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soufcakmistress · 2 days ago
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A/N: Heyyyy babies! I pray all of you are doing as well as can be expected right now! I’m making it a personal thing for myself to stop taking months and months to update. I know the readership has lacked but I still wanna write for y’all because it’s so fun and I need some uplifting in my life rn! Sooooo stay tuned for the new new!!
Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader
To have and to hold. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. Til death do us part..
The penthouse suite housing the bridal party overlooked downtown LA with classy Art Deco decor and accents, a full wet bar, and two full sized bedrooms. Your husband to be spared no expense for the best day of your lives. Six makeup artists and hair stylists for six bridesmaids, custom Rodarte dresses in every style, and all the Moet and hors d’œuvres they could stand. Sitting slouched and deflated at your chosen vanity, a small Bluetooth speaker quietly played Boyz II Men while your hair stylist tucked the last few strands into your chic chignon.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You and the love of your life would live in bliss as husband and wife until you returned to the earth one day, with a great legacy to show for it. But no. That wasn’t how you felt. Terror. That’s what you felt. Your knight in shining armor was anything but honorable. For months you had been scheming for a way out, to no end. He knew everyone, had ears and eyes everywhere and was made privy to everything concerning you. You were trapped.
Eduardo Nazario. He was an Afro Cuban entrepreneur and business owner who immigrated to the states as a teenager for a better life. At least that’s what you were told. Eduardo came from nothing allegedly and yet had amassed a small fortune by the time he was 25. He’d invested in several ventures—tech, healthcare, and pharmaceuticals. Legal and black market.
It was like a fairytale. It always is in the beginning. You met while you were walking your favorite trail, as you did every morning. Apparently, as you rummaged through your Fanny pack, your keys fell onto the pavement. Eduardo found them on his run and caught up with you to return them. One look into those hazel eyes, and you were a goner.
Things moved quickly with Eddie as you called him. Four dates in, and he wanted you to move in with him. That should have been your first clue. But you were blinded by infatuation and quite honestly, the upgrade to your life. You had a decent job that provided for you with an okay apartment and car, but with Eddie, you rolled in style. No more Honda’s, you rolled in a custom Audi with all the bells and whistles. Eddie’s sprawling condo in the middle of the city had high ceilings, marble floors, granite countertops, stainless steel everywhere and all the finest accoutrements to add. You fell hard, and you fell deep…..just as he wanted.
All of your coworkers gagged over the constant deliveries of ornate bouquets and him swaggering into the office to pick you up for lunch every day. He was tall, dark and handsome, and gave you the world as far as they could see. You beamed like a star every day pulling into your job’s parking garage. After a while, he started to take you to work while his body man followed behind you in the G Wagon. Eddie “hated to see you go in the mornings”, and found this as a way for you to bond even more. Not quite.
Eventually those keys of yours magically vanished from your purse one night and now you had your own driver, courtesy of your fiancé. He insisted it was for your safety; this was a point of contention for you. Your autonomy was being encroached on and you didn’t appreciate it. Eddie’s temper flared in a way that you hadn’t ever witnessed before and you never brought it up again. Slowly but surely, you were being molded into Eddie’s Black Stepford wife with not an original thought in your head.
Eddie was so cunning about how he isolated you from your family and friends. He would allow only so many visits, and made sure you and him were conveniently busy any other time. Trapped. A puppet in his marionette theater and it happened right under your nose.
A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and you wiped it quickly so it wouldn’t be noticed. This makeup costed too much. Your stylist uses the holding spray to keep everything neat, and yells for your bridesmaids to come see the finished look. They all file in and squeal like a bunch of hens. You force a feigned smile, and try to push some warmth into your eyes. Your maid of honor, Denitra could tell though. Something wasn’t right.
“Y’all, give me and my best friend, the beautiful bride, a second to talk! Go on now, I am the maid of honor after all!”
Denitra was the Solange to your Beyoncé—two different flavors and yet connected on every wavelength. Everyone exited the room and she came around and pulled a chair across from you.
Cradling your hands, and looking at you dead in your eyes, Denitra quietly sighed. “Cold feet?”
You gulp, and exhale loudly, contemplating how to put what you feel into words. “No, not at all. It’s the happiest day of my life!”
She scoots closer, and squeezes your hands, looking genuinely concerned. “Sis. Y/N. I haven’t seen you like this since your father found out about you totaling his Benz in college. I KNOW you. Look, Eddie is perfect on paper. Checks every box. But…… that good enough for forever?”
Your bottom lip trembles without your permission and tears fall instantly. Your best friend immediately finds the tissue box and dabs at your eyes, careful not to add to the mess you were making. “He’s awful. He-he watches my every move. I’m fucking suffocating! He made me quit my job, the one thing that gave me some purpose to my lonely ass days. Said I wasn’t fully focused on building our home. Why the fuck does that matter? He overrules everything I suggest.”
Denitra is pissed, angry that she hadn’t acted on her previous suspicions. “How long has it been like this, Y/N? I had always had a feeling. I’m so sorry baby. This is NOT on you. I will go with whatever you want. You want me to let Man Man know? Because you know he ready to ride at any time—“
“No! I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. You don’t send a rumble and tumble nigga after someone like Eddie. You need a fucking army. And I ain’t got one.” You get up from your vanity chair and pour a glass of champagne in attempt to calm your nerves.
“Okay. Then leave, Y/N. Get out of here some kinda way and leave. I will stall for as long as I can, and I can come up with an alibi for the other girls. You only get one life. I won’t stand around and wait for that call that he’s finally blacked your eye or worse.”
Denitra snatches the flute out of your hand and forces you to stand up straight. “Do you have access to cash?”
Eyes wide and full of fear, you nod in response.
“Okay you go get it. All of it. All that you can get. No paper trails. Take a couple changes of clothes and that’s it. You only need what you can carry on your back. Take a taxi, not an Uber. Go to the train station and pick a place. Call me at my office number, and I’ll have the calls forwarded to my cell, okay?”
You’re really bawling now that your best friend is willing to blow this up for you and join in what feels like the last time you’ll hug her in a long while. She goes back into the room and instructs the girls to go to their own rooms to put on their gowns, and to give the bride some space. You stand at your bedroom door, waiting to make sure they were all gone. It was now or never.
Slinging the silk robe with “Bride” embroidered in crystals across the shoulders onto the vanity chair, you keep your tiny white slip on, and find some jeans that were laying around. Your big bag was on the night stand and you pack the essentials. You were shaking so bad, you could hardly place things where they needed to be. A few pairs of clothes, basic toiletries, your wallet, and your phone. This is it.
You pull a jacket on your shoulders and zip it up to your neck. Dark shades and the hood up, and you think you look fairly inconspicuous. Creeping out of the suite, you go to the elevator and there’s nobody inside the car. Deciding against taking it all the way down to the lobby, you get off at the third floor and take the stairs the rest of the way. You slip out one of the back entrances, and who but Eddie’s groomsmen are out on the patio, smoking cigars.
“Shit..” you curse to yourself. You’ve made it this far. Taking a chance, you pretend to be on your phone scrolling the page as you walk by the gazebo. No one notices, and as soon as you make it on to the main road, you power walk to the shopping plaza up the street. The cab was finally called and you waited in front of a mattress store, tapping your toe. You felt slightly lightheaded, due to your nerves. Those nerves kicked into high gear when the texts came. Your parents, your bridesmaids, and other members of the bridal party were wondering where you were. You ignored them all. “I’m sorry guys..”
“Union Station, please.” The cab arrives and gets you to where you need to go. Perusing the departures, you had a few options. Either the one way to Randolph, Vermont that departed in an hour or El Paso, Texas in 20 minutes. Knocking you out of your stupor, your phone vibrated. Eddie. The cat is finally out of the bag. One call after the other rolled in, and you felt physically sick. There were men probably on the way as you stood there. You turned your phone off and smashed it on the ground, glass shattering everywhere. A few onlookers stared with confusion, as you shuddered in impending fear.
You find an ATM and get out as much cash as you can, surcharges be damned. It only makes sense at this point to go to Vermont. It’s further away, and you needed time to regroup before boarding the train. Buying a quick lunch of cold cuts and potato chips, you stuff your face, and stow away the extras. Gliding to the ladies room, to your luck, the line is a mile long. Fuck.
Bouncing your leg, you try to exhibit patience. You were so scared. You were almost at the finish line. This couldn’t be taken from you. Suspicion picked up and you were looking all around for Eddie’s goons to appear. You knew most of their faces but not all, and that was a problem. The line for the ladies room hasn’t moved an inch. Across the way, at the top of the stairwell you spot five very muscle bound men conversing and then they split up. One of them was your driver. Shit. Your pulse skyrocketed and you run immediately to the men’s room, bumping into a few people.
Busting through the door, you close it behind you and double over in tears. Every second was precious and you were stuck now. Shame was out of the window, and a man was staring at you cry as he dried his hands at the sink. Black, tall, had dreads, with a very pleasant face. He couldn’t help but feel like he intruded on a private moment for you. Tossing the trash away, he walked towards you and damn, he didn’t look this menacing from all the way over there.
“Excuse me….ma’am. I need to make sure I catch my train.” His voice was low and gravelly and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his mouth. His teeth gleamed and his eyes were dark, albeit sympathetic.
“Wait. Please. Help me sir. There’s—there’s people out there looking for me. I just need you to escort me to my train that’s all. If I’m with someone else, they might not suspect me.”
The man steps back in surprise at your desperate insistence. He rubs the back of his head, that has shaved sides leading to his full head of locs. “I’m not sure if I want to get involved, miss. I’m just an ordinary guy—“
At this point, you’re literally begging for some help. “Sir, I-I have money see? I can really make this worth your while. This can be yours if you just please…..please help me.” He could see you were in distress. A beautiful woman, in another life….you could have been his wife.
Shaking his head, he took your bag off your shoulder and held it. “I’m gonna regret this. All right, take your makeup off right now. Wash your face in the sink. Are you natural?” He pulled your hood off, and was thrown off by the style. “Were you about to—?”
“Yes. Emphasis on was.” You snatch your bag out of his hand and get your face wash. You use it a couple times because that makeup was set for the gods, and you didn’t want any trace of it on you.
“Wash your hair too. Just rinse it, wring it out and put it in a ponytail. What time is your train?” The man peeks out of the restroom to see who could be looking after this lady. He immediately saw three stooges circling the area, looking for their boss’s most prized possession.
“25 minutes, I think. I don’t have a phone or a watch.” You get paper towels and dry your hair and face to the best of your ability. The man opens his duffle and finds a sweater. He thrusts it into your hands and without shame, you take your jacket and slip off in front of him. He caught a brief glimpse of your breasts before he turned around to give you some privacy, but you were clearly past the point of modesty.
A tattoo on your side looked oddly familiar to him. It looked just like the one on a Cuban lieutenant of a local gang in Havana that he accepted the bounty on. He’d seen them in his own personal studies. A Kongo cosmogram with a Haitian veve in the middle. But you…..nah. There was no way. Erik shook it off and got his mind right.
Even more beautiful to him with a fresh face, you put on your shades and gather your belongings. He holds up a muscular arm to guide you, and pushes the door out to the first floor. “Stay close, keep your head down. I’m Erik by the way.”
You cracked a tiny smile for the first time in hours, and introduced yourself to him as well. With your head down, you couldn’t help but catch a whiff of his masculine scent. He was so strong, and moved like he owned the place. Looking up at his profile, Erik’s nose and lips were so striking. He was perfect. Feeling your eyes on him, he looked down at you and winked. That was the first time you’d felt butterflies in a year.
“All aboard for Randolph, Vermont! All aboard!”
You made it. Fishing out hella $100 bills, you push it into his chest, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. “No. You’re gonna need it, Y/N. You take care of yourself.”
A ball of tears you were. You nodded in acceptance and shook his hand. Warm and calloused, he snuck his card into your hand. Erik Stevens. Freelance Consultant. You wondered what his expertise was. “Thank you. When it’s safe…..I’ll be in touch.”
You boarded the train, and got settled. Facing the window, you take off your shades and place your hand on the window. You got away. You didn’t know what was next for you, all you knew was what was in front of you. He finally shows you his beautiful smile on the other side of the glass, and the train began to whistle for departure from the platform.
Little did you know that your former driver was only a few feet back from Erik. He saw everything. From you and Erik coming out of the men’s bathroom together. Your heart to heart at the platform. And the heartfelt send off. Videos and photos were already stored in Eddie’s iCloud. So this is who his bride jilted him for. Eddie pulled his man back, and stewed on a plan. He’d have you back….dead or alive.
TAGS: @l-auteuse @sparklemichele @gdharpo @eclecticblkgirl @thadelightfulone @nickidub718 @theogbadbitch @thornedviolet @loveeeeandaffection @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @amirra88 @daughterofyeezus ​ @lostennyc @janelledarling @toniilaney​ @raysunshine78​ @stariamrry​ @fd-writes​ @bellasoulchild @dessianna1​ @thehomierobbstark​ @thickemadame @honeytoffee @erikaintdead @uzumaki-rebellion​ @mydemons-aremy-friends @bugngiz​ @xo-goldengirl​ @blackmissfrizzle @killmonger-fics @rbhp @sheisexcellent1 @viewsfromthesips @bbgiirrll @ljstraightnochaser @spicynoodlezzz​ @dashhoney25 @wassuduoo @shalynn-m @issimplyaamazinggg @msreshel @honeyandpeaches @miyuhpapayuh​ @majesticbrownjawn @dameshaemonique @seyven89 @everything-is-awesomesauce @tchallasbabymama @naysianaee @bigchoose
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Before I Let Go
Written for @soufcakmistress
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Paris glided through the door of her shared apartment with a bounce in her step, her congested decorative keychain jingling with every sway and pump of her chubby arms. "Aeeh! Aehh! Aehhh!" Tongue out, she slid. She had the music inside of her along with a lil bit of drank. It had been a beautiful Sunday afternoon with the company of all her best ladies over brunch at the tap house and the good hadn't ended.. she was loose and tipsy, hot and ready like a pizza.. ready to be smacked, flipped, and rubbed down. She needed to be with her hunk of man in the biblical sense now before her period came roaring back to cockblock. It was due in a few days, both she and Erik had the cycle memorized.
The apartment smelled of Passion Fruit Fabuloso when she stepped inside, her favorite kind of Fabuloso and she paused to inhale deeply. She started to sing praises to the most high in her alto choir voice as she sat Erik's food bag from the tap house on the counter. 
"This man, this man..," she sang breaking out into an impromptu shout toward the couch. "I'm a fuck this man so wild he won't piss straight for a weeeek. He don't know, he don't know!"
"The fuck?" He looked up from the tv, humored, and her hand went up in the air jingling keys as she moved her hips. She loved this man and it deserved a dance.
"Erik," she called for his attention though he was already watching her like she was crazy. He kissed his teeth.
"Go to sleep, Paris."
"It's 2:30 in the afternoon! Look look.."
"Girl.." His hand rose in attempt to calm her so he could watch football in peace as he'd been.
"Ain't no girl. Don't girl me, nigga. I'll drop all this ass on you right now."
He'd fucked up by cleaning the house. Plus she was litty six titties AND ovulating?
She had to find the perfect song on her phone cranking it up as she Mary J Bliged directly in front of him ignoring his attempt to watch the tv behind her.
"And I really love youuuu!" She sang it like she wrote it blocking the screen on purpose. He swatted at her thigh with the gentlest push trying to coax her outta the way but she grabbed the sides of his face to steal his attention. "You should knooow!" She let go to dance. "I wanna make sure I'm riight boy." She had to boop his nose. "Before I let go." He dropped his head back on the cushion.
"Paris." He wasn't having it.
She two-stepped out of the way to find the kitchen was spotless, the floor was mopped, the carpet was vacuumed and she whimpered in joy nearly in happy tears. The eyelet lace jacket she'd worn to brunch was now off and on that freshly vacuumed floor, shoes coming off and in hand. Her jeans were slung over a chair. "Before I let you GOOOOO," she wailed dancing to the back of the couch to hug her man from behind, her arms around his thick smooth neck. "OOOOOOOH.. I WILL NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER LET YOU GO BEFORE I GO."  
"You a lil more than tipsy..," his head finally rolled back for a small peck of a kiss during the commercial break. She slipped her whole tongue in his mouth and he jumped, shocked. Her hands locked under his chin to hold him in place as she sucked his tongue out of his mouth like some ramen noodles. He tried to talk when she stopped to bite his lip, his eyes still wide in shock.
"I'm in a good mood," Paris giggled noting his expression. "Keep me happy like this and you might get this treatment more often."
"..Nah it's the liquor. What you been sippin on, and why don't we have it in the house?" His hands went up to play in the curly ponytail behind her head pulling her back in.
"Noo, I swear. It's you baby," Paris grinned sliding her hands down his thin white tshirt feeling his chest through the fabric. Coming back up she squeezed his specs and ran her tongue over his cheek to his ear biting his lobe. He bit his lip before the game returning to the screen reclaimed his attention.
"The game back on," he shifted lifting his hips. Paris didn't care about the game, she loved the way he smelled.. like black soap. His skin was so buttery and dewy.. better than her skin. She kissed all over his sleek neck and his cheek and forehead from behind the couch, rubbing on his shoulders.
"Men always have better skin.." She could see him licking his lips. His chest was raising along with his hips, legs unconsciously parting. She rubbed the skin of her face against his beard. It needed to be lined up pretty damn badly but she liked him scruffy with the lil disconnected gaps too. He was just sexy to her.
Her hand slipped into his boxers and he didn't blink or move or look down but she got a hand full of half hard dick and began to tug and stroke it upward, slowly and firmly, edging him until the next commercial break.
"Let me find out I found the recipe to your freak cuz you don't typically act like this," Erik grinned. He was right. He was typically the one to initiate.
"You just got me feeling like Jodeci," Paris grinned rounding the couch to move to his lap. "And all those mimosas made me feel frisky." She kissed and licked up his neck again to get him involved and it worked because his hands stroked her lower back down to her ass, rubbing her cheeks in circles. "I had to wait all the way until I got home, and now I want my dick."
"Oh yeah?" He liked that. Paris moved to her knees in front of the couch to take what was naturally hers, putting him in her already salivating mouth as he sat back with his arms behind his head. His attention turned fully to her when the first wet slobbering noise came forth and he saw she wasn't playing with him. He watched her bob and twist drooling and spitting webs of clear saliva, the soundtrack more musical to his ears than any Beyonce track. He fought the urge to put his hand on her head, liking just how she did it. He didn't want to change it or make her stop. Then she came up, mouth and chin dripping and kissed him full on like she had when he wasn't expecting it before. He closed his eyes and let her take him.
"You ain't ever kissed me like that, when you were behind the couch my ass felt like Mary Jane kissing Spiderman..," he shook his head in disbelief of her behavior. "I was the girl.. and I liked it.."
Tickled, Paris reclaimed her position on his lap, climbing forward with her knees to get comfortable as he slid down his kick around sweatpants. They were old and dingy, meant for laying around. They fell to his ankles along with his boxers and Paris held herself up to center her body as he held his dick in place. She hovered, but didn't sit. He tried to pull her but she giggled, standing and confusing him.
"What you doing," he frowned.
"Hold up I wanna try a new position. Lay down the long way.. Just lay down," she yelled when he still looked just as confused.
She stepped up onto the couch cushion, balancing to straddle him with her legs as she looked down on him. He held his dick for her again, waiting for her to squat down only she didn't. He saw her elbow rise as she jumped and with new fear in his eyes he rolled and hit the floor in the knick of time before her elbow could clunk him in the face.
"That's a murder attempt."
"You saying that cuz I'm fat? Yo ass hit that floor," her chest bounced as she wheezed.
"You ain't shit." He pulled himself up holding onto the couch and rushed her, wrapping his arms around her full thighs to hoist her up and suplex her right on the couch. She blew out with her wind knocked out. "You done?" He wasn't, he pinned her firmly. He was in wrestling mode and ready.
Paris had to catch her breath for a second.
"Yeah.. Yeah, I'm done," she breathed looking him over for a place to attack. She found it, yanking Erik down across her so he had to grip the back of the couch for stability. She slapped his ass hard. She tried to kick her legs out to get up and was held down by her neck. He let go to drag her off the couch to the floor but it was enough to turn Paris on even more than before. She kicked at his hands and he came down on her to pin her as she struggled against his weight.
"You done," he asked again, eyes alight.
She grunted trying to get free. She was able to roll to her hands and knees and back her ass into his hips. He paused and when she looked back with a face of innocence he smirked.
"Look at you," he grinned slyly watching her reach back between her thighs to grab his dick and aim it at her sugar hole.
"Don't move, I'm a fuck you." She pushed back on it and threw her ass back, clapping against him with every throw holding nothing back as she bit her lip, eyes rolling. "Shiiid," she moaned as her ass collided with his torso once again. "Stop moving!"
Every other time she'd connect, he'd thrust and go a lil deeper it felt like though it was likely the same depth since she could and loved to take him all. She felt so full and he was adding to that feeling, his fingers digging, clutching into, and pulling on her curly ponytail. It came off in his hand and he threw it.. grabbing the little nub of a bun it was attached to. He pulled and pushed her head as he thrusted, riding her like he was racing stripes.
Though he tried, he couldn't hide how close he was to nutting. Paris knew he'd try to get her to cum just so he could have pride in not finishing first.
"YA," he yelled with a crisp slap against her jiggling ass cheek, right across the top. "I feel you. Come on that dick."
"You first, cum in that pussy. You like it? You like this pussy, baby?"
"Cum in that pussy. Go 'head cum.." She threw her ass continuously pulling his soul with every withdraw. "CUM," she commanded feeling the familiar warm feeling flood her guts dripping out slowly. Only then did she too cum.
He got up to sit on the couch, head back to take a deep breath collecting himself. He whooshed out air in the meantime and then his eyes popped open wide..
"SHIT.... SHIT SHIT you ovulating....." It was a statement he was waiting for her to refute but she didn't. He knew her calendar as well as she did, playing stupid.
"You knew that."
"I wasn't thinking..."
That's a lie, Paris thought.
"Relax I'll get the pill. It's cool."
"You ain't gotta go right now.. Damn.. I wasn't thinking!"
"Me neither really, I be in the moment." In reality Paris didn't care one way or another if she were to get pregnant or not and as much as he pretended, he didn't care either. She wasn't going to quit getting nutted in and she didn't like the forms of birth control she'd tried. Pregnancy was almost inevitable. She grabbed for his dick again ready to warm up for round two.
"Uh uh," he snickered. "Hell no, I just nutted all up inside you."
"Mhm I want you to do it again."
Instantly he was hard. She didn't ask, she took it, sitting on his dick and bouncing. His eyes rolled back briefly. She didn't give a fuck about a pill. In her mind she decided she may not even take one. For what? He wasn't going anywhere either way whether he knew it or not. He'd adjust to the changes if they came. And if not, well.. she'd just fuck him again until he could.
The End.
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Something I love about how this season of “What If” is unfolding is that the show is subtly telling us that the Watcher is going to intervene at some point without having to explicitly tell the audience. Throughout the whole show, the Watcher keeps reiterating that he won’t interfere and that his job is to simply observe the universes. And to be fair, he’s kept his word.
But look back at the previous episodes. As the season goes on, we start to see more and more of the Watcher in the background. Then as the universes keep getting worse and worse, the Watcher becomes more and more visible. In the Killmonger episode, you basically see the man in full color.
It’s a neat, subtle trick since it tells us that even though Uatu is sticking to his non-intervention rule, he’s eventually going to break it because he’s slowly coming out of the shadows. 
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Killmonger: *saves his life and proceeds to kick ass*
Tony, awestruck:
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agentphilcoolson · a month ago
One week until What If...?
I am ready to see all of our beloved characters back.
Captain Carter. Let's gooo Peggy!!!!
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Space T'Challa?? Yes please. Chadwick🕊
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Zombie America's Ass!!!!!!
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Strange vs Strange. What? Double Strange
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Gloriously Purposeful Loki. seggsy
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MORE CLARK GREGG. Just keep him forever pls. thanks
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Main universe Killmonger: Exposes his true identity and the fact that T’Chaka murdered N’Jobu to the entire Wakandan royal council
What If Killmonger: Exposes Obadiah Stane of being the mastermind behind the Ten Rings attack on Tony
This man Killmonger really loves his dramatic reveals in front of a crowd. I feel like he’d definitely be a theater kid.
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residenthottiesamwilson · 5 months ago
Oh man I had a realisation just now Holy shit.
So everyone knows that Sam Wilson is the Captain America we deserve right? And when he shut down Zemo's hypothetical we see that directly, but I just wanted to talk about Zemo's comment about those with the serum being supremecists for a moment.
So I guess there's two ways to interpret this, there's the eugenics interpretation, as in the master race, the facist dream of survival of the fittest which is its own whole other post, but I wanna talk about a different side of things.
Bc Dr Erkstine said that the serum inhanced what was already there right? And even Lemar said that power only makes people more themselves. I feel like this is even more prevelent in terms of belief in themselves and their own morality.
We see this with Carly, who believes her cause justifies her means. In that sense I TOTALLY see the parallels between her and killmonger, both had noble causes but went around it wrong.
You have the plain crazies of Red Skull and John Walker obviously, but I wanna talk about Bucky for a second.
Because Bucky isn't perfect we knew this, and we also know that he is trying to make amends and that he doesn't beleive in the killing of innocents like Carly and Erik.
But what he does beleive in is the supremacy of his ideals which you can argue as being thanks to the serum, sure they aren't as harmful as the other guys but it's there. And we especially see this in how he tramples over Ayos and Wakandas trust in order to get to his goal, which only ends up hurting himself and them in the long run.
You see, all of these people believed that the ends justify the means, which is why Sam is so unbelievably perfect.
Everyone spends the entire episode trying to persuade Sam that whatever he saw in Carly wasn't worth saving, but he just saw a flawed, scared kid who he believed in.
And that's just it. Captain America can never believe that one life has value over another, that's why, for better or for worse, Steve Rogers refuses to give up Vision in infinity war, because ultimately his life is worth saving.
And yeah that's my ramble of why Sam Wilson is a fuckin BAMF and deserves that fuckin shield man!!!!
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tomb-raider · 6 months ago
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try to remember but it hurts, i’m walkin’ through the cemetery talkin’ to the dirt i’d rather die like a man, than live like a coward
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