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‘ I’m sick and tired of going to the funerals of black men that have been murdered by white men. I’m tired of asking you not to be angry. Not to be bitter. Have we not fought and died enough? And for what? To live like slaves? No more. Tonight? ‘
His voice rose.
‘ I’ve got vengeance in my heart, tonight. ‘
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I was working on this mercenary-related reply and i got to thinking as I tend to do, and I think I’m going to either change Erik’s second verse or create another one entirely that will sort of spin out of his mercenary background. I was really mulling over just how his relationships and etc would go given his background and prejudices and I realized that out of anyone, mercenaries are probably the exact sort of people he can identify with more than most.
It was why you he could work with someone like Klaue so willingly ( there were a couple of different factors at play here, the least of all the idea that no matter what that particular alliance would end with homeboy’s death to fuel Erik’s own endgame but anyways) Mercenaries are, by definition, without allegiance or loyalty to a singular flag or ideal. They didn’t fight for religion, or race, or creed, but the almighty dollar. And while i dont think this really would jive with his regular trajectory, a Killmonger that survived the events of the film would be in a much different place, mentally. His life’s ambition would literally be over. And not only did he not achieve his lifelong vengeance, but T’Challa even basically admitted homeboy was right in the end. So with his ancestral home closed officially to him, and his rage smoldering, what the fuck else would he do?
All of that to say that I could see him trying to establish a nation without a central base of operations or an established territory. In the wake of the Chitauri/Thanos/etc etc etc ad nauseum, the world’s military power is no doubt at an all time low, leaving room for private military companies to push to the forefront.
tldr Erik would establish soldiers / a nation without borders, providing aid to the underdog. Picture Nakia’s self-imposed role at the beginning of Black Panther, but extended to an entire pseudo-country with manpower and military might.
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you may be wondering, “why the RED suit?”
well, that’s so bad guys can’t see me BLEED.
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Intimacy, 2019
#'#' they wanna' smoke niggas when they black & mild so we actin' out ' --- pride.#' this may be the night that my dreams might let me know ' --- aesthetic.
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❝ i see you. ❞
“ Yeah, but do you see them? “
It was through literal years of practice that the man managed to keep his tone calm and even as he broke into a full sprint, his inky form casting a dark shadow against the backdrop of the pure, white snow. It was his first time experiencing ‘ Old Man Winter, “ his breath cold and bitter and tearing at any exposed skin it could find, crackling in his ears like static.
It had been fun playing spy, if only for a hot little second. Sneaking into the Russian compound had been no thang — as well trained as these fools were, and as important as the mission, there was a certain sense of security that came with being stationed during the worst snowstorm in 30 years. Only a fool would attempt to pull of something so suicidal.
Unfortunately for them, he’d always loved actin’ a fool.
The compound was on FULL ALERT in the wake of his theft, massive spotlights exploding to life all around him as though stirred by the siren call of the intruder alert wailing in the distance. Dozens of men spilled from the barracks, spurred on the audacity of his intrusion and the death of their comrades.
He heard them before he saw them, the two men bursting out of the mess tent to his left — weapons drawn, but too surprised by his presence to do much more than shout in alarm.
They’d never get the chance. There were two cracks of thunder in the distance as 50-caliber rounds piercing through the men like lightning, The first twisted and flailed almost gracefully as he spun towards the ground, reaching out fultily for his partner, not fully understanding why his body was no longer responding.
Erik didn’t even break his stride, instead tapping his temple with two fingers in a makeshift salute.
“ I take it back. Forgot who who fuck I was talking to. “
the five senses — sight. ll @roamanova
#pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft#speechless#your very existence is an assault to me#how the fuck have you been B?#roamanova
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Who gon’ pray for me?
Take my pain for me?
Save my soul for me?
‘Cause I’m alone, you see
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Sekhmet had called it a blessing when she’d tipped his head back and let the red-gold ichor pass between his lips, tasting of copper and molten rage --- hot enough to char his insides. It replaced the blood in his veins, soaked itself into his bones, rewove the strands of his DNA.
Oh, how he’d burned. For days. Years. Lifetimes. Burned alive and brought back, tempered by flame and suffering. Reforged into something new and beautiful. A blade that cut in the name of Sekhmet, and Sekhmet alone. The sword of the African people..
Six months passed between his death and resurrection, and another two weeks from the day that Diana had come across his lifeless form lying at the bottom of an enormous crater in the Congo, naked and barely visibly amidst the sea of white hot steam.
She’d later realize there used to be a lake there.
. . .
Diana had assured him that her sheets were ‘ as soft as the skin of Aphrodite ‘ ( whatever the fuck that meant ), but they rubbed abrasively against his heated flesh like sandpaper. Every single movement and motion upon the bed sent waves of agony tearing through his gut and stinging behind his eyes, his skin hyper sensitive and feeling as though it might peel away every single time it met fabric.
His fever had gone down from yesterday, at least. Only 134 degrees oF, he vaguely remembered her “screaming” at him earlier in the morning. Beyond fatal for a mortal, but a mere prolonged suffering for a man touched by the hand of god.
A god, anyways.
“ This shit is whack, “ he said to nobody in particular, Erik not at all happy
with this weak as a newborn bullshit. He wasn’t about feeling helpless, and
he especially didn’t enjoy relying on the kindness of a fucking librarian or
whatever this chick had going on.
Goddamn, did he need a motherfuckin’ drink.
closed starter ll @toendwar
#toendwar#throws hands in the air#too long#too long i say#years ive had this problem#make sense of this
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“ I don’t know why you trying to do me like that, P. “
There were few things more intimate than the sensation of a well balanced knife in the palm of ones hand. The smooth sensation of carbon fiber juxtaposed against the rough callouses that lined his fingertips. There was no small comfort to be found in the way the honed blade sliced cleanly through meat and bone, each stroke neat and effortless as the man hacked and carved away.
Erik found himself staring thoughtfully down the length of the butcher knife for a nice little minute, expression thoughtful as he reflected on darker ( though weirdly? more simple ) times.
“ You ain’t know I was a beast in the kitchen? Yeah, its not
just the battlefield and the bedroom. I’m one of them well rounded, sophisticated type dudes. A renaissance man.. You know what I’m
talkin’ about, baby? You listenin’ to me? “
She didn’t have to even be in the same room as Erik to know he’d just popped off that little shrug --- the one he liked to pull whenever he was trying to play casual while simultaneously boosting himself. And every so often there was this ugly ass laugh that echoed through the kitchen. One of those sharp, mocking ‘ heh heh’s’ that his Pop used to do whenever he was teasing him about a shorty on the playground.
Felt good to think of the old man with a smile on his face. That shit hit kind of different.
“ That’s why I had to ban you. I don’t even know if you
wash your hands like that. Always playing in the dirt and
shit. “
closed starter ll @nolaroots
#BY NOBODIES REQUEST#track 000. you love me enough for the both of us. ( alt verse 1 feat. pasha )#nolaroots
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15: What would your muse say to their younger self if they could go back in time?
To be honest, I think Killmonger would have a really hard time confronting his younger safe. While he did plenty of inexcusable shit in the name of his vision, it wasn’t like Erik didn’t realize the implications and consequences behind his actions. He walked headfirst down that blood path of vengeance, well aware of the humanity he was shedding with every notch in his skin.
So to have an opportunity to meet with himself BEFORE his father died? Would probably tear him up. Imagine willingly forging yourself into the weapon of vengeance and then being confronted by this innocent, wide eyed version of yourself that still went to bed every night dreaming about Wakandan warriors and armored rhinos.
He’d want to tell him to let go of the past. But I don’t know if he’d be able to get the words out.
about erik’s life. ll headcanons
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felinewiles:
The CLICK of a gun. He didn’t just like to play dirty - he was NASTY about it. Long legs swing off of the side of the display case before eventually slinking off of it entirely. One of the many perks of her CONDITION. Spotting him along the line of the wall. Cats are smart. Cunning. Vision as sharp as the claws catching the faint light overhead.
He’s handsome. Broad. Menacing. Just her TYPE. “You gonna come here and take it from me?” The pearls are pressed along the collar of the Cat’s suit. “I’ve never been a FAN of sticking to the sidelines.” One of the many plans she’s got tucked up her sleeve. Lure him out. Maybe even crush that PRETTY windpipe in the process.
She must have really been counting on them eight other lives, huh? Erik could respect her hustle, but there was no scenario imaginable were she got out of this with both her life and those pearls in tact. He could seem them dangling from her neck, shining bone white in the pale light of moon that came slice through the museum skylight.
This wasn’t the time to be admiring and shit, but the mercenary just couldn’t help himself --- the way that outfit clung to her curves in the same natural way that she clung to the shadows. Girl was bad, there was no denying that.
Be a real shame to ruin a face like that with a hollow point.
“ You cute, but I ain’t got time for all that. “
He stepped out from his vantage point, done with the ineffective game of hide and seek. He didn’t need to chase Felicia down, not when he could just corner her, instead.
The butt of his gun went smashing through a glass display to his right, sending the facility into full shut down mode as an ear-splitting alarm wailed all around them.
“ There, now you can be in the spotlight. “
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I’ve got vengeance in my heart tonight
and tonight, I ask you to feel angry WITH me.
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THE FIVE SENSES / SENTENCE STARTERS .
some may be nsfw and / or be triggering.
01 : TOUCH .
❝ i love this [ FABRIC ], it feels satisfying. ❞
❝ your touch. it leaves me breathless. ❞
❝ your touch is unlike any other. ❞
❝ have you ever felt anything more comfortable? ❞
❝ feel this. what does it feel like to you? ❞
❝ i wanted to see what it felt like. ❞
❝ touch it. i dare you. ❞
❝ you felt ice cold when i touched you. ❞
❝ you feel warm to me. ❞
❝ i love the feel of [ FABRIC ] against my skin. ❞
❝ i love the feel of your skin against mine. ❞
❝ i would never touch anyone else. ❞
❝ i love the feel of your hair between each of my fingers. ❞
❝ don’t you dare touch me. ❞
❝ i want to feel your lips against my own. ❞
❝ i can feel your pulse. it jumped. ❞
❝ let me give you a massage. ❞
❝ you feel like home to me. ❞
02 : TASTE .
❝ i love the taste of you. ❞
❝ i can never forget that taste. ❞
❝ fair warning, it does have a bitter taste. ❞
❝ no offense, you just aren’t my taste. ❞
❝ can i have a taste of that? ❞
❝ i have yearned for the taste of your lips. ❞
❝ that tasted pretty good actually. ❞
❝ it just left a really bad taste in my mouth so no thanks. ❞
❝ nothing taste better than chocolate. ❞
❝ i’ve got something you might want to taste. ❞
❝ i will forever savor that taste. ❞
❝ blood has such a metallic taste. ❞
❝ my taste buds are mad at me after eating that. ❞
❝ how’s it feel to get a taste of your own medicine? ❞
❝ you didn’t even taste it. ❞
❝ trust me, you’ll want to taste this. ❞
❝ i think it has a bit of bitter sweet taste. ❞
❝ so you tasted it, did you like it? ❞
03 : SIGHT .
❝ i see you. ❞
❝ i’ve never seen things so clearer than i do now. ❞
❝ it’s too dark, i can’t see anything. ❞
❝ how can you see anything? it’s pitch dark. ❞
❝ i’ve looked close enough and i see you for what you are. ❞
❝ please, just look at me. ❞
❝ stop staring at me like that. ❞
❝ get that light out of my face. ❞
❝ it’s so bright outside today. ❞
❝ what’s wrong? what did you see? ❞
❝ you’re scared, you must have saw something. ❞
❝ what i saw, you’ll never believe me. ❞
❝ i’ve never seen you before. ❞
❝ have we seen one another before? ❞
❝ you see me for what i truly am. ❞
❝ i didn’t see anything. ❞
❝ did you see that? ❞
❝ i can’t believe my eyes. ❞
04 : SOUND .
❝ shhh, i just heard something. ❞
❝ did you hear that? ❞
❝ what is that sound? ❞
❝ i missed the sound of your voice. ❞
❝ do you hear me? stay away from me. ❞
❝ i hear you, loud and clear. ❞
❝ i’m sorry, what was that? i didn’t hear you. ❞
❝ i’ve heard that sound before. ❞
❝ you didn’t hear anything at all? ❞
❝ can you hear what they’re saying? ❞
❝ aw, i love the sound of music. ❞
❝ i never said i could hear them. ❞
❝ wait, hear that? something is coming. ❞
❝ i could hear screams … ❞
❝ i heard you all the way upstairs. ❞
❝ you didn’t just hear that? that sound? that noise? ❞
❝ trust me, you’re going to want to hear this. ❞
❝ please, just hear me out. ❞
05 : SMELL .
❝ what is that smell? ❞
❝ i have missed your smell. ❞
❝ you smell nice. ❞
❝ it’s unlike anything i’ve smelled before. ❞
❝ i smell the food cooking from here. ❞
❝ do you smell that? ❞
❝ how are you able to smell that? ❞
❝ no offense but it really smells. ❞
❝ it’s starting to smell. ❞
❝ tell me, you’ve smelled this before. ❞
❝ i know that smell, it’s the smell of lies. ❞
❝ i can smell you from here. ❞
❝ are you smelling me? ❞
❝ i missed the smell of your hair. ❞
❝ i need to step away, get some fresh air. ❞
❝ do you smell that? that’s the smell of freedom. ❞
❝ i could never erase your smell. ❞
❝ i can smell the fear on you from here. ❞
#memes.#trying to always remember to incorporate the five senses is my fucking bane as a writer i swear
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omnigrl:
in another time and place: maybe things would’ve been different. heather believes in no miracles, she’s learned that from the jump when she turned twelve years old. the ‘weird eyes’ and ‘mutie’ derogatory slung at her direction for most of her life has made her accept the disappointments and harshness of life. making friends was a luxury, and that was something she just couldn’t afford for most of her life. [ 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎’𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘, 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛? 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜. 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛? ]
in another life, she stands in a sundress with band-aids on her ankles and knees because she played far too much. dirt on her blouse and under her fingernails because she wanted to be “one of the boys”. in another life, she has a mother and father that don’t leave her in foster care due to her jarring eyes. the way she smiles in innocent wonder, oblivious, could never hide the fact that she she appeared like some kind of sci-fi creature.
and, maybe in another life: she wouldn’t face him again. of all people.
they weren’t on bad blood terms, no. they barely talked during their time during their time as fosters: orphaned by the unfortunate events of life. they didn’t talk much during school, and high school being the last time either of them even glanced or spoke to one another. heather was in the principle’s office for beating the crap out of one of his friends. she didn’t go to prom. [ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐, 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍. 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛? ]
in a sense, she guessed she was lucky. she was adopted during her sophomore year, and she tried to be an exceptional kid. her mother taught her patience with herself… and, slowly ; she did. and even after joining the military, even after gaining her medals – even after being dishonorably discharged – she could forgive herself. she could forgive herself for things she never caused ; things that she had no control over ; things that just weren’t her fault.
so, why the fuck is she facing him right now? what did she ever do to god?
“uh… hey.” she’s heard stories – rumors, maybe – but she doesn’t pull out her gun. not yet anyways. “how’s it been, erik?”
starter for @isiphelo, enjoy!
“ Oh, you know. Coolin’. “
It was a little dramatic of him to be there chilling on the sofa when the Oakland native walked into her home, but Erik had always had a flair for the theatrical. Maybe if they were in that alternate universe of hers, he could have found a calling in that --- a life of illusion on the stage and screen, trading out roles and identities as easily as one replaced a pair of shoes.
It was a pleasant little daydream, if only that. But this was the real world, and it did both of them little good trying to live in a fantasy.
The intruder was stretched out like a cat, generous legs fulled extended and crossed at the heel as he used her coffee table as a makeshift ottoman. The pistol she’d hidden away was in full view beside his boots, still attached to the silver duct tape used to secure it.
“ You look good, Power Puff. But you need to
invest in better locks on that front door. Anybody
could roll up in here. “
His head rolled backwards against the spine of the couch, amber gaze twinkling with trouble as his lips pulled back into a lion’s smile --- savage, and full of teeth.
“ I hear you been makin’ trouble out this way. “
He didn’t move a single muscle, but there was definitely a shift in the atmosphere. It was like the calm before a storm, when you could smell the moisture in the air and feel the static collecting against your skin.
That was the thing with cats --- they liked to play with their food before they devoured it.
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diamvnd asked: ❛ you are going to struggle , so you need to surround yourself with people you trust . ❜
“ I don’t trust anybody. “
It was the final lesson his father had instilled in him, the tail end of a laundry list of principles and ideals that had been carved into his young, impressionable mind. It was a lesson achieved through osmosis, soaking through his jersey and into his skin as he held N’Jobu’s lifeless body. His Pop had been one of passion and conviction, willing to put his life on the line for his brothers and sisters in the name of liberation.
It was one of those brothers that had betrayed him, in the end. The man that Erik had known as Uncle James. He had no proof that the gang lieutenant had been involved in his father’s murder, but it was suspect as hell that he’d vanished that same night.
He’d get what was coming to him, both he and T’Chaka both. Erik had reserved a spot on his body for the pair a long time ago.
“ You know what I trust? Results. And your organization seems
to be all about that. There’s a lot of money on the table, and
I ain’t got time to waste with amateurs. “
He didn’t too much like dealing with mutants, truth be told. Not when it came to the mission. There were just too many variables --- too many abilities and powers to take into consideration. What was the point of a bulletproof vest when your enemy could fire beams of plasma? How do you kill a man that regenerated on a molecular level?
Even Emma Frost, the woman currently sitting across from him, was a known unknown. With a telepath, all the normal tricks of negotiation when straight out the window. There was no concealing information from someone that could pluck it from your skull like a motherfuckin’ rolodex. Nothing made him more uncomfortable than the idea of a privileged white person with the power of mind control.
He took his time flipping through the modest menu, the tip of his tongue toying with a golden incisor as he watched the woman over the top of his sunglasses.
“ Not when we’re talking about the most valuable
metal on the planet. “
black panther ll @diamvnd
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𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘋𝘈𝘜𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘐𝘚 𝘈 𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘋𝘐𝘌𝘙. INDE & PRIVATE MUTANT-BASED ORIGINAL CHARACTER. CREATED BY JOJI.
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