For Wakanda!

T'Challa Udaku. Black Panther. King of Wakanda. No more discourse. No more deliberation. No more excuses. No more mercy. We know what this is. It is war, and war is our nation's trade. It has been so for generations. We are Wakanda. We will not be terrorized. We are terror itself

[panthergcd]

twelvepercentpepperpotts:

She smiled back at him. “Then the same goes for you,” she said. “Please, call me Pepper. Everyone does.” Some days it felt like ‘Virginia’ was a ghost-name, a skin she had shed and left behind a long time ago. If only the past were so easy to leave behind – Ty and his DreamVision flashed through her mind, as it so often did these days. But she managed to keep a bright, charming smile on her face. (She had a lot of practice at maintaining a poker face.) 

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” she said, nodding as she gazed out among the crowd. T’Challa was different from the other Avengers. A leader, not just in battle, but in life as well. He knew what it meant to read a room and feel responsible for every person you saw. To want to ease the worries in their mind. The other Avengers wanted that too, but their solutions often involved fighting, more fighting, and even more fighting. “They are definitely very…” She trailed off as he tensed, then she noticed the shift in the crowd herself. The lights on the stage had changed, centering on a lone figure in the middle – Doom himself. “Distracting,” Pepper finished, turning to face the president with pursed lips. 

His speech was quick, but powerful. Like a spark that lit a fuse. Pepper’s heart hammered in her chest – there was Tony’s name shining on the screen – and she immediately set down her glass of champagne. “This doesn’t feel like much of a celebration anymore,” she murmured, taking a step back as most of the crowd surged forward. The tension that had been momentarily staved off was back in full force, and had just hit a boiling point. She turned to T’Challa. “Your majesty, I think we should make a rather hasty exit. People will notice,” she whispered quietly, not wanting to draw attention to them. 

“Pepper, then,” T’Challa agreed with a smile. He’d always been far less formal than other Wakandan kings, treating his Dora Milaje like old friends and his subjects like drinking buddies. It sometimes caused slight irritation -- like Shuri’s constant pranks or Okoye’s dry humor -- but it was more than worth it. T’Challa wouldn’t have traded any of it. He’d seen the fearsome respect people paid to his father and uncle, and he wanted little to do with it for himself.

The crowd seemed calm for the moment, a welcome change from New York’s recent uneasiness. It was nice, seeing the city’s people happy for once, though T’Challa had no doubt that it was a temporary solution. The party was never going to permanently quell their fears, and that was likely a good thing. The idea of them all being so easily pacified would speak poorly to their intelligence. “They certainly are,” he agreed, watching the stage thoughtfully. Doom taking center stage didn’t seem like the prelude to anything decent, and while he hoped to be proven wrong on that point, T’Challa had always been a realist.

The world seemed to change in an instant. The previously calm nature of the crowd shifted into something panicked and afraid, and everyone became a flurry of motion. There was yelling, there were accusations, there was fear, but T’Challa turned away from all of it to focus instead on Pepper. She seemed nervous, and he couldn’t blame her. T’Challa wasn’t sure whether it was safer to be one of those listed or one of those unlisted, but like him, Pepper had friends on both sides. “No, it feels like something else entirely,” he agreed, moving to put himself between her and the worst of the crowd. Glancing back to her, he nodded. “I think that would be best,” he agreed. 

[panthergcd]

cloudwclker:

The more time Ororo spent with T’Challa, the less impossible their relationship seemed. They were far removed from reality, but she was familiar with Wakandan customs, and if she was accepted by his people — as she had been repeatedly in the past — perhaps they could work something out. It was a hope that Ororo kept very much private, largely due to the fact that few of her friends were aware of her complicated history with the King of Wakanda. On a more personal note, it was also a hope that she kept private because she had never felt so strongly about another man or woman in her life. What she had created with T’Challa was genuine and wonderful, a relationship that she was honoured to be apart of, heartbreak regardless. Few experienced such passion and while it was far from ideal, through enough effort and willpower, a future was possible. It was more than Ororo had believed possible years ago, and judging by how committed T’Challa seemed to be, Ororo was not alone, imagining that ideal. T’Challa had never hidden his feelings for her after all. If worse came to worse and all Ororo had the pleasure of experiencing was a brief fling with T’Challa, hidden away in New York City, isolated from the rest of the world, Ororo could make peace with that, too. A brief amount of time with the King of Wakanda was worth the loneliness that would surely follow, although she had yet to inform T’Challa of her new stance on their relationship. Years ago, Ororo’s answer would be much, much different, a refusal to be anything so brief.

“No, stupid is not among them,” Ororo agreed. “If he were foolish, he wouldn’t be in the position he is now. No one with poor leadership could maintain power during a crisis of this magnitude,” she observed. It was unfortunate for New Yorkers, she truly believed that Doom’s motives were impure, but it was the reality. As the topic shifted to a date, Ororo couldn’t help but smile. The mood was still undeniably bleak, their president on their mind, but it was difficult to feel entirely unhappy with T’Challa nearby. “I’ll cook you dinner at your apartment,” Ororo replied. “You can let me in around five and then come back to the house at seven.” She had no other home besides Xavier’s, had never believed it necessary until she began dating T’Challa. Before she could elaborate on her plans, Doom took to the stage with horrific news, and Ororo frowned deeply. “The mutants may be safe for now,” she said quietly. “Several X-Men signed because I believed this would happen. What will it mean for you?”

There was a time when T’Challa had convinced himself that what he’d had with Ororo was a childish dream. When he was apart from her, mind on other things, it almost seemed a possible lie to believe. He could quell his feelings, pretend that the things he felt for other significant others in his life even came close to what he’d felt for her. He could close his eyes, block his ears, pretend she didn’t invade his every thought. It became far less a feasible task when she was beside him. When he was with her, he felt comfort he had never felt with anyone else. No two people were made solely for one another, but with Ororo at his side, T’Challa tended to forget that. There were days when he was sure he’d been created for her and her alone. Maybe what they’d had started as a childish grasp for something real, but it had evolved beyond that. It had become something solid, something undeniable. No matter where he was in the world, no matter who he was with, the image of Ororo’s face remained static in his mind. He thought of the mornings with her in his bed during those visits to Wakanda when they swore what they were doing was nothing more than a night of fun, thought of afternoons in the bright African sun as they explored the marketplace together laughing and modeling different accessories, thought of the nights when she was gone and he lay awake wondering what she might be doing just as his phone lit up with a message from her suggesting she’d been doing the same. He clung to all the memories life a life raft in the midst of an ocean storm. The way he thought of her was not the way a man thought of a friend, and he knew it. What he felt for Ororo was strong and real and undeniable. He was foolish to ever have thought of it as anything else.

“I think our lives would be easier if he was foolish,” he mused, trying to think of the situation at hand instead of allowing his thoughts to wonder to a romance that might not ever truly reignite. “Though I hate to admit it, it may be better with him in charge. If people saw his power slipping, if they thought the city’s leadership to be up for grabs... I imagine the chaos would be uncontrollable.” Most people were power hungry at their core, T’Challa knew. They wanted to matter, wanted to be in charge, wanted to be respected. It was human nature. Smiling as Ororo provided details of the date, T’Challa nodded. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he told her, trying to sound less excited than he was. He didn’t want to look desperate but, truly, he was. He was always desperate for her, always yearning. Unfortunately, his mood darkened as Doom took center stage and rocked the very ground beneath their feet. “I’m glad to hear that. If you need any further protection at Xavier’s, I’m more than willing to offer my assistance.” The mansion had more than enough physical protection, of course, but T’Challa could likely provide some form of political shield as well. At the question, he sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t feel right listing my abilities. Some things are not for the public to know. My diplomatic immunity frees me from any legal backlash, but I fear the public won’t be so easily calmed.”

[panthergcd]

cloudwclker:

@panthergcd

As Ororo promised, she had prepared a traditional dinner for T’Challa. She had never learned to cook in Egypt or Africa, primarily relying on whatever source of food that she could scavenge (or that was cooked for her with tenderness from villagers who believed her a deity), but later, in America, she had learned to prepare the dishes she was familiar with. It was an effective cure for homesickness, and while it was different from Wakandan fair, there was no doubt in Ororo’s mind that T’Challa would love whatever she chose to make for him. He was undeniably biased, though under these circumstances, Ororo quite enjoyed the fact that T’Challa would love anything and everything she made for him… or at least pretend to.

With the dining room set up to the best of her ability, with candles lit and the aroma of her cooking filling the room, Ororo was satisfied with the presentation. It was nothing near as extravagant as what a king would inevitably grow accustomed to, but their relationship was much deeper than appearances and first impressions. “I thought that a dinner alone would be much more enjoyable than being surrounded with New York’s most recent drama,” Ororo said in lieu of greeting. She pulled T’Challa in for a tight embrace, no longer bothering to convince herself that their relationship was purely platonic. “And this way we have each other’s undivided attention,” she added with a smile.

Overall, Doom’s party had been a disaster. There was no denying that. The President’s decision to leak his list to the public had resulted in utter chaos, and tensions between New York’s citizens and its heroes were higher than they had been in some time. However, in some ways, it had been... beneficial. The party had served as the first official date T’Challa and Ororo had had in some time, and in attending with her, T’Challa finally stopped trying to convince himself that his feelings for her were anything less than what they truly were. They were intense, they were all-encompassing, and they were real. He was finished wasting time with denial, and he liked to believe she was, too. No, T’Challa intended to make up for lost time with Ororo, to get to the place they ought to be with one another. He only hoped she felt the same.

The dining room looked better than it had in some time. After news of New York’s situation broke, T’Challa stopped trying to maintain appearances by having the room elaborately decorated for every meal. He smiled as he entered, looking around and letting his expression show exactly how impressed he was. “I couldn’t think of anything better than a dinner alone with you,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning into the embrace. After so many months of purely platonic interactions, it felt heavenly. “You always have my undivided attention, even when you’re not with me,” he smiled. “Though I can’t say I won’t enjoy having yours. I think we have much to discuss with one another, don’t you?”

[panthergcd]

stcrm-breaker:

The Avengers had great weight on their shoulders, they had an entire planet to protect, and a valiant species to protect. That being said, few on the team truly understood what it was to be a ruler. Thor himself was not a king, he had made the executive decision several years before that for all he had learned in the past decade, he was a better prince and man than a sovereign, but he knew enough growing up in that environment to realise the importance of sacrifice. To know that sometimes the best decisions to make were the ones that were the hardest, that prevented you from sleeping at night. There was a reason why a wiser Thor hesitated when a younger, arrogant Thor did not, and that was knowledge. That was understanding.

That understanding only made him respect T’Challa all the more. He was not ruling over the Nine Realms, but he was preserving peace between his country and the outside world, balancing tradition with progress, trying to fulfill the legacy that his great father had left behind. Fighting alongside him, as well as sparring with the man, was an honour, and it was something that Thor looked forward to. Nothing was as glorious as a battle well fought, after all, and he knew that T’Challa would reach the halls of his version of Valhalla when he passed on. There would be no question. “I would be concerned about bankrupting Stark if I did not know I would win,” Thor replied with a grin. Being cut off from Asgard meant no gold reserves, but Stark had been more than amenable. He had no choice! “I will even leave Stormbreaker out of this, to make things fair for all concerned.” Some friendly competition was always welcome, especially when memories of family were concerned, and when they remained like ghosts. “There have been situations such as this before,” Thor said, “but they have been temporary lapses. A Sorcerer, perhaps, experimenting further beyond his own reach, or merely a case of wrong place, wrong time while the planet was in orbit. This, though, seems to be far more deliberate. We find the person behind it, and we can end this threat once and for all, and return to our people.” Thor paused. “There is one thing. The person responsible would most likely have to remain within the city. It would take a great deal of power to control something of this magnitude on another plane.”

Few people truly understood the weight of a crown on your head. T’Challa had met a few royals from other countries since opening Wakanda to the world, but they rarely seemed interested in seeing him as anything more than a means to an end. For a time, he’d worried that all leaders were like that, power hungry and cold. During his time as an Avenger, he’d met several people who challenged that assessment, and Thor was among them. He was not Asgard’s king, but that was through his own choice. He chose to remain in his position as prince in order to protect the Earth, and that said far more about him than anything else. Anyone who chose to reject power was someone who deserved to have it.

It was enough to make him trust Thor endlessly, enough to make him think of the man as a friend and hope that the sentiment was mutual. Being on a team with an Asgardian prince, a man who was by all counts a god, was both an honor and a privilege. T’Challa never expected to win their spars, of course -- the Black Panther was powerful, but he was no Asgardian -- but they provided better practice than he could get anywhere else. And, with Thor’s commentary, they had the added bonus of being entertaining. “No concern that you might bankrupt me? It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I doubt it will even come up. I have no plans to lose.” His smile held a cockiness that could come only from royalty because though T’Challa was under no illusions that he could realistically beat a god, he was pretty good at pretending he thought otherwise. “I appreciate that. I think my sister would be angry with me if I found myself impaled on the God of Thunder’s axe.” Not that she would know, considering New York’s current situation. T’Challa would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of dying cut off from Wakanda like this. “I believed it to be an intentional act,” T’Challa admitted, “though I thought it may have just been my paranoia talking. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed to hear you agree.” On one hand, it meant he wasn’t being overly paranoid, but on the other, it meant this situation wasn’t one that could be easily resolved. When Thor spoke again, T’Challa’s brow furrowed. “And trap themselves along with us? Perhaps our enemy lacks intelligence.” 

[panthergcd]

captcinmcrvel:

To an outsider perspective, Carol was an extremely busy woman. Frequently reporters and fans had asked her how she managed to fit everything in, and Carol had just laughed it off, brushed past it with a joke and a winning smile. The thing was, Carol always needed to be busy. She needed to be striving every second of the day to either better herself or help other people. Even her hobbies were intense, no moment for relaxation. Alpha Flight was currently grounded, the Avengers’ reach - which was previously the entirety of the world - had been dramatically cut, and for all of her experience in space and with NASA, she couldn’t figure out the first thing about how to get out of this dimension, or who put them there. T’Challa was someone who had a finger in every pot as well, and was probably facing the same change in role as Carol was. Both of their situations - Carol pulled from space, T’Challa from his country - were temporary ultimately, but that didn’t mean they weren’t heavily taxing on their emotions.

T’Challa hid it about as well as Carol did herself - or maybe he was enjoying the break? Honestly, Carol struggled enough leading Alpha Flight, nevermind an entire country. “Did you travel much when you were growing up?” Carol asked curiously. T’Challa was well cultured, spoke as if he had travelled extensively, but she knew that for an exceeded length of time Wakanda’s existence was unknown to the world at large, just another small country in the largest continent on Earth. “At the beginning I wondered if we had moved into a temporal lapse, or something of the kind, whether the entire thing was a freak natural event. With everything else that’s happened, though, I have other suspicions now.” Hoping for an accident instead of an intentional act was optimistic, wasn’t it? “We could always go rescue some kittens from trees?” Carol suggested, a weak smirk pulling at her lips. “Or train. Again.”

New York being separated from the world doubtlessly affected every citizen living in it. T’Challa knew that on some level, but humanity’s nature was to be self-centered. As such, he often found himself thinking that it affected him more than most. It wasn’t a fair assessment, and he wasn’t even sure it was a true one, but it was hard not to believe it. After all, he was quite suddenly a king without a kingdom, cut off from his people without a word. He knew he should keep his mind at the situation at hand, knew he should worry about New York first and foremost, but he couldn’t help but let his mind drift back to Wakanda. His family would be panicking by now, he knew. His step-mother had always disliked his trips to New York, and despite her stubborn claims, Shuri was not ready to be a queen. He could only hope they kept the peace in his absence. 

Carol, he knew, could relate. She didn’t leave a country behind, she left a universe. After so much time traveling between planets, he wondered if it was hellish for her to find herself confined to a single city. It seemed rude to ask somehow, like rubbing salt in an open wound. “Not until I was a teenager,” he replied. “I traveled occasionally with my father and uncle to observe the way they interacted with people as king, but for the most part, my place was in Wakanda. The world barely knew of us back then, and the past kings wanted to keep it that way. I traveled as a young man to get a feel for the world before returning to take on my role as king.” Other diplomats, he knew, boasted far more travel, but Wakanda had always been different. They prided themselves on it, and while T’Challa disagreed with the practice of keeping the country confined within itself, he would not pretend that Wakanda’s other differences didn’t make it an incredible place. “Whatever is happening, I don’t think it’s an accident,” he agreed. “I just can’t figure out who’s responsible or what their motive might be.” Judging by the way things were changing, it seemed that whoever had isolated them must be in the city, which made little sense. Why trap themselves along with everyone else? “I do like kittens,” he replied with a smile. “Training may be more productive, though. Perhaps we could go looking for a fight?”

[panthergcd]

the-m3chanic:

“That’s what comes with the title of ‘super genius.’ It’s not just a plaque on the wall like this thing,” Tony said, gesturing behind him to the PhD that had pride of place right above the waste basket. “You know what that is? Useless!” Some thought that Iron Man would be a traditionalist, pushing forward MIT above all else, demanding that everyone had a PhD before they came to work for him, but he had never been about that in the slightest, even before Afghanistan. Education wasn’t available to everyone, a single PhD didn’t come close to explaining the amount of knowledge in Tony’s mind, and that meant he based his staff choices on personal attributes and experience rather than anything else. “Then we’ll get it ordered to the door. The delivery guys always love coming up here!” They enjoyed the tips, at least - the threat of being blown up on the way, by experiment or villain, significantly less so.

Tony nodded, humming in understanding at T’Challa’s words. “I can imagine most people aren’t exactly focusing on international relations right now,” he said. “I’m just panicking that my tickets to Mallorca are going to stay good, honestly. Do you think the airline would accept dimensional displacement as a reason not to go on the holiday? I need that money back, T’Challa, I’m a starving … student?” Tony’s own situation had been somewhat stalled by the situation as well. He was trapped in this place with Tiberius Stone, his studies were halted by the fact he couldn’t speak to international experts, and he really, really hated eating Italian food in New York City. It was nothing like traditional Venetian cuisine!

“I suppose it is very much an earned title,” T’Challa agreed. He was a smart man himself, but he knew he wasn’t quite on Tony’s level. In many ways, he was glad for that. It seemed a lonely life, being the smartest man in any given room, and T’Challa did not wish to grapple with that alongside his status as king. Being royalty made it difficult enough to connect with those around him. “Useless, and yet you’ve collected how many?” There was a teasing note to his tone. T’Challa’s own PhD saw little use, so he was inclined to agree with Tony there. Education was not everything, and those who thought it was were usually nowhere near as intelligent as they believed themselves to be. “Are they still delivering with the city the way it is?” Many restaurants remained open, T’Challa knew, but sending delivery people out to bring food across the city seemed dangerous.

“It seems to be the least of anyone’s troubles,” he agreed with a sigh. Thus far, his diplomatic immunity had kept him largely out of Doom’s reach as far as registration and listing went, but T’Challa worried that the longer New York remained isolated, the less that would mean. Eventually, Doom was going to demand T’Challa be held to the same standards as everyone else, and that was not something he was used to. “If you need money, I can lend you some,” he replied,flashing what Shuri referred to as a ‘shit-eating grin.’ He always pretended to hate the vulgarity, mostly because he knew his sister would have a field day if he admitted his amusement. “I always strive to help those less fortunate.” 

[panthergcd]

captcinmcrvel:

@panthergcd

Carol had never particularly strove towards leadership. Many people would imagine that was the case, would look at her confidence, her experience, and immediately assume that she was aiming for the top. In many ways she was, but Carol had always garnered success by how much she was pushing herself, measuring her achievements by her own standards. Paperwork and democracy had never been her ballpark. Luckily, in her role as commander of Alpha Flight she had more than enough support in those areas, and T’Challa was one of her most trusted advisers. That wasn’t just because he had ponied up a large sum of the money needed to build the space station, either, though that was a part of it. Alpha Flight had a spa onboard because of him! Who could argue with that?

“I always counted on the universe being too big,” Carol grumbled, leaning her face on her hand, “but now it seems the opposite is my problem.” Some of her team was still up in the atmosphere, above an Earth that no longer had New York. Others, like her, had been on leave at the time. “Whoever it was that cut a slice out of America definitely picked their time well. They got all of us in one fell swoop,” she commented. “What do you suggest we do today, T’Challa? If we don’t come up with something I’m going to go stir crazy. I will actually eat the stuffing out of this couch.” She paused for a moment. “Okay, that might be an overstatement, but the sentiment applies!”

Since opening Wakanda up to the rest of the world, T’Challa had taken on many projects. He lent his mind to various scientific groups, lent his funds to charities, his time to outreach programs. He had a lot to make up for, after all. Wakanda’s previous rulers had offered no help as the world fell apart, had lived in sanctuary while people starved all around the world, and T’Challa could not let that be him. When he saw a cause worthy of Wakanda’s support, he threw himself into it wholeheartedly. Alpha Flight -- and, by extension, Carol Danvers -- was more than worthy. He wasn’t sure if she thought herself a leader, but it was clear in looking at her that that was precisely what she was. She was bold and wonderful, unflinching of the terrors of the world around her, and it was admirable to say the least.

“It does seem unnaturally small now,” he agreed. Had something like this happened in Wakanda, most of the country might not have noticed at all. T’Challa’s people did not often leave Wakanda’s boarders. They had no reason to. But New York... New York was different. T’Challa knew he was far from the only person antsy at the isolation. “I’d wager whoever is behind this put more than a small amount of planning into it.” It seemed well-thought out, as if someone had been biding their time in hopes of the perfect moment. They’d certainly found something close to it. “Well, we certainly have to find something to do that’s more productive than you eating furniture,” he said dryly, a smile playing at his lips. “Unfortunately, it seems there isn’t much to do that hasn’t already been done.”

[panthergcd]

exposed-likeanerve:

It seemed as though Bruce’s ability to be mistaken for someone who was being funny when he said something gloomy about his life was still firmly in place, despite his exhaustion. He’d actually been as serious as it was possible to be when talking about karmic retribution in the form of freak weather patterns - if that was what was in store, a thunderstorm would be tame by the standards of the rest of his life. T’Challa seemed entertained enough by his supposed sense of humor, however, that he didn’t bother correcting him. It wasn’t like a moment of levity under the circumstances was a terrible idea. “That’s fair,” he agreed softly. “Fate and I haven’t been on speaking terms for a long time now.”

Unfortunately, he had to admit, at least to himself, that he probably wasn’t ready to run again yet. His legs were still burning from exertion, and his lungs felt like they were too small to hold the amount of air his body needed. There just wasn’t any other choice. Either he ran now, or the Hulk got to break things, and this wasn’t the kind of space where he could fight without a lot of collateral damage. So there wasn’t really a question. They had to be ready, he had to be ready, and they had to make it to somewhere safe. He was absolutely unwilling to consider any alternative.

“We can make it,” he affirmed, wishing he sounded more confident in his answer. “As long as we don’t attract any more attention.” Essentially, as long as they were lucky. Too bad he’d never had particularly good luck. This was the kind of night where he could really use some.

There was something almost hopeless in Banner’s voice, something that made T’Challa wish he knew how to comfort him somehow. He’d never been skilled in emotion, never been good at comfort. Ramonda was always the comforting presence in Wakanda’s throne room, willing and able to step in when T’Challa was at a loss. Unfortunately, his stepmother was not here now, could not give Banner what he needed. In her absence, T’Challa could only offer his teammate a smile. “Fate will turn in your favor soon enough,”  he assured him carefully. “No one’s luck can remain poor forever.” It was something he strongly believed in, something he was certain of. If you suffered for a time, you would have a time of blessing as well. Nothing could be taken without having something else given in its place.

Banner seemed to be considering his options, and T’Challa paused to wait for him to finish. If he chose to run, T’Challa was more than willing to help him in any way he could, and if he chose to fight... Well, the Black Panther was always willing to lend any of his teammates a helping hand there. He saw the indecision cross over Banner’s face, saw his eyes steel as he came to a decision.

“We can make it,” he agreed with a nod, sounding surer than Banner did even if he didn’t feel it. As a king, he was good at sounding certain despite his doubts. “Stealth has always been my strong suit. Follow my lead.” He moved forward quietly, sticking to the shadows and hoping the demons didn’t track by scent.

[panthergcd]

stcrm-breaker:

When Thor first arrived on Midgard, he had been so preoccupied with his own inner struggles, his inability to lift Mjolnir, and reeling over the fact that his father had quite literally kicked him off the planet for being a reckless fool that he didn’t exactly stop to ‘smell the roses.’ Over the years, that had changed, and he had developed an intense fondness for the little planet. That meant indulging himself in their culture as best as he could, reading through books and asking as many questions as humanly (godly?) possible. Thor found that in ancient cultures, many kings were heralded as gods, and that was rarely the case.

T’Challa, though, seemed to be an exception to that rule, just as Odin was himself. The strength that he displayed was far above an ordinary human’s, and he spoke with a wisdom that suggested he had seen things no one else had witnessed. Thor had seen visions of Valhalla only a few times, but it was enough to confirm to him that the stories he had been told were true. He saw something similar reflected in T’Challa. “That is very fortuitous,” Thor said, matching T’Challa’s smile, “for I am not eager to back down either.” Thor was less reckless than he had been as a younger man, but he was still definitely a hothead. “Your family remains in Wakanda, yes?” Thor asked. “I am sure if they are anything like you are, they will be more than capable of holding the throne in your absence. I hear Stark speak very highly of your sister. Something about tennis shoes?” Stark was often confusing, Thor could not be blamed! “Of course. Asgard has my father, and I have always found my place defending the Nine Realms. Remaining in one place is not in my nature, it seems.”

T’Challa had been raised a religious man, and though he may not practice as dutifully as he once had, he still believed in the things his father and stepmother had taught him. He believed in the gods and goddesses of his father, spoke to Bast frequently when he found himself faced with doubts or uncertainties. Meeting a man who, by all rights, was a god had certainly been odd. He hadn’t been sure what to expect from Thor, but what he got had been surprising. The god was hardly stuffy and overly formal, spoke nothing of smiting those who had wronged him. Instead, the man was funny. He was easygoing, he was fun to be around. He was a friend, T’Challa hoped.

That wouldn’t change after their sparring session, he knew. He’d seen the Asgardian spar with many of their teammates, seen him lay some of the more overly confident, wholly human Avengers on their asses and invite them out for drinks afterwards. Thor was a lot of things, but a poor sport didn’t seem to be one of them. He was neither a sore loser nor a sore winner, and that would make their session more fun than stressful. T’Challa found himself looking forward to the workout. “Then we will fight, my friend,” he promised, smile widening slightly. “The loser can buy the winner’s drinks.” If he lost -- which, in all likelihood, he would -- T’Challa had no doubt that he’d be footing a significant bar tab. Fortunately, he was very well off. If anyone could afford to match drinks with a god, it was a king. “They are,” he confirmed, smile faltering a little at the fact. He missed his people dearly, but Thor was right; his family was more than capable of holding down the throne in his absence. “Stark has reason to be impressed. Just before New York’s separation, my sister sent a new design over. I don’t think Stark has stopped thinking of it since.” There was no shortage of pride in his tone at that. Shuri’s mind was incredible, and she deserved to have someone brag on her. (Preferably when she was not around to hear it.) “I’m sure this situation cannot be easy for you, then. I don’t suppose you have any insight on how we might resolve it?” It seemed worth a shot. Thor’s manner of thinking would doubtlessly differ from any Midgardian’s point of view.

[panthergcd]

the-m3chanic:

“Seems and is,” Tony said without hesitation, a wide smile on his face. Tony was a genius when it came to engineering, physics, biochemistry at a push, but he had to credit Pepper with keeping him alive to the point where he could change his life around and actually become a hero. In many ways, Iron Man was as much down to Pepper, Rhodey and Yinsen as it was to Tony himself. “If I was going to convince you a little more, what would that involve, exactly? Thai food from that place on Doom Boulevard? That Chinese restaurant near Central Park?” A part of Tony was surprised that, with the number of streets popping up with their beloved president’s name in it, Central Park hadn’t been renamed in his image as well. He supposed even Doom knew he had to maintain something of the city’s brand.

Tony had met foreign dignitaries and leaders before, of course, in the parties and galas that his father held while he was a child, and all through college as he travelled across the world to listen to renowned professors speak. A king, though, was something else entirely, and T’Challa was far from what he expected. Even the dukes and duchesses Tony had met held themselves with a haughty air of superiority, and here was a man that had an entire country looking up to him, almost worshipping him, and he was sitting in the middle of a dirty workshop getting stuck into various inventions, teasing Tony about his girlfriend. It was even more reason to respect T’Challa, as far as Tony was concerned. “I’ve noticed. Those sneaker designs she sent over? Honestly, they belong on the red carpet. We could definitely make that happen - once we can actually get to Cannes again, of course.” There were so many things that Tony had been working on until they were taken from one dimension and placed in another, and he was sure it was the same for T’Challa. “How goes the outreach centre?” Tony asked, knowing that was at least one job that could continue while the city was suspended, even if some areas were halted.

“At least you’re smart enough to admit it,” T’Challa chuckled. Modesty was an important trait for anyone to have, be they king or engineer, and while many seemed to doubt that Tony Stark was capable of it, T’Challa knew differently. He’d seen enough of Stark’s inner workings to know the man was hardly as egotistical as he lead people to believe. “Mmm, I am a hard man to convince. I may be swayed with the Thai.” Okoye would likely be outraged if she knew of all the ‘junk’ T’Challa had been putting into his body since New York’s separation from the world, but as she was not here, there was no one to stop him from continuing. 

If asked, T’Challa might speculate that the tradition of Wakandan kings carrying the role of Black Panther grounded them in a way other royalty could not relate to. He had not grown up protected, hadn’t been shielded from all harm and allowed to shrug off of physical activity in favor of sitting on a throne. Instead, he’d trained. He’d built relationships with his people, learned their names as he acted as their hero. It made him more down to Earth than most, more relatable. It certainly helped him fit in in America. “I’m not sure I want to give her the ego boost of allowing her designs to be admired worldwide,” he laughed, imagining Shuri’s reaction to such a thing. She’d be undoubtedly excited, but the cost of her head growing larger seemed high. “Slower than I’d like. The demons and the curfew make things difficult.”

[panthergcd]

mjolnirmade:

Mjolnir had only been part of Jane’s life for a short period of time, but she frequently found herself missing the strength and stamina it endowed her with. She was largely picking up small pieces of debris and rubble, but with the hammer securely in her hand, Jane would be capable of clearing the entire area within minutes. Unfortunately, that was not within the realm of possibility. In the immediate aftermath, Thor had been actively aiding the cleanup efforts, but enough time had passed that New York City was largely restored. Now Jane Foster had her role, and she played them both dutifully. Jane’s work was equally as important as Thor’s, keeping their superhero population healthy, able to serve, and volunteering among citizens too poor to pay for medical care. Not all heroes wore capes, as the saying went, though both definitions applied to Jane.

T’Challa had never once faltered when they were requested to do difficult, physical work, and that was one of the many reasons Jane respected the King of Wakanda so greatly. His position never seemed to faze him, the privilege had not affected him, and she was proud to call him a friend (and an ex-boyfriend technically). “I don’t think anyone is too busy for this. It’s important work,” she said quietly. “How have you been coping with the isolation?” Jane asked, the concern evident in her voice. During their time being isolated, she frequently thought about T’Challa, knowing how difficult it must be to be separated from his kingdom and people. It was incomparable, but she often wished she could be on Asgard once more, especially now that she was so connected to the city as Thor. “It is worthy of our time,” she agreed with a smile. “I’ve missed you lately,” she admitted. “We should make more time for each other.”

Strength had never been something T’Challa lacked. Even before he was granted the power of the Black Panther he’d been fit, training for the position constantly since he was but a child. Mostly, this strength had always been used in large ways. Fighting off the enemies of Wakanda, protecting his people the way a king ought to do, fighting against villains intent on shaping the world in their own image. As a king, T’Challa often feared he found himself too tied up in the large-scale threats to take note of everyday problems. Villainous threats were important to fight against, but they were hardly a daily occurrence. Things like this, simple cleanup of the aftermath of such attacks, were just as vital. These were the moments that shaped citizens’ daily lives, and it was important to recognize that.

Working alongside Jane Foster, one of his favorite people in the city, was more of a bonus than anything else. He would have agreed just as readily had someone else asked him here, but he was glad it had been her in any case. “It is,” he agreed, “though some may not see it as such.” Many heroes seemed to forget that the destruction caused by their heroic acts carried consequences. “I am... coping. It’s been difficult, but I am ‘hanging in there,’ as one might say.” Being apart from Wakanda was hardly ideal, but he was managing. He trusted the people he’d left behind in Wakanda to take care of it in his absence. “How are you coping?” Jane’s situation was different than his own, but being cut off from the world was hardly easy for anyone. “It is more than worthy,” he agreed. “I wish more saw it as such.” New York’s heroes were hardly egotistical enough to consider such work beneath them, but it often slipped their minds. Like T’Challa, they often focused too solely on the bigger picture and missed out on the details. “I’ve missed you too. Perhaps we could get dinner, when we’re done here?”

[panthergcd]

twelvepercentpepperpotts:

The deep, familiar voice behind her made her smile grow even wider. “Your majesty,” she said, with a polite curtsy. She hoped that was the proper title, she was still growing used to Wakandan customs – it was hard to get much information about a country that only just opened itself to the outside world. She wondered if they regretted it now, when the world was falling into one chaotic mess after another. And now their King was trapped in another dimension. 

“I’m glad to see you here,” she said softly. “Glad to see everyone, really. They all look much more relaxed than usual.” But there was still tension in the air – no amount of food could change the reality of their situation. They were a long, long way from home, with no clear path back. It was a frightening concept, and felt isolating even as it affected the entire city. “I’m flattered. But really, there’s not much I would’ve done differently. Maybe a few less armed guards,” she joked.

T’Challa’s brows shot up at the curtsy, a smile playing at his lips. “There’s no need for such formality,” he told her, shaking his head. Past Wakandan kings would have insisted upon it, he knew, would have been outraged had she called him anything else, but T’Challa was far more relaxed than his predecessors. It showed in the way Shuri and the Dora Milaje interacted with him, was made apparent in the softness of his stepmother’s smile or the playfulness in his sister’s laugh.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you as well, Ms. Potts. I think this event was something of a necessity. With so much tension brewing under the surface, it seemed something was bound to break eventually. A short remission from the drama is a welcome change.” He chuckled as she spoke again, shrugging a shoulder. “A few less armed guards would lighten things up a little,” he agreed. Something shifted in the crowd, and T’Challa tensed instinctively. Something was happening, it seemed. Their remission from the drama had always been destined to be a short one.

[panthergcd]

cloudwclker:

There was no man nor woman that Ororo had ever felt as strongly for as she did T’Challa. She had made every attempt to forget him and she assumed that he had done the same, but all efforts had ultimately been in vain. No one compared to T’Challa, and the more time Ororo spent with T’Challa, the more abundantly clear that became. It was not a choice that she regretted, although unfortunately, their tryst (assuming that was what this was becoming) would be brief. Once New York City was returned to Earth, T’Challa would resume his duties and Ororo would be committed to Xavier’s as she always was. Their romance was a star-crossed one, she supposed, unless one of them was willing to make a concession in the name of love. Ororo was aware that the burden would fall on her shoulders, T’Challa had a nation to provide for, and Ororo could not dream of asking him to surrender any attention from Wakanda.

As Ororo expected, T’Challa’s opinion of Doom’s party was an interesting and unique point of view. She hadn’t considered that it was a display of confidence, though now that T’Challa had mentioned the possibility, it was an interesting and efficient one. “It would be smart,” she acknowledged. Truthfully, Ororo wasn’t sure if she would call their president intelligent in any other context. Doom was far too mysterious to be considered a wise ruler, but if this was his attempt to comfort the public, it seemed to be working well. “You don’t need a party to have a date with me,” Ororo scoffed. “All you need to do is ask and I will happily accept, as you can see. Perhaps we should plan one for tomorrow night,” Ororo suggested with a smile. She had absolutely no doubt that T’Challa would agree to spending more time with her, he was an easy man to please where she was concerned.

Though he had tried to move on in the years since his relationship with Ororo, it seemed a lost cause. No one else had ever compared to her, and every new person he found himself with came along with a certain lacking that was truly no fault of their own. Since he’d met her, T’Challa’s heart had beat for Ororo alone. The belief of soulmates had never been one his family felt particularly strongly about -- his father had found love again after his mother’s death, and what T’Chaka had with Ramonda was just as beautiful and loving as what he’d had with N’Yami -- but when he looked at Ororo, he wondered if he might have been wrong. His soul yearned for hers, and she possessed his thoughts constantly. In the real world, their relationship had always been a difficult one. T’Challa’s responsibilities laid in Wakanda with his people, and Ororo’s laid in New York with hers. The universe seemed adamant in keeping them apart, from the day it had placed Klaue’s men in T’Challa’s sight-line and reminded him of his duty to the way it continuously reminded them both of where they belonged. But, for the moment, Wakanda was lost to him. He could not travel back to it, could not leave the city where Ororo had always belonged. It was like the universe was giving them a reprieve, allowing them time together that had been stolen for years. There was no telling how long it might last, but T’Challa intended on cherishing it while it did. If this was to be temporary, he intended to make it count.

“Victor von Doom is a lot of things,” T’Challa observed, “but I do not believe stupid is among them.” He didn’t like Doom, wasn’t sure he trusted the man at all, but no one could call him anything less than a genius. His every move seemed calculated, as if he was already several steps ahead at any given time. It was what made him dangerous. “In that case,” he smiled, turning to face her fully, “I think I would like a date with you tomorrow. We could go to the park, perhaps, or have dinner at a restaurant.” They did so many things together already that he felt any dates they went on may feel normal, as if they were still trying to sell themselves the illusion that they were only friends. Before he could elaborate further, Doom took to the stage and chaos broke loose. “I suppose we should have seen this coming,” T’Challa commented when the President exited the stage.

[panthergcd]

cloudwclker:

The opportunities to request an explanation from T’Challa regarding why he had abandoned her all those years ago had been abundant. She had stayed in Wakanda several times and T’Challa always made time for her whenever he visited New York. Technically, Ororo could ask him currently, standing at his side after battling the demons. She had had ample opportunity, Ororo was capable of acknowledging that, but she always made the conscious choice not to question T’Challa’s reasoning. It was not out of pride, Ororo was aware that she was worth much more than being wordlessly left, but out of respect. She knew T’Challa well enough to realize that he had purpose behind the action, though that did not entirely ease her anger. “I’m sure you can,” she replied. T’Challa was affectionate vocally and physically, something that never once changed during their time apart. Truthfully, Ororo liked it. She had always thoroughly enjoyed attention and T’Challa was not a man that offered insincere compliments. “I’m not confident that you have enough lung capacity to compliment me as often as you would like to,” she said wryly. Her comment was warranted, T’Challa was not a subtle man — it was one of the things she admired most about him. As a king, being so open with his emotions was difficult, a testament to his infinite strength. “Have you noticed any grey hair?” She asked, chuckling. She could imagine Shuri saying that easily, though she didn’t comment with that specifically. With T’Challa’s forced separation from Wakanda, she tried to avoid any specific comments that may hurt him. She cared about his wellbeing far too much for that. “You’re lucky you have me to think of those things for you,” she countered. In truth, Ororo considered the demons and whether they were sentient often. Considering there were resources on the planet, it was clear that the demons were lifelike, needing sustenance, and to Ororo, that was close enough to proof. “No, we can’t allow them to hurt people, but forcing their species to go extinct is hardly ideal. I would like to find an alternative.” Whether that was possible was unclear, unfortunately. The demons were a significant threat, one that couldn’t be allowed if they had any hopes of surviving their isolation. “I’ll make sure to let you know whether you do,” Ororo promised.

When they arrived at the apartment, Ororo landed smoothly on the balcony and ensured that T’Challa was safely on his feet before opening the door. “I’m excited for you to make the dinner you promised me,” she informed him with a smile. “I’ve always loved being rewarded by you.”

There was little T’Challa would not grant Ororo if she asked it of him. If she had requested an explanation of his departure all those years ago, looked into his eyes and demanded it with her gentle firmness, he knew he would not have been able it to her. He would have told her, would have provided her with details regarding how he’d felt as a child watching Klaue murder his father, would have told her how he’d already fought the man once and come out the other side victorious, would have explained that his victory could never be complete until the man was dead. He would have shown her the ugly, vengeful side of himself, the parts of him that were angry and vindictive. He would have bared his soul to her in an instant, and what terrified him was that he had no idea how she might react. Ororo cared for him, of that T’Challa was certain. She’d stood by his side time and time again, come back to him over and over even when he could not have faulted her for leaving. He knew that he loved Ororo, but he was just as sure of her love for him. 

“I am capable of a great many things, particularly when I’m doing them for you,” he told her with a soft smile. “The power of the Black Panther grants me a great many things, but I’m not sure the lung capacity to tell you as often as you deserve to hear it is within the realm of possibility even for someone like me.” As far as he was concerned, Ororo deserved to hear of her beauty and grace constantly, on endless repeat. “I haven’t. I’m not sure I’m looking hard enough. What do you think? Am I a man who would look distinguished with gray in his hair, or would I look withered?” There was a teasing note to his tone. Confidence had never been much of an issue for T’Challa. As royalty, he heard compliments often, and with the heart-shaped herb granting him physiology often compared to that of the gods, he didn’t think ‘withered’ was a word that would ever describe him. “I’m lucky I have you in general,” he shot back easily. “I’m not sure they’re in danger of extinction. They seem well spread throughout this land, whatever land it may be. But if we could find some alternative to their slaughter, it would be more than preferable. We could brainstorm such a thing together.” The idea of spending more tie with her was too good to pass up, and if there was a better way of acting against the demons, T’Challa wanted to find it. “I’m happy to hear that.”

She landed with grace, as she did everything else. She even managed to make setting him on his feet one of elegance, and he smiled as she opened the door. “I hope to live up to the excitement,” he replied. “I’m always willing to reward you in any way you see fit. You deserve such things, Ororo.”

[panthergcd]

felinexxfatale:

By the time that Selina took a leap off a rooftop, and flicked her whip so she could swing elegantly down to the ground level, nightfall had come and gone. And the streets were empty. There was no reason to hide her approach towards the bridge. There was only a few people that could put a face and a name to her mask, and she didn’t have to worry about any of them tonight. Especially when in the presence of a well respected King. And Avenger. Selina had to admit, it paid to make friends. She smiled as she approached him, wrapping her whip at her hip. “Meow…” she greeted. “Is that a new suit? Fancy. I’m sure it’s full of nice little upgrades.” One of her claws trailed along the skin of her jaw. “How do you like my new shade of lipstick? It’s called Redrum. I think it’s nice and shiny…” She walked passed him and hopped up onto the railing, stepping confidently and easily. “Are you ready to do some snooping?” She reached down to her belt and attached something onto her wrist no bigger than a bracelet. “Last time I came for a little stroll across the bridge I got a little surprise on the other side. Something big and ugly. Care to take a look?” She aimed her wrist above her head and something shot out of the bracelet. “See you at the top…” Selina winked, and then she was carried swiftly upward.

Truthfully, T’Challa had always felt far more comfort in the Black Panther suit than he did in formal wear. Perhaps that said something of the sort of king he was. He’d rather be out fighting for his people physically than politically, rather face down the bodily threats they faced than anything else. He thought Selina might feel the same. She looked at home in her Catwoman wear, looked comfortable with the whip at her side. “I have made changes since the last time we met, I think.” Shuri was always upgrading his equipment, mind too full of new ideas to remain idle for long. “It looks good,” he observed with a smile. “It suits you.” He turned as she jumped onto the railing, leaping up next to her with ease. “What sort of surprise? I ought to know what I’m looking for.” He snorted as she began her ascent, following behind and making use of his own tools.

[panthergcd]

twelvepercentpepperpotts:

If there was one thing being Tony Stark’s personal assistant had prepared her for, it was parties like this. An ‘event,’ more than a party, really. That’s how she would’ve marketed it, but Doom had his own way of doing things. Not that she could fault him for that – after all, his plans were keeping them fed, his militia was keeping the demons at bay, and his support was keeping the Rebuilding Project alive. 

Pepper planned on meeting Tony there, his date for real this time around. But there was always so much work to be done, and she steadfastly refused to leave it until Monday. Instead, she filled out paperwork in her evening gown until her inbox was completely cleared, and then she made her way to the Empire State Building. 

Stepping inside took her breath away. It was beautiful, and lively, and the people already there seemed incredibly happy. Most of them anyway – there were always a few who seemed unsure of what to do with themselves. Pepper thanked a server who handed her a champagne glass, and then she made her way further into the room. “This is very well done,” she declared, to no one in particular. “I really should get the name of the President’s event planner, they do magnificent work. It’s not easy pulling something like this off,” she mused with a smile. She would know, after all. 

The job of king was one that came with no small amount of politics. Even so, events such as this had been rare for T’Challa (or any Wakandan king) for some time. When the world had believed his country to be nothing more than an impoverished third world nation, no one had seen fit to invite T’Challa to things such as this, and after the nation’s boarders were open, he’d often declined any invitations he received.  Most of them only cared for Wakanda as an opprotunity, sought to get on T’Challa’s good side in the interest of gaining access to vibranium or Wakandan tech. 

Skipping the party tonight seemed pointless, however. No one could ask him for access to vibranium when he could not access the mines himself, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking for a chance to meet President Doom face-to-face. So far, the party had been rather uneventful. He and Ororo had spent some time together, which was always rewarding, but other than that, it almost seemed a waste. He had yet to see Doom make an appearance, and though the party had only been going on a short while, T’Challa was not a patient man.

Observing the room, he heard someone approaching him and glanced over out of the corner of his eye, vaguely recognizing the flash of red hair. He turned to face her with a smile, nodding as she spoke. “He’s put together a far more impressive event than I was expecting,” he admitted. “I think I prefer the parties you’ve had a hand in, though.” Parties were always better when you fully trusted the person in charge of them, and Pepper’s relationship to Tony made her worthy of T’Challa’s trust.

[panthergcd]

kindkara:

Okay, maybe it wasn’t completely ethical to commandeer the caterer’s entire tray of egg rolls as soon as they came out of the oven, but a girl’s gotta eat! “Allow me,” Kara assured the server, scooting away with her prize with every intention of scarfing down the whole plate as soon as the coast was clear.

In her haste to escape, though, Kara almost bowled somebody over. “Sorry,” she said, shifting the tray to one hand and steadying the person that was very nearly roadkill by the elbow. “Um…egg roll?” She offered, smiling guiltily. “I’m…thrilled to share. Yeah. Stoked.”

It was exhausting sometimes, being royalty. Several people had approached T’Challa requesting photos or conversations, and he though he was happy to comply at first, it didn’t take long for fatigue to set in. Before long, he was searching for an escape of sorts, looking for somewhere to hide out until he could find Ororo to act as a buffer between him and the public.

Intent on finding a location to lay low, he didn’t see the woman in front of him until they’d collided. Blinking, he grabbed her shoulders to steady her, though she didn’t seem to need the assistance. “You seem thrilled,” he told her, a lilt of teasing to his tone. “If you help me find someplace to avoid the public, I’ll let you have them all.”