phantsi - Tumblr blog

[phantsi]

      if night city whispers about a phantom, they don’t mean a ghost. if the streets murmur about a hellion who has no driver, they aren’t referencing christine like some classic movie junkie. if someone mentions hearing a roar echoing down the highways, it’s not a conspiracy theory. there’s plenty of highly advanced cars in the year 2077, but none like the quadra v-tech. sure, the car has undergone changes since its prototype days and being renamed turbo-r doesn’t help get you out of a possible speeding ticket. call it whatever you want, the design doesn’t matter. what matters is the one operating it and despite a driver being present at times, you might see the vacancy sooner or later. no one really knows what kind of ai possesses the v-tech and how it seems linked to those taxis roaming around, but one thing is for certain.

                                                 it’s a road starved beast.

independent & private delamain / quadra v-tech from cyberpunk 2077

programmed and loved by shysie

established: march 25th, 2020

[phantsi]

astrapure​:

     She’s risen from behind the desk rather swiftly, hands up to reveal no weaponry on her at the moment; though abilities would state she doesn’t require one. He’s not quite familiar to her, but not a stranger either - his face is one she’s possibly seen on television before, but who he was exactly - she’s not sure. “Explain quickly - ok, so um… I meant to go to Starbucks, took the wrong turn, ended up in here. The rest is a little complicating unless you believe in me making rifts to wherever I want to go.” A momentary pause, then -      “ did they move the Starbucks? I could have sworn there was one here, or maybe it’s a few blocks away…”

    did they move starbucks? the question strikes a small nerve within the king that he never knew existed until now. perhaps all those cat jokes were for good reason considering he looked like one that was about to pounce out of confusion and annoyance. he steps around his desk, vibranium nails ticktickticking against polished oak. ❛ perhaps if they moved starbucks into a bedroom and beneath my desk, then yes. however, rift making should not affect the eyes to the point they no longer register the general surroundings.❜  t’challa pauses, arches a brow and tilts his head to one side. still not heavily convinced of her story, the king does seem more relaxed if that’s even possible given the claw taps still bouncing off the walls of the room.

[phantsi]

There are no words. Thank you Chadwick. For everything.

[phantsi]

i want to take the time to write this and hopefully inspire those around me when it comes to what a particular person and character can do for people. this has been sitting in my drafts because even at this moment, it's so hard for me to come to terms and accept this loss. and because of this, i have really realized how important people are in our lives and why we get attached to them so deeply. first off, i made this muse a week before chadwick's passing and i was so nervous to actually go through with it. and then i remembered how much i loved t'challa and not just any t'challa from marvel, but the one that chadwick brought to life. i was always captivated by how chadwick brought characters to life with such a genuine and believable personality in every performance he did. he was a writer, producer and more importantly, he brought to life every role he played because it was so much more than acting. it was about connecting with people who watched and felt like they could relate. and black panther was a character i truly felt i could relate to and wanted to cherish with all my heart. when we write muses, it's always for a reason. but the bond doesn't just come from a role that the person plays, but themselves as well. we start to get to know the real man or woman behind the camera and we feel like we know them. i have never met chadwick in my life but his passing hit me as if i have known him beyond the movie roles and tv screens. some people say oh it's just a character, they aren't real. yes, they may be a fictional character, but we choose our muses because we find a part of ourselves within them. and outside of these characters are real people we find ourselves getting attached to and cherish, love and find inspiration from. t'challa is a muse that brings me joy, happiness and each development i make with him is enough to make me smile. and the man that made it possible also makes me smile and feel joy. i contemplated deactivating and never ever think about this blog again. but i realized that this is a piece of chadwick he left behind. t'challa is a footprint that will always keep me connected to such a great man that i love and watched strive so hard to be a great human and a role model to so many. he was strong, brave and most of all humble until the end. he lived his life and we got to watch him live it. and even though he's not here with us physically, we can watch him live through the movies and memories he's left behind.

so for those within the marvel roleplay community and even those outside of it. cherish not only your muse, but the people who brought them to life. hold on to that love, happiness and inspiration they bring each time you write a thread, plot with friends and even make beautiful edits. when you watch their interviews, see their smiles and even the sound of their voices, please cherish it all. and i know we have our moments where we sometimes abandon a muse for another, it's okay. cherish it all. these are footprints left behind by beautiful souls who made them come to life and become real to us.

one day, i may retire from this blog but i will never delete the memories i made. and while i plan on continuing to write this character and pray that i do chadwick justice on the portrayal in the future, when i am gone do not forget this post. i really want you all to love your writing, your muses and more importantly yourselves. never let anyone ruin what you have here and never forget why you started in the first place. keep following the footprints left beind.

[phantsi]

romcnovc​:

* @phantsi​  said: ‘ i won’t leave you behind. ’           love ♥ starters //  accepting

      GETTING STABBED WAS NOT QUITE FUN, no, not fun at all. The redhead winced, leaning against the wall for support as she pressed her hand into her ribcage, trying to stop the bleeding as much as possible until they could get OUT of there. It had been nothing but a trap, a way to lure them into the building - someone had betrayed the SHIELD. Again. And even though Natalia knew something was wrong, she never expected it to turn out like this.

“Thankfully you are not in command this time.” Natalia teased, a smirk painting on her lips. Her blouse was SOAKED with blood, some of it dripping onto the floor - the wound was not the most IMPORTANT thing at the moment though. Her healing factor was going to take care of it pretty soon - there were more pressing matters at hand. “I have been tasked with your protection, under any form of an attack onto your ROYAL ASS - I am in charge.” The redhead arched a brow, almost daring him to object. They both knew she was right. If not Dora Milaje, the Black Widow was his guard. He was not the BLACK PANTHER right now, he was a KING in trouble.

“Take this.” The Widow handed him the car keys to their vehicle - it was heavily armed with THICK, bulletproof coating. “When we reach the end of the corridor and walk out that door, there will be at least seven men waiting for us.” She explained, this was a child’s play - the techniques the BAD GUYS used were so old-school that even the Widow thought them silly. She had been TRAINED for this. Couldn’t they at least surprise her with something? Alright though, the stabbing was quite a shock. “I am going to take care of them, you run to the car, start the engine and drive around to pick me up, then we are out of here.”

    object he does. he’s not a conceited king in any way and there are some orders that should be followed without question. and had she not already been bleeding, spilling blood because of a trap meant to take his life, he’d have perhaps given the order a bit more consideration. but be it the dora milaje or the black widow herself, no one could make the king of wakanda run. to back down and allow others to fight his own battles. t’challa can feel the atmosphere change, the alarms sending a cold chill down his spine as every nerve tingle with adrenaline. who was he? ❛ what kind of king do you take me for? that for even the smallest of second, i would ever run? all the battles i have won, the lives lost because i couldn’t protect them in my weakness and absence? the death of my father because i wasn’t quick enough, my uncle...nearly my sister and mother and you dare tell me to run?❜  anger swells, hurt in his lungs and each breath stings like a fire raging from within. there’s not much time to argue, but for some reason, time stands still and ticks away far too sluggish when it does decide to start moving again. ❛ the black panther do not run! and neither do a king! be it robes or a catsuit, it does not make a difference as to who i am as a person. so do not ever tell me to run! and protector or not, i am the king.❜

      despite his harshness, it comes from somewhere protective and the utter fear of her dying on him. he won’t apologize later for his reaction because if it means saving her life while she saves his, then he’d happily do it again. in one swift motion, t’challa pushes away the offered keys and tears enough fabric from his robes to wrap around the widow’s side and tie it off tight enough to keep her from bleeding out and being unable to fight properly.  ❛ we are stronger together.❜  he murmurs, stepping back from her and turning to face the corridor. it was a lengthy stretch, but the panther doesn’t seem to be calculating the time it would take to make it out the door. no, he’s calculating the time it would take shuri to hack into the car and drive it around to pick them up. after all, a car with no driver was just as effective as one with it. t’challa contacts his sister, urgently asking for her to meet them right at the door and mow down anyone who stood in the way of making it happen before returning his attention to natalia once more.  ❛ let’s go. we don’t know who our enemy is and cannot afford another surprise attack while unprepared. be smart about this.❜

[phantsi]

romcnovc​:

      THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BLEND IN with their surroundings, supposed to pull as little attention towards themselves as possible for their next mission. She had to make sure T’Challa would take different clothes with him than his regular, royal robes. A King of Wakanda walking down the streets of downtown Seattle would be literally asking to get shot between the eyes. THEY NEEDED A COVER. And so it came to this, Natalia with a load of freshly-washed clothes from a second-hand shop that she had went to early in the morning and picked up a few items ( A LOT OF ITEMS ) Most of them were just for laughs, like the HAWAII SHIRT with a ridiculous pattern that could only fit onto an older gentleman on vacation in Hawaii. AND NO ONE ELSE. 

Was she actually watching the whole time as the man took off the shirt? YES. Was she even going to pretend she was shy and bashful about it? NOPE. The rehead arched a brow, unable to hold back another round of laughter before she shook her head in amusement “Well I already got you half-naked in my room.” She teased “So IF I’m flirting, it’s working very well.” The Widow then rolled her eyes before nodding him to the bathroom so he could go and change fully into the sweatpants.  She can’t help it though - the moment T’Challa walks out she is doubled over in LAUGHTER, enjoying the sight way more than she thought she would.

“You look amazing.” Natalia agreed, looking at the man with a bit of a judgement in her eyes - they needed to truly blend in. The seatpants and some sport shoes would do the work, but he still needed a different hoodie - the ‘foxy grandpa’ would not do. “But try this one.” She handed the King a simple black tshirt and then a jeans jacket to go with the outfit. “We don’t want any foxy grandmas throwing themselves at you while you’re supposed to be my boyfriend.”

      ah, much better in terms of simplicity and style. t’challa decides that the whole dress up game was fun while it lasted and there’s no way in hell he’ll ever agree to it again, even if there’s a gun held to his head. he begins the usual routine of taking the hoodie off and sliding the black tshirt on and the jean jacket, adjusting the clothing so it looks neat and like it was styled on purpose with the loose sweats. this mission was one he’d never get used to and that was being someone’s boyfriend. nakia would honestly laugh at his expression to the whole thing and how awkward he seemed each time the word was mentioned, like a poor schoolboy who’s hand is being held for the first time by the popular girl. ❛ i do not know why you chose me instead of the captain or even banner. i see the way he looks at you.❜  the king offers a teasing smile towards the widow, tossing the hoodie aside to join the other discarded clothing. his only added acessory being his necklace placed around his neck.  ❛ and also the way you look at him.❜

   his time around the avengers has helped him learn what kind of people they are when the masks and capes come off. it wasn’t just a job filled with coworkers, but friends who had built relationships with one another and didn’t seem to have issues expressing these feelings with one another? t’challa on the other hand flushes in the face from being a pretend boyfriend and usually ignores any sort of romantic affections for some sake he’s not sure who it belongs to yet.

      natalia has always been bold in her actions, never shying away from a damn thing. no wonder she can just say the word boyfriend so casually and not be awkward with the mission. the king has no clue why she chose him and truthfully, he doesn’t want to know or else things will become more awkward and he won’t function properly. god only knows how he dated someone as perfect as nakia, twice, and still get butterflies at the thought of being an actual boyfriend or trying to be the best pretend boyfriend. ❛ either way, i am honored to be yours for the night. ❜

[phantsi]

reactoric​:

Funny thing about gravity–it’s a bitch that is completely without mercy for ignorance. No matter how tired you are when you provoke it’s wrath? It’s coming for you. Exceptions be damned. So rings true for Tony as he makes his way into the room and fails to notice he’s not cleared the door all the way. Head down in a book he was using for research regardless of his trip upstairs, one he’d taken hundreds of times enough to know like the back of his hand, the ‘genius’ turns at what he thinks is the right moment and comes face to face with the edge of the door. A stumbling step backwards and he avoids it. Book clattering to the floor as he grabs onto the stand to keep himself from biting over. Everything’s all well as he clenches his teeth and his bottom lip pulls back to bare a row of clamped white in a ‘that was close’ grimace.

Until he sees the wobbling lamp about to fall over and his arm jerks out to catch it. There was a face it was heading towards that Tony would beat the hell out of anyone for ruining. Metal lamp, his own doing, gravity or a mister of all thee above? No difference. Wouldn’t be the first time he kicked his own ass. Until Count T’Challa rises up from his slumber like some new remake of Nosferatu after catching the damn thing before he can. “Funny thing about that–did you know it was first the door and then almost the lamp–but then I—,” Tony trails off when he notices the frown. Without meaning to, his face takes on the same expression. “Umm..I got the first part. But if you’re going to insult me? I demand you pick a language I know. There’s a few in the mixed bag of foreign tongues I—.” He pauses. “Not literal tongues—haven’t lost my mind that far yet. Give me a few years. I keep—,” his pointer juts up and he runs it across his mouth with his thumb like a zipper. Get out. That was the original demand. Oops. Stammering for words? Not needed. Right, right. Check. Point FINALLY grasped. His thumb juts over his shoulder and he turns to go without another word—for right this second???? 

     ❛ on second thought, you should stay.❜  his annoyance seems to casually fade away and a hand reaches out so fingers can pinch the man’s sleeve to halt his movements. he finally turns his head to look at tony, a yawn escaping him in the process and he fights the urge to sink back into the couch for another well deserved nap.  ❛ last thing i need is for you to lose a battle against the door on your way out. ❜  meant to be a joke coming from the stoic king even though there’s little indication and one has to wonder if he’s serious about the whole damn statement. much like telling stark to get out and then stopping him before he actually can -- why did he stop him? t’challa decides not to linger on that thought and opts for letting go instead, motioning for the spot next to him on the couch.  ❛ you were coming in here for a reason, so i might as well inquire about what that could be, given the trouble it caused.❜ 

      lamp nearly to the face and one barely avoided disaster later, it almost seems like a normal encounter between the pair. he’s sure that tony rambles in his presence for many unknown reasons and his mishap of an entrance was a natural tony stark collision course, but it’s amusing to the panther nonetheless. he smiles internally, all cheshire and wicked, yet on the outside he’s biting his bottom lip and raising curious brows because he seriously can’t believe that this is the man his people warned him about. he’s a mess, they said. a trainwreck, they swore. even shuri was certain that iron man was probably a walking time bomb and disappointment with a brilliant mind. warned as t’challa may have been, here he is. asking a man to stay when he probably was never going to get out in the first place. well, it’s nice to beat him to the punch and ruin that satisfaction.  ❛ or do you want to tell me about those tongues you do not have?❜

[phantsi]

CHADWICK BOSEMAN as T’Challa in Black Panther (2018).

[phantsi]

@reactoric​ said:  “ well, shit. ”

     he knew tony had entered the room from his scent, the cologne is heavy and pleasant enough for t’challa even hum in his sleep. a familiar musk that should have allowed him the pleasure to continue snoozing on the couch behind the door, arm thrown over his eyes and one knee bent to compensate for his long leg length and lack of space to freely stretch out. then he hears it. the sound of the door smacking the nightstand and that godawful teetering of metal resonating in his ears before he literally hears tony’s breath catch in his throat, the scrambling to catch the fucking lamp that is falling and heading straight for the king’s face. lucky for stark, the panther is quick enough to use his free hand and catch the object before any damage is done. for a moment, t’challa continues to snooze and prays to the goddess that sleep can overcome him once more. oh no. the exhale of tony and his little well shit is enough for the king to sit up. like a vampire in a coffin. the lamp is neatly placed back where it belongs, calmly and judging from the way t’challa looks over at the other gives away no hostility. well, until he notices tony rubbing his own head from smacking it on the damn lamp. ❛ ...how did you hit your head on the lamp when it was the door..❜  he trails off, a frown forming now.  ❛ get out, wena ntlekele.❜

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

@reactoric​ said: “ please, tell me you have a plan. ”  

     had the circumstances been different, the king wouldn’t have worried about the outcome of the situation. but the mission was involving stark of all people and thus meant another life he valued was at stake. his silence in the matter usually goes unnoticed by the rest of the team, except his pacing around the table must have put them on edge and caught tony’s attention that t’challa had something to say. with them all at a loss, only he remained without a failed suggestion. when the older man speaks to him, he takes a deep breath and folds his arms across his chest. ❛ i will accompany you on retrieving the weapons while captain and agent romanoff create a diversion. while i am certain you can go alone and handle yourself well in battle, you will need someone to watch your back in case things change.❜  the silence in the room has the king looking at each individual before landing back on tony.  ❛ it will work.❜

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

@loyaltyworn​ said:  “ i wish i knew how to talk about it. ” (maybe when bucky's in wakanda? also hi. i love you for this blog!)

      all was forgiven; it had been for so many months now. a year? t’challa haven’t kept count how many steps have carried him across the fields of wakanda to sit and talk with the man he swore he’d kill for the death of his father. now, he would kill anyone who tried to come for him and take him away. luckily, all has been quiet and it seems bucky can live a normal life with his people instead of trying to figure out where he fits in --- the king is happy for him honestly and the smile he greeted him with each time was never false. they would sit and talk for hours, a curiosity the panther has as to what kind of man bucky is and why steve was so protective over his life. this evening, the guilt returns. he can’t tell if the man doesn’t want forgiveness or if he’s unsure that the king means his words. how can he talk about something he had no control over? zemo was responsible, not him. t’challa takes a deep breath, surveys the outskirts of wakanda and takes in the sunset not many are blessed to see. ❛ when i brought you here to undo the control HYDRA had over your mind, it was from the heart. i swore to the captain that i would keep you safe and make sure that you’d live an honest, better life and it be of your choosing. however, this new life shouldn’t be atoning for the things that have been forgiven time and time again.❜ t’challa pulls his gaze from the sun’s rays, peering over at bucky to take in his features.  ❛ it will be difficult living with knowing, but i have learned that moving forward as a better person in the future eases the pain of the past. i want you to be at peace with yourself.❜

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

@romcnovc​ said:  "Okay, try this one on." ( bc u gave me an idea of t'challa wearing gARBAGE clothing so give me the panther king in sweatpants or a hoodie or a hawaii shirt or like anything. )

      ❛ come on now, nat. is this really necessary?❜  the wakandan asks, humor laced in his tone as he unbuttons the horrendous hawaiian shirt that took him ages to fix onto his form correctly. buttons were...primitive compared to the robes with zippers, all form fitting and moved with him instead of hanging so loose in the wind. by the time natalia has gotten her laugh, she’s tossing something else that only catlike reflexes can catch while being preoccupied with such a tedious piece of attire. bast, he’s only ever used dress shirts during his meetings in america, but at least he could marvel in the tightness and solid color for the time being. this one? not so much and there’s no way in hell he could color coordinate three shades red and four shades green. once he’s shirtless, the king examines the soft fabric of the hoodie and also the red words.  ❛ foxy grandpa? seriously? i can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or into old men.❜  t’challa takes the sweatpants from her as he steps out of sight, slipping the baggy pants on which hang dangerously off his hips and then the hoodie, getting caught up on the drawstrings along the way that he tucks into his chest. when nat asks for him to step out, he reluctantly sways into view, humiliation creeping in as he catches sight of his reflection and the widow laughs. it’s...certainly an unfamiliar sight of the king dressed so normal and not in expensive fabrics tailored for him.  ❛ what are you laughing at? anything i wear, i make it look good.❜  even if he looks like someone’s trash king.

UNPROMPTED.

[phantsi]

@toscrve​ said:  ‘i’m just tired.’

     taciturn behind the blonde, the king takes his response and ponders it for only a moment. he has an answer and although he’s certain steve doesn’t need to hear it, t’challa never sugarcoats a damn thing. his bluntness is what makes him who he is and often times, the reason for others to find a solution to their own internal issues. he notes all the paperwork and plans strewn about the mans desk along with the bags under his eyes and stressed knuckles gripping at silky locks. overwhelmed and overworked was never good for someone with the world counting on their every move. the panther stops his prowl, pivots so he’s able to gather all those papers into a neat pile. ❛ to the people, you are captain america. protector, hero, guardian and super solider. that man is expected to carry the weight of those around him and he’s never suppose to allow his knees to buckle under the pressure. after all, he’s suppose to be everyone’s morale.❜  t’challa grabs the various pens and places them in the cup holder, tone suddenly becoming a lot firmer than earlier.  ❛ you are not just a captain or just a super solider. to your friends, you are steve rogers and a human being who needs a shoulder to lean on as much as anyone else. you have friends who would die for you, bleed for you and refuse to let you take on the world alone.❜  and as fast as his tone grew hard, it becomes as soft as the touch he offers to steve’s shoulder.  ❛ what i am saying is, rest. the world will still be here when you wake and so will your friends.❜  so will he.

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

@astrapure​ said:  “ let me explain. ”

      her reply comes after t’challa has entered his quarters within stark tower and sensed the stranger hiding behind his desk. claws are out, stance practically territorial as if he’s waiting to pounce if she’s a threat. he doesn’t remember seeing much of her wandering around and the king was quite positive that he’d be the last person she’d be wanting to snoop on given his title and lack of even becoming much of an acquaintance during their time within the same room. ❛ explain quickly.❜  comes his only reply, steps being taken as his eyes narrow on her face. what was she looking for? did she not understand that his room was off limits? was she a spy? an enemy? all the thoughts bombard him at once and he refuses to be denied an answer.

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

@abvnai​ said:  “  i like seeing you smile.  ”

     ❛ enjoy it while you can as i try to not make it a habit.❜  he doesn’t seem to take her compliment serious at first, continuing to make his way towards the throne room. like half the other times, t’challa’s smile came from either a tease thrown his way or being asked to do something absurd and saying no a million times until he ended up partially caving anyway. it’s the latter with beau and he hadn’t noticed the beam she got when his lips curled up into a genuine smile that made him look almost boyish. it wasn’t one of those sly, witty and devious smiles he’d show during meetings or towards people who had no idea that t’challa sarcasm was a well thought out and satanically crafted plan ---  otherwise, he would show no reaction and offer no reply to the taunt if he had none. beau keeps staring and the king pauses, smile fading but still evident enough for her enjoyment.  ❛ my answer is still no and before you think of asking my sister to ask me, it is no.❜  off he goes yet again, departing behind the double doors.

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

@toendwar​ said:  “ we can’t keep going on like this. ”

     he can. he has to. defeat meant the death of more than just himself, but the death of his people and future generations. what king would he be if he curled up and died? ❛ do not give up on yourself, not now! as long as we breathe and blood still flow through our veins, we have to keep going! not for ourselves, but for the people counting on us!❜  the copper bile builds up and t’challa spits it away, spits away the pain and ache in his bones along with it. there was a reason they were both heroes, guardians and protectors for those unable to fight. he wouldn’t allow her to come so far and fall apart right before his very eyes. a hand reaches out to find her shoulder, mindful of the bruises and cuts as he squeezes to make her focus solely on his face.  ❛ we can do this, okay? we have to or else it will all be for nothing. ❜  and he cannot let all their wounds and fighting spirit be for nothing. call him stubborn, foolish or both for his courage to keep on going strong, but he believes that they both are going to win this war or die trying.

misc sentence starters

[phantsi]

romcnovc​:

      SWIFT MOVEMENT AND A SPLIT OF A SECOND later and the redhead was sitting up on top of the kitchen counter, her bare feet hanging above the ground. She brought her overly-sweet, milky coffee up to her lips and took a sip, playfully glaring at the King over the rim of the mug. This was nice. This was something she did NOT expect to happen between the two of them. Judging by their first meeting, by the reaction that Okoye had towards the Widow, Natalia was pretty sure that the Dora Milaje were going to impale her on their weapons sooner rather than later. INSTEAD - here she was, poking fun of their King. 

The redhead was not a person who was easy to be around. Sure, most of the Avengers were comfortable around her, sure, some of the agents of the SHIELD were as well. But if you took into consideration how many people she come to know through the decades of her WORK — it was a very small percent that would say she was actually ‘SOMEWHAT NICE’. The Black Widow was not a creature that needed company. Not a part of a pack. Not a part of a family. She had survived dozens upon DOZENS of years all on her own, with the constant touch of biting cold of Siberian weather. And that was alright. That was what she had been MADE to be. One of a kind. ONE, OUT OF TWENTY-EIGHT.

She grinned easily, effortlessly, though - when T’Challa mentioned Tony’s decision-making skills. “He might not be the BEST at decisions.” Natalia agreed with the statement, childishly swaying her feet back and forth “But no one said HE had to be the one to make all the decisions, Stark could gather the best and you can only choose a few to actually push out to the market.” The redhead shrugged her shoulders as if it was not a big deal - it really wasn’t. “—aren’t you already old?” Natalia teased, looking the King up and down with an arched brow, tilting her head to the side and as if she was judging his appearance “Cat’s don’t reach beyond like 15 years, you must be a grandpa already.” She could barely hold back a laugh that threatened to spill “NO WONDER you had trouble with sneaking up on me.”

      he was not the easiest man to understand nor get along with himself. most people assumed his silence was arrogance and his humbleness false, a facade put up to mask the fact he had everything. did he though? prince t’challa wasn’t raised like all the normal children of wakanda who only had to focus on things within their age ranges. he had to to become a man as soon as he could stand on two feet and walk --- groomed to become a protector, a leader, a king. privileges halted what and where t’challa did and went. his father made sure studies were perfected, combat outstanding and etiquette fit for a throne. not a day would go by where t’challa wasn’t dressed regally, head held high and shoulders pushed back. all his life, he intimidated those who dared stepped within his line of sight and because of it, the panther was alone. and then w’kabi came along and days of silence were no more. it was sad, really, how he can count on one hand how many friends he had currently. even with the avengers, they seem on edge when he steps into the room to observe. shuri seems to have better luck in the talkative department with the heroes than he does and she’s the princess.

     buried somewhere under the assumptions was a man capable of cracking jokes and even smiling at the dumbest suggestions. where people would find tony’s sarcasm a pain in the ass, t’challa finds the man to be amusing. he has so much and also so little because wealth cannot offer comfort and security of the heart and mind. the widow was solitary as much as t’challa but it did not mean they didn’t enjoy companionship  -- they just didn’t need it. there was a difference not many comprehended. ❛ very well, i will speak with him later toda--❜  t’challa pauses at her sudden ( insult oh my goddess ) question about his age. he blinks once, twice, thrice before bringing the coffee cup back up to his lips and taking a rather long sip as she continues to judge his appearance and possible reaction. 

      there is none. the king still looks pleased with the conversation, like he’s won a prize and choosing from a great selection. he pulls the mug halfway down from his mouth, staring into the brown liquid absentmindedly before commenting.  ❛ did you know that the lifespan of a black widow is one to three years? considering your resilience to defy scientific statistics, you are technically ancestral dust by now. so no, i cannot sneak up on particles.❜  a smile is offered, sweet and innocent as if he’s just stated a casual fact.