#i had to update this after seeing black panther

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 2: Raise Your Chin and Howl

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader Word count: 9.7K Chapters: 2/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: The actions of others leads to chaos at the compound, and after Klaue returns to deal with the aftermath you're surprised to learn that his reasons for being upset aren't what you think, and you finally have to admit some things that you've been denying.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Injury, Workplace Injury, Mention of Blood, Reference to Guns, Insecurity (Reader is an Idiot), Light Angst, Smut, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Reference to Masturbation (M), Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Oral Sex (M receiving), Brief Rough Oral, Cock Worship, Messy Blowjob, Mouth Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Hair Holding/Pulling, Guided Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Teasing, Praise Kink, Porn With Plot, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

AN: Welcome back, friends! It's been quite a while since I updated this one, but I'm excited to finally bring you so more of these two! it wasn't so much that this one got away from me, but what I wanted (and needed) to do with it was getting more involved, and ultimately I'm happy with how this ended up turning out. Especially since I also accidentally wrote a holiday "interlude" story that comes after this but before what was supposed to be the next chapter (which is now chapter four), which was simultaneously challenging and helpful in finding the right balance in this part as things progress.

As always, thank you for reading and to everyone who has commented or reblogged so far, and I am unendingly grateful to those who have provided encouragement and support through this writing of this story. I hope that you enjoy! 💕

AO3 Link

Title is from "Hands Like Roots" by The Builders and the Butchers

And if thee should die tonight Well it won't be without a sound When your hands move like roots Making their way through the ground

The afternoon is crisp but bright when you step outside, the sun actively working to melt much of the late autumn snow that had fallen overnight. 

You’d only gone out to take a quick inventory of the oxygen and argon stock, but when you make your way past the loading dock to get to the storage cages you see something that makes you pause and do a double take.

On the compound’s property there are three industrial propane tanks that power and heat the facility, and today they were scheduled to be refilled before the snow properly settles in the mountains making the roads difficult to access during winter.

The refilling had already been completed and the tankers should have been long on their way, so you’re surprised when you see what appears to be a fuel transfer being done between the two bobtail trucks, which is illegal except in special circumstances, and making it more concerning they're also uncomfortably close to the loading dock. 

On top of that, as far as you’re aware this compound isn’t licensed to allow truck to truck transfers at all - something that would normally only be done at the refilling plant - making it doubly illegal

And while this might not be a facility where “legality” is necessarily a top concern, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still dangerous and incredibly stupid. 

“What are you doing?” You blurt out, standing stock-still as you stare at Anatoly, the man who seems to be directing what’s happening. You weren’t necessarily on friendly terms with the Sokovian man, but you had chatted occasionally and he’d seemed to have more sense than this.

“We didn’t want to do it right next to the big tanks.” He gestures across the yard.

You continue to stare, perplexed. 

“Ok, well, you shouldn’t be doing it here at all, but now you’re right next to the building, and the five pound tanks -” 

“It was the only place flat enough for both trucks.”

“- are a lot closer than those big ones.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” He brushes you off, starting to get visibly frustrated that you won’t let it go.

Changing tacks you turn to one of the drivers who’s in conversation with Milo, a welder you recognize from another shift.

“Hey, you know you’re not supposed to be doing this here, right?”

“He doesn’t know how, so I’m doing it for him,” Anatoly replies before the driver can answer himself. “You’re making a big deal from nothing.”

“Why are you doing it at all? Unless there’s an emergency you can’t just -”

“I’ve done it before.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Listen, they both would've had to go back to their plant, but now one can go straight to the next job.”

“So let me get this straight: Doing a favour for someone whose job doesn’t have anything to do with you is a good enough reason to create a potentially dangerous situation here? I don’t think that Klaue will love hearing that.”

“You’re not going to tell him.” His annoyed demeanor quickly shifts, his expression going icy.

“No? Why wouldn’t I? You’re doing something incredibly stupid and I think that he should-”

“So you’re going to snitch on me?” He sneers.

“About this? Yeah, I guess I am. And if you’re concerned about him finding out then you must have at least enough common sense to-”

“I don’t need common sense to know that you- ”

“Jesus Christ, would you let me finish a fucking sentence!”

Your voice surprises you and to Anatoly’s credit he actually shuts up, scowling like a petulant teenager who’s realizing that they’re not going to be able to intimidate their way out of trouble. 

The other workers who had been milling around and watching half-interestedly now straighten up and turn towards the trucks.

“You.” Gesturing at both drivers, pleased that they at least appear to be somewhat chastised. 

“You are supposed to be in control at all times. These trucks are your responsibility from start to finish and you’re letting him do something that’s illegal just to save a bit of time?”

“He offered!” The first one exclaims.

“Which he shouldn’t have, but you should have said no and moved on.”

You turn back to Anatoly whose mouth is downturned in an almost comical grimace. 

“And you may think this is no big deal but I very much doubt that Klaue would appreciate you being so flippant about potentially damaging his operation.”

He looks like he wants to say something else but bites his tongue, his stare still condescending even though he knows you’re right and has no argument left. 

At this point, and while you wouldn’t be surprised to learn it, you’re not yet aware that there’s a crack in the hose near to the end connected to the receiving truck. Before you’d even gone outside propane vapour had been steadily leaking out, the only indication that there was a problem the occasional whiff of mercaptan - faint and not out of the ordinary from a typical delivery.

Normally this wouldn’t be an issue and the vapours would simply disperse since you’re outdoors, but it’s unusually calm today with next to no breeze to move the air, allowing the heavier than air propane molecules to instead pool between the trucks like an invisible low-lying fog.

As it is, you’re relieved when everything is finally disconnected and sealed up, and having abandoned your inventory you turn to make your way back inside to try to get this documented, even if others think that you really are overreacting and Anatoly doesn’t face the consequences you think he should.

“You know, maybe next time you could- ”

You’re cut off again, but instead of a condescending comment this time it's by the sudden percussion of an explosion. 

When the full truck’s engine started up an unknown faulty battery sparked and ignited the vapours that had been collecting, the flashback loud enough that your ears don’t register the sound until you’re already on the ground. 

Fortunately you manage not to hit your head but your shoulder feels like you’re lucky it didn’t dislocate when you landed. Slowly pushing yourself up onto your elbow you look around, blinking until your vision slowly comes back into focus and you realize with a sinking feeling that the truck itself is now burning, flames appearing to emerge from one of the valves at the rear.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, momentarily frozen in place as you watch the flames growing quickly in front of your eyes. 

You know that as the temperature rises the pressure inside the tanker does as well, and it needs to be stopped before the valve can no longer vent faster than the pressure is building, and  you have no way of knowing whether any of the internal mechanisms were damaged in the explosion, so you may have even less time than normal.

Finally you manage to convince your muscles to move. Sucking in a breath you grit your teeth and force yourself to standing, moving as quickly as you can to reach the cabinet that houses the fire extinguishers, and then Milo is suddenly there next to you.

“I’ll take this one,” he offers and you quickly nod your thanks. Maneuvering over to the truck you unspool your hose and get as close as you can until the heat of the flames forces you back.

Stumbling briefly from the recoil when you pull the nozzle’s lever back you grimace at the sudden jolt of pain in your shoulder but manage to recover quickly, widening your stance to better brace yourself and focus the thick white cloud on the brightest part of the fire. 

Thankfully the flames seem to be quickly smothered and you move closer as the heat begins to die down. Occasionally you or Milo alternate your focus on the truck’s own fuel tank, working to extinguish the burning propane while also trying to prevent the diesel from possibly igniting as well. 

You can see Tom in your peripheral now, dimly aware of him barking directions, relieved that someone else was there to take charge, and even when the fire appears to be doused you keep your hoses pointed at the truck until both extinguishers have been completely emptied.

Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably less than fifteen minutes since you had walked outside you take a deep, shaky breath and simply sit down right where you stand in the mess of slush and extinguisher residue.

You can almost feel the adrenaline physically draining out of your system, your jaw involuntarily clenching as you begin to shiver. You’re not sure who’s hand squeezes your shoulder, your mind feels fuzzy as mild shock sets in, and it takes conscious effort to release your grip from the hose that’s still sitting across your lap and slowly stand back up.

You're buzzing wildly between a range of emotions: anger, frustration, relief, a blanket of exhaustion settling over all of it as you waver on unsteady legs, tamping down the thoughts of how much more badly this could have gone.

Two days after the incident with the trucks and the ringing in your ears has nearly stopped, and aside from stiff muscles and a painterly bruise blooming across your shoulder you'd come out of it all more or less unscathed.

Once the chaos had wound down and things could be assessed it was fortunate that damage was minimal and the overall injuries turned out to be minor, mostly cuts and bruises from being knocked over or from the burst of gravel from the initial explosion. Even the alarming amount of blood you'd seen running down Anatoly’s face ended up just being a superficial gash.

There are already at least two versions of what happened circulating through the facility, one casting your actions more favourably and one much less so (no question where that one started), though you’re not particularly concerned which version others decide to believe. Enough people witnessed what actually happened, and regardless you know that what you did was the right thing, and you’re confident that Klaue will see that.

You haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet but he's supposed to be on his way back, abandoning the South African coast early to assess the damage and meet with the kind of investigators that a facility that doesn’t exist in the strictest sense will allow.

Although you have his return to look forward to, you can’t help still feeling on edge as the dregs of adrenaline continue to circulate in your blood, and you regularly have to force yourself to take a deep inhale when you realize that your breathing has gone shallow again.

Fortunately you’ve had a simple job the last couple of days, spending your shift taking apart scrap metal to be sent to a foundry to be melted down. Oxy acetylene cutting can be physically taxing and it's hot as hell but it doesn’t require finesse, and right now you’re happy to simply let muscle memory guide you, focusing only on regulating the flow of gas and keeping the glide of the flame’s sharp tip steady as you work. 

You’re waiting for the disassembled pieces you'd just cut to cool before moving them so that you can start on the next section when there’s a sudden burst of activity at the entrance to the shop, and when you turn towards the disturbance you see that Klaue has just walked in.

His eyes have already found you but the swell of excitement at seeing him unexpectedly is quickly replaced by confusion when you register his dark expression.

“You.” He points, singling you out from the crowd. “Come with me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise at the anger in his tone, and when you don’t immediately move to follow he raises his eyebrows, impatience clear in the tight set of his jaw.

“Now.” He grits through clenched teeth.

“Ohh, someone’s in trouble.” 

You whip around to find the source of the taunt, the anger and frustration that you haven’t fully processed surging out in a red-hot wave, and the words are out before you can think.

“Shut the fuck up!” 

The idiot is looking at you like he’s made some world-class joke and you're ready to lay into him, but suddenly his focus moves behind you and the smirk drops away as the blood drains from his face.

Slowly turning to follow his eyes you see Klaue standing as still as a steel lathe with his arm extended, but it takes several seconds for you to register that the leather holster on his leg is empty and his gun now aimed at the center of the man's chest.

“Shit.” You gasp. 

All of the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room and you're rooted to the spot, your hearing gone muffled and tinny. The joker’s eyes are flashbulb wide, standing with his arms jutting into the air as though that might have any impact on what happens next.

Every inch of Klaue appears calm, you might almost say he was relaxed if it weren't for the weapon in his hand. But the unmistakable fury in his eyes colours them nearly black, an obsidian blade glinting in the shadows simply waiting for an excuse to strike, and though he speaks quietly you know that everyone watching this happen can hear every word clear as day. 

“If you ever speak to her about anything other than this job again...” 

He doesn't finish the sentence, he doesn't have to, the sound of the safety lever being flicked off is deafening. The only movement in the room is the flex of tendons in Klaue's hand as his thumb deftly finds the switch.

You’re not sure whether the man is actually breathing, and even though your own heart is pounding out of your chest you find that you’re not exactly upset about the look of abject fear in his eyes.

“No! I mean I won’t! I didn’t mean anything, I’m sorry I-” he stammers, panicked eyes flicking back and forth between the weapon and Klaue’s face, forcing his hands almost comically high until his biceps are covering his ears. 

No one else speaks.

After several more excruciating seconds you finally hear the click of the safety re-engaging and you let out the breath you’d been holding as he slowly replaces the gun in its holster.

Then he turns back to you and repeats:

“Now.”

You have to work to keep up with Klaue’s brisk pace as you make your way through the warren of hallways, eventually ending up in an area you’d only passed by before. You follow him into a room filled with various pieces of vaguely familiar military equipment, a heavy desk and a bank of monitors against one wall, and in your still flustered state it’s only when he closes the door behind you that you realize that he’s taken you to his office.

He walks over and leans on the desk, weight braced on his knuckles as his shoulders rise and fall, each breath slow and deep.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you - in fact he hasn’t looked at you since he’d turned away expecting you would follow.

“Klaue?”

You think that you note a brief hitch in his breathing, but beyond that he doesn’t respond. 

“Listen, it’s been a long couple of days and I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“What you did was dangerous.” He replies quietly, finally seeming to find his words.

You sigh. You’re not entirely surprised that that’s what this is about but you’re still irritated and your lingering anger is back at the surface, leaving you fighting to keep your response measured. You’re not the one who’d done anything wrong. You thought he’d understand that.

“I did what needed to be done, that whole situation was getting worse by the second.“

“You put yourself in harm's way. There was no need to get that close when there had already been an explosion.”

“So was I just supposed to stand around with my mouth hanging open like almost everyone else? Or walk away and pretend that nothing was happening?”

“You didn’t need to get yourself involved, period. Those men would have dealt with the consequences of their actions.”

You throw your hands up in resignation.

“This is perfect, I was one of the few people actually trying to help, and yet I’m the one you’re taking it out on? That seems par for the course in all of this.”

Finally Klaue turns around to face you.

“I’m not- ”

"What about Milo? Or more importantly the asshole that actually caused the whole fucking mess??" You're close to yelling now, unable to help it as your anger and disappointment finally boil over.

"Do you really think he hasn't already been dealt with?” He replies sharply. “He’s gone, and won't be stepping foot in another shop anywhere, ever again. I'll be making sure of it.”

There's something flat in his eyes that cloaks the usual sharp blue.

“Ok, well…good.” You’re happy to hear it, though you’re still only somewhat placated. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the damage could have been so much worse if that truck had kept burning. I had to do something."

"That shouldn’t be your concern. I would have handled it."

“More people would have gotten injured.”

“I’m aware.”

“Or killed!"

"You could have gotten- "

He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, fists balled tight at his sides. 

He hasn’t raised his voice until now, but it's his tone and the way his words waver that gives you pause. As you watch Klaue collect himself you feel something trying to work its way into your chest - something that’s whispering to you what that clouded look in his eyes might have been. 

Fear.

He’s visibly tense, lips pressed in a thin line as he takes a step toward you, broad shoulders curling inwards in an almost protective posture.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with the accident, and that you wanted to help. But what you did still wasn't-”

He stops again and it surprises you, normally so certain of his words and not exactly afraid to speak his mind, you instead watch the muscles of his jaw working as his eyes burn into yours.

“This is a risky job.” You finally break the silence, trying to reason with him, taking your own tentative step closer to him. “Even when I’m not working for an arms dealer, by the way. Anywhere in this trade mistakes like that can happen.”

There’s a soft “careful” in the quick tilt of his head, and even now you feel a spark of relief at the flash of that familiar part of him.

“And you got hurt here.” 

You only realize that your hand has been rubbing your bruised shoulder when you notice his eyes have shifted to watch your fingers.

“So did other people! Why am I being singled out? What is the concern about me?” 

A part of him seems to drift from you again, and when he doesn’t respond a vice of cold steel begins to tighten around your chest. Has he discerned the real question that was hidden in your words? Is he angry? Disappointed? Indifferent?

Damnit, you curse yourself. 

You wished you hadn’t said it  but the recent stress has eroded your filters and you couldn’t help but push. Even though you’re not going to get the answer you can barely admit that you want.

“If you had really been hurt. If you had gotten killed..” 

When his eyes focus on you again there’s a coldness in them that you’ve only seen hints of before, but now it’s right there at the surface, clear and sharp and seething.

“That man wouldn’t be gone, he would be dead.” 

Oh.

Klaue’s words are laced with a calm certainty that sets your heart racing, your skin prickling hot under the weight of his gaze as you stand there shocked silent by his admission, unsure how to respond.

Just as suddenly as it appeared the cold begins to melt away, his eyes sweeping over you as if confirming that you’re still there, still whole and standing in front of him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be concerned about you?” He asks, a curious frown knitting his brows.

You’re not sure how to respond to that either and you’re quiet for several long moments, chewing your lower lip while you consider, nervous for a different reason now.

He’s pushing you back, and it’s what you wanted (what you needed), not letting you get away with hiding, because if you’re going to ask the question you need to answer it, too.

But he must know it’s not a simple question, and right now you can’t give him a simple answer.

“I don’t…know what this is.” You start, haltingly. 

The first threads of an admission that there’s something for this to be. 

An admission that although a part of you has known it since the first night he slowly, achingly buried himself inside you, you can no longer pretend that he hasn’t already ruined you.

”Neither do I.” He concedes, slowly closing the last steps that separate you, surprised to find yourself relaxing at his words. It's not an answer, not yet, but still an acknowledgement, that you’re both uncertain but unable to help the way that you’re drawn together. Moths lost in the dark, instinctively picking up on the invisible spark of the other.

His hand reaches up to touch the shoulder that you'd been massaging.

“Let me see.” Klaue rumbles softly as he moves to lift the edge of your shirt, and silently you help him work your arm from the sleeve before he pulls the garment the rest of the way off, leaving you in your sports bra.

“I don’t know that I have to know, but I-” 

You start to speak but then inhale a sharp breath when his palm slides over your shoulder, soothing the bruised warmth, fingers also dance along the scar on your other arm which was fortunately not the side you’d landed on.

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.” His frown deepens as he takes in the angry bloom of purpling skin. “But I haven’t been able to think about anyone else since you’ve been here.” 

You hadn’t assumed anything but you can’t help the sting of relief, even as you fight to hold back the dam of want that’s cracking open beneath your ribs.

But when his hand slides up over your shoulder, your neck, tilting your head so that you meet his eyes, you realize that it's a battle you've already lost.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, the other hand pressing flat against the firm warmth of his chest. 

“I hadn’t been seeing anyone for a while, before Utrech..” You start and then pause, your eyes slipping closed with a sigh as you sink into the sensation of his palm against your cheek. “But even when I was still trying to pretend that I didn’t…since then it hasn’t even occurred to me to think about anyone but you.” 

“Is that right?” Klaue’s voice hums with a pleased timbre though his eyes flick searchingly across your face.

“Yes. There’s no one else. Not now, not-”

Not ever.

“No one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do, Ulysses. And maybe I don’t know what this is, but…I know that I don’t want to stop.” 

The last words come out in a breathless rush, forced out before you can overthink and lock them away again. Finally admitting it as much to yourself as to him.

“I’m not going to stop, darling. Not a fucking chance.” 

You nearly laugh with giddy relief but it’s interrupted when his hand tightens around your jaw, leaning in so that his mouth is hovering over yours as you press your body flush against him, arching into the stiffening ridge of his erection that juts into your hip.

You try to angle your mouth to find the warmth of his lips against yours, but strong hands continue to hold you just there, a breath apart. The air has shifted, a charge growing in the dwindling space between you that leaves your skin tingling from the near contact, and when you feel a faint brush of his lips against yours an audible whine slides from your throat.

“That night, after the bar, I thought about you.” Klaue continues.

“You did?” 

“Yes.” He nearly groans the word. “Thought about how you'd taste when you come.” 

The wet heat that’s been building in your core surges at his words, at the sudden image of him flushed and sweaty, his fist moving in rough strokes over his swollen cock and the thought of you in his head.

One of your hands begins to slide between your bodies, needy fingers plucking at his belt, reaching beneath the waistband and tugging.

“Thought about taking you into the back, finding a quiet corner, having you on your knees in front- in front of me.” His voice hitches and he shudders when you find the now stiff curve of his cock beneath the fabric.

“And then..when you were there, kneeling, I was sure I was dreaming. But you were so much better than my dreams. Such a tease, weren’t you?” He hums, and you can hear the grin even as his voice drops to a rasp of granite and silk. 

“Thinking you could get away with that.”

Klaue’s hips rock into your touch as you squeeze more firmly, sliding your hand along the shape of him, rewarded with a harsh sigh as he pulls back and fixes his eyes fix on yours. You thrill at the heat that you find there, helplessly reaching for the flames that lick against your skin. 

That invite you to burn.

“I didn’t think that for a second. But I already apologized, didn’t I?” 

A flash of him holding you against the door, desperation on your lips as he finally let you fall apart.

“Oh, you thought that was your apology? Getting to come on my fingers?”

“I didn’t, I mean-” You stammer, the movement of your hand faltering even as his admonition sends another wave of heat through your body.

“I’m afraid not, darling. And right now..” Your eyelids flutter and it takes a moment to realize that he’s waiting to make sure he has your attention.

“Y-yes?”

“Maybe I do.”

“You do…what?” Frowning, you try to figure out his meaning through the growing haze of arousal.

“Want to take it out on you.”

Your eyes snap to his, molten sapphire when you meet them.

“And maybe,” Klaue’s thumb swipes across the corner of your lips. “I want to take it out on this mouth of yours.”

His eyes flick down to catch your tongue peeking out as you reflexively lick your lips.

“Because a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about that sweet promise you made on your knees.” 

His thumb slides against the seam of your lips, smug when they part easily beneath the pressure.

He tsks, but any response you might give is cut off when he pushes past your teeth and your tongue gratefully tastes the calloused skin. But just as you move to take his thumb deeper into your mouth he pulls back, quickly replacing it with his index and middle fingers before you can lament the loss, and you can’t help but moan around the thick digits.

Eagerly you begin to slide your mouth along them, slowly bobbing your head, taking them further until they’re far enough back that your gag reflex triggers and your body stiffens, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to take slow breaths.

Eventually your eyelids flutter open again, your focus coming back to him and the pleased look in his eyes.

Once you catch your breath you increase the suction of your lips to pull his fingers a little deeper, your tongue teasing around and between his two fingers, the texture of his warm skin contrasted with the smooth edges of his ring.

The next time you pull back he takes the opportunity to add a third finger, his other hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, gently but firmly holding your head in place as he slides them all the way into your mouth again until his thumb and pinky are cradling your jaw.

Klaue’s mouth has dropped open, his breathing gone rough as he watches your lips stretching around his fingers. Both of your hands have moved to grip his shirt, steadying yourself, your eyes beginning to water as your breath comes in quick gasps.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Just like that.”

His fingers stay where they are until your breathing slows again, nearly wincing at the deep velvet of his gaze on you, soft but inescapable. 

You still feel the instinct to gag, but once your throat relaxes the rest of you follows, and you sigh as he withdraws a little, rubbing gentle circles against your tongue. Your inhibitions are quickly falling away as you become focused only on more, moaning as his fingers continue to move, the thumb of his hand that’s curled around your neck caressing the sensitive skin there.

A heady thrum of desire is growing, settling deep between your thighs as you watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he alternates between slowly pumping and then pressing deep and holding there, pleased when your breathing evens out more quickly every time.

Watching his expression cloud over with lust it occurs that you’d never really thought about how much he liked this. How watching your lips, and feeling your warm, slick mouth around his fingers as they grow shiny with your spit has him barely hanging on.

“That’s my needy girl.” 

Klaue’s words are a sigh, almost a release, the tension when you had first followed him ebbing from his body, smoothing the set of his shoulders as his fingers continue to move.

You shudder again, unable to hold back the keening sounds from escaping your throat, your center already soaked and aching and you don’t even have his cock in your mouth yet.

“What’s the matter, isn’t this enough?” His words are cut with a smug glint of gold, seeming to guess what you’re thinking about.

And honestly you would let him keep doing this if he wanted, turning you into a mindless mess with just his fingers and only your eyes able to plead wordlessly for more. But he said he was going to fuck your mouth, and the narrowing of your eyes answers his question.

His unoccupied hand releases your neck and takes one of your hands, returning it to the waist of his pants where you quickly work at his belt and zipper, determined though distracted by the continued slip and drag through your lips. 

Eventually you manage to reach beneath the fabric to grip his hard length, your other hand tugging the layers down until you’re able to free his cock. The movement of his fingers falters at your touch but then he’s grinning when your moans become more plaintive, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as your hand hungrily strokes the intoxicating heat of him.

“Now, don’t swallow.” Klaue murmurs.

You have a split second to frown before he withdraws, realization dawning when you have to quickly close your mouth to keep from drooling.

Unable to reply, you wait a beat before your eyebrows raise in a question.

“On your knees.” His hand drops, slick fingers replacing yours where they’re wrapped around his length.

Your breath catches with anticipation, and unable and unwilling to hide how eager you are now you keep your eyes on his as you sink down slowly until the thick circle of his fist is directly in front of you, the slit already leaking as he strokes himself. 

The sight of it has you aching, desperate for your lips to replace the languid slide of his fingers, to take him deep into your mouth then and nose into the dark, grey-flecked hair that spreads from the base of him.

“Now, spit on my cock, darling.”

Your reverie suddenly broken you look up to see him watching you intently, eyes dark and commanding, his hand now gripping the thick base, holding himself out to you.

Waiting.

Still unable to reply, all you can do - all you want to do - is acquiesce. So you lean forward and slowly let the saliva slide from your parted lips until it drops onto the head of his cock, his palm quickly gathering and dragging your offering down his length, groaning at the slide of it beneath his fingers.

Only when you hear the low timbre of his laugh do you realize that you’re practically pouting as your eyes eagerly follow the movement of his hand.

You lean forward again, glossy lips parting in anticipation, but his other hand quickly reaches to grasp your hair and stops you. 

You’re agonizingly close, not caring how desperate you must look straining against his grip as your tongue flicks out, the sounds of skin on slick skin making you increasingly desperate to taste him as he holds you just out of reach of what you want.

“Look at you.” Klaue croons.“You’re always switched on. You’re strong and I can see how hard you work, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

You flush at his praise, briefly distracted from your conquest.

“But when I use your mouth…then I get to watch you let go. I can tell that you don’t like to do it for yourself, so I’m going to do it for you. Going to empty that head of yours.”

His hips nudge toward you and this time when your lips drop open he lets you move to meet him.

He sucks a hiss through his teeth when you press a wet kiss against the thick head of his cock, chased by a relieved groan as you let your lips smear the glisten of precum that continues to leak there, fresh heat blooming between your legs at the sounds this draws from him.

You keep the muscles of your jaw relaxed and pliant as you press slowly forward. Not sucking yet, simply using the head of his cock to part your lips to slide over the already slick skin, slowly and thoroughly mapping the shape of him with your mouth.

And he's right, of course. You can feel yourself relaxing as you finally taste the musk of his heated skin, humming contentedly as your tongue swirls around the head and drags over the sensitive frenulum, the tension of the last few days finally draining away with every languorous slip of your mouth. 

A different kind of tension quickly swelling deep in your core.

“Jesus.” Klaue sighs above you as you gradually take him deeper, one hand braced on his thigh while the other wraps around him, his cock achingly hard beneath your fingers. 

Still loosely holding your hair he's letting you work him, your own pleased moans slipping from your throat as you lick hungrily over every ridge and vein, savouring the salty tang of his velvet-slick skin warm against your tongue

Pleasure thrums through your body, growing hotter with the attention you’re giving him, but as you take him deeper again, your lips stretching wider, realization flickers in the back of your mind that you haven’t even taken him halfway yet and you’re already growing overwhelmed by how full your mouth is. 

But, god, the ragged sound he makes when you slide down until his cock nudges the back of your throat makes your cunt throb, so you pull back so that you’re holding just the tip of him between your lips and then you do it again, reveling in every inch that you can take.

Slowly you build a steady rhythm until saliva is dripping down your chin, he's continuing to let you control the pace for now, allowing you to breathe and adjust until he’s deeper than when he was on the couch.

Your hunger is growing, though, and soon you're pushing forward with more intention and when your throat spasms you swallow reflexively, your eyes watering when this draws him in further. Klaue’s moans deepen at the ripple of the muscles around his cock but you’re unable to fight it any longer and you gag, even as his drawn out “Fuck” has your hips rocking.

Squeezing your eyes shut you just barely manage to stay where you are, tears dampening your lashes until you finally have to pull back, although you keep him in your mouth, breathing hard through your nose to catch your breath.

“It’s alright,” he rasps. ”Don’t think you’re going to be able to take all of me right now, darling. But you’ll take as much as you can, and when you can swallow every inch of my cock then you’ll get to feel me come down your throat.” 

You can’t help the muffled sound you make that’s equal parts arousal and disappointment.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to make a pretty mess of your mouth," he teases, his heaving chest and half-lidded eyes betraying his own growing need.

Not that he isn’t doing a fair job of it already, of course, unable to properly swallow, your chin is quickly growing shiny with drool. The pressure of his other hand still cradling the back of your neck firm but soothing as he holds you in place, as the still restrained flex of his hips begins seeking the wet heat of your mouth again, and you sigh at the intoxicating weight of his cock dragging against your tongue.

As you relax your awareness drifts back down to the heat between your legs, the slick press of the seam of your pants against your sex barely relieving the ache there as you squeeze your thighs together. 

After a few more slow thrusts he presses forward into the back of your throat again, and as he holds himself there you take a shaky breath and swallow once, and then again, taking more of him than you have so far. 

“There you go, God-”

You try to hollow your cheeks to pull him in further but you gag again when he bucks suddenly, his words cut off with a growled curse.

“It’s alright,” Klaue soothes, pulling back to give you a moment to recover, though it was more startling than painful. “You’re doing so fucking well.” 

Looking up at him you see that his eyes are screwed shut, head bowed and breathing hard, concentration etched clearly across his face. When he finally opens his them he can only groan at the sight of your tear-damp reverence, his attention is first drawn first to where he's disappearing into your mouth as he starts to move again, but it’s not long before they catch instead on the needy cant of your hips.

“You do love this, don’t you? Have you soaked through your panties already?”

You can only let out a whimpered moan as you attempt to nod.

He hasn’t let you take his cock out of your mouth yet and you can feel the drool that continues to spill from your lips beginning to collect and drip off of your chin, down onto your chest where it slicks the skin between your breasts.

There’s a flicker in the back of your mind, a needling thought that you should feel…ashamed. By the mess, and your neediness, by how much you fucking adore being on your knees for this man. 

But that flicker is quickly snuffed out as Klaue continues to use your mouth, and as you take in the look of awe in his eyes, when you feel his thumb softly stroking over the curve of your cheekbone, you realize that you don’t feel below him. 

That although you're on your knees, it feels like you’re the one being worshiped.

You want to focus on him and you try, really you do, but the heated ache in your cunt is becoming unbearable and you can't  help shifting and squeezing your thighs together, made breathless by your need as much as by the fullness of him in your mouth.

He's has been watching - and clearly enjoying - this increasingly desperate movement of your hips, but finally he seems to take pity on you.

“Do you want to touch yourself, darling? Want to come while you drool all over my cock?” 

Even through his tease you can feel how his own words affect him in the quickening buck of his hips.

“Go on then, feel how wet your pussy is just from this.”

The words are barely past his lips and you’re already moving, but just as you manage to work your hand beneath the waistband of your pants he speaks again.

“Slow.” 

The word is quiet but firm, Klaue's tone softer than before yet shot through with an irresistible command and you pause, glancing back up.

His shoulders and neck are impossibly broad from this vantage, eyes bright but tinged with a smoky darkness that does away with your resistance, and you know with a thrilling certainty that as desperate as you are for relief, in this moment you’d do whatever he asked.

Keeping your eyes locked on his you begin to move again, dipping your hand down - slowly.

“That’s it. Slip your hand into your panties now. Just- just one finger, darling.” His voice is uneven and clipped like he's having to concentrate on forming the words. “Slide it along that pretty slit of yours. Barely need to press to feel it, don’t you? How wet you are.”

You can only whimper in response, the building ache between your thighs only made worse by how close you are to relief, by how you could increase the pressure just slightly and you’d be able to part yourself and find your desperate bundle of nerves.

“You have no idea how delicious that first taste of you is. So fucking sweet.” 

There’s an edge to his words, as though he were jealous of your fingers, that they get to slide and tease between your legs and not his tongue.

There’s barely any friction beneath your index finger, but the soft glide combined with his grunted breaths above you has you clenching and it's near agony to keep your movements slow and controlled, fighting against every instinct in your body not to give in as your sex quivers, pleading for more.

So instead you pull your focus back to his cock and let your mouth move the way you wish your fingers could, quickly and hungrily sliding your lips along his shaft until with a sudden movement you take him into the back of your throat again and keep him there, your hand stroking the part of him you can't take.

“Christ,” he grits through his teeth, your scalp stinging from the quick jerk of his hand in your hair. “Not yet.” 

You can't tell if this is directed at you or himself as he swallows and releases a shuddered breath, his voice strained when he speaks again.

“Slide two fingers over your clit for me, now.” 

Relief ripples up your spine as you eagerly press through your drenched folds, fingers dragging against your swollen bud, unable to let out more than a choked sound as you push forward to keep his cock where it is in your throat, hot tears spilling over.

“Again.” 

Your touch grows rougher, matching his words, feeling the inevitable swell of pleasure growing as you float there, caught in the riptide of his voice.

”Want to go faster, don’t you?” Klaue rasps. “Want to reach down to feel how soaked your needy hole is?” 

You do, trembling fingers unable to help chasing the path of his words as if they were his tongue instead, sliding along your slick cleft and down to gather more of your arousal. 

Pleasure strings tighter when your fingers slide back up and over your clit, cursing  him internally as you gasp short breaths through your nose. You try to relax your throat even as every other muscle in your body draws tight, unsure how much longer you can keep yourself from falling over the edge.

You can’t really tell him, only your eyes can plead, I’m close, I’m so close it feels so good please let me come. 

“So used to begging with that pretty mouth.” He taunts with a breathless growl, reading your desperation, his lips curled in a grin at your half-delirious expression.

“It's alright, I know how good it's making you feel to use your mouth like this instead. Just like I know you’re going to make yourself come now.”

You're so close to lost that it takes a second for you to process his command, but when you do something in you snaps.

Your fingers immediately find a tight rhythm as you chase the swollen edge of pleasure, his fist gripping your hair tight to hold you firmly in place as your movements begin to grow frantic, unable to control any part of you as the blinding heat of your climax finally shocks through you.

The muscles of your throat spasm as your cunt flutters around nothing, desperate sounds caught in your chest as your hips buck and writhe against your fingers. Your other hand is entirely lost to any sense of rhythm and it drops to grasp at the fabric covering his thigh in an attempt to find purchase, and then suddenly his hand not in your hair is there, strong fingers twining tightly with yours, holding on to you as you fall apart.

“That’s it,” Klaue pants, his voice thick with lust and awe. “Choke on my cock while you come.”

You want to curse and cry and plead as ecstasy works its way through you in eddies and purls, and it almost feels like you might be drowning but you’re powerless to want anything else but to drown in him, trembling with relief as your fingers roughly work every pulse of pleasure from your clit.

As the waves begin to soften your other senses gradually filter back in: the ache in your throat and your jaw, the sting in your knees where they press into the floor, and when your body slackens as you start to come down he allows you pull back enough to properly catch your breath. 

Slowly you’re able to focus again, eyes damp and red rimmed as you look up at him, but you only have a brief moment to appreciate his pleased expression before his eyes go storm dark.

“Going to come in your mouth, now.”

Fingers tighten in your hair once more and then he’s moving. His thrusts are rough now with surrendered control as his hips chase a harsh rhythm, a low groan rolling through his chest that's woven together with your name as he finally gives in and takes what you'd promised. 

You attempt to tighten your lips around him as his rasping curses continue above you, but it’s no use, all you can do is kneel and relent to the slide of his cock filling your mouth again and again.

You want to beg him, words that fall so easily from your lips now when you sense that he’s about to let go for you, but you can only whine for it, your plaintive noises slipping messily around his cock until the pattern of his thrusts falters. And then, finally, there's only bliss when you hear his choked gasp as he stiffens, and you feel the first warm spurts of his spend coating your tongue.

With a low, open-mouthed moan he continues to fuck into the wet suck of your mouth, spilling himself across your lips and chin as well as your tongue until pearly ropes of cum are mixing with your drool, the mess of it dripping in slick stands off of your chin.

Then suddenly Klaue pulls out completely for the first time since this started and at first you can only gasp and cough, but when his hand wraps around himself your mouth instinctively drops open. Resting the head of his cock against the offering of your tongue he slowly strokes though the last pulses of his orgasm, making sure to give you every last drop, dragging through the slick mess with slow, sated thrusts until his fist gradually stills.

Eventually he pulls back though not away, panting and heavy lidded as he looks down at you where you kneel, a shining strand strung between his tip and your swollen lips that glisten with the pearly sheen he’s painted them with.

“Now you can swallow, darling.” 

You’re not sure if you should laugh or sob, but fighting both you make sure to keep your eyes on his as you curl your tongue back into your mouth and swallow, before dragging your fingers across your chin to gather the mess he left there, too.

A lazy smile curves his lips as he watches your mouth sliding around your fingers, and once you've cleaned as much as you can your hand drops, both of them resting on the tops of your thighs. 

Gently, the backs of Klaue’s fingers brush at the streaks of tears that are beginning to dry on your cheeks, then one slowly hooks under your chin to tip your head up, not letting you hide, leaving you startled by the affection that vines its way through your ribcage, burrowing into the want that even now burns hot. 

The want that folds into a desperation to please him, to give and take everything until the only thing left is your desire. 

You wish that you could explain it to him, that you could say something coherent, but any words you try to form seem to dissipate before they can reach your mouth, and you’re unsure that you could even articulate your thoughts as you sit in the filmy haze of your afterglow. 

So when you do open your mouth you're nearly as caught off guard by the words that come out as he is, your voice an almost unfamiliar, grateful rasp.

“Thank you.” 

Klaue’s satisfied grin falls away, his lips parting with a groaned sigh and then he’s reaching down, a hand curling around your bicep to pull you up to standing. You waver against the stiffness in your legs but he supports you, his palm again finding its place against your cheek.

He pauses, really taking in the state of you: your dazed expression and cock-swollen lips, standing there bruised and mussed and shirtless and pleased, his large hand brushing across your chin to catch more of the sheen there, words seeming to hover on the tip of his tongue.

The line between his brows deepens with a purse of his lips, a barely perceptible shake of his head. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, klein Mot.”

Then he's pulling you against him, his lips suddenly on yours and he's kissing you deeply, licking hungrily into your mouth and you swiftly grow breathless as he chases the taste of himself on your tongue. But just as you’re sinking into it, he pulls away. 

“Come here.” 

He turns with you, quickly crowding you back against his desk, hands reach down to wrap around your thighs and you quickly brace against the surface as he lifts you until you’re perched on the edge of it.

Your legs fall open easily as he moves forward, his focus coming to rest on you again as his hands slide up to circle your waist.

“You did so fucking well.” A smile tugs at his lips again as thumbs trail soft patterns against your bare skin. “Are you alright?” 

Warmth blooms at his concern, an unexpected contrast with what had just transpired.

“Yes.” You’re still finding your voice, still feeling like you're catching your breath, but you’re good. More than.

“You're sure?”

Leaning forward you slide your arms around his broad waist, hitching your legs up as well, drawing him into you.

“Yes, I promise.” You assure, brushing the ghost of a smile against his lips. “And…I promise that I won’t lie to you if anything is too much.”

“Good.” Klaue pulls back to look at you, a pleased edge of gold glinting in the blue before a more serious expression settles into the creases around eyes. “Because I'm going to keep pushing you.” 

You inhale sharply, a fresh throb of heat blooming in your still slick core as your legs tighten around his hips.

“I want you to, Ulysses,” you hum, slowly arching and rolling your center against him, feeling him still half hard where he'd tucked himself back into his pants. 

“I know, my darling.” His words are knowing and smooth with the edges singed dark, hands roving slowly over the soft flesh of your waist as he continues matter-of-factly. “But right now, you’re going to have some water, and then I’m going to make you come again.”

“Yeah?” You say hopefully as you continue to move against him, chasing the heat he so easily stokes in you with just a few words.

A slow nod and a rumbled confirmation. 

“I’m going to take care of you, now, Mot. I don’t need you to make any decisions today. Except for one.”

“Oh?” 

“Not how many times you’re going to come, that's up to me. But you’re going to tell me how.”

“God, Ulysses.” You’re burning with arousal now, every inch of your skin prickling hot. “That's all?”

“Will it be my fingers?” 

His hands brush further up your waist, thumbs teasing beneath the band of your bra to just brush against the sensitive curve of your breasts before trailing back down.

“Or my mouth?”

Leaning in his lips press against your neck, a silvered shimmer of nerves swirling out from the point where his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, your body swiftly surrendering to the heat of his promise.

“Or perhaps you’d like to straddle my thigh until you’ve made a lovely mess for me.”

A needy sound rends itself from your chest as his thumbs press into the sensitive creases where your hips meet your thighs, but just as you open your mouth to reply, a loud knock sounds on the door.

“Not right now.” Klaue calls out to whoever is in the hall without pulling away from you.

“Yes, now.”

“I’m not ask-”

“It’s a call you’ve been waiting for. There's a problem.”

Jaw clenching, he exhales a sharp breath.

“Just a minute,” he replies.

“You really need to-”

“Just a minute.” Klaue snaps, his head jerking towards the door and you jump, your legs tightening around him.

“Alright, alright.” 

The man’s voice trails off and it sounds like he’s moved down the hallway, at least for now. 

When he looks back at you you’re biting your lip, the look in his eye telling you he must have noticed your reaction to his tone.

“Think about what I asked.” 

You're about to reply that you will, but something occurs to you about the suggestions he’d given you.

“Wait, is.. is your cock not an option?” You give him a coy look through your lashes, intending to tease but still a little nervous that maybe it won't be.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you, darling. If you’re good.”

A thumb grazes the corner of your mouth, distracting you momentarily from what that means as you unconsciously flick your tongue out to meet it, earning you a knowing grin when you quickly pull away with a sheepish laugh.

“So?” He says, waiting for your confirmation of his request.

“I will. I’ll…think about it.” You're nearly panting now as the rock of your hips grows needier, shocked at how quickly you can feel another orgasm building already, if you just had a few more minutes you could-

“That’s all you’ll be doing, though. Yeah?” 

Strong hands tighten around your hips, pinning their faltering movement against him and you pull back with a frown.

“Are you saying…you want me to think about how I want to come, but I can’t- ”

“Smart girl, you did hear what I said.” His gaze sweeps over your face, and you barely manage not to scoff.

“Yes, I heard you. But I mean, I did already make myself come. I made that decision.”

Klaue tilts his head, mock curiosity knitting his brows.

“Did you?”

You open your mouth to argue but then close it again, pursing your lips together in a pout. He has a point, though: It may have been your fingers, but it was his words guiding you, and you only made yourself come when he told you that you would.

“I decide,” he repeats, and you bite back a whimper when he slowly grinds you against him again. “And I've decided you're going to wait.”

There’s another, more insistent knock at the door.

“Coming.” Suddenly letting go he steps back from you, not hiding his pleasure at your pained expression as he finds and hands you your shirt which you reluctantly put back on.

“I’ll walk you back to the main corridor.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and raises a brow, waiting for you to follow.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” You finally say, pushing yourself off of the desk, not bothering to hide the frustration in your voice.

“I know you will, darling.” His certainty overlaps with a challenge as he opens the door. 

Be good, and you can come on my cock. 

You shudder when his hand quickly presses against your lower back as you move past him, even the brief pressure burns hot through the fabric of your shirt, and then the door clicks shut behind you.

So, you have to wait. Again. And though you’re getting good at it now, and even knowing that it won’t be long, you’re not sure how you’re going to make it, your nerves already on fire as you part and watch him walk away.

AN: As always thank you so much for reading! 🥰 The next chapter will not be nearly as long a wait since about 75% of it was already written before I decided to split this on up! Will it be soon soon? No, but it won't be quite as long as this break as this was! Though to be fair I did write two other fics (and a drabble), flew to London, and dealt with a personal loss, and then the recovery from of all the that plus y'know, life in general. But we're finally here, and I'm glad that I made it and can finally share this with you all!

Full disclosure I am not someone who works with propane, and while much of the information is based what I've been able to find online, the accident itself is based on the events of a real explosion at a propane plant that happened in Canada several years ago. So things are likely not necessarily going to be 100% correct, but there are real variables here that would explain something like this happening.

I also want to mention that there's a line in that that was actually the first (filthy) line of not just this chapter, but also of this entire part two. I was only around halfway through part one and was just realizing there would even be a part two (the line did end up changing a bit as the story evolved, but it's still in here. 😏). Also I wrote it, closed the doc, then opened Instagram and immediately saw that Andy was coming to to Toronto. And instantly panicked. So there's that. 😂

[dmysterioblog]

Masterlist II

WARNING! Most of the following contain SMUT and/or have a DARK theme!

Disclaimer! These Fanfics aren't mine! They're just some of my favorites. This masterlist will keep being updated. Check at the bottom to see when it was last updated.

Masterlist I

Dark-♤ Angst-♧ Fluff-♡ Smut-♢

I think you promised me a date

Paring; Agatha x F!Reader

Summary: a guy is following you and you find Agatha (a stranger) and asked her to pretend to be your partner.

Rated-♡

Pacify Her

Paring: Agnes x reader

Summary: Agnes reminds you who you belong to after watching you flirt with Wanda all night.

Rated-♢♡

Next Door Neighbor

Paring; Alice Chambers x Reader

Summary: the Victory project might be messing with Alice’s head but at least one person believes her.

Rated- ♧♡

Princess

Paring; Claire debella x f!intern!assistant!reader

Summary: you’re an intern for the debella campaign on her road to her becoming a senator, and one of the hardest working on the team. no one notices how hard you work... or so you thought.

Rated-♧♡♢

Offer Me That Deathless Death

Paring; Hela x valkyrie!reader

Summary: odin sending the valkyries to prevent hela from escaping was a present in disguise.

Rated-♤♧♢

Feeling Neglected

Paring; Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Summary: You are laying down playing video games, not paying attention to her. To get her attention back, she fucks you while you play.

Rated-♢

Dumb

Paring; Larissa Weems x f!reader

Summary: Larissa fucks you dumb

Rated-♢♢♢

My Little Helper

Paring; Larissa Weems x f!reader

Summary: Reader is visiting home from college for summer break and can't help but notice the new neighbor and your mom has already offered you up to help her with anything she needs.

Rated-♡♢

Ms.Romanoff's sweet girl

Paring; Teacher!Nat x innocent!reader

Summary: you grew up in a conservative household and you know nothing about sex, but you have a crush on your teacher who leaves you with weird feelings downstairs, what happens when she finds out?

Rated-♡♢

Attitude

Paring; toxic!shuriri x blackfemreader

Summary: you’re fed up with how shuri and riri have been in the lab, and giving less and less attention everyday…but it gets resolved.

Rated-♧♢♡

Don't Play With Me Princess

Pairing: Shuri x Reader

Summary: You get too close with Riri and Shuri doesn't like that.

Rated-♢♡

When I Had The Chance

Pairing: Dark!Shuri x Reader

Summary: Namor hurts you and Shuri makes sure that doesn't happen again.

Rated-♤♢

Touch Me

Pairing; dom!Shuri x brat!Fem reader

Summary: Reader is feeling neglected as Shuri takes on responsibilities as both the Black Panther and the leader of the Design Group. Instead of talking it out, she tries to get Shuri’s attention in other ways.

Rated- ♢♡

Sweet Girl

Pairing; Dom!Shuri x fem!Black Reader

Summary: smut with no plot…

Rated- ♢♢♢

The Panther's Muse

Paring; shuri x fem!reader

Summary: Shuri pays a visit to Riri’s new apartment but is surprised that she no longer lives alone.

Rated-♢♡

Take it off before, I tear it

Paring; Shuri x reader

Summary: You've been feeling neglected and decide to send nude pictures to Shuri while she is in the lab. When she got back, she put you in your place.

Rated-♢♡

Watching a “Movie”

Pairing; Shuri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shuri and the reader have a fun sleepover. 

Rated-♢♢♢

The Gardener

Paring; Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/n was the gardener's daughter, she used to help her father to yard work for Wanda. Now she does some of the work on her own. Wanda has a thing for the college aged girl and finds a way to get what she wants.

Rated- ♡♢

Sleepy

Pairing: g!p Wanda x g!p Natasha x little!fem!reader

Summary: y/n doesn’t want to go to bed, so Wanda and Natasha find another way to make her sleepy…

Rated- ♡♢

My Best Girl

Paring; stepmom!wanda x reader

Summary: Wanda spoils her best Girl for getting good grades in school.

Rated-♡♢

Stress Relief

Pairing; Stepmom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Whenever you're overwhelmed, your loving stepmom is there to make it better.

Rated-♤♡♢

Last updated 04/22/23

[ooglyboooglybitxh]

𝐍𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

contains: MEGA FLUFF

summary:its Nahir’s birthday 🎂

🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳

The Day Before:

★ How old is he turning you ask??, OUR BOI IS TURNING A YEAR OLD🥹🥹🥹

★ Shuri has been thinking about it all month, shit she could barely focus on her work she was excited, but stressed for her son’s first birthday.

____________________________________

☆ “ok y/n listen ive been planning this week for Nahir's birthday im thinking about the theme what should we do?" Shuri said pacing around the room

“baby, we’re not inviting that much people remember?”

“yes but still should we have a theme”

“yeah but he doesn’t like big stuff like that remember?”

“oh yeah, shit how did i forget that” she says putting her hands on her face “im so stupid”

“no baby your not stupid, you’re just trying to make sure it’s perfect”

“but what if he doesn’t like it?”

“Shuri he’s gonna love it, he’ll be fine i promise” you say kissing her cheek

____________________________________

The day of:

★ when you and Shuri tell him happy birthday he just looks at yall like

★ he’s also confused about why tf YOU cooked him a mini gourmet breakfast. He tore that shit up tho😭

★ He was kinda catching on when Riri came over for his party talking about “HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEPHEW” and gave you a bag with shit on top of it

★ But he didn’t care about anything else When his cousin Toussaint came over they went to go play immediately, like he didn’t let Nakia say Happy Birthday 😭

★ But best believe he seen Aneka and Okoye, don’t worry yall Nakia got her hug in😹

★ When it was time to blow out candles🤦🏾‍♀️… bro, he kept backing up from the cake because he seen fire😭😭

____________________________________

☆ “its ok Nahir it won't hurt you“ Shuri said as she rubbed his back as he sadly cooed into her chest

They tried again and he backed up into Shuri’s chest again

“it's ok Nahir it won't burn you“ Toussaint said patting his head

Then he finally blew out the candles

Well Shuri did.

---------------------------------------------

★ you could tell his favorite part was opening presents bc he had a blast

★ Nakia and Toussaint got gave him T'Challa's Black Panther necklace, which made Shuri tear up

(A/N: I almost cried getting that idea😕😕😕)

★ Riri got him a Spin toy from his favorite show

★ Aneka and Okoye got him a Meows Morales plushie that he is in love with

★ Shuri gave him kimoyo beads since he is so interested in them

★ You gave him two new pairs of shoes

★ he was so tired after everything he fell asleep on the floor in the living room. You carried him to his crib and sat on the bed continuing to what you were doing on your computer

____________________________________

🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳🐢🧸💙🐳

its short and a day late ik but if yall enjoyed this request more and see yall

(A/N: I might keep updating this post as I get more ideas)

🩵- Aaliyah

[skylarstark4826]

I loved this beautiful Black Panther publication Wakanda Forever from Attoye's beautiful ship of the characters of Attuma and Okoye together, especially because I love that they show the way Attuma had looked at Okoye after she had made the cut on her cheekbone when she prevented Attuma from killing Riri Williams when she was still unconscious the day they met... I like to think that Attuma had fallen in love with Okoye the instant he met her and I also like to think that the next Black Panther movies we can see them spending more time together and that in the Midnight Angel Series Attuma and Okoye are together and finally we see them become a couple because that would be something very very beautiful to see if they ask me

By the way, this beautiful publication of them is not mine and the credits are not for me, but I let you know that right here I am going to leave you the link of the true creator on Twitter. Since apparently there is a new update on Twitter and you can only see the link if you press X.Com

[smolwritingchick]

You Did Everything You Could

Author's Note: This is a Marvel related smol brainstorm. Nothing BTS related. It's regarding Jennie's Marvel Character, Arjana! Working on the other requests and random brainstorms too so stay tuned!!

I wrote this years ago regarding her Marvel Character. I like the fact that I took a break from writing and got back into it because my mind has come up with new ideas while rereading and editing. 

This gets a bit angsty so warning here. 

I was thinking Jen's character, Arjana, would be a former member of the Dora Milaje. She'd have a chip on her shoulder and have some sort of rivalry with Okoye. Okoye becoming the leader of the Dora Milaje would be the cause of it. I even thought the reason she was chosen as leader instead of Arjana was because Arjana cracked under pressure during a mission and made a bad call, choosing to disobey an order in the process. The way she'd get scolded and suspended from her duties for a while, and have to see Okoye become leader instead would frustrate her. When back after suspension, she'd try to endure Okoye as a leader while going on missions until it became too much. Fed up, she decided to leave the Dora Milaje and Wakanda to live life in South Korea, settling for Seoul.

So, when I write her scene in Black Panther, I want to write the tension between Okoye and her. T'Challa would still want Arjana to come back to Wakanda but she'll refuse. However, she will still be there to assist him in any way she can while in Seoul. There will be a point when she finally comes back to Wakanda, and Shuri will be happy and request for her to be her guardian since the two are great friends. 

I also thought her character could have a bond with Bucky and become friends with him when he's in Wakanda. She'd be requested to watch him by Shuri, which she'd complain about but does it anyway. Despite not wanting to act like a babysitter, the two end up bonding and have a close friendship while smol feelings start to grow but nothing develops. 

For this smol brainstorm, I would like for her character to deal with Survivor's Guilt during the whole Infinity War and Endgame movies. The reason is that she felt like she failed to protect Shuri and watched her fade to dust in her arms. Traumatizing af...but Captain America finds her and tries to talk some sense into her.

Now when Jennie is told that she would be filming with Chris Evans...her dramatic ass is going to literally faint lmfao.

-------------

Five years after Thanos’ snap, Natasha debriefed with Captain Marvel, Okoye, Rocket, Nebula and Rhodey. After their discussion, Okoye stayed with Rhodey while everyone else signed off.

“Any update on Arjana’s whereabouts?” Okoye asked.

Natasha nodded. “We found her. She was sighted in Japan, recently.”

Okoye sighed out of relief but then shook her head at the thought of her being absent from Wakanda after all these years. 

“That stubborn woman…hiding like a coward. All we want is for her to come home. And for her to get through that thick stubborn skull of hers it is not her fault,”

--------

Arjana laid her back on the couch as she stared up at the ceiling. She managed to find a place in Japan to try to move on and forget about the blip. But dreadful thoughts would creep up on her now and then about Shuri fading away in her arms. How traumatizing it was to watch helplessly the person you've sworn to protect vanish into the air.

A series of knocks were heard at her door and she quickly sat up in alarm. 

She had been extremely careful about not getting tracked. Did Wakanda find her? 

Grabbing one of her sais, she got off the couch and slowly approached the door. And when she looked through the peephole it was Steve Rogers patiently waiting for her on the other side of the door.

Her stomach dropped.

Rogers was the last person she expected to come to see her. Letting out a deep sigh, she contemplated opening the door as she set her sai down on the table.

With a sorrow-filled expression, she slowly opened the door to meet the blue eyes of Steve Rogers as he greeted her with a sad smile. It seemed like he was trying his best to move on too after they failed to stop Thanos.

“Why are you here?” she asked softly.

“It’s nice to see you too, Arjana,” he greeted kindly.

“Sorry…” she shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that…“

“Don’t worry about it. You’re a hard person to track down,”

“Well, I didn’t want to be found and yet here you are,” she responded dejectedly and let him inside.

"Are you all right?” He asked as he sat at the dining room table.

“I’m gettin’ by. You?”

“Taking it day by day,”

She made her way to the kitchen and grabbed two cups. “Tea?”

“Sure,”

Steve watched as she began to pour hot green tea she made not too long ago into the cups. Arjana looked different. Her hair had gotten longer. He then remembered Bucky had talked about what she would look like with long hair and confidently said it would suit her.

It did.

Usually, she would keep it trimmed and short but this time maybe it was because Bucky had suggested it to her that she decided to try out long hair.

After smiling at the fond memories of Bucky, Steve then thought about the reason why he came here.

“Okoye has been asking about you,” he informed her and watched as her body visibly tensed at the name.

She carefully placed Steve’s cup in front of him and sat across from him at the table.

“…how is she and Wakanda?” she asked.

“She misses you. She asks about you a lot. She felt less uneasy when she found out that you did not vanish. Wakanda is holding up and trying its best to move forward. They need you,”

Arjana felt a pang of guilt set within her as she thought about her home. It was selfish to leave abruptly like that after the blip. She used to be heavily a part of the Dora Milaje many years ago, even before the situation with Thanos but then chose to leave to enjoy life in different ways.

“You haven’t been in Wakanda ever since…that day, right?” Steve’s question interrupted her thinking.

She cringed at the thought. Ever since the effects of Thanos’ snap, Arjana couldn’t stay in Wakanda. Not after she failed to protect Shuri and had to watch her fade to dust. Not after she lost to Corvus Glaive as she tried to watch Shuri’s back. What kind of guardian is that?

After taking a long sip of her tea, ignoring the burning sensation on her tongue, she answered, "That is correct,”

“Why?”

“You know why. I can’t go back there,” she frowned and set her cup down.

"Yes, you can. No one in Wakanda will blame you. It’s not your fault,”

“I still couldn’t protect her. It was my duty and I failed,”

“You did everything you could to protect Shuri,”

“And it wasn’t enough!” she exclaimed with pain in her voice. “Because now she is gone. Faded away. It should have been me,"

"Don't do that to yourself,"

"I can’t even bear to understand how Wakanda is doing right now or what it looks like. I failed...”

“We all failed,” he shook his head.

They sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought.

“All I keep thinking about is that it should have been me. Not her. And not my king. They are both gone. The people we love and care about are gone…never coming back…” she whispered in the last sentence.

“You’re right…the people we love and care about are gone. But not forgotten. I wanted to thank you,”

She stared at him with confusion. “Thank me for what?”

“For taking care of Bucky while he was in Wakanda,”

The sound of his name gave her butterflies as she shook her head, “…that was all Shuri. Not me. She helped him with the brainwashing and everything. Her role was much bigger than mine,“

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Arjana. The change of scenery and Shuri’s doing helped but also your companionship. You two were close, huh?”

She chuckled sadly as she felt her eyes burn from tears. She then began to wipe the tears away.

“Sorry… every time I think about him I start crying…but yes…we were. During his time in Wakanda, he began opening up to me. Slowly but then as we spent more time together, things flowed naturally. I wasn’t expecting him to do that but he had a lot of trust in me. And I appreciated that. There are just a lot of things I wanted to say to him…and when I spoke to him before he went on the battlefield in Wakanda, perhaps I should have said everything then if I knew all of this was going to happen. I deeply care about him. I just wish I could have told him how much…”

“When we get him back, you can. We are thinking of a plan to try to get everyone back. I want you to be a part of it. We need all the help we can get. And when we do get everyone back, he can tell you the things he has told me,”

“Which are?”

Steve smiled softly. “That is not my place to tell,”

[arcanarix]

I don’t think you understand how much I eat up the “he freezes when he sees her” trope. Yes like in Black Panther. Yes like when Gojo saw Kenjaku!Geto.

Imagine this but with Geto seeing you again post defection. Under some unnamed circumstances you were a non sorcerer (or whatever tickles your fancy) who left Jujutsu Tech because while you had the gift (??) of seeing curses you didn’t have any way to fight back. You felt more like a detriment to their cause so you decided to return to your semi-normie life post Hidden Inventory or something. Idk. Not important. You were just there by speshul circumstances and you ultimately decided you weren’t about that life.

He sees you again a few years after the incident. He freezes, admiring your beauty. Looking as flawless as you did the last time he remembers seeing you. You’re about your business in the crowded mall and all he can think about is how you’re the one contradiction in his life he can’t shake off. You’re supposed to represent the thing he loathes, but he knows you’re a different case since you can see the evil that surrounds the human race. He freezes, unsure if he should approach you or not. His mind is flooded with those little memories of you, even if there aren’t many because truthfully, he was your senpai so you didn’t engage much with him. But he remembers you. Your kindness. Your strength in spite of your lack of cursed technique. Your heart. In a lot of ways you reminded him of Haibara. You made a lasting impression on him.

You notice him as you go about your business, browsing some designer jewelry, and the blood drains from your body. After you left, Kento Nanami has kept you updated on everyone, what goes on with them. You know of Geto’s defection and you have no way of defending yourself if he ever confronts you.

He finally makes his move. Your body shivers as you feel his presence behind you.

“What did you want to buy? I could pull a few strings for you,” he offers with a smile.

“Geto,” you mumble, “Hello. It’s been a long time.”

He rests a hand on your shoulder, and from the corners of your eyes you see that placid smile on his features. He looks the same, never mind the priest attire…as handsome as ever but beneath the calm exterior lies a danger to the world.

“What if I bought you this entire aisle? Would that warm you up to me? You seem tense.”

That hand on your shoulder dares to rest on your hip, gripping tight, his smile growing wider, more strained, more plastic.

“Then we can catch up over some drinks on me. Yeah?”

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

I just read that there might be an X-Files Reboot by Ryan Coogler.

This is mostly very rumour sounding right now, but cinemablend has an article that a reboot won't have the original stars (sounds bad already) and Chris Carter won't be involved. Carter says that it's a good thing he won't be though.

News broke back in 2023 that Black Panther writer/director Ryan Coogler was attached to a developing The X-Files reboot, which Variety reported was planned to include a diverse cast. At the time, the project was in very early stages of development, and there haven't been many updates since until Chris Carter opened up back in April. The original creator/showrunner spoke with Inverse about his career and shared his thoughts on Coogler's version proceeding without his involvement:

It’s interesting, people say, ‘Aren't you possessive of it?’ And I say, ‘No, I’m looking forward to seeing what somebody else does with it.'

Carter does have some idea of what Ryan Coogler has in mind, as he went on to tell Inverse (another website):

I just asked him what his ideas were, and he told me, and I said, ‘Those sound like good ideas.’ … No matter what, he's got a hard job. Casting is a hard job. Mounting it is a hard job. All the problems that I dealt with are going to be his problems.

The initial news of Ryan Coogler helming a fresh take on the franchise with a new cast seemed like it meant the era of Mulder and Scully was over. In fact, Gillian Anderson had already floated the idea that Season 11 would be her last before the first episode of it even aired, and had the perfect response when called out about Season 12 not happening.

Considering the wringer that Scully went through in what was evidently the last of Chris Carter's seasons, I honestly can't blame Gillian Anderson for not wanting to return. Just days after Carter dropped his comments about supporting Ryan Coogler's reboot without being involved in it, Gillian Anderson said this on TODAY about playing Scully again:

There’s a chance it will happen. Whether I’m involved in it is a whole other thing. But in his hands — but I’m not saying no — because I think (Coogler) is really cool, and I think if he did it, it would probably be done incredibly well, and maybe I’ll pop in for a little somethin-somethin.

https://www.cinemablend.com/television/the-x-files-creator-chris-carter-shares-thoughts-on-ryan-coogler-upcoming-reboot

So I'm personally of course thinking "Oh no...don't we reboot enough things these days?" Then again another part of me is thinking "I'm kind of curious though to see how it would work out."

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Been a minute...

...since I read this old buzzfeed article about Black women writing fanfiction (specifically The Walking Dead/Richonne).

This was back in 2016, so the fandoms discussed are all IR pairings. Would love to see one written about the Black Panther fandom and Black women writing about Black characters being with other Black characters.

It's always fun to look back at different eras. I was getting back into my Star Trek Uhura/Spock reading groove back then and started slowly scribbling a few things myself.

One of these days I may actually write about the BP fandom myself because I jumped in after the initial start months later with my niche N'Jobu fics, so I missed out on being in the bigger mixes like T'Challa or Killmonger. I missed all the fandom drama wars initially because only a few people were reading my fics and I never got traction in my tags and barely had my N'Jobu fics reblogged. It wasn't until I wrote "Forty-Seven G" that I began to get some circulation in the Killmonger streets.

I enjoyed the creative variety of tales Black women/Black Queer Fam were churning out in the Black Panther fandom. Reimagining Killmonger as Tarzan ( I know it sounds sketchy, lol, but that good sis made it so enjoyable and plausible). Having T'Challa and Killmonger have the ability to turn into panthers. Some stories gave them tails and actual panther/ cat behaviors. College life. Killmonger's time in the military or with Linda as a mercenary. Versions of what Killmonger would've been like had N'Jobu taken him home. Entire worldviews told from Shuri or Okoye's eyes. Stories about T'Challa and Nakia getting back together. Storm and T'Challa and Nakia. Storm and Killmonger. Killmonger paired with M'Baku. M'Baku falling for Okoye.

There were some folks who took it into areas of ick and discomfort with pairings that elicited backlash, conversations, heated debates, anger, and even disgust. I just appreciate that it was all out there for people to see. It was one of the most intriguing eras of Black Fandom that strictly dealt with a wholly Black world. Even white folks and other non-Black folks dipped into our waters and had the audacity to center their white women as queens of Wakanda---chile--, and got mad when we snickered, snorted, or stood up for centering Blackness without whiteness ever being present in our stories.

Anyhoo, if you want to read an interesting snapshot of Black women fanfic writers (many who aren't writing anymore or rarely update) check it out HERE. Most of it is about Richonne, and I like I said before, it mainly details fandoms that had a Black woman paired with a white man.

[soul-controller]

Patreon Update (April ‘23)

Hello there everyone, hope anyone reading this is doing well. I totally meant to post this last Friday, but things have been super hectic and I completely blanked on it. Sorry about that!

Thank you for all of the support and love that you’ve given the Influencing the Influencer series and Dad, Be Careful What You Wish For over the last month! Those stories were really fun for me to make so it’s nice to pull them from the Patreon vault and see that y’all enjoy them as well.

Speaking of Patreon, here’s a summary of the stories I released there last month. If any of the following stories intrigue you, please feel free to click on the title so you can sign up for the appropriate tier to read it!

 Finally In Front Of The Camera

This vault story was originally released in March 2022 for the Clarke tier. After a year of exclusivity, it's now become a $5 story.

For years, obese 76-year-old Ernest had been constantly bullied by his staff and the arrogant actors he worked with for his appearance. Although there weren't many actors he enjoyed working with, he loathed nothing more than having to work with the egotistical bully that is Frank Grillo. After an accidental electrocution causes them to swap bodies though, Ernest is eager to give the man some much deserved revenge and ridicule...

Tags: Body Swap, Humiliation, Actors, Muscle Growth, Weight Gain

Revenge of the Nerd (Part II)

For Britney Farmer, there's nothing worse than getting her weekend plans ruined... especially when the interruption comes from her pathetic class partner Mitchell. Despite her annoyance, she still opts to come to Mitchell's apartment so she can make her way to the evening's frat party. Unfortunately for her, Mitchell has a plan for revenge that will end up making her more at home with the frat...

Tags: Female to Male, Gender Change, Muscle Growth, Revenge

Sauna Swap (Part II)

While stuck in the sauna with his client, Alek is momentarily unaware of the fact that their bodies are slowly turning into each other. Upon the appearance of a hefty gut rather than his defined abs though, the personal trainer rushes to escape and figure out what's happening him as he continues to change...

Tags: Body Swap, Age Progression, Weight Gain, Muscle Theft

The Leader of Talokan (Part I)

Eager to have a tropical vacation far away from his quaint town, Henry opts to travel to Mexico upon getting an incredible deal at a five-star resort. Halfway into his trip though, the man finds himself in the middle of a battle between the Mexican army and a slew of blue-skinned warriors named the Talokanil. Upon getting caught watching the battle occur, the warriors hold the man hostage before forcing him to drink a special potion that change his body in more than one way...

In case anyone is confused - this is a story set in the MCU where Henry finds himself turning into the primary antagonist of the newest Black Panther film. Part two will follow the aftermath of Henry's transformation as it leads directly into the events of the movie.

Tags: Muscle Growth, Racial Change, Superhero, Marvel, Fan Fiction

The Body Shop (Part III)

Upon accepting Theo's offer to fully test out the female bodysuit, Peter finds himself  desperate to take things to the next level. Along with this, Theo's true motives behind his assistance with Peter is revealed.

This is the final part of this smutty trilogy.

Tags: Bodysuit, Gender Change, Male to Female, Mental Change, Reality Shift

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Chapter 1 - "Storm"

Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 2.8K Chapters: 1/5 Rating: Explicit (soon!)

Summary: You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

Warnings: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries (will be updated as I go along)

A/N: Well, here we go! My first foray into fanfiction writing in something like 18 years? What can I say, Andy Serkis has an inspirational way about him, it seems.

In my mind this is set somewhere between "Avengers" and "Age of Ultron". I wanted to give myself somewhere to go, since I do kind of have plans beyond this! I'm not sure yet if I'll end up extending this work, or start a new one (in a same universe/established relationship kind of deal), but we'll see!

Also I apologize for any weird tense shifting, this started out as something else then evolved to being a reader-insert fic (which kind of unlocked it for me, actually).

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and the Butchers.

AO3 Link

Blood-shot, your eyes drop And the skin's all wearing thin There's no one here to tell you ‘Bout the depth of the water Or the trouble that you're in

You're standing on the edge of a precipice.

You can’t see what’s below but you know that it’s a sheer drop with an inhospitable field of boulders lining the river at the bottom. Your heart is pounding hard but steady under your rib cage and if you look down at yourself you can see the tremor of each beat as it ripples through your bones and muscles. In contrast your head feels bright and weightless with anticipation.

You nudge your feet forward until the tips of your shoes are hanging over the edge of the platform that you’re standing on. A gust of wind tests your balance and your stomach lurches as you wobble slightly, but you take a steadying breath and brace your core, keeping yourself rigid from shoulders to ankles Taking one final breath all the way to the top of your lungs you allow your body to tip forward and the moment that gravity finally takes hold of you a helpless, giddy cry releases from your chest as you plummet towards the roaring river below.

No one you’ve ever met would choose to describe you as particularly risk averse, finding yourself more often drawn towards the source of the adrenaline than repelled by it.

You’ve mountain climbed in Yosemite, bungee jumped in New Zealand, and once rode the Ride of Steel "hypercoaster" twenty times in a row on a bet. Your date had been startled by how quickly you took him up on it and insisted that he was joking, the "joke" of course being that you wouldn't be able to handle it. You happily got in the front car and proceeded to laugh gleefully every single time you crested that first 68° degree drop that seemed to point directly at the ground. 

Unfortunately your date evidently got bored and decided to peace out halfway through what he had started. After reading his text you laughed even harder than when you were on the coaster, promptly blocked him, and went to find yourself a funnel cake. The next day all of your joints ached and you felt curiously hungover, but you also felt like you had a clear head for the first time in weeks.

You're not naive, though, you understand that taking risks can get you hurt. You received a permanent reminder of this fact when you ended a paragliding trip to the Finger Lakes in New York State with a compound fracture of your humerus. The ride had been almost perfect but as you were coming in to land a rogue gust of wind lifted and then pushed you awkwardly sideways. The sudden shift in momentum and resulting collapse of one side of your glider caused you to slam left arm-first into the ground which, you noted with a detached annoyance, was just as hard as when you had left it.

Fighting off shock you walked a mile to the nearest house, and after the startled couple had calmed down from the bloody sight of you standing on their porch they brought you inside and called an ambulance. They gently stabilized your arm with a scarf while making sure to keep your feet elevated, and didn’t stop asking you questions to keep you talking until help arrived.

You still send Homer and Daisy postcards at least once a year.

Two surgeries, two metal plates, eleven screws and twelve weeks later your cast was off and your cabin fever had you on a plane to Munich because it was October, and why not?.

You’ve traveled solo for most of your adult life. It’s just easier: you don’t have to explain yourself, or wait around for other people to make up their minds regarding plans (or try to change them completely). If you’re able to coordinate with someone you will, but rarely go out of your way to do so.

You spent a week trekking across the moors of the Scottish Highlands (to this day you will attest that the shitty tavern beer you drank when you returned to civilization was the best thing you’ve ever tasted) and visited Cairo which, even before the Arab Spring, was not the safest place for a solo female traveler - as you were cheerfully reminded by just about every shopkeeper and cab driver you encountered. You were regularly offered some sort of local sweets during these interactions, though, so you learned not to mind it too much.

There’s just something that thrills you about figuring out a new place. About setting yourself as a Minotaur at the center of a labyrinth and then figuring out where you needed to go and how to get there, wandering around corners and finding disused pathways, pressing at the edges of a city to find where the pieces came together.

Then, when things got really weird and aliens invaded Earth in the Battle of New York and Superheroes became a very real thing, you lost your mind with the rest of the world for a little while. But as always seemed to happen life quickly picked up the strange new pieces and moved forward. You incorporated the new information into your reality, listened to people complain about how it was just the next thing to be pummelled into your brains during the 24 hour news cycle (Tony Stark certainly seemed to enjoy this), and continued on living because you just..did.

You find work when and where you need to; travel and adrenaline seeking aren’t free, after all.

You started learning to weld in a high school shop class after taking it as an elective and it turned out that it was actually very relaxing for you, almost meditative. You took to the craft quickly, learning that metallurgy was its own art form that was both challenging and rewarding. You find a rare calm in watching the molten puddle form, smelling the Flux burning, the elements of the Earth being reshaped under your hands, and then the ache of accomplishment in your muscles after a long day.

And, honestly, you’d be hard pressed to deny that it also kind of just tickled that part of your primordial lizard brain that got excited at “Fire! Pretty!”

The cutting, prepping and moving materials around doesn’t bother you either, it helps to keep you strong and sure of yourself. The men and occasionally other women that you work with quickly learn that you have zero issues getting your shit done, and so tend to leave you alone.

Your trade gives you the freedom to move around and do what you want since you can find work pretty easily just about anywhere. Of course there will always be those stubborn bastards who staunchly refuse to hire a woman out of some weak sense of tradition, but these days it’s not as much of a fight to get hired as it was back when you were first starting out. It also helps that now most of the holdouts can be convinced simply by making an incredulous face and asking, “Really? Aliens and Gods are real, but a woman welding is just too bananas for you to handle?”

That usually does the trick. Thanks aliens! You really did a sister a solid on that one.

Your work and your wanderlust mean that you rarely stay in one place for very long. You work hard and enough to support yourself and to save up for whatever port calls you next, but as much as you enjoy traveling and learning the world you’ve never felt particularly connected to one place, or person. Outside of the occasional one night stand any relationships you’ve had have been short lived. Not necessarily because the sex was boring (in fact occasionally it could be pretty great) but eventually they would just get tired of a woman who didn’t want to settle down and wasn’t interested in taking care of them.

You might last a few months in any given place - sometimes it’s as short as a couple of weeks - before you’re pulling up the stakes again in search of a new maze. No matter where you are you know that you'll inevitably start to get antsy, like a cat who was becoming unnerved, back twitching furtively in anticipation of something you can’t quite sense the edges of.

It’s on a hot night night in July during one of these periods of in between that you find yourself in a small bar in Utrecht, about thirty minutes outside of Amsterdam.

The walls are decorated with green and white striped wallpaper and an entertainingly prolific number of brass fixtures and ornately kitschy framed art, all bordered by wooden wainscoting painted dark brown. There is a massively thick, ancient dark wood bar top and mismatched tables, surfaces all gouged and scratched, water stains seeping through the decades of lacquer that looks to be at least half an inch thick.

It’s been mind-warpingly humid for the past three days, uncharacteristic for somewhere so close to the North Sea, and the entire city feels on edge. Even now in the evening's waning hours the air is thick and syrupy, the promise of a thunderstorm hanging teasingly in the heavy air.

You’ve positioned yourself in a corner that puts you in the path of a fan plugged in next to the bar, soaking in the relieving sweep of air every time its oscillating breeze passes over you. It’s nearing closing time and you’re nursing a glass of genever, your fingers absently play through the condensation on the surface while you debate giving the very tall and sweet looking local who's been glancing your way for the last hour, a shot at convincing you to let him take you back to your hotel.

The front door opens from the street letting in a gust of air that feels surprisingly cool, you perk up a little and hope that it's a herald of the summer storm the city’s been waiting for. You’re about to down the last swallow of your drink when you glance up at the man that just entered, flanked by two enforcer-looking buddies.

Ice rattles as the glass pauses on its way to your lips, your attention immediately drawn to them. Or rather, to him.

Dark haired and broad shouldered he’s the shortest of the three and yet seems to take up the most space. He’s wearing dark green slacks and heavy boots with a tan fatigue shirt, the top two buttons unfastened to reveal part of a large tattoo across his chest and collar bones. When he turns his head you see more tattoos arcing across his neck and skull under short clipped hair before trailing down beneath his shirt collar. 

You set your glass back down, entirely missing the coaster, and unconsciously lick your lips.

It's well past last call but you watch as the dark haired man orders a whiskey anyway. The bartender tiredly starts to let him know that it’s too late, but when he finally looks up and properly takes in the three men in front of him he seems to make a quick mid-flight recalculation. A beleaguered expression shifts to an accommodating if distinctly nervous smile before pulling a bottle off of a high shelf to pour the drink.

You can’t clock if the bartender knows the man or if he simply picked up on the same energy that you had, quickly realizing that this was the kind of person that it was risky to say no to.

The local and his friends had suddenly decided to call it a night, so now it’s only you and a couple of barflies left. You can hear the three men talking but can only make out snippets - something about a “new compound” and then, most interestingly “TIG welders”.

You slowly spin your glass in its little puddle of condensation on the table, the spark of an idea coalescing into half of a plan. You convince yourself that it’s because you're looking for a new direction anyway, that this is just serendipitous timing and you should take advantage of it, that it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the way your eyes keep being drawn to the tattooed man at the bar.

You finish your drink and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans, then gather your things and start walking towards the door. You pass the bar on your way to the exit but then, making it seem like an afterthought, you briefly pause and then double back to get the man’s attention.

“Hi, sorry to bother you-”

He turns to look at you and your words stop short behind your teeth, your stomach doing a loop the instant that his eyes focus on you.

“Um, sorry,” you stammer, caught off guard, but shake your head clear and push forward. “I don’t know if this is relevant at all but.. I’m looking for work. I’m a welder! I mean. Specifically that kind of work.”

Wow, this is going great, you think and internally roll your eyes at yourself.

He looks at you with a bemused expression, but there’s also a “get to the point” sharpness in his eyes.

”I can do TIG, MIG, stick welding..” you trail off, still waiting for him to say something. “So, uh,” you beg yourself to finish an actual sentence, ‘if you’re looking for people, I’m available.”

When he finally speaks his words are low and measured.

“You were eavesdropping.” It wasn’t a question.

You flush at the admonition and are immediately annoyed that you flush, but quickly recover to defend yourself.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you were making it particularly difficult, what with the whole” - you gesture broadly at the bar around you - “having a conversation in a public place and all.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles and takes a sip of his whisky. His accented words are clipped, not entirely out of place in the Netherlands, but still not local. South African, maybe? At his laugh you release some of the tension that's knotted itself between your shoulder blades, though it’s replaced by something else when you notice the glisten of liquor on his lower lip.

His hair is curly and up close you can see the salt and pepper threading its ways through. His eyes refocus on you as he puts his glass down and even in the bar light you can see that they shine blue.

“Hmmm,” he seems to consider, rubbing his fingers across his chin. “I might be able to use you”. You try to keep your expression neutral at that because you're flushing again, finding yourself glad for the low light. “But", he continues, "you should know that I don’t work in, let’s say, traditional fields.”. He picks up his drink again and waits for you to react.

Interesting. “What, like, requires an NDA kind of non-traditional?”

He watches your face closely, his attentiveness making you simultaneously want to curl into yourself and stand up straighter. He smiles slowly, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Something like that.” 

“Well, I’m always looking to get new experience, I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty and I work hard.” He glances at your left arm while you speak, and you see his eyes fall on the thick vertical scar between your shoulder and elbow. Most people can’t help but look but then will quickly avert their eyes. This man’s eyes linger, appraising, and he seems to take his time trailing his gaze up along your shoulder, your neck, and finally back to meet your eyes.

You feel warm and - you’re not quite sure the right word - perceived, maybe. Exposed. A voice in the back of your mind is whispering that this man knows how to get what he wants, and you should be very, very careful.

“David”, he says, not breaking eye contact with you as he gets one of the other men's attention. “Give her the contact details for Romania”, he then stops and looks at you inquisitively, prompting, “Miss..?”

You pick up the queue and give him your name, instinctively extending your hand to shake. After a pause he reaches out his own and wraps his fingers around yours.

“Klaue”, he replies.

And now you’re aware of how small your hand feels in his.

Danger, Will Robinson.

And you think that maybe his hand grasps yours a little longer than necessary before releasing you.

Ok, but seriously: DANGER.

Your instincts are now very insistently yelling that you should turn back - find safe quarters, dry land, high ground. Just say thanks but no thanks and figure something else out, you always do, it'll be fine.

Unfortunately your brain ignores these pleas and the adrenaline flooding your system, as has historically been the case, makes you helpless to do anything but continue on towards the beckoning unknown.

You're standing on the edge of a precipice.

Thank you for reading, and bear with me as I set this up! I should have chapter two up this weekend, and after that it's a bit up in the air but I'm hoping to get a new chapter done every two weeks or so until this one is finished.

Anyway, I'm going to go lie face down on the ground for a bit while I process that I actually did this.

[ctrlsznwrites]

to wakanda

summary. after not hearing from her older brother for months, she has a few visitors at her doorstep. pairing. erik 'killmonger' stevens x aniya stevens [sibling!oc] author's note. i'm redoing this series to update it, so show me some love and hopefully i can get some new material out soon. word count. 1.23k

masterlist

Aniya was sitting in her apartment on a hot summer night in Oakland, watching the first reruns of Chicago Med. Her mind hadn’t been at rest since the last time she heard form her brother after he killed Claw before making his way to Wakanda. Letting out a deep sigh she continued to focus on the tv show while eating her ice cream. When the drink she had on her coffee stable started to shake, sitting up from her previous position. Reaching for the remote, she muted the television trying to pay close attention to the sounds from outside her apartment.

Moving quietly, she set her ice cream down on the coffee table, when there was a knock at her door. Cursing under her breathe she quickly got the gun she keeps taped under her coffee table, making her way to the door. Aniya cocked the gun taking  a deep breathe before opening the door to only be met with the Dora Milaje.

Much to her dismay, she fixed her glasses on her face before pulling her lower lips to show her mark before letting the women in. Soon enough the Black Panther followed behind them, Aniya watched as the five people made their way into her home judging her surroundings. She quickly checked the hall one last time before closing the door and locking it.

“Just give me on moment, I’m gonna put this away and we can talk about why you’re here and how you even know I exist.” Walking away before anyone could answer.

Aniya’s mind was racing as she packed away her gun, how they found her. Was it because of Erik? Was he okay? And why after all this time are they just now coming to see her? What could have happened to warrant this surprise and completely unwelcome visit.

Making her way form her coat closet in the hallway of her unit, she made her way back into the living room to see the Dora standing around her cousin who was sitting on her couch. An unpleased scuff left her mouth as she took in the whole scene in front of her.

“Excuse me your highness, I don’t know how they raised you where your from. But you speak before you take a seat in someone’s home here.” She spoke abruptly sitting across from him.

T’Challa’s face morphed into one of shock standing quickly not wanting to make this difficult trip any worse. This caused Aniya to chuckle before extending her hand for him to sit again.

“Now, what do I owe this pleasure to? Came to make nice with the traitors other love child?” T’Challa could not only hear the sarcasm that dripped from her voice but also the hurt.

“N’Jadka has requested you presence in Wakanda, he only recently made us aware of you.”

Aniya let out a chuckle of disbelief before looking him up and down. “So, let me just make this make sense for me, just bear with me please. After not hearing from the only living relative I have left, for five almost six months. He all of a sudden wants me to just drop everything I have going for myself to join him in the country to which killed me father? He can kiss my ass, and I mean that.”

Sitting back on her seat for a moment, she bit her lip trying to keep the tears at bay realizing there has to be a reason as to why it took him so long to reach out to her. And there is a reason he wants her to be with him.

Rubbing her hands up and down her face to dry her tears before trying to make sense of everything. “Alright, I’ll go but first tell me why after five months reached out for me now. And not when he got there? What happened?”

T’Challa watched as he saw the resolve of his little cousin break, seeing that she felt as if she was abandoned by her family, especially the only family she knew personally. His heart hurt for everything she went through the last few months, knowing what her brother did and the reason why she feels the way she does.

“Well for starters his entrance into Wakanda…” T’Challa went on to tell Aniya about what happened once her older brother made his way into Wakanda. As he told her about Erik dying and being revived  she fell into complete hysterics knowing that once he woke up he didn’t have family with him.

Along with the fact that he could’ve been dead forever and she wouldn’t have known, not being able to put his body to rest. Learning about everything he went through and that he was willing to leave her by herself just didn’t sit right with her. It honestly broke her spirit in a way she didn’t even expect.

Aniya let out a sigh as she moved her hands up and down her face. “So, did you know about me after he was hospitalized, or did he tell you after he woke up?”

“We found out about you after he was hospitalized, but before we could reach out to you he woke up and wanted for you to be there when he was ready.”

Aniya nodded clasping her hands open and closed in anger that her brother didn’t want her to be there for him. “Give me an hour and I’ll be ready.” Getting up she took her almost now melted ice cream, putting it in the freezer.

As she walked to her room grabbed her suitcase, while picking out clothes she saw her reflection in her mirror. Her hand went to her necklace, it was the only thing she had of her mother. It was a necklace her father gave her before he died, and her mother gave her the necklace before she died 15 years ago. 

Sniffling she looked away and continued to pack trying not to think about the fact that Erik was willing to leave her alone in this world knowing he was the only real family she had. They had gone through everything together and she didn’t even know the real reason he went to Wakanda.

“I swear to god when I see that nigga it’s on sight.” She mumbled to herself as she finished zipping up her bag.

Slipping on a pair of vans, she grabbed a few more things before making her way to the front where her three unexpected guests were. Nodding, she signaled she was ready to go. They continued their way to the roof after she had locked up her apartment.

They all boarded the aircraft where there was a beyond awkward silence. Looking around she saw how advanced everything was and now she understood why her father betrayed his country. They got to live in a utopia without worrying while her people were dying for just existing. She scuffed feeling this bubble of anger sit in her chest that she had to deal with her best friend being shot in front of her while her cousins didn’t have to worry about living to see the next day.

“Is something wrong?” A Dora asked looking over her shoulder.

Aniya shook her head no, deciding she didn’t trust herself not to snap at the older woman. Closing her eyes, she leaned into her seat trying to relax, she was finally going to Wakanda.

[norcalbruja]

Two spirits/steps forward with the Tagalog spirits, one REALLY big step back.

What’s up, it’s been about a month and things are shifting in a less-than-ideal manner.

Bad news: A third theater-friend I asked about a superhero play I’m writing (Takotsubo: The Story of a Superhero) has said that he doesn’t know anyone with the cast numbers or the budget to pull off my superhero play, so it’s increasingly likely that I’ll have to relearn how to draw and make this a comic series after all.

He mused that the only people with the NUMBERS to pull it off are schools, and that leaves me to go ask my old theater professor if the college is still doing new works.

I’m conflicted about asking the high schools, because as much as I’d love to give young actors a shot at acting, they are also YOUNG actors dealing with school and life and shit. Some of them are likely to be new at acting as well. Takotsubo has a cast of ADULTS WITH ADULT PROBLEMS, so I don’t want to just toss a bunch of teenagers into the deep end of “the cycle of violence and poverty with gang/street life, plus a side of colonization and undocumented immigration as experienced by the Tagalog deities,” especially if some of them are actually dealing with that in real life.

I’ll see how much I can speed-write of the first draft before I ask my theater professor AGAIN about this.

The full circle of going nowhere! It’s hilarious and infuriating.

Behind the read-more button, because a month of updates is EXTREMELY long.

--

Better news: I think hearing/confirming from someone that I probably haven’t offended every anito into abandoning me is a good thing.

In early June, someone else in the Tagalog pantheon showed up, and THAT was unexpectedly Araw, the primordial Sun.

Araw is not the same figure as Apolaki--the latter is a sun-GOD, who got mixed up with the Kapampangan deity if I remember right, and he’s also said to be Bathala's younger relative (son, grandson, nephew, and I think I've heard ADOPTED relative, but I'm not sure where).

Araw is always portrayed as the personification of the Sun itself, as his name denotes. As the blistering tropical sun, he's not very nice. His only surviving myth is a Maui-type story where he conquers the sky-world--and seemingly the REST of the Philippines, since he's stated to oppress mortals with his heat. Either 1) he almost burns the world up until Bathala fights him and gouges his eye out, thus bringing the heat down to the CURRENT Philippines, or 2) he drops the sky on everyone and forces them to crawl around in submission, at which Bathala gouges his eye out.

For double the oppression, Araw does both in some myths--he drops the sky on everyone, AND he makes it too hot for Bathala to lift back up, at least until he loses that eye. Unfortunately, with that being the only surviving Tagalog myth about him, Araw mostly vanishes after his origin myth stating, "you think it's hot in the Philippines? It used to be EVEN WORSE!"

--

NOTE: LONG STORY-TALK AHEAD! FEEL FREE TO SKIP UNTIL I’M DONE.

It seems that writing so much about Araw for the past couple of years means that he logically has a lot of thoughts about how I see the Sun, and how I’m trying to put together all the pieces that we no longer have about Tagalog and Philippine religion.

So, I’m not “softening him up” or justifying his former oppression--it’s definitely BAD that he was a former conqueror--but he is also the Sun and necessary for life, so he must have SOME good qualities besides getting taken down a peg or five by Bathala. It’s not like the Philippines is a stranger to the idea that “Nature is NATURE, it does not have our morals,” given that crocodiles in our mythology are at once water-guardians, guides for deceased souls in the afterlife, AND are fully acknowledged for eating people sometimes.

--

I started writing about Araw in my Black Panther fanfic as a motif about the Sun and fire. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever had the constant theme of "burning the world" due to grief/rage, but as I ended up putting Loki in this fanfic, HIS theme about the Sun is "always being in the Golden Boy Thor's shadow" and "hungering for love/attention/sunlight/warmth."

Araw starts out as a sexy but hotheaded nature-spirit who charms my Filipino-American character, because she's a mage/mutant with wind-powers and he's the sky-chief, so they seem like a good match! But being the Sun, he is notoriously hot-tempered and gets mad when he finds out she's got a bantay-tubig boyfriend. After the fight, Araw gets narrowly beaten when the Mayan bat-god Camazotz rolls up and ends the daytime, so he loses the bulk of his magic for eight to ten hours. Obviously he wouldn’t die from getting stranded in the ocean, but he’d still be swimming a lonnnnnnng way home until his powers get back.

But then I went, "ehhhhh, do I want a Tagalog man trying to kidnap a woman and kill her boyfriend? It’s like a repeat of Namor/Kukulkan being gratuitously violent because he’s TECHNICALLY the antagonist, even though he is really, really right about colonization. Also, we need the sun to live! It’s not smart to demonize the source of 90% of Earth life."

So I tweaked the outline, and now being forced to swim a lonnnnnnnnng way home (and restore all the plant-life and animals) calms Araw down, so he joins the group and makes amends. And THAT begins with telling everyone the real story about how Loki got adopted by Odin! He and Loki will eventually get together, lol.

--

Meanwhile, the Araw in my script “Takotsubo” is cousin to Haik the sea-god. They look eerily identical because they both happened to look like their grandfather, a volcano-god who used to be a datu’s son and was enslaved as a young man (by another datu, as things go in older times when everyone with enough power can say they run the place). They inherited WILDLY opposing traits from him: Araw got fire-magic, while Haik got his kindness.

Context: Takotsubo is a gangster/superhero story. While it definitely starts with a “superhero origin story,” my protagonists are not white, and at the end of the ‘origin,’ my main protagonist just gives up and makes a new gang as the Tin Man, because he thinks there’s no point in getting out of the street life.

They are widely known as a NICE gang, being that this is also a superhero story. It’s a constant, bitter joke that the Tin Man only shot one guy, and everyone started making up shit about how he cursed the man’s house, or he can curse the people he’s trying to take out. The only real powers he has are that he’s good with guns, and he has this vague and barely-trained ability to “charm” people.

When the Tin Man recruits a Filipino woman who’s lost her parents to gang violence, he has her become the gang’s “witch/bruja” because she’s another barely-trained mage with a lot of anger/grief at the world. I then start bringing in Filipino spirits, lol. She starts getting HER overblown reputation when she helps the gang bludgeon the bantay-tubig away from eating another gang, gets one of the women’s dresses as a gift, and is often mistaken for a spirit herself.

When you are a Filipino-American who knows the basics of Filipino folklore, but you’re in a place where a lot of people have NO experience with Filipino spirits, you are essentially the only adult in a group full of teenagers. Lol.

The Tagalog deities have also been marginalized and forgotten, and she PROPERLY meets the anito after a really shitty day at the restaurant she works at: A customer threw hot coffee and his mug at her, so she retaliated by slamming him with a serving tray, and the police arrested HER because the customer was an old white guy and “you can’t hit old people, not even if they’re acting like they were raised in a barn!”

Way back in my “Crocodile God” research, I was trying to find anything about Haik besides the usual records that chiefs would hold feasts for him for a safe voyage, and the post-colonial myth of “Haik and Amanikable are rival sea-gods fighting each other to protect/destroy ships.” The closest thing I got for information was how Haik coincidentally means “daytime” in Temuan Malay. I’m not sure if his name was intentionally borrowed or if it’s a remnant of Old Tagalog or Austronesian, but currently Haik and Araw are cousins in this story.

As an ambitious/resentful young man, Araw killed the fire-spirits’ king and took his place. This is “myth-building,” yes, but it is also definitely a parallel to modern gang violence. He starts out decent, but then he loses his parents to war (bad) and tries to avenge them by conquering the land- and sky-kingdoms (VERY bad). Once Araw kills his ex-girlfriend’s new husband, Bathala fights him, puts out his eye, and claims the sky-kingdom. Araw thought he was going to be killed and accepted that fact of preindustrial noble life, but Bathala is both surprised and relieved, so he just tells Araw to do better with the fire-kingdom than he did with the whole of the islands.

Haik and his parents left court and went back to fishing and granting peasants’ wishes, because they don’t want Haik to get lost in the money-sauce. Araw, to his credit, knows that he’s fucked up, and he constantly helps them and offers to get them a nicer house and servants, even if they don’t want to stay at the palace anymore.

One day, Haik’s canoe gets wrecked by an enormous crocodile. He barely manages to beat him, and the dying crocodile turns into a dragon and offers him his magic, telling him that with water-magic, he can go to the throne of the seas and claim it. Haik turns it down because… surprise, his day-job is FISHING. All he knows about ruling personally is that his cousin is a king, and he lost an eye when another king came along.

The dragon laughs, tells him he lied about being king of the seas, and bestows his magic upon Haik anyway, so Haik eventually becomes a sea-god.

Then Spain arrives, and with the sheer scale of colonization, Araw 1) realizes his defeat by Bathala was EXTREMELY necessary to keep him from getting this bad, and 2) is forced to slow down and think, “well, maybe bludgeoning (or burning) everyone to death isn’t a good idea ALL the time.” When Haik starts losing his worshippers and getting demonized as a “cannibal” because he is known for turning into a croc/dragon and eating people, he’s also accused of demanding human sacrifice because “BIG LIZARDS BAD, SO THE SCARY BROWN MAN WHO TURNS INTO ONE MUST BE REALLY BAD!”, and he’s almost killed by the Spanish when they massacre a pagan barangay, and he refuses to leave them to save his own life.

Araw finds Haik half-dead in a mountain of corpses, drops him off with some of his healers, then heads to the Spanish camp and pretends to be a MOSTLY-healed Haik (what with his missing eye), so he can pump them full of lead in a rage. Yes, that is another parallel to modern gang violence. Guns and gunpowder are actually a motif in my script--they were invented in ASIA, but in modern times they’re constantly associated with Western (especially European) and “modern” society, what with colonization.

Haik and Araw are character foils to each other, not only in the “rich cousin and poor cousin” dynamic, but because they’re “two extremes of personality that have their own issues to deal with.” After all, they only inherited HALF of their grandfather’s traits--Araw’s immense power makes him a veteran of three wars by the time that he’s thirty years old (or “the immortal equivalent of thirty”); Haik is kind and merciful, which means he’s been physically and emotionally scarred by everyone blaming him for shit he didn’t do.

--

LONG STORY TALK IS OVER! BACK TO SPIRIT STUFF!

So a couple weeks ago, Araw showed up in my meditation. As many younger Filipino spirits appear to me, he’s a handsome and dark-skinned guy, but he’s got an eye-patch and a red loincloth/bahag. He also gives off a LOT of heat. When I last visited the Philippines, I remember that just getting to the airport felt like a load of bricks was tossed on me. Of course, I love heat, so after I adjusted, I literally felt like I was home, and that’s what Araw’s presence feels like.

He just laughed and said, “You know who I am. You’ve been writing about me.”

I was like “Araw? At least, you are until someone else says THEY’RE Araw.”

And the Water-Spirit, understandably, just went, “No. Please leave. She has a hard time dealing with gods right now.”

Araw just went, “I’m not a GOD. I am the Sun.”

And I’m like “Well, I do write a LOT about the Fair Folk--I guess you can hang around until you do something ACTIVELY bad.”

--

Around the week of June 10-12, the CROW turned human and started calling him/itself Meylupa. And… they didn’t beat around the bush, to their credit. They literally just turned into a man and told me, “CHILD, YOUR PEOPLE CALL ME MEYLUPA. ERIC BROUGHT ME HERE BECAUSE I HEARD YOUR PAIN.”

And I was like “oh, okay, sir--ma’am??? Ma’amsir?--that’s not as helpful as you might think. I don’t have any idea whether to trust a spirit who says they’re the anito right now. You even told me you weren’t Tagalog when you first came!”

He told me, “BECAUSE I’M NOT TAGALOG. NOR AM I A GOD. I AM A CROW, WHO YOUR PEOPLE VENERATE. WHAT DID THE SPANISH THINK OF ME WHEN THEY WROTE DOWN WHAT THEY HEARD? ONLY THAT YOUR PEOPLE’S WAYS ARE SAVAGE AND CONFUSED.”

So I was like “Well, that’s… a WAY to explain why you’re not Tagalog. And you said the Water-Spirit was ‘adopted by Tagalogs’ as well, so at least you’re consistent.”

Lola Buwaya was irritated, but all she told him was, “If you think I don’t know what you and Araw are doing by pretending you aren’t the anito, you’re a fool.”

And he-who-calls-himself-Meylupa went, “AND WHAT OF IT? YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I, THAT IT DID NOT MERELY MEAN ‘GODS’ BEFORE. YOU ARE AN ANITO. HE CAN BE AN ANITO, IF IT SUITS HIM. A GREAT SQUID IS AS GOOD AS ANY, TO BE CALLED A FEARSOME SPIRIT BY MORTALS. THE CREATURES OF THE WILDS ARE NO BETTER OR WORSE ANITO THAN THE GODS WORSHIPPED BY MAN.”

So Lola Buwaya said, “It seems the wilderness creatures ARE all she has for the anito, then. I am not banishing the gods in the way I banish a demon--surely you all see fit to ignore me! But I will not mind them coming if they wish to HELP her, and it seems most don’t see fit to do it yet.”

A few days later, I remembered I should do an apology-offering with Filipino food, and so I made pan de sal. The dough was unusually dry while I was mixing it, and I had to keep adding water and brushing it while it was rising, so I warned Meylupa that I’d check if the first bun was edible BEFORE I did a formal offering. Good news: The pan de sal was delicious and biscuit-like in texture!

But Meylupa “felt” that I was gearing up to apologize and he said, “WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?! I DID NOT COME BECAUSE YOU OFFENDED ME--I CAME BECAUSE YOU WERE IN PAIN!”

And I’m like, “Yes, I got told that blogging and writing is not very ‘blasphemous’ of me, but it’s been years, and I just want to make sure! If I have offended the anito for blogging and writing fantasy, then I am extremely sorry, and here’s some pan de sal!”

Meylupa immediately said, “NO! YOU HAVE NOT! BUT THANK YOU!” So that was some angry eating.

And, um, repeat that for the next few days because… you know, it’s been years since I got the drama-bomb reading.

Meylupa was concerned that I kept apologizing, but Lola just snapped at him, “What were you expecting? She’s not better simply because you’ve come and said she hasn’t offended you. Perhaps you will DO SOMETHING to show her that, besides eat her food and talk at her.”

And I’m like “You know, Lola, I am not ACTUALLY expecting… a briefcase full of money to fall into my car, or an overnight success with my projects. There’s a lot of room between what I ask for in desperation-mode and what I realistically expect.”

So she hissed at me, “PROGRESS! YOU EXPECT PROGRESS! DO YOU THINK I HAVEN’T HEARD WHAT YOU AND THE WATER-SPIRIT HAVE BEEN BEGGING ABOUT FOR MONTHS? THEY ALL ACT LIKE THEY’RE DEAF!”

Tatay the tribal spirit just came up and said, “I should not have expected Tagalogs to help her. I think it has been too long since they were properly worshiped. Perhaps they wish to be gods again, but they have forgotten that they must give back to their people.”

That really took something out of the Water-Spirit, because you know how he keeps saying that while lying about his name/identity wasn’t ideal, he also expected SOMEONE to 1) hear/see all my writing about the Filipino anito, and 2) come and straighten things out about “this guy who is pretending to be Haik?” He was not expecting the charade to go on nearly as long as it did.

He has now completely stopped petitioning/asking the anito for help, or reading my stuff while I’m working on it, and he sometimes says that nothing he does matters anymore. That’s… upsetting, because aside from the obvious problem of “a person/spirit I care about is clearly depressed and losing motivation,” I’d prefer that at least one of us stays optimistic.

--

Then the part where Eric Draven is involved blew up, because he-who-calls-himself-Anansi spotted me one day and went, “Girl, what the hell?! You smell like death! What did you do?!”

And I’m like “…Yeahhhhhh, that was technically Eric. I don’t know if it’s BAD, but he brought the Crow around and the crow is now calling himself Meylupa, so that’s SOMETHING.”

So Loki said to me, “Okay-okay-okay, let’s not panic. Quick lesson, Cyborg: Dead spirits in general are not ‘bad’ or ‘misplaced’ among the living. They’re everywhere. It’s not even bad to ask them for stuff, because people do that with their ancestors all the time. The trouble is when you start crossing the streams like this.”

Yet again, I told him to stop complaining about the questionable shit I’m doing because I’m desperate. If everyone feeeeeeeeels so bad about how dead my life is, and how I have slept with a dead guy in the hopes that something will actually work this time, then maybe someone could change my life for the better, so I don’t have to keep doing that.

Meylupa also came around and tried to say something, but I lost it and screamed something like, “GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT AND COME BACK WHEN YOU WANT TO MAKE LITERALLY ANY PART OF MY LIFE BETTER! I CANNOT TAKE ALL THESE TAGALOG SPIRITS COMING IN AND MOANING ABOUT MY SHITTY LIFE WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO MAKE IT LESS SHITTY! AT LEAST THE OTHER SPIRITS SUPPORT ME OR TELL ME TO KEEP WRITING, BUT HALF OF THE TAGALOG SPIRITS DON’T EVEN DO THAT! GETTTTTTTTT OUTTTTTTTTT!!!”

Annnnnnnnnd that went badly because Meylupa wouldn’t leave, and that means I kept screaming and getting increasingly “feral.” Lola Buwaya came and ripped one of his fucking wings off, so then he had to just walk away.

It grew back after a week, and there was surprisingly little blood for a room-sized crow losing a limb, but like when the Water-Spirit got his back broken, that shit is not fun to see.

So yeah, other spirits STILL don’t know where the hell most of the anito are.

Maybe this is just a spiritual version of “Filipinos SAY they love artists, but only the ones who are already famous, and preferably the ones who are also mestizo. Their friends and relatives who are NOT conventionally attractive and have to GET support? They’re ignored or told to get a ‘real/backup’ job.”

I may start seeing the NON-WILDERNESS anito (you know, the ones who deal with art and wealth) after I’ve already gotten famous/rich without them.

I don’t know.

Currently I’m just writing my various stories and trying to draft a message/email to my prof that DOESN’T sound too desperate.

[seoafin]

hello everyone i am NOT dead!!! i am so sorry for ignoring all your kindhearted and amazing messages so here is a small (not really) completely random rambling update on me and this blog

italian food is good but the lack of actual asian food here is driving me insane. there is no rice. i went to the supermarket to buy rice. it was risotto rice.

traveling is a slay i've gone to so many places in europe and italy and i really say to hate it but i absolutely adored london even though im still not sure whether or not british people are faking their accent. it sounds so fake. i went to the shakesphere globe and managed to catch a play but i wish i could've watched six too!!! also watched black panther 2 in london and it was phenomenal. top 3 marvel movies. food in london was also phenomenal but that's because i had nothing but asian food. the boba was HORRIBLE. i think it was bad luck but the 3 times i got boba it just tasted horrible like idk how gong cha and truedan could do me like this i still feel betrayed

very much looking forward to going back to the states where i can get amazing asian food. italy is beautiful but way too small. i cannot wait to go back to uni in the states and never have to see another face i don't want to ever again!!! study abroad in italy has made me so grateful i go to uni in a big city thank god i did not go to one of the seven sister schools

i have been reading so much since coming here. i've been also going back to some of my childhood favorites like ella enchanted and poison study. i also went back to one of my favorite childhood series gregor the overlander and it devastated me so much i was unable to function for a full three days after i finished the last book. suzanne collins packs such a heavy punch in her writing i still cannot believe gto is a children's series 😭😭 it is so devastating and so fucked up the fact that it got published is insane. will probably die on the hill that it is better than animorphs.

i am trying to write but i think not writing for the last couple of months has made my writing brain shrivel because every sentence i write does not sound Good and makes me Cringe. i am trying to get back into the flow of writing by writing a little everyday but it is not looking good 😭 i am also trying to get my dash more active by following more ppl (mainly writers) but i am shy and picky and too content with the people i do follow 😫 i do have some ppl i wanna follow in mind i've just never followed...if that makes sense. say it makes sense.

i think the jjk inspo will return when jjk s2 comes out but for rn i think i do wanna complete that teru fic for nothing more than the sole reason of finishing it LOL

as for the jjk manga.....i still have not completely caught up but some of the stuff i've seen is....incheresting.

that being said, i have seen the new chapters of hxh and im so obsessed with the fact that we're getting chrollo's backstory guess togashi decided it was finally time😭

ohhhh right i watched the eagerly anticipated 1899 and it did NOT disappoint highly recommend it's on netflix. dark was better but dark was fantastic so anything that comes even remotely close can be considered amazing.

[aventurine-hill]

Finally I made a drawing of my marvelsona!🦋🐾🩶

Name: Danniela "Danny" Silva

Context: the universe I created is a mix of comics (some stories that I found important) and films, since it was from them that I learned about some concepts... As time goes by, I update.

Summary:

Brazilian, with moth powers and an apprentice to become a heroine. Mentored by T'Challa (Black Panther)

History:

Danniela was born in Brazil in a community in the north of the country. She had to flee the country with her mother after a coup d'état that persecuted and invaded communities.

They fled persecution by going to the USA, hoping for a better life. On the way to the border, at a stop, Danny was playing with some moths he found there. Little did she know that the insects were infected and came from a contaminated area.

Even before arriving at the US border, her mother was killed by officers protecting the border, thinking she was an invader. At the same time, this awakened Danny's powers, growing wings from her back and giving her great mobility.

After that she was arrested and then transferred to Shield to see what had happened to her, where they saw that she was harmless and was just defending herself.

Despite the language barrier, they realized that she learned a little English by playing the games and films they made available to her. It was there that she met Nick Fury who later came up with the idea of her being a kind of intern/informant/apprentice on his most recent project.

He introduced her to the Avengers when she was 12, during the period when they fought Ultron which was where she learned how to work as a team. In them she saw a second home where she could finally be happy.

That is until the Treaty of Socow, where she saw the team falling apart and causing more damage, both within the team and in real life. During the same period she met T'Challa, who quickly admired him and helped her during the period when the team was separated, while she still lived in the Avengers complex.

There's still a lot left, but I'll gradually update it with more text and drawings.

[skylarstark4826]

I loved this beautiful Black Panther Wakanda Forever fanart from Attoye's beautiful ship of the characters of Attuma and Okoye together, especially because I love it and I also find it funny that in it Attuma has seaweed entangled in his shark hull especially because I imagine that after Okoye had kicked him and made him fly back to the ocean during his fight on the ship then Attuma when landing in the ocean he would also have fallen on a bunch of algae that would have been entangled in his hull and that after that Attuma would have gone to reproach Okoye for that at the same time that he also takes the opportunity to spend time with her

By the way, this beautiful Fanart of them is not mine and the credits are not for me, but I let you know that right here I am going to leave you the link of the true creator on Twitter. Since apparently there is a new update on Twitter and you can only see the link if you press X.Com

[evita-shelby]

Of Gods and Witches

Chapter 19

A/N: so imma be going on hiatus for a while and we know the reason why. So until the situation with Tenoch Huerta is resolved, i will be putting off updating this fic as i cannot write it without feeling a bit 😬 about it all

Enjoy, anyways

--

Gif by @kukvlkan

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @urgonnaneedabiggership @v3d3rl1cht

Eva has never considered herself cowardly, but then again, she has been lying about her health for the past two years to avoid the talks that come with it and those looks of pity she loathes so much.

So, after Ch’ah shows Shuri the beauty of Talokan’s main city-state and the sun that rises over it, she finally answers the young woman’s burning question.

“You are not a mutant like him.” She points out when they return to the hut and find her giving Itza to her nanny.

They usually do not employ a nursemaid for the girls, but Eva’s waning health does not allow her to keep up with her five-year-old child anymore.

Once this is over, she will make up for lost time.

“Yes, and no. I am more like the woman called the Scarlett Witch, in that I am both capable of magic, but also have genetic mutations passed down to me from my ancestors.

Despite how great I look; I am actually quite old. You see I was born in the year 1896 in a period known in Mexico as the Porfierato and grew up during the Second Revolution. When I was twenty-two, I was put under house arrest for sedition and due to the immense boredom, that came with it, I decided to try my hand at summoning Quetzalcoatl.” The witch decides against a detailed story about her life, there will be time for that later and while, Shuri seems to have done research on Post classical Mayan artefacts, she likely has no knowledge of Mexico’s history.

“Instead of summoning the true Feathered Serpent God, she somehow managed to summon me.” K’uk’ulkan said with a rather nostalgic smile and a firm squeeze of Eva’s hand. “I saw her dancing on the beach outside of her home and felt a connection to her as if I had always known her.”

“Later I would discover the spell I had found was to summon one’s soulmate but by then we had met, fallen in love and been married for several years.” This was the story they told everyone.

And yet all those details that they hold deep in their hearts occasionally manage to be found in murals, novels and stage productions of how Talokan came to have its queen.

“How did you manage to live underwater, if you don’t mind me asking.” Shuri, who has no real interest in romance asks the question they needed her to ask.

Eva answers by showing her the bracelet.

“The chief sorceress of Talokan taught me the runes that allowed to appear as human in the surface without the need for a rebreather. K’uk’ulkan, as a token of his love, gave me the bracelet made with the fibers of the plant that saved the life of his people, but most importantly, his mother.

I was able to cast the runes on it due to its significance and origin and live just as he does.”

And because it is all that is left of the vibranium flowers, she will have to give it up to live like him in truth instead of dying like the Black Panther did.

When Namor gets summoned onto the surface by the queen, Eva takes her chance.

“There is something else, Shuri. Something I need you to swear you will do no matter what happens.” The seriousness in her face causes worry in the young princess.

Her eyes widen thinking she is asking her to protect her children and the Talokanil, something Eva knows she doesn’t even have to ask for.

“I give you my word, as Princess of Wakanda.” She says readily.

And yet it doesn’t stop her from gasping when Eva removes the bracelet from her wrist.

The glamour fades away and Shuri is presented with a ghost of her past.

Her brother.

“The key ingredient to the cure lies in the vibranium flowers. I cannot make it grow, the soil here does not allow it to, and I cannot risk the surface world.” Eva begins explaining. “You are my only hope.”

“What do you wish me to do?” she asks, and Eva just gives a grateful smile as she gives her the bracelet.

“Take it and recreate the flower in your laboratory. Your people need the Black Panther just as my disease needs a cure.

One flower is all I need to live.”

Eva had not expected the Wakandan warrior woman.

Nakia, mother to Prince T’Challa son of T’Challa, she could see it even as the guards hurried to protect the queen and prevent her from freeing their prisoners.

“Let them go.” She orders the guards who no longer think she is as powerful as she had been.

“My queen, what has she done to you?” the guard holding a knife to Shuri’s throat asks thinking the worse.

“We must kill them.” The senior guard overrides her command due to her sudden change in health. “They have hurt our queen!”

And when Eva lifts her arms to cast a shield on the girls, Nakia fires her weapon and doesn’t miss.

Eva sees the blood on her chest as she slumps forward, and all hell breaks loose.

They took her.

It was a trap.

All there was left was a dying soldier and blood.

So much blood.

This was an act of war.

“Our people invoke my name when they pray for protection. Their deaths will not go unpunished.

Gather the city.”

They took his wife and mother of his children and Wakanda will pay the price.

He had been blinded by the hope of finding an ally in the Wakandan Princess.

To find a way to keep Talokan safe and know there would be someone out there to aid him in that.

And they had killed his wife the moment his back was turned.

If the queen wanted war, Namor would give her what she wanted.

Eva hates the cold white of modernity.

Hates the pastel colors of hospitals and the thin papery feel of the clothes they make her wear.

Her queen’s regalia is replaced by bandages under a loose button-down shirt and pajama shorts.

These too were white.

She’d kill for something darker, like black.

Black is such a nice color.

The nurses and doctors speak in a strange language, Wakandan or Xhosa, she cannot quite place it.

She is awake, she is alive, that much she can understand.

“Easy, your grace, your injury has been giving us a challenging time. Your illness complicates the healing process I am afraid.” One of the women, a bald one with an overly sweet nature, said as they helped her sit up.

Fluffed her pillows and offered her something to drink and everything.

“Where am I?” she asks in English.

“You are in Wakanda.”