level and I follow his lead, leaving Steve behind.

I heard the cops alerting the others that Bucky broke out and I knew things were only going to get worse.

Steve grabs the radio crushing it in his hands and I give him a small smile. He returns it for a split second and jumps down a level, where we were fighting. For a moment, it felt as if nothing changed between us. Bucky tosses one of the cops over the railing and Steve catches him, stopping the cop from falling. He looks at Bucky wearily.

„Come on, man.“

„Always picking up after him, huh?“ I say using a gun I took from a cop to knock another one out.

Steve throws the cop up onto the landing. Bucky breaks a banister and swings down on it. Steve hurls a cop over his shoulders, while I ran after Bucky who lays into jet more cops and takes them all out in seconds. A cop aims at Bucky and Steve knocks the gun from his hands with his shield which sticks in the wall. Bucky leaps down the stairwell and catches onto a railing. Steve pulls his shield out of the wall. Bucky climbs up then runs along a corridor and leaps off a balcony. He tumbles onto the lower roof of the neighboring building where he finds his backpack. He picks it up and runs. I prepare to do the same, but I was aware the drop was too much for me as I was too weak to jump that distance. I grunt before I feel a familiar pair of arms wrap around me.

„Need some help?“ He whispers in my ear and I hold back a shiver that spread through my body.

I hear a fight on the roof and notice a muscular man clad entirely in black, almost like a Black Panther, slamming into Bucky from behind, knocking him down. He has a full face mask with pointed ears. He extends his fingers and sharp claws pop out and I look at him, worried he might actually hurt Bucky. I flicked Steve's ear to make him snap out of it and get us over there. The Black Panther attacks Bucky with sweeping kicks and slashes. Bucky fights back but is kicked into a wall and I notice how Black Panther swipes his claws and spins gracefully. The way he moved reminded me of someone, but I wasn't quite sure of who, yet. Bucky narrowly avoids being slashed, he holds up a metal bar to protect himself. Falcon swoops in from the sky and Steve runs, leaping from the balcony. I hold my breath, holding onto him tighter, hoping Sam could take us both. Just as he's about to drop us on the roof a chopper flies up firing a machine gun at the two fighting. Black Panther lunges at Bucky with his claws, but Bucky grabs his wrists. The ammo bounces off Black Panther's armored suit and I open my mouth in awe. That is so damn cool. I want one of those!

„Hey! You!“ I call out and the man turns swiftly in my direction.

„Yes! You!“ I shout out.

„Leave him alone!“ I tell him confidently and use my special skill-set in hopes of catching him off guard.

I focused and manipulated a nearby storm drain, pulling the water closer to me in moments. It was easy to freeze the water and fling it like a bomb at the stranger. Just before it hit him I made it explode and it fell in shards of ice around him, bouncing off his suit. I knew it wouldn't hurt him, but I had something else on my mind. Melting it again I created water in which he found himself in, looking at me confused at the sudden display of power. I used that momentary distraction to freeze the puddle and keep him grounded. I heard him clawing at it as I rushed after the boys who were already running.

„Better luck next time, kitty!“ I shouted before joining the guys, sending a wink to an angry Panther left on the roof.

#tchalla #tchalla x reader #tchalla x oc #black panther #captain america civil war #captain america x reader #captain america #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #tchalla fic #Bucky Barnes #black panther x reader #black panther fanfiction #black panther fic

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