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#please know you always can clarify if i read an ask or tone wrong
tennessoui · 7 months
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Just to clarify, I was the one who was all "Wait, people LIKE WIPs??" and I am someone who for my mental health has to be really careful with unfinished stories. It's great for those of you who like them! It's just hard for me to understand in anything but the super abstract. :)
thanks for adding some context to that ask! it was a bit jarring to receive, as someone who continuously works on wips and has strong opinions about their importance to fandom.
i do think that not liking wips or not reading them is a worryingly fast, growing part of fandom which can spell pretty grim things for writers' longevity in fandom and even their longevity writing fic in general. we need to be encouraging and welcoming and reading fics that aren't finished; we need to get invested in fics that only have ~3k works so far; we need to recc wips to other people and cheer the writers on, or we're really not going to see a lot of people writing wips anymore.
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ruthlesslistener · 6 months
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I have a question that I'm finding more and more concerning with you that I think you probably don't notice at all, but why is your judgement on what's right and wrong so heavily reliant on what your discord friends say? You made mistakes and as some have pointed it out, but the moment your discord friends say you haven't done anything wrong; then you believe in them completely. One of the things I learned as an autistic person is to listen and learn from others if my behavior is found to be on the bad side, but I'm starting to notice how easily you believe in your friends and ignore others for their sake. I don't wanna say examples here, but as an autistic person to another, its fine to ask friends for advice and judgment but sometimes they aren't always right and we should take note of that more often. Like you, I also have trouble reading between the lines so I also rely on friends to help me understand. But I also know well they aren't always right and try to analyse situations myself more and decide for myself whether I'm the one who is in the right.
Please don't get mad. I know I'm not the only one who pointed this out, but you act like such a jerk when your wrongs are pointed out and frankly I think it's time you ease down too.
(Quick note- my tone here is neutral and contemplative, not mad. This is something I've been thinking about on myself)
The main reason why I ask my friends for feedback is actually BECAUSE I put a lot of thought into social scenarios, but I've got a huge blind spot when it comes to how they actually work and how I'm coming off in them. I tend to treat them like a math problem, but alas, I'm very much not good at math. Because my friends have an outsider pov of not being me while also knowing me well enough to be aware of my flaws and inclinations, they're able to give me perspectives that I simply do not have that I can then factor into my analysis of the situation. The entirety of the misstep was my own, but since I was extremely confused as to how a mild statement from my end (to my eyes) computed to someone thinking that I called them a pedophile because to me that wasn't even CLOSE to what I was saying, I went to others for help.
It's also worth it to point out that my friends were the ones who said I was wrong and that I came off as saying something I didn't mean, but ALSO that the people I wronged were handling it really poorly and jumping to conclusions even after I apologized and clarified it, which is where I wasn't in the wrong. So they're hardly telling me I was innocent, and I don't view them as the end-all-be-all statement of what's right and wrong here. They just get factored into my calculations when I have a missing variable.
That isn't to say that I don't act like a jerk when defensive, but it's not triggered by being wrong, it's triggered by accusations and people not listening to what I have to say. I most certainly was in the wrong to assume malicious intent, but I'm not in the wrong to point out that the people who assumed malicious intent handled it just as poorly as I did, given that they continued to claim that I said something about them that I outright said was an error made in ignorance on my part, and that I had intentions that I really did not have (ie, redtagging them). That's not me refusing to take blame, that's just the reality of the situation. I was wrong, I was speaking from a place of ignorance that I really should have put more thought into, and I DID react defensively and like an absolute ass when I got a slew of aggressive messages about it, but the fact that I continued to get more aggressive messages after it that continued to assume malicious intent after clarification isn't where I fucked up, because I really can't do more than what I already apologized for.
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thelostgirl21 · 5 months
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Seriously, I wish people would stop reading into my tone so much, and trust my words when I communicate.
If I say I'm not being dismissive of your thoughts and ideas, I'm not being dismissive of your thoughts and ideas.
If I say I'm fine with you holding and sharing views that differ from mine, then I'm fine with you holding and sharing views that differ from mine.
If I seem to struggle with understanding a concept and I say it makes no sense, it's always it makes no sense TO ME (how in the world could I ever know how it makes sense to others?! I'm not in their brains, and can only speak for myself!!! It makes no sense *TO ME* that I could ever be saying that what you say makes no sense to anyone else but myself!!!)!
If I ask "how else can this be understood?" or "how else am I supposed to understand this?", I'M NOT ACCUSING YOU OF BEING UNCLEAR, FOR FRAK'S SAKE!
I'm genuinely asking you to explain your own interpretation, so I can conceptualize where you are coming from, and how you are perceiving things!
It means I really, sincerely, don't understand what you are trying to say to me, am asking for a pause and for some clarification, and will likely continue to ask the same question over and over again until you either frame that explanation in a way that makes sense *TO ME*, or I can see we utterly fail to connect on that subject, and should simply move on.
"You sound like you're trying to dismiss...", "It seems like you think..."
I have no idea how to properly convey tone in written forms of conversation, and am usually more comfortable communicating while phrasing things in a way that I've been told "sounds academic".
That's literally just how I talk and how my brain works. I'm not attempting to "sound pretentious" or anything. I speak that way.
And while I interpret informations and draw conclusions based on whatever data and information I've got available, I will readily change and modify it in light of any new information that comes my way.
I make tons of connections between information all of the time and get fascinated by them, and see the world as a bunch of ideas and concepts.
Please don't mistake my enthusiasm or assertiveness when speaking about any subject I'm passionate about with stubbornness or rigidity.
On the contrary, my thoughts and ideas remain extremely fluid and flexible, and I'm not scared in the least of being wrong and of making mistakes. I have no ego in that sense.
I'll be the first to embrace being mistaken as mistakes are an absolutely fantastic learning tool.
How else would I be expected to grow?
I can't easily change my tone, but I can clearly state my intent using words.
So, if I say "that's not what I meant", and especially "that's not how I meant it", can you at least give me the frakking benefit of the doubt, and give me time to clarify my thoughts and find a way of phrasing them that will hopefully allow you to understand the message I'm sending, before assuming you know what I intended to say better than I do basing that assumption on how I sound?
And perhaps, conceive of the thought that there's a huge difference between thinking you may be right and knowing you're right with absolute certainty.
Other P.O.V. being valid does not mean I remotely have to agree with them, or say they are right, either. Simply respect that people see things differently than I do.
And I do.
I may be wrong and you may be right. Or I may be right and you may be wrong.
Hopefully, you think you're right; otherwise I see absolutely (I SEE... my opinion / perception / interpretation... Look, I'm not taking any chances anymore by this point!) no point in you arguing something that you believe to be deeply wrong.
Do people do that outside of playing devil's advocate? Or listing possibilities they've yet to make up their minds about?
How does this even work?!
Ah, for me?! Or to me?!
Look, I'm wondering how does this even work, but without denying the possibility that it may make sense and work for others...
Ah...
What I'm trying to say is "I'm basically confused about why we're supposed to feel self-conscious or "bad" about thinking or hoping we've got the right interpretation, until we detect a flaw in our logic and then come up with a new one in light of new information we've gathered, or being exposed to/gaining some novel perspective on a subject..."
Does that make any sense?
But yeah, I am utterly unable to tell if people are bored or upset with a subject when I'm talking or arguing with them in person...
So how can I be expected to read into what kind of emotions my arguments are going to inspire in others, or what part of my phrasing might upset them, if no one is telling me how to rephrase thing?
Especially when it's just words on a screen with no clear tone indicator.
"When you say this, it makes me feel this, perhaps you could phrase it like that instead?" would be extremely helpful!
Rather than "you sound like this" or "you're making it sound like that..."
I can't figure it out by myself. I don't hear that "sound". It's a very abstract notion, the idea that my arguments might "sound" like anything.
I need clear rules and systems to properly communicate. That's just how I'm wired, and no amount of wishful thinking or good will on my part is going to magically make me be able to hear those subjective sounds coming off my words.
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romanarose · 2 years
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Tummy Hurty
Marc Spector X Fem!OC
Summary: Marc has a stomachache and tries to pretend he's fine, but Sam see's right through it.
A/N This is specifically designed to exist in the universe of Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside, but it can be read separately. This takes lace before Sam and Marc confess their feelings. All you need to know you need to know if you are not a SSSB reader is that Sam is dating Steven, not Marc yet, but Marc and Sam hang out sometimes. Would love if you came and checked out Sunshine, I'm 6 chapters away from the end!
Written bc my tummy hurt :(
For those following along with Sunshine, next is chapter 11
*********************************
Marc winced. He fucking winced.
Marc Spector, who had been a marine, a mercenary, and Moon Knight winced while watching Bobs Burgers.
“What the fuck was that?” Sam asked, immediately concerned he was sick and pretending he was fine.
“I’m fine.” He grumbled
“No you’re not, grumpy pants. Come on, tell me.”
“I”m fine, Brightside.” Marc insisted, eyes glued to the stupid cartoon he insisted he didn’t like, but that Sam found him laughing to.
Marc tried his best to ignore the pain in his stomach and ignore the concerned girl next to him, hoping she’d move on. He should’ve known when it came to his health, she was going to latch on. Marc convinced himself it was because he shared Steven’s body and she cared about Steven. It was easier than believing Sam cared about Marc.
Sam sat up straight on the couch. She was sitting on the opposite end as Marc, Marc subconsciously sitting as far away as possible. “Do you need to lie down?”
“No,” Marc replied, perhaps too quickly. His time with Sam was limited and although it might have seemed like Sam was forcing him into quality time, the reality was that Marc always looked forward to these nights.
Trying to catch his gaze, her worried face scanned over him. “Don’t make me get Steven, he’ll let me baby him.”
“No!” Marc turned to her, slightly panicked. Sam was a tad startled, surprised by Marc’s reaction.
“Okay, Starlight.” She spoke softly, not wanting him to think she was trying to get rid of him. Sam valued her time with Marc, and she always found herself craving more. She was delighted that Marc and her had these simple tv nights. Sometimes she worked on homework, sometimes they made light chit chat, sometimes they sat in silence watching tv, but they were always comfortable in each other's company. She never wanted either of them to think she preferred one over the other. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Sam spoke in a gentle tone, the voice she always used when she wanted something from Marc, her eyes always large and blue and pleading. He was powerless when she gave him those eyes.
“It’s just my stomach, it’s fine.” He mumbled, turning back to the TV.
Sam couldn’t help but smile. She tried not to say I told you so… “I told you not to eat that alfredo, Marcy Marc.”
“I’m not lactose intolerant, Sam. Steven is, not me.”
“You have the same body, dumbass.” She laughed. “And Steven Steven doesn’t eat dairy, your stomach isn’t used to processing it. Do you know how alfredo is made? It’s cheese on cheese on milk on heavy cream on cheese. Your stomach is fighting god right now” Sam stood up, going over to the medicine bag her mom always sent her back with after a visit. Benefits of having a nurse for a mother. “Here” She handed him a white tablet. “Lactaid.” She clarified.
He muttered something about being fine, but took it nonetheless, frowning at the chalky taste. 
She sat down again, grabbing a throw pillow and propping it up on her lap against the couch arm. “If you take lactaid before eating or drinking milk, it’ll help.” Sam made a mental note to always keep it with her, knowing full well Marc wouldn’t take it on his own. “C’mere” she becockened. 
Marc looked at her, apprehensive.
Sam patted the pillow. “Lay down, Starlight.” she coaxed him over.
Marc shook his head, thinking this was a boundary he shouldn’t cross. “I’m fine.”
She gave him a pointed look. “Listen, I’m not gonna make you if you’re uncomfortable, and I’m not judging you but… you watch Steven and I have sex, but laying down is the line you draw?”
Marc whipped his head to her so fast his neck cracked. Sam knew he watched sometimes, and he knew Sam knew, Steven knew. Sam and Steven even encouraged it. It wasn’t a secret, but it was something none of them ever talked about. When his eyes found hers, she was softly smiling at him; it comforted him. “You’re always so worried about me and about Steven and what Steven thinks of us…” It was like Sam could read his mind. “I promise you, Steven wants me to take care of you the way you take care of me… If you’ll let me…” She wasn’t giving her pleading eyes, she wasn’t begging him for this. It was his choice, it was what he was comfortable with. Her eyes were warm and inviting, telling him it was his choice.
Wordlessly, hesitantly, Marc scooted ever to where Sam was sitting, tentatively laying his on the pillow. His head was partially on the couch, not fully on her lap, but it still felt intimate. Not sexual, but emotionally initmate; like she trusted him. That was the most comforting feeling. In return, he decided to trust her with his pain. Just a little anyway. “My stomach feels like a warzone” it was a bit hyperbolic, but it got the point across. 
Sam put a warm hand on his stomach. “Where does it hurt, Starlight.”
Marc took her hand and guided it to his upper stomach.
She began rubbing his stomach, like he was a child. Marc mom wasn’t always the woman she was after Randall’s death, there were a few years where she was a good mom. Great even. She used to rub his stomach when it hurt. Marc stiffened at the though of his childhood, something he tried so hard to push away.
Sam noticed his tension and stopped. “Do you want me to stop? I can get a heating pad if you pref-”
“No.” He stopped her. “I mean, if you want to, you can keep going.” 
Sam smiled at him and his attempt to act like this was for Sam’s benefit. “Yeah, I want to, Starlight” She continued rubbing his stomach over his shirt. It was the body she knew so well, that she was so familiar with and her hands had memorized as they ran over sweaty skin. But this…. This was somehow new. Her other hand played with his beautiful, thick, curls as they watched Bob’s Burgers, slowly feeling Marc relax to her touch. When he fell asleep in her arms (a rare show of vulnerability from him) she looked over his strangely peaceful face. She could still tell it was Marc. Steven slept more fully; Marc looked like he was still aware of everything.
 He was beautiful. This wasn’t news, from the first time she met them, Sam thought he was just stunningly pretty. But there was something different about the way Marc looked right now. Steven and her had fallen in love so fast, so intensely… There was something pure and gorgeous and innocent in their love. Marc had come as a challenge. Marc pushed her buttons, Marc pushed her away from him and further to Steven. Marc was sarcastic and blunt and observant. Marc’s traits were things that he assumed Sam didn’t want or need, just because they were different from Steven. But different wasn’t bad, they complimented each other. That’s why she loved them so much. Sam softly, carefully felt Marc’s face with the back of her hand.
Yeah, yeah she loved him.
*********
Worlds stupidest fic title but when I’m sick I tell my mom my tummy hurty or that I’m sicky wicky
I’ll make a sick Jake fic if I catch the flu this winter, how bout that
@ahookedheroespureheart @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @kr-mlk @mt2sssss @cherryvalentine1 @tippycakes26 @missdictatorme @nicepeony
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foolondahill17 · 11 months
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"Smoke on the Water” blares from his phone. Dean picks up without looking at the number.
“Found anything, dork?”
“I think I figured out why the Amazons are choosing the men they are,” Sam says.
“Shoot.”
“They’re, well,” Sam’s voice goes a little lower, like he’s overcompensating for his discomfort. “I think they’re in a breeding cycle.”
“A what now?”
“They’re mating,” Sam clarifies. His voice levels to a more rehearsed tone as he reads from his book, “Amazons are an entirely female-orientated society. They have no use for males except for the preservation of their species. Every two years, the Amazons were said to mate with a few chosen human males, likely selected for desirable genetics. Part of this procedure, like the infamous Black Widow Spider, involved the disposal of the male after implantation. The murders were likely highly ritualized, meant to pay tribute to their mother, Harmonia.
“It makes sense,” Sam switches back to his normal voice. “All the guys killed so far have been in their thirties, otherwise healthy, and fairly good looking – all prime criteria for a mate.”
Dean’s not listening to Sam anymore. He’s covered in cold sweat. Did he and Lydia use a condom? He can’t remember. Why the fuck can’t he remember? He always uses a condom. Not since he was a dumb kid –
Unbidden, the face of the little girl at Lydia’s side – Emma – rises to the forefront of his mind. But that’s stupid. That’s beyond ridiculous. Even if – it didn’t – but even if it did, Dean knows how pregnancy works. There’s no way –
“Dean?” Sam cuts through Dean’s racing thoughts. “Are you even listening, man?”
“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice sounds weird. Does his voice sound weird? He doesn’t want Sam to know something’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. Dean can’t bother Sam with this; his little brother’s got way too much on his mind, already. “Just bushed. You heading back soon?”
“Gonna make a few copies, first,” Sam replies.
“Great,” Dean says, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. “Great, yeah.”
His fingers tremble too much to find the right spot on the screen to end the call. He hears Sam hang up through the line, and, another minute, the disjointed dial tone before his phone goes black in his hand.
It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine. Dean’s just overreacting. Maybe Sammy’s not the only one who shouldn’t be hunting. He paces long trenches into the motel’s carpet. He rubs his palms against his face, wishing he could erase the thudding panic in his skull.
It takes him a minute to realize someone’s knocking on the door.
Dean’s worked up enough that he’s convinced he’s going to see Lydia on his front doorstep, so he’s thrown for the loop when he looks through the peephole and finds a teenage girl standing there. She’s got long, honey blond hair and wide green eyes. She looks innocent enough, but Dean’s not stupid. He sticks his gun in the back of his jeans before he cracks open the door.
“Who are you?” Dean asks.
“Please,” she says, voice tremulous, eyes filled with tears. “My name is Emma. And I need help.”
It’s a coincidence. It’s some kind of sick joke. This isn’t happening. None of it makes any sense.
“Emma,” he says slowly. “Why do you need help?”
“They’re after me,” she whispers, voice convincingly horrified. “Please. You’re the only one who can help me.”
“How do you know who I am?” Dean asks curtly. He only opens the door wide enough to stick his head into the parking lot. There’s no sign of danger, no indication she’s been followed. Incongruously, she has a pink rolling suitcase leaning against her leg.
“They talked about you,” Emma explains. She brushes a stray tear away with her sleeve. She’s wearing a light denim jacket over a pink t-shirt and black jeans. She looks like a kid. She doesn’t look like a monster. She’s just a kid. She looks – she looks – “They said you were a hunter.”
“Yeah?” Dean breathes through the tightness in his chest. “Well, I am. And give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hunt you.”
“Don’t you know?” She swallows heavily. Her eyes are very green. Except for the hair, it’s like Dean’s looking into a mirror at his sixteen-year-old self. “Haven’t you guessed?”
“That’s not – that’s not how it works, kid,” Dean chokes out.
“Please." More tears rush down her cheeks. “You don’t understand what they’re like. They kill others who run away. Look – they hurt me!” She shakes her sleeve up her wrist, revealing an angry red burn on her skin. Dean immediately thinks of the marks Sam left on his own arms, until he recognizes the outline of the same mark cut into the victims’ chests: Harmonia's symbol. “You’re the only one who can help me,” she repeats. “Please. You’re my father –”
The word sends an electric shock up Dean’s spine, leaving his body tingling and numb. It takes two tries to open his mouth.
“Get in,” he says sharply. “Just – just sit there. Don’t move.”
Emma does as he says. She crosses into the room, suitcase bumping after her. She drops one thigh onto Dean’s bed, no longer crying, but face still red. She watches him through her large, familiar eyes.
Keeping an eye on Emma, he crosses the room and fumbles in his jacket, slung over the back of one of the chairs. He finds his flask in a pocket. He takes a swallow, needing to steady himself, but the whiskey just burns with the rest of the steady thrum in his body. He’s a live wire. He can’t think.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees a flash of metal.
“Drop it,” Dean says, spinning around in one smooth motion. He points his gun unflinchingly at Emma’s chest. Her knife, raised overhead, flashes in the lamplight. So, it wasn’t the mothers who disposed of their mates. It was the kids. Some perverted coming of age ritual, maybe.
Emma smiles. All hint of vulnerable little girl is gone, replaced by a calculating coldness that makes Dean think of Lydia, even if he can’t recall a moment where she wasn’t anything but syrupy warm with him.
“They told me you’d be on your guard,” she says, lowering the blade but not letting go. “I needed to be creative so you’d let me in.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Dean says. His voice is weak even in his own ears. God, he’s pathetic. What would Dad say? John Winchester would spit on the ground Dean walked on. Dean’s so stupid.
Emma laughs. “You think I have a choice? This is a my birthright.”
“You always have a choice,” Dean croaks. “Please, Emma, this doesn’t have to be you –”
“Be quiet,” she hisses and lunges. She predicted right: Dean’s too stunned to shoot. He dives out of the way of her blade. It’s a wicked looking curved knife. It’ll have no problem at all slicing through bone.
She’s quick. And she’s strong. She lands a one-handed hit to Dean’s shoulder and Dean crashes to the floor under the table. His head knocks against the mini fridge. His vision spins.
Twenty-nine years of hard-won instinct never to let go of his weapon means he hasn’t dropped his gun. He raises it again. His finger finds the trigger –
He sees Ben, lying in a pool of blood at his feet. Joey’s blank eyes staring at him. Ryan’s small body curled in death on the floor. Bobby John’s muffled sobs cut short. Sammy choking for breath under Dean’s hand. Dean can’t – she has his eyes. And Dean can’t. He’d rather die.
“They said you’d be harder than the others,” Emma crows, smile not leaving her face as she comes toward him again. “They were wrong.”
“Emma, please,” Dean says. Her blade comes down. He lifts his hand in a pathetic attempt to block her blow. The knife glances off his arm, slicing cleanly through his overshirt and into his skin. Burning agony erupts up his arm. Blood splatters in a stripe across the carpet. He grits out through the pain, “Baby, please –”
“Shut up!” Emma shrieks, eyes losing the coldness of a well-rehearsed fight, replaced by something wild. “Fight back!” She screams. Dean pins his bloodied arm to his chest. He lifts his right hand, still holding the gun but no longer pointed at her. He can’t make himself let go of the grip.
With a formless shout of anger, Emma lunges for him. Her hands close around his shoulders and haul him off the floor. With inhuman strength, she hurls him against the opposite wall. Dean’s head hits the plaster hard. It makes his vision black out. When he blinks himself sluggishly back to himself, he’s flat on the ground, staring up at Emma as she looms over him, knife furled at her side and ugly curl to her lip.
“You’re weak,” she spits at him. She bends over his body, kneels atop his chest so he can feel her steady weight pinning him to the ground. She’s small. She’s so fucking small. “If you’re so eager to die, then, I’ll be merciful,” she says. She lifts her blade to his throat. Dean feels its sting as he swallows; his whiskers scrape against the edge. “I won’t make you suffer like the others.”
There’s a bang and a crash from across the room. Emma’s head whips around, but she’s too slow. A gunshot cracks through the motel room, sharp enough to shake the glass in the window. Emma’s forehead shatters outward. For a moment, there’s a perfect look of shock on the remainder of her face until she slumps sideways.
Dean reacts on instinct. His sits up to catch her. His arms wrap around her thin frame. Her bloodied head dips forward and comes to rest on his shoulder.
“Dean –” Sam says from the doorway, gun smoking in his hand.
“No,” Dean mutters. Blood pumps out of the wound in his arm. It leaves him shivering and dizzy.
“Fuck,” Sam says. He crosses to Dean’s side. “Are you okay? Shit – shit. Don’t move.”
Dean doesn’t move. He doesn’t let go of Emma – his daughter. His daughter. She remains lifeless against his chest.
Sam rushes to the duffle bag on the table. He comes back with a spool of gauze.
“Sam,” Dean mumbles.
“Let go of her,” Sam says, reaching for Emma’s body. “Dean – let go.”
“Sam.”
Sam lifts Emma away from Dean’s arms. “She – she’s young,” Sam says unsteadily.
Sam doesn’t know, Dean realizes. Dean closes his eyes. He’s covered in blood. It leaks from his arm, covering his lap with a small pool. Emma left a trail of blood across his shoulder and chest. Sam doesn’t know.
“Sam.”
Dean can’t talk. He can’t make himself say anything else.
“Fuck,” Sam says, picking up Dean’s arm. The pain is an unstoppable thrum, but Dean somehow barely notices it. His daughter. His daughter. “This is really deep. You’re going into shock, Dean.”
Sam works quickly. They don’t have time. Someone’s bound to have heard the gunshot and called the cops. Dean and Sam need to move. They need to get out. They need to take care of the – the body.
“Sam,” Dean whispers. Sam pulls the bandage tight around Dean’s arm. It makes another shock of pain tremble through his body. “It wasn’t Lydia.”
“Who’s Lydia?” Sam asks. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Listen to me,” Dean says hoarsely. He brings up his good hand. He clutches the collar of Sam’s shirt. Sam’s face is pale. He looks scared. “It wasn’t – it wasn’t Lydia.”
“Who was she?” Sam asks. He gulps.
“She – she’s mine,” Dean whispers.
“I don’t understand,” Sam replies.
“She’s mine.”
“No,” Sam says. He shakes his head. “No.” He sits on his heels away from Dean. “That’s not possible. No, Dean.”
“S-Sammy,” Dean says. God, Sammy. “She – she’s –”
“It said they have exceptionally short gestation periods,” Sam says, voice less than a breath, feverish and rapid. “Some said a week, others said a matter of days. Then the – the child grew at an accelerated rate until they reached sexual maturity. They – they –”
“Stop talking,” Dean orders. He can’t – he can’t breathe.
“Oh my God,” Sam gulps. “Oh my God – Dean – Dean.” Dean’s baby brother sounds horrified. Dean meets his eyes and he finds Sam’s face is white with terror and disgust. “I didn’t know,” he says at once. “I didn’t know. I swear. She was going to kill you.”
“She was my – she was –”
“She was killing you,” Sam says again. “Dean, I didn’t know.”
There is dead silence. Dean sways with a renewed sense of vertigo.
“We need to leave,” Sam mutters. “Before – the cops.”
“Help me up,” Dean says.
Without a word, Sam grips Dean’s good arm and pulls him back to his feet. Dean totters for a second, vision blurring out again, but he steadies himself on Sam’s shoulder. Silently, Dean shuffles to the bed. Awkwardly, he fumbles the comforter off one-handed. He tugs the flat sheet away from the bed. Equally silent, Sam bends to help him.
Sheet free, Dean eases himself to the floor. The change in altitude makes his head pulse with sickening pain. He spreads out the sheet. He carefully rolls Emma’s body over. She’s small, he thinks again. She’s so fucking tiny.
Half her face is ruined. Dean tries not to look at it as he closes her remaining eye. He eases her hair out from behind her, spreading it in two neat tresses over her shoulders. Its full of blood. Dean wishes he had time to clean her up. He rolls her into the sheet. One-armed, he can’t lift her.
Sam helps, lips pressed tightly together, no longer meeting Dean’s eye. They carry her out to the car together. Dean supports her upper body. Sam follows with her legs. She’s barely five feet long. She fits without trouble in the backseat of the Impala.
Dean sees faces watching them from the windows in the motel. He knows the police will hear about two men carrying out a small body in the parking lot. Still silent, Sam gets behind the wheel. Dean slumps in the passenger side. His arm throbs. Blood is starting to seep through the bandage.
They don’t drive long before Sam pulls over. They’re on a narrow side road, surrounded by towering conifers and darkness. The wind makes the tips of the trees sway like giant, marching shadows across the night sky.
“Dean…” Sam finally breaks the silence.
Dean doesn’t respond. He gets out of the car and moves to the back. He opens the door and, with difficulty, pulls Emma into his arms. His head clangs with insistent pain as he moves. His fingers on his left hand are numb. Dean stalks off the side of the road and into the woods, cradling his daughter to his chest. He hears the creak of the Impala’s front door as Sam hurries to follow him. A moment later, there’s the thud of the trunk and then the crackle of Sam’s feet on the frost-covered ground.
Dean walks until the dizziness threatens to send him to his knees. Sam drops his shovel in his haste to keep Dean upright. They’ve reached a clearing in the woods. Dean can see the stars above them, cold and distant and startlingly bright outside the light pollution of the city proper.
“I’ll do it,” Sam tells him, pushing him to rest against a tree. Dean sits there, ass growing numb with cold, Emma’s stiffened body in his lap, as Sam digs a hole. Sam moves quickly. By the time he’s done, sweat gleams on his forehead and he’s breathing hard, every puff sending smoke drifting toward the stars.
“You want me…?”
Dean doesn’t answer. He gets up to his knees, body protesting, now stiff with cold. He thinks, distantly, he’s shivering, but he’s not sure. Everything is distant. Everything is cold and numb. Sam helps Dean roll Emma gently into the pit.
Sam reveals a jug of accelerant. He works quietly as he spills the lighter fluid after Emma. It stains the white sheet dark. Salt comes next. Sam picks out a lighter from his pocket.
Dean wants to take it from him, but he can’t move. He holds his injured arm tight against his chest with his other. He’s definitely shaking, now, trembling so hard his teeth clatter.
Sam flicks the lighter. A flame jumps to life, momentarily casting his face into distorted shadow and light, like a skull.
The lighter drops. The body ignites.
It should be a hunter’s funeral, Dean thinks. She was a hunter. She deserves a pyre. Will she be missed? He wonders. Will the other Amazons come looking for her when she doesn’t return from her mission? Will Lydia mourn her, or was she nothing more than another duty in a strange, ritualized life?
“Come on,” Sam says softly. Dean sees the pit has burned to embers. Smoke curls into the air. Dean can smell it. He’ll always be able to recognize the stench of burning flesh. “You’re freezing, man.”
Sam leads Dean back to the car. He leaves him in the passenger seat with their emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A moment later he returns again, smelling like earth and cold and smoke. Sam tells Dean to hold a flashlight in his good hand and, in the pool of light, stitches up Dean’s arm. Dean watches it happen as if it’s someone else. He feels the burn of the antiseptic and the sting of the needle, but it’s too far to touch.
Finally, Sam gets back behind the wheel. They drive through the night, unspeaking.
Stream Dean's half-way house for more Emma
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wintrfang · 10 months
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They Call Me the Seer
They call me the Seer. I was born with special eyes. For as long as I can remember I could always see, but not the world around me, not as it was anyway. My parents tell me that sometimes I would cry, for no clear reason, and eventually stop similarly unprompted. As I've grown I've come to realize that my eyes can always see where I am, but sometimes they don't see when I am. I can always hear, smells touch, and taste what seems to be reality. But most of the time I don't see the right time.
Sometimes, when I concentrate hard enough, I think I can control when I'm seeing. I can usually keep it so that things are close to reality, buildings are where they should be, rocks, trees. But I wear an eye bandage to make it clear that I can't see people I might walk into. For whatever reason, this doesn't affect my ability to "see" as people claim it should.
But sometimes, when I'm not remembering to concentrate or if too many outside stimuli are distracting me, the sight shows me vastly different times than when reality is. At times the ground is almost eye level or way below me. I've seen dark depths of lakes that either no longer or might some day exist. At times it is completely dark. I'm unsure if this is because the light of the sun and stars has faded or perhaps I'm under the surface of the ground. This latter theory I have proved true sometimes by hopping in place and just barely peeking above the ground and seeing. But sometimes no matter how hard I try I can't see anything. Or everything is on fire.
One of the weirdest parts is that I rarely see myself. Occasionally I can turn around and see me walking towards me. Or see me walking ahead of me. This also took a while to realize. I didn't initially have any consistent way to know what I looked like. But one time I saw someone with eye bandages turn around to look my way, waving their hand weird, then I took a few steps forward and turned around. I focused for a moment to see into the past and saw the same person walking towards me so I waved at them.
Word of my sight has reached the ruler of this land. A group of people were sent to bring me to the ruler, I assume so that my powers can be used for the good of the people, but I've heard whispers that it may be more selfishly motivated.
I've been able to catch a few glimpses of my escorts. They are a motley crew, no uniforms, no military identification. I would almost say they look like criminals if my parents hadn't said they were definitely holding an official seal. But they are all very friendly and, even if it is just because it is their job, they make sure to take very good care of me. Occasionally when my sight changes unexpectedly I will let out a small scream. I can always hear them move into a formation around me while one comes directly to me and ask in a stern yet soothing tone what is wrong. When I clarify, as best I can, they resume leading me onward.
We've been travelling for a while now and the closer we get to our destination, the more I start to worry. I keep seeing battles, signs of war torn lands, and other things that concern me. Some of them seem in the distant past or future, but some seem like they could be less than a few months from now. I've mentioned this to some of those escorting me. This caused some dissenting opinions, whether they should take me the rest of the way so they get paid or if they should take me away out of fear of what I might accidentally cause.
I don't know what they will do, let alone what they should do. I've never though about if I could change the events that I see until now. Are my visions destiny or just a possibility?
The end...?
If you read this whole thing thank you for reading it! I hope you enjoyed. I've had this character idea in my head for probably a decade, maybe longer. And I finally thought maybe Tumblr would be a good place to write some short stories. If you enjoy it please give a like and maybe reblog too? I might be encouraged to write more.
Also if you want to use this as like a ttrpg campaign or something feel free. I wrote it as setting agnostic as possible, so it could easily be in fantasy, modern, sci fi, whatever. The basic idea is that the party would be tasked with going to get the Seer and then you could make it clear that actually delivering the Seer is probably a bad idea. Or add your own twist! If you do use it I'd love to hear about it though.
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distortionswife · 7 months
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!! Hi hello !!
I'm Arwen, I'm 19 and I make art, memes and random ass posts. I use they/them, please respect that and don't use feminine type nicknames with me!
I'm working on a commission sheets for if others are interested!
I have a lot of interests, so just ask! Atm it's a hyperfixation of the Magnus archives! I make art and memes of it, so you're welcome to follow!
Keep in mind, I am autistic ( AuDHD ) and might not always understand your tone. I often use tonetags, they're provided in the ( read more ) bit below !!
Please use them if you can, they are very helpful. Thank you!
Links to my Paypal and Kofi for the future, a better commission sheet is a w.i.p!
Paypal.com/LilGodOfNight is my PayPal <3
Tone indicator list
/aff — affectionate
I’m thinking of you. /aff
/c — copypasta
crazy I was crazy once they locked me in a room a rubber room a rubber room with rats rats make me crazy /c
/cb — clickbait
You’ll never believe what’s inside this $20M home! /cb
/f — fake
Look at this real-life unicorn. /f
/gen or /g — genuine
You’re such a nice person. /gen
/genq — genuine question
Does this help clarify? /genq
/hj — half joking ( you're like, half serious, half not )
I mean, I’m usually right. /hj
/hyp — hyperbole
I have 10,000 things to do today. /hyp
/ij — inside joke
There’s just something about those beach fries. /ij
/j — joking
Elias bouchard never did anything wrong/j
/lyr — lyrics
Vintage tee, brand new phone. High heels on cobblestones. /lyr
/lh — light-hearted
I think you misspelled mosey. /lh
/lit — literal
The rat we saw was the size of a small dog. /lit
/lu — little upset
Our top client won’t be renewing. /lu
/met — metaphorical
His fingers were icicles after shoveling for so long! /met
/nav — not a vent ( more so an update or a statement, )
Work has been so busy. /nav
/nbh — nobody here (none of your followers)
I’m really feeling down because of someone. /nbh
/neg — negative connotation
Oh my gosh. I’m going to cry. /neg
/neu — neutral connotation
The dog needs to go outside. /neu
/nf — not forced
Do you want to hang out today? /nf
/nm — not mad
Did you leave the iron on this morning? /nm
/nsb — not subtweeting
I hate when people don’t say things to your face. /nsb
/nsrs — non-serious
I just bruised my leg, but I’m okay. /nsrs
/nsx — non-sexual intent
You look so good. /nsx
/p — platonic
You look so pretty. /p
/pos — positive connotation
Oh my gosh! I’m going to cry. /pos
/q — quote
“Sometimes I’ll start a sentence and I don’t even know where it’s going.” /q
/r — romantic
I can’t wait to do life with you. /r
/ref — reference
It’s exactly like the gold or blue dress debacle. /ref
/rh or /rt — rhetorical
I still can’t figure out the issue. How can I be so stupid? /rh
/s or /sarc — sarcastic
This is just what I needed on a Monday. /s
/srs — serious
I really like working with you. /srs
/sx — sexual intent
You look so good. /sx
/t — teasing
Oh really? Guess we have to be best friends now. /t
/th — threat
I will block you if you don’t stop. /th
Pictures version:
( so you can download them
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phantex1708 · 4 months
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Diety4Diety Roleplay [M4M, Discord, LONGTERM, Semi-lit to Advanced-lit, We Will Change the Plot as Need-Be to Better Suit You and Your Character!]
Heyo, I’m looking for someone interested in writing a high-fantasy story! I'm looking for romance and eventually a cute little family dynamic for our characters. As said in the title, I'm searching for a long-term writing partner, so if you want something different, please ignore this post. I want a roleplay that I can make part of both of our character’s original (or canon, if you will) stories. Not just me, either; I’d like for both of us to want similar things like that! It can be hard to find a roleplay partner who you really click with, and I have found that when we chat OOC alright, we look forward to the writing itself more! No, I'm not looking for anything romantic with my RP partners. I didn't know that this was something I had to clarify, but apparently it is. With that said, I don't typically write well with those who are dry texters OOC. I’m not trying to be harsh or rude by any means, but as someone who already has a difficult time reading tone over text, dry messages don't make it any easier. Besides, it’s nice knowing when someone is equally as excited as myself about writing a story! Along with that, please be up for actively planning out the plot with me! There’s nothing worse than the plotting being one-sided. Now, I'm not too nitpicky about this; as long as the effort is there, that’s all that matters. Putting zero effort into developing the story, versus genuinely coming to a blank, are very different! I can be indecisive on certain things as well, and I don't expect you to be perfect. Everybody has their flaws, myself absolutely included. I want to add that sometimes I chat differently! Honestly, it depends on how you text me. Generally, I’ll occasionally use emojis, but I stick with emoticons and tone tags! The tone tags are probably the ones I use the most; I’ve got anxiety and sometimes worry about coming off the wrong way in a text, so I just like to be clear!
For my rules and big “no”s, it’s honestly just pretty basic things that shouldn't need to be said. However, I don't want my post to get taken down, so I’ll just clearly list those things in DMs. It’s insane how I’ve learned that I do, in fact, need to clarify these types of things. I’ve been role-playing for a good while now, and had to figure out all of that the hard way. Another “no” from me is characters who are built solely for sexual roles. I don't want to write with a character who’s whole personality is about being a bottom, or even a top. There’s a big difference between an angsty character, and a whiny character. So yeah, no whiny, helpless, infantilized characters, and no characters who are “alpha-males.” One more thing is people who are overly strict about their OCs being hurt. I understand it’s common courtesy not to give somebody else’s character major injuries without warning; I always ask before I do something like that. But please keep in mind that you can expect fighting and death scenes in this story! When I write, I go over the discord text limit and usually send two to four messages, depending on how much you give me to work with, and how action-dependent the current scene is. My biggest pet peeve is bad grammar and punctuation in the roleplay. Mistakes are fine, of course, but constant run-on sentences or poor grammar make it hard to enjoy the story. As for character face claims, AI “art,” stolen art, and real people are massive “no”s from me. First of all, I hate AI and anybody who supports it; as an artist, it’s annoying seeing people call themselves “artists” for putting a prompt into a generator that steals from actual artists. Stolen art is another obvious “no,” and it should go without saying. Real people as face claims weirds me out, and it also feels lazy; taking a photo of a random person from Pinterest and calling it an original character design is odd and lazy. What I’m fine with for face claims is artwork or commissions. Hell, even picrews as a substitute are fine until you’re able to get real art! As long as the genuine effort is there, I'm good with it. I understand it likely sounds pompous for me to expect artwork for your character, but I promise you I’m not looking for skill, just effort. On the topic of art, if I'm enjoying the roleplay and have good motivation, I’ll probably make doodles (and memes, of course) of our characters as well! Just a side note: yes, I am looking for eventual N/SFW scenes as well! As long as the timing is appropriate, and it’s not an excessive amount or too often, it’s totally fine.
About my character; My guy is an elven fertility god named Ruven. He’s caring and kind at heart, but also emotionally guarded and distant from others. Really, he’s a bit shy and gets flustered easily, as stoic as he is. Ruven is a big ol’ hefty man, standing at about 6’2” and weighing 220 lbs. He’s albino and has curly hair down past his waist, as well as many cultural tattoos from a fantasy face of mine. I will say right now, he’s Desi, about thirty billion years old, has many adult kids (sounds like a lot until you think about how old he is. Don’t worry, he hates all of his past partners now.), as well as two young children, and is a transman. I’ve had people who ended up being hateful because I didn't clarify that sooner, so I'm saying it now. He also has a rough past, which could have possibly triggering themes (SA, DV, abuse, forced marriage, child death, and derealization). Along with that, I have a fantasy homebrew world that we could use as a setting! My guy is native to a country called Sahknu, where beauty standards define one’s status and wealth. Seeing as Ruven is so pale, he’s considered very ugly for people in that kingdom which has led to him struggling a bit for money. Why is a god, the keeper of the universe’s moons, financially ruined? We’ll get to that soon!
Now for the plot! This is just a general idea, and we can make changes to fit your preferences and character. There will be romance, action, drama, and angst! For this, I’m kind of going with the idea that your character is maybe a fellow god in disguise, or possibly doesn't even know that they're a god. Amnesia tropes are always fun here! Whatever describes your character best! Seriously, I’m not going to be upset about you wanting something different! We can make changes to accommodate to your guy. Anyhow—Ruven and your character have known each other for a while now, and even though he’s been dreadfully slow to open up, he’s been a nice man. So far, he’s managed to skillfully avoid any questions wanting him to disclose personal information about himself. The best that YC has gotten is a little ramble about his two young sons, and a comment saying that ‘I’m a lot older than you think.’ The two boys themselves are named Alastair and Lavan. Alastair seems to be about six years old and is clearly adopted, seeing as he shares no resemblance to his father. Lavan, however, is only a baby and shares his dad’s trait of albinism! The older boy is enthusiastic and outgoing, often happily bringing YC many self-made drawings, while the younger is the type to start wailing if Ruven isn't holding him. To cut to the chase, Ruven is only blending in amongst the mortals because he is on the run from his ex-husband, god of the sun and fire. This man, Silas, is a cruel and sadistic person out for blood. He’s arrogant and has zero empathy for the people around him, nor for anyone who may stand in his way on his path to revenge. He will absolutely try to kill YC out of blind rage as soon as he hears about their feelings for his ex, so you can expect a fun fight scene there! See, Ruven divorced him rather harshly, and he wants nothing more than to get back at him. By “harshly,” I mean that he tried to kill him. Silas isn’t exactly the type of person to handle that kind of news well, so he needed to take drastic measures to avoid being put into danger. The sun god is not someone who’s above imprisoning and torturing the ones he “loves,” so Ruven simply didn't want to go through those things again, seeing as he’s done such in the past. He used to be a kind, gold-hearted man until he was overcome by jealousy and greed. Ultimately, that’s what led to his downfall, and Ruven’s ever-growing hatred for him. Silas is quite literally hunting this man down. At some point, he’s going to come storming into whatever place Ruven and YC are in, raising hell, and making a scene. He’ll hurt and kill people, and it’ll lead to some big fight between the three characters. This part is a little more flexible—maybe Ruven is the one who is hurt and needs to be helped to safety, or maybe YC is the one! That comes down to your personal preference because I frankly cannot decide. Either way, they narrowly escape from Silas. Now that he’s angry and hunting down both Ruven and YC, they’ve decided to simply travel together while finding elsewhere to hide. Along the way, both characters can open up to one another and be there for support. Sooner or later, they begin an official relationship, maybe even consider marriage and building more family between the two of them. Just keep in mind that they’re going to be traveling for a good while, and I mean a while. I'm not trying to rush this whole family and marriage trope, just summarizing it in a way that sounds rushed, haha. Just as things are finally getting nice, they run into Silas again, and he’s even more angry than before. He’s jealous of their happiness and is intent on finishing the fight this time. Luckily for our two protagonists, they win! They kill him, one way or another, and then live their happy lives. After that, we can continue adding on things to continue the story! I'm always open for ideas!
Please let me know if you’re interested, and I hope you all have a wonderful day!
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elysianslove · 3 years
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Those dick analysis are so good!!!! Idk why i just keep reading them Abufbsudjwjdj my i please ask for the setter ones? If its not trouble, of course!
honestly they’re so much more fun than i thought they’d be??? i wanted to do it cause,,, horny thoughts, but then it ended up actually being enjoyable hbsjdd but im so so happy you like them!!! and yes yes of course <3 
just to clarify as i always do, this is hella unrealistic and just for fun!! 
other versions: haikyuu captains dick analysis, haikyuu aces dick analysis, haikyuu middle blockers dick analysis, jjk dick analysis. 
setters done in the captains version: oikawa tōru
HAIKYUU SETTERS DICK ANALYSIS
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kageyama tobio 
listen, i know he has a skinny penis. something about him just screams skinny penis, but it’s so so so pretty. also it’s not like unsatisfying skinny cause it still has a little girth to it but it’s not painful girth you know? he’s like 6.8 inches? idk that seems right i guess? pale shaft that has a little flush of color to it, and a pink pink pink tip, but it’s like such a pretty, pretty tip, kind of mouthwatering tbh. curves to the right absolutely it does.  also he is so sensitive, like everywhere. literally just hover your fingers lightly along his dick and you’ll have him twitching and all. he’s not clean shaven because he never really understood the purpose, like the hair’s there for a reason for sure?? it must be?? but if you ask him he’ll be like “ok.” 
kozume kenma
i can’t decide if kenma would have a little dick or not, so i’m gonna settle for he’s a 5.6 inches. thing is kenma knows!!! how!!! to use it!!! like in a way that he’s kind of winging it, but he’s very perceptive so he just goes with what he sees you like the most. also teases so so much before, so that when he fucks you it feels really good!! shaft is a light tan with a golden tip, and very veiny too?? also kenma’s actually clean shaven— he probably waxes pls, just cause it’s so much more convenient and shaving always itches :( idk i feel like he might forget to take care of himself so he does it just so he doesn’t have to worry about it yk 
akaashi keiji 
god. god. god. such a pretty dick, like you could just stare at it all day. dick pics need to be framed in gold. he’s probably 6.8 inches like kags, with the prettiest pink tip like it’s so flushed but it’s not red and it’s not a pale pink either like just a deep deep pink, and a pale shaft, really prominent veins when he’s hard. his balls are pretty too pls :( and he’s clean shaven, for sureee. akaashi would do the most to make sure you’re satisfied and happy. when it’s hard it curves against his stomach like inward but only a little, maybe at the head yk? is really into foreplay and prepping you for him so by the time he fucks you his dick is drooling for you, and it’s the most gorgeous sight ever seeing it twitch and leak ugh <3 
miya atsumu 
big dick and KNOWS it. flaunts it. is the type to wave it in your face while in the shower with you just cause. a golden tan to the shaft, darker tip with a slight pink/red flush to it, hella veins, hella girth, hella length. he’s a good 7.1 inches i’m not gonna lie. (osamu’s bigger by .3 inches and rubs it in atsumu’s face all the fucking time btw). he. he is not clean shaven. will make you trim it for him if you really want it clean. (but only to piss you off, he will do it anyways <3). also his dick print is. gorgeous. in sweats? immaculate. gym shorts? beautiful. those red plaid pajama pants that give everyone a fat ass? dick print is stunning. IN TIGHT ASS BRIEFS AND ITS LEAKING A LITTLE? im crying. 
sugawara kōshi 
omg it’s !!!! he’s so good with it. so good. loves to tap it against all your sensitive spots like your clit after being abused by his mouth and fingers? or your hole after he stretches you? 6.5 inches, sort of proportionate in terms of length and girth, but idk. suga seems like he has a fat dick for some reason? like it’s not shocking girth, but it’s definitely a stretch. idk i can just picture his bulge in jeans or tight pants to be very prominent i guess? or like. idk i can just tell he’s hiding a fat dick in his shorts does that make sense. also a very pretty tip, a pale-ish pink with a shaft that kind of starts off very pink and then pales towards the base. clean shaven!!!!!! obviously. 
semi eita
such a nice dick you’d wanna just cockwarm it. but with your mouth. yk. or anything else really. it just feels so satisfying inside of you!! i can’t decide on a length (these are all hella unrealistic anyways) but maybe 6.9 inches. he just seems like he has a long dick!!! more length than girth you know? you know. purple-ish head and pale shaft, sticks up straight with no curves, and not a lotta veins!! there is one or two that are obvious, but it’s delicate yk. also i have the feeling semi likes it messy so he’s obsessed with deepthroating you and pulling out and having his dick covered in a mess of cum and bubbling spit. i will not be taking criticisms thank you <3 
koganegawa kanji 
oh my god he so has a big dick and literally has zero clue. no concept of size whatsoever. first time you see it and you gasp and he’s like uh oh what’s wrong like he’s not fucking packing as shit??? 6.9 inches with so much fucking girth. not so much that you have to spend forever prepping yourself, but like, it’s definitely a long time. first time you had sex he put it in too soon and you were like pls i beg you and your stupid big dick— fat, fat tan head, a lighter shaft with a golden tint to it. head flushes pink when he’s hard and leaking!!! he’s so messy with the hair down there cause he thought it was cooler but when he learned it wasn’t he was so quick to shave it all off yk :) 
ukai keishin 
couldn’t skip him!!! big dick big dick big dick. he has a big dick. look at him and tell me he doesn’t. it has a tan shaft, very similar to his overall skin tone, and a pinker tip, which darkens considerably when he’s hard. curves to the right and is so veiny!!! so fat, shaft is fat, head is fat, just so fat. he’s a good 7.4 inches, because why not you know, and always hits it from the back to have his balls slap against you. i— he’s not clean shaven what are you expecting. he’s not gonna shave. will actually make you choke on his dick and bury your face in his lap unashamed. (no but to be honest he would trim it for you, at the very least, not to worry <3) 
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i tried not to miss out on any setters too!! i looked through the schools and if i did miss any, it just means i don’t know them well enough to write for them, i’m sorry!!! but i hope you guys enjoyed !!! im sorry if it’s a messy or something im writing this with an oncoming migraine </3 
luv u all mwah <3 
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favoniuscodex · 3 years
Text
abrupt confessions (xiao & diluc)
prompt: “you’re oblivious to their advances and they’re getting frustrated” pairings: diluc/gn!reader, xiao/gn!reader word count: 1.4k warnings: fluff, emotional constipation (it’s xiao and diluc)
a/n: sorry that xiao’s hcs are a bit shorter than diluc’s, i’m still getting comfy writing him. this is a part of my 50 follower celebration! please let this one show up in tags this time tumblr
DILUC
diluc never really considered himself an expert in romance. in fact, if you ask him upfront, he’d tell you that he barely knows anything about courting and how to charm someone.
but jeez, he didn’t think it’d be this hard.
as you sit at the counter of diluc’s bar after hours, excitedly trying new types of drinks that he’s concocted, diluc wonders how he’d entered the friendzone this badly.
he literally just handed you a non-alcoholic, bright pink, raspberry flavored drink he called love potion and you had taken it with a smile and complemented diluc on what a great friend he was.
diluc doesn’t feel entitled to your affections. he understands if you didn’t like him back and would respect whatever decision you made! but he at least hopes you’ll acknowledge the fact that he likes you so you can talk about it and get the conversation over with.
despite his bravery on the battlefield, he’s a bit nervous about telling you that he likes you straight to your face. however, this feels like the hundredth thing diluc has tried to subtly flirt with you.
he’s just glad kaeya isn’t here to laugh at his failed attempts. even kaeya picked up on diluc’s crush on you before you did.
all of the subtle tricks that diluc had read about in gossip magazines (yes, he had resorted to those) in order to get you to notice him were just coming across as friendly actions.
as the two of you struck up a small conversation about your last commission, diluc wanted nothing more than to ram his head through the counter of the bar.
“just ask them out,” kaeya had told him. “they’re not going to pick up on subtle hints.”
as much as diluc didn’t want to admit it, maybe, just maybe, his brother was right about something.
the days passed by and no matter what diluc did, you interpreted all of his advances as friendly. a bouquet of cecelias? what a nice housewarming gift! a nice bottle of dandelion wine? what a generous gift!
“(y/n), we need to talk,” diluc finally states, after his umpteenth gift in his attempt at courting you went without proper acknowledgement.
you look at him in concern, worried about his tense tone of voice. “did i do something wrong?” you ask, nervousness seeping into your words.
diluc’s eyes widened slightly. “no, no, it’s not that,” he assures you, quietly noting your sigh of relief. “actually, i think i might have done something wrong instead.”
“huh?” you respond. “i apologize if i gave off the impression that i am mad at you, i can assure you that i’m not.”
“no, no, it’s…” diluc sighs, trailing off. how should i put this? he asks himself. you’re clearly not lured by lavish gifts or swayed by acts of service, so he really has only one option left: telling you in a straightforward manner. it’s best to be forthright, he reassures himself.
“i like you.” diluc confesses, causing a radiant smile to spread across your face. this is it! diluc thinks to himself. they’re happy with my confession and they like me ba-
his thoughts are interrupted by your response. “aw, i like you too! you’re one of my best friends!” you chirp, your smile still persisting. you were happy with diluc finally being able to adequately express his emotions! you knew he struggled with that sort of thing and platonic affection was always difficult for him to express.
“no, (y/n), i like you in a romantic manner,” he states, his voice slightly dull. it wasn’t the most romantic of confessions, but diluc was exasperated. there was only so much he could do.
“oh, uh, yeah,” you scratch the back of your head as you feel your face heat up. this was awkward. what he just said certainly sounded like a confession but... “i... knew that? haven’t we been dating for the last few months?”
any emotion diluc had on his face is quickly replaced with an expressionless mask and dull eyes, but you knew diluc well enough to know that this expression meant that he was experiencing several forms of sheer panic.
you laugh nervously and lean in, placing a small kiss on his cheek. “i just thought you were being super chaste in courting me,” you confess, but diluc still looks dazed.
“if…” he begins, causing you to pull back ever-so-slightly. “if we’ve been dating for a few months, then can i..?”
diluc’s words trail off, but his subtle glance down to your lips lets you know exactly what he means. you smile softly and give a nod of permission as a scarlet blush spreads across his pale skin.
he leans in, his hands cupping your face gently, as if you were made of the finest porcelain, and kisses you, clarifying the confusion the two of you had accidentally held with each other for months.
XIAO
xiao, over his long lifetime, has learned many things. he’s quite certain that almond tofu is the tastiest food in all of liyue, wangshu inn is the place that irritates him the least, and the polearm is the best weapon for fighting.
however, one thing he has not learned is how to court someone -- especially when that certain someone is a fragile mortal.
he’s not quite sure how to court you, so he starts doing things for you that he would like others to do for him.
when you visit him, he offers you a piece of almond tofu. he offers to kill any foes that stand in your path. he offers to sit with you at night and watch the scenery together.
this type of courting lasts for approximately 48 hours. xiao is a forthright man, never having desired to beat around the bush. he’s not impatient, but he knows he only has a limited portion of his life to spend with you.
so, as you plan to exit his room in wangshu inn after spending time reading on his balcony while he brooded silently in the chair next to you, xiao realizes it’s now or never.
as you stop to open the door, xiao calls your name, causing you to turn around and look at him inquisitively.
before you can ask him what’s wrong, the adeptus puts his hand by your head, effectively pinning you between him and the door with one arm, leaving room for you to wriggle away if you felt uncomfortable.
“i wish to court you,” he states in a low tone. his amber eyes pierce into yours with an intensity you’ve never seen in his gaze before, but a soft vulnerability swims within their depths, disappearing as quickly as you notice it, like a skittish fish seeing a shadow.
“oh,” you breathe, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. the air between you and xiao is now thick enough to cut a knife through.
seemingly coming back to his senses, xiao drops his hand abruptly and takes a step back. if he wishes to apologize, he shows no indication of doing so. instead, his unfaltering, analytical gaze tries to interpret the emotion within yours.
“alright,” you respond, after a few more seconds of silence. “i’ll gladly let you court me.”
a soft exhale escapes xiao’s lips upon your confirmation and a soft, bashful smirk crosses his face, before he surges forward and pulls you close in a hug, hands splaying across your back.
you let out a small noise of surprise, but smile as xiao buries his face into the crook of your neck, conveying the emotions he had trouble expressing. you wrap one arm around xiao’s torso, returning his hug, and the other hand sneaks into his hair, playing with the fluffy green locks.
“thank you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.
“hm?” you respond, not having heard him properly, but rather than repeating himself, he only tightens his grip, as if he was afraid you would fall through his fingers. you begin to worry until you feel him smile, causing a soft smile to spread across your face as well.
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caroldantops · 3 years
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hey! im quite new here and i have seen a lot of talk about readers interactions and i was wondering what is the best way to support my favorite writers (like you) because i think i have been doing this wrong and i really want to support writers who do this<3 ps. sorry if that was confusing, english isnt my first language
not confusing at all babes! you're 100% clear.
also can i just say, i very much appreciate you asking this. i would much rather more people speak up and be like "hey, we dont know the best way to support our favorite writers so how can we?" other than just. Not Knowing and Not Doing Anything.
so, im going to speak from my own personal experience but also what ive seen many of my mutuals/writers i follow talk about. this might get a little long but i wanna answer as thoroughly as i can because people should know!
im putting it under a read more because it got hella long, but please i encourage everyone who reads fics but don't interact to read and consider these things.
fellow writers i encourage you to reblog and add any other commentary you think is helpful!
before anything else (this is absolutely not directed at you, anon, you're perfect), i just want to get this out of the way. never come to a writer's blog and get angry with them for complaining about lack of engagement. like jesus christ. writers are putting hours of work on tumblr for you for free. the least we ask is for comments and reblogs. that's it. if you go and act shitty towards writers who ask for more engagement, yet still follow and wait for the next fic, like what are you even doing bro. just stop.
anyway. now let's get to the actual question!
basically all writers on tumblr will agree, reblogs are vital. and i feel like that gets said a lot but maybe people dont actually understand how impactful it is so lemme give an example.
so let's say hypothetically i have 100 followers. that is 100 potential people who see a fic that i post (i say potential because timezones exist so you might not see it as it's posted)
and let's say one of my followers (Person A) reblogs it, and they have 50 followers. that's 50 more people that can read the fic.
and let's say Person B followers Person A and they also reblog it to their 50 followers.
with only two people reblogging a fic, that's already doubling the number of people who have read the fic.
now imagine Person C followers Person A and reblogs the fic, and Person C has like, 1,000 followers. that's so much more exposure for the writer.
and that's only from two followers of the writer. so imagine if all 100 that read the fic reblogged it? the numbers skyrocket at an exponential rate.
plus, more people reading means that the writer could get more people follow them. so they get a more consistent audience.
likes, on the other hand, do not guarantee this exposure. i would say that most people don't have their likes public on tumblr. and also, even if they do, i know that I'm not about to scroll through people's likes rather than scrolling thru their blogs. likes up the notes, and that's about it. of course i understand liking a fic so you can come back to it later, i do that all the time. but if I've liked a fic, i always reblog it once I've read it.
now, say you're reading hardcore smut that you might not want on your main blog for whatever reason, so that's why you don't reblog a fic. look, i get it. sometimes irl people follow your blog, or sometimes you just don't want people to know what you're getting up to. but that's why i made a sideblog specifically for fics.
this entire blog BEGAN as a way for me to reblog fics i liked. and then it grew and grew and grew into all this. not saying that you have to start writing if you do that of course, but i guarantee, i'd rather see a small sideblog blog with like 3 followers reblog my fic than a blog just like the fic and leave. because that's still 3 more people who will see my fic and possibly read it and reblog it. 3 is better than none.
comments. reblogs are important, but comments are really what keep writers writing. they inspire us with new ideas, help figure out what it is that people enjoy from us, help us improve our writing, and most importantly, they make us feel good. and like writing and posting is worth it.
now, i know that sometimes it can feel awkward reblogging with a comment directly on the post. i even usually don't do that unless it's with a friend. but here are some alternatives/tips!
send an ask or DM! if you're really intimidated, sending an anonymous message is by far the easiest way to bypass that awkwardness.
write in the tags!! i cannot express this enough. comment in the tags. ramble about the fic. just put three tags worth of screaming. literally ANY comments in the tags are my favorite thing. i promise you that writers will scroll thru like basically every tag.
also, if they post it on both tumblr and ao3, don't feel weird about giving a little comment on both! i do that all the time. you can even be like 'hey i read this on tumblr first but wanted to say again how much i enjoyed it' and that is like, heart burstingly nice to hear.
also, if you're having trouble coming up with something to say, my like top commenting tip as both a writer and a reader is point out something specific that you like about the fic. when i comment on a fic (this is moreso when i comment on ao3 bc my comments are always longer there) i try to point out a particular line i like. literally if you just copy and paste it and go 'wow i really really like this line especially' that is the number one way to a writer's heart. seriously. it's the simplest thing, but it makes SUCH an impact.
however, if your comments are only asking for more fics, then that's not a comment, that's a request (which not all writers take).
saying something like 'hey i loved this fic a lot! if you have more in store for this in the future, i'd be really excited to read it!' is a million times better than 'will you do a part 2'. i know they don't sound that different, but i promise you that the tone makes a big difference.
(i honestly have more thoughts about good ways to get over commenting fear/know what exactly to comment that doesn't feel generic, so if people would like me to make another post about it i'd do it.)
and last but not least, if the writer has a way to donate, like a ko-fi, that always is so appreciated. of course, take care of yourself first, but if you have a few bucks and wanna show some support to your faves, that's a great way to help :)
oh! also, if the writer ever reblogs those little ask game things, just send them something! engagement outside of writing is also so much appreciated.
i think that's about everything i can think of! i hope this is helpful and that my explanations weren't confusing (if i need to clarify anything let me know). and again, thank you so much for asking! even doing that shows that you're a reader who cares, and that means the world ❤
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randomshyperson · 3 years
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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The Fourth Year (Part II) - Chapter 5
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Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.
Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist
Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.
Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.
Chapter Words:  11.433K (they keep getting bigger and bigger don’t they?)
Authors note: I told myself i would only updated this once i finished writing two chapters ahead, but here we are. I hope everyone has a good reading, please let me know what you think and if you have any questions regarding the story i’m as lost as you are but i believe everything will make sense at the end.
//-//-//-//-//
When you woke up in the morning, you were really irritated.
Not having slept very well, both because of the time you went back to bed, and because of the strange dreams with red lights that you kept having, you were really sleepy when you had to get up.
And well, the first class was History of Magic, so the universe was not in your favor.
But you were quite surprised when you reached Professor Okoye's classroom and found a small crowd of students waiting at the door.
"What's going on?" You asked Quill as soon as you identified him in the crowd, Mantis right behind you. 
"I don't think we're going to have class today." He replied while looking into the room. You copied his movement, and could see the teacher moving the tables and chairs in the room away to the corner, leaving a nice clear space. When she was finished, she waved for everyone to come in.
You stood with Quill and Mantis and the rest of the students scattered around the room, and the teacher in the center. She closed the door with a wave of her wand as they all entered, a small smile on her lips.
"I have an announcement to make, students." She begins. "According to the traditions of the triwizard tournament, the host school must organize a winter ball during christmas night after the first task." She tells and has to raise her voice a bit because the students start talking to each other excitedly. "And as head of the Gryffindor house, renowned for its chivalry, I was made responsible for organizing dance class sessions." She pauses briefly, looking at the students until they fall silent. "I also expect the Hufflepuff house to behave as respectfully as my Gryffindor students, since the honorable Helga Hufflepuff was known for her great charity balls."
With a wave of Okoye's wand, a cabinet in the corner of the room opens, and out of it flies a small music organ to the corner of the room. When she waves it again, a soft melody fills the entire room.
"Let's begin."
//-//
It is only at lunchtime that you get to talk to Wanda. And your feet still hurt from the times Quill stepped on them during the dance class.
You throw your bag on the Slytherin bench and sit down next to Wanda, looking at her expectantly. The girl makes a confused frown.
"What?" she asks with a slight humor in her voice.
"Really, Wands?" You reply in the same tone. "I want to talk to you."
"About what?"
"The tournament." 
Wanda rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the plate in front of her. You frown at the way she is being casual about it.
"What about the tournament?"
You let out a short laugh.
"What do you mean “what about the tournament”? You're the champion of Hogwarts! The underage champion of Hogwarts!" You clarify, but Wanda doesn't look at you. You blink in confusion, and reach your forearm down on the table, touching her lightly so that she looks at you. Your chest aches as she pulls her arm away. "What's wrong?"
Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair lightly.
"I just don't want to hear about how I'm an irresponsible cheater or how dangerous the tournament is." She replies looking at you.
"I wasn't going to say that." You retort, and Wanda rolls her eyes, which irritates you. "You haven't even heard what I have to say and you've already drawn your own conclusions."
Wanda clenches her jaw, her cheeks slightly reddened.
"And what do you have to say about it then?"
"I was gonna offer to help you practice for the tasks!" You clarify angrily. And Wanda blinks in confusion. You turn your face forward next, crossing your arms. Arguing with Wanda was absolutely the worst. 
It takes a moment, but her posture softens completely and she sighs, reaching out for your arm afterwards.
"Hey." She calls tenderly, but you continue to stare straight ahead. "Hey, I'm sorry. Look at me."
You slowly turn to the side, looking down at your lap. Wanda waits for you to look up, and when you do, she gives you a weak smile.
" I'm sorry." She repeats, and you sigh, nodding. Wanda bites her lip, looking at you for a moment. "I need to tell you something. Is about..."
Wanda falls silent as your friends arrive at the table, commenting excitedly on the news of the dance that has already spread throughout the school. She sighs softly, straightening herself to look forward. You bite the inside of your cheeks, curious to know what she was going to say, but not wanting to press her.
When Nebula and Gamora sit across from you, you strain to pay attention to their conversation.
"But Wanda, tell us, what is it like to be a Hogwarts champion?" Gamora asks after the topic about the ball closes. Wanda tenses momentarily, and you want to ask why Pietro is sitting at the other end of the table with boys you don't know instead of with his sister, but the brunette forces a smile and you don't.
"I don't recommend the experience, if you ask me." She retorted with slight irony in her voice, making the group laugh. "After the selection, the principals of the other schools were not at all happy about my participation."  She counters twisting her fingers lightly. "I think they were questioning the security of the Goblet choice. But Principal Harkness stood up for me, in her own way at least. She insisted that nothing could be done, because the magical contract with the goblet can only be broken with the end of the tournament."
"I imagine you had no idea this was all going to happen when you put your name on the goblet, eh?" Nebula asked wryly, making the group laugh. But Wanda frowned.
"I didn't put my name on the goblet." Wanda declared. Her friends gave a short laugh, thinking she was joking. But the other girl's serious expression makes them look at her in surprise.
"Wait, are you serious?" Gamora questions and Wanda nods, sighing. She exchanges shocked looks with Nebula and Mantis. Next, Gamora looks at you. "I guess that goes on your list of weird things this year, huh?"
You shake your head slightly, not wanting the girl in front of you to mention what happened in the cup, but Gamora is already commenting on your nightmares the next moment.
Wanda turns to you next.
"What nightmares?" She questions, and you sigh, losing your appetite. "And why didn't you tell me about what you saw in the cup? And well, if you were worried, you could have asked if everything was okay with me, we've been at Hogwarts for a month now and..."
"Wanda." You interrupt with a short smile. "Calm down, okay? I was just trying to find the right time to talk to you about everything."
"I am calm, I just want to know why you are hiding things from me! " She hits back and you frown in surprise.
"Look who's talking!"
You regret the way you speak, because Wanda gasps in surprise, her gaze hurt. Your friends witness the discussion intently.
"What did you mean by that?" She retorts angrily.
"You know very well what I meant." You reply in the same tone, feeling your stomach turn in nervousness. "You always hide things, whether with your family, or with your magic! And you won't tell me what's going on with us!"
Wanda looks at you in a mixture of surprise, anger and hurt, and you feel your heart racing. Some students are looking at you curiously, but Wanda's lack of response only disappoints you. You cast her an angry glance before getting up and leaving the hall.
//=//
You feel bad that you have accused Wanda the moment you reach your dorm. You don't know if she has the answers you seek. But you are tired, because it seems that everyone is keeping secrets from you.
Throwing yourself down on the sofa, you sigh as you close your eyes. You don't feel like studying right now, but soon you have a Defense Against the Dark Arts period and you need to get up. You don't rush, though, using all the remaining time at lunch to calm yourself, trying to push out the thoughts that you and Wanda would no longer be friends.
Mantis meets you at the door to the communal hall as soon as you leave, and you thank her for bringing your backpack back. 
"Are you okay?" She asks as you both walk toward the tower.
"Yeah, it was just a silly argument." You mumble clumsily.
"Wanda was pretty upset after you left." She counters, and you mutter in understanding. "I hope you two can make up soon."
"Me too."
When you arrived at the D.A.D.A. room, few minutes later, you grumbled softly because you could only find chairs in the front, and students who sat near Professor Fury were always called in.
The professor entered soon after, his long black cape dragging across the floor, and the customary eye patch hiding a scar on his face.
"Good afternoon, everyone." He announced loudly as he entered, and waited until everyone was seated to begin. Drawing out his wand, he charmed the chalk on the blackboard to write the subject of the day. Some buzz began to circulate as the words "unforgivable curses" formed on the board. "Who here can tell me what the unforgivable curses are?"
The room was completely silent. Fury walked between the tables.
"No one?" He asked. "How disappointing."
You knew that no one answered the question because it was a huge taboo in the witch community to talk about the dark arts so freely. Professor Fury seemed to know that too, and that only seemed to make him angry.
“Unforgivable curses are three of the most powerful and sinister spells in the world of magic.” Fury explains next. “Their use is forbidden in all magical communities, and if a wizard or witch casts any of them on another wizard or witch, they will receive a sentence in Azkaban.”
Fury made another motion with his wand and the closet at the back of the room opened, a small cage secured in an iron compartment with wheels crawled to the front. 
You and the rest of the room let out exclamations of surprise as you observed the creature inside. A large, hairy spider, very scary. Mantis shrank into the chair beside you.
"As an antidote to your ignorance, I recommend that you read the book of this subject before the next class, and bring me two scrolls about the first three chapters, specifying the history of the prohibition of unforgivable curses." Professor Fury then announced, drawing an unsatisfied buzz from the students. The room fell silent the next minute, however, as the professor opened the cage.
The spider moved on the iron, looking practically startled and shrinking into the cage. 
"The first unforgivable curse is the command curse." Fury explained, pointing his wand at the bug next. "Imperio."
You and the rest of the students watched in shock as the small crystallized flash came from the tip of the wand to the creature, which stretched its legs and then moved outward. It wasn't hard to deduce that it was Professor Fury who was controlling the spider, since from the movement of his wand, it was moving.
"The Imperium curse consists of absolute control of another living being." Fury told as he moved the spider around the room, drawing exclamations of fear and shock. "You see, during the last witch war, many sorcerers claimed that they were only fighting for Mephisto because of this curse." 
The mention of Mephisto made everyone hold their breath, but the professor didn't stop talking.
"The ministry found an efficient way to find out who was lying." He counters with a short smile. Bringing the spider back to the front of the room, to his desk for all to see, he holds it still. "You will find out eventually, children, that moral lines are usually broken during wars."
You exchanged a look with your colleagues, all clearly surprised and frightened. Fury cleared his throat, pointing his wand at the spider.
"Crucio" He spoke and unlike the other, no light came out. The spider cringed, making a high-pitched noise that filled the entire room. You understood that it was screaming in pain, and you felt your stomach clench. Before you knew it, you stood up abruptly, the noise attracting everyone's attention.
"Stop it!" You shouted angrily. "Can't you see you're hurting her?"
The teacher stopped, and you tried to control your uncompensated breathing. He cleared his throat, ignoring the buzz in the room as he extended his hand to the spider, which obediently climbed into his hand.
He turned to you, placing the animal on your desk, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the back of the room, knowing exactly what was coming. Professor Fury looked at the creature with contempt. 
"The last unforgivable curse is the killing curse." He explains. "Avada Kedavra."
You close your eyes for a moment, feeling your body tremble. When you look down, the spider was dead. The room in complete silence.
You look at Professor Fury with watery eyes.
"No one should survive this curse." He tells you. Before you can say anything, he softens his expression, looking around. "And none survived, of course. Now, why aren't you guys writing down what I said?"
You don't feel very well for the rest of the class.
//-//
The vast majority of the students seem far more impressed with how dark Fury's classes have become than afraid. You can't say the same, because it seems that every time he has to explain something about dark magic, you feel sick. Gamora tried to cheer you up by joking that auror wouldn't be the right profession for you, but you've been so upset about the absence of Wanda that you've barely been able to smile.
As the first assignment approaches, you want to forget that you fought and apologize, but the girl also seems to be avoiding you, so you do the same.
Pietro has also been distant, and Nebula told you that he and Wanda were not yet on the best of terms, and Pietro was spending much more time with Monica and Darcy than with you all. 
When the day of the first task finally arrived, you ignored the fact that you were fighting and went to look for Wanda, unable to ignore the feeling of worry that took over your whole body.
You had no idea what the first task was going to be, but Miss Harkness had asked the whole school to go to the Quidditch field on Saturday, and there were tents set up at the north end. You told Gamora that you would join her in the stands in a moment, that you needed to talk to Wanda first, and you snuck through the crowd to reach the champions' tent area.
"Psst." You called out from between the canvas of the tent, recognizing the gloomy figure sitting in the corner of the place as you entered from the back. Wanda looked around, and then stood up, frowning when she could see your shadow.
Opening the tarp, she looked at you in a mixture of surprise and irritation.
"What do you want here?"
"I didn't come to fight with you." You let her know as you realize the tone in her voice. You bite your lips for a moment, and then sigh. "Damn, I missed you."
Wanda looks away, her cheeks reddening as she crosses her arms. You swallow dryly, ignoring your uncompensated heartbeat.
"Is this what you came for?" She asks half-heartedly, staring at the floor.
"No." You say. "I needed to make sure everything was okay, and I wanted to wish you good luck."
"Why do you care?" She hits back in defiance, and you roll your eyes.
"I'm still your friend, Wanda." You reply. "We fought, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore."
Wanda looks away again, and you switch the weight on your foot.
"Well, that was it." You say. "Good luck to you."
"Thank you." She mumbles without looking at you. When you turn around, her arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. Wanda rests her head on your back and sighs, and you recover from the surprise, caressing her hands resting on your belly with your thumbs. Before you can turn to correspond properly, she releases you. "Now get out of here before a teacher sees you."
You smile at her before walking away.
//-//
Wanda would confront a dragon. You think you're controlling yourself pretty well despite everything.
She was going to be the last to do so, but your heart was already racing from the moment Principal Harkness walked to the center of the Quidditch pitch and after making the general announcements, nodded toward the locker room area that had been enchanted so that the beast could hide inside. The next minute there were witches bringing a dragon into the stadium and the crowd screamed with excitement and fear.
The champions needed to capture the golden egg for the second task, and well, everyone was curious to know how they would do it.
Gamora handed you a small booklet, and you frowned when you realized that it was an enchanted betting chart. She gave you a little smile, waving to someone behind her, and you noticed that almost all the people were betting on the winners, and the game flyers were circulating around the stands. You felt your stomach turn as you watched the enchanted drawing of a dragon spit fire at the image of three witches. 
You ended up handing the flyer to Mantis and didn't bet on anyone, focused on watching the task.
Jean Grey captured the egg in fifteen minutes. She took on the Common Welsh Green dragon, and everyone was impressed to watch her use a mirroring spell to confuse the dragon about the true location of the golden egg. She finished the task unhurt, and unseen and you joined the crowd in cheering, watching her receive the perfect score.
Maria Hill was injured in her ordeal, but this certainly brought a lot more entertainment to the audience. She faced the Norwegian Crested Back, and tried to bewitch the dragon with a sleeping spell, but the creature awoke as soon as she reached for the egg. 
The audience screamed with excitement as the dragon began to spit fire everywhere, furious. Fortunately, Maria only had minor burns, as she was able to charm the beast again. Her score was lower than Jean's, but still high.
When Wanda's turn came, many of the Gryffindor students began to boo, and you clenched your jaw. 
You relaxed momentarily when Wanda looked around the audience, smiling at you before focusing on the creature in front of her.
"That one looks bigger than the other two, huh?" you grumble to Gamora with concern as you observe the beast in the center of the field. 
"Maybe he's more docile." She remarks, but it's not true, especially since the next second the creature roars ferociously as it notices Wanda approaching.
The Ukrainian Iron Belly moved his long tail around the field, the iron chains swinging as he did. Wanda was holding her wand, hiding behind a rock. You can barely hear the crowd with the ringing in your ears, your heart racing a thousand an hour in your chest.
As Wanda approaches again, trying to bewitch the beast, the Iron Belly roars, raising its tail in the air to strike her. You blink in astonishment as you watch a shield spell form around Wanda. She rolls across the field, faster than the beast, and runs to reach the egg.
She casts a spell on its snout that leaves it bewildered long enough for her to grab the prize.
On the way back, the creature wags its tail rapidly across the field, roaring with irritation, and hits Wanda in the back, throwing her a few meters forward.
"Y/N what are you doing? Put that away!" Gamora warns you at the next second. You blink in confusion, realizing that you have your wand in hand, raising it in front of you. Gamora lowers your hands, and because of all the commotion, no one else seems to notice. She looks at you with concern, but you feel your mouth go numb; you need to help Wanda.
"Let me go, Wanda needs me." You grumble pushing her hands away, and hurrying to get down from the bleachers. Gamora calls out to you but you don't turn around.
The test continues on the field next to you, but you have to look forward to get down, pushing people aside as you rush to catch up to Wanda, your wand vibrating in your fingers as the rest of your body.
Professor Heimdall stops you at the edge of the stands.
"I need you to focus on my voice, Stark." He asks as he places his hands on your shoulders. You gasp in surprise, trying to turn your head to look at the field, but the firm grip holds you in place.
"Let me go." You ask panting, a pain beginning to well up in your head. "Wanda is in danger."
"Look at me." He commands as he lifts his thumbs to your cheek, pinning your face to look at him. You stare at the yellow irises feeling your breath hitch. You need to help Wanda. But somehow, as the seconds tick by, the yellow eyes are all you can think about. "Pull yourself together. Can't you hear the celebration from the audience? Wanda has completed the test. She is safe."
You choke on the professor's words, feeling an urge to cry with relief. He keeps his expression serious, though.
"Pull it together. Keep your wand away." He commands. "Don't tell anyone about this, not everyone is your friend here."
"W-what?"
But Professor Heimdall lets you go, quickly taking your wand and putting it back in your cloak pocket. He looks around, and smiles at someone behind you. Only now you notice the celebratory noise around you, and you turn around. The crowd is descending, and Principal Harkness is announcing the final scores.
Your friends are coming toward you, happy and smiling. Professor Heimdall steps aside to join the teachers' group, and then you are being dragged with your friends to the center of the field, along with the rest of the crowd celebrating the end of the task. You hear fireworks and shouts of victory, but your gaze is searching for Wanda.
She is shaking hands with the Minister of Magic, Johann Shmidt, and you gasp when you catch sight of her. She has barely turned toward you, smiling and waving shyly when she realizes that you and your friends are coming to greet her, when you run toward her, throwing your arms around her when you reach her.
"Wow." She gasps in surprise, but hugs you back, chuckling softly. You don't let go, and soon your friends are hugging you two too. And they are laughing and celebrating, and you are holding back your tears, not understanding why the possibility of losing Wanda seems worse than death.
//-//
Things get better after the first task. After you left the Quidditch camp, you joined the celebration in the Slytherin communal hall, which was filled with people from all the houses.
All the students who had stood against Wanda before she defeated the dragon now seemed keen to become her friends, praising her and congratulating her on the way she killed the beast. 
You still don't understand what exactly happened, but Wanda used some spell that hit the creature in the heart, and well, killing the dragon earned her first place. The other directors were not happy with the judge's decision, but the rest of the school certainly liked it.
You are in the corner of the room, surrounded by your friends and Tony's friends, trying to stay sociable while ignoring how tired you feel.
"Why are you so quiet?" Gamora asks you softly, noticing your lack of enthusiasm to join in the explosive snap game that Quill has just suggested to everyone. 
"It's nothing." You lie forcing a smile. Professor Heimdall's words still echoing in your head. "I'm just not in the mood to party. I guess I'm sleepy."
Gamora murmurs in understanding, assessing your face for a few moments. But Nebula is pulling her sister over to look at the items Tony got on his last trip to Hogsmeade, and you don't join in the conversation. 
Your gaze searches for Wanda, who is locked in conversation with a seventh grader who has never spoken to you guys before, but seemed very willing to become Wanda's friend now that she has become a champion.
You were thinking of waiting until Wanda had finished talking to the girl to say good-bye, but then you felt irritation boil up in the pit of your stomach as you watched the older girl toss her hair to the side, her hand running up Wanda's arm, as Wanda gave her a wry smile. 
You really didn't want to watch Wanda flirting with anyone, so you hurried out of the dorm, hopefully everyone would be busy enough with the party to notice.
Outside, as you turned the corner, you saw something you didn't want to see.
Tony and Steve were kissing against a wall, your brother's hands inside the other boy's shirt. You let out a loud exclamation of shock, covering your eyes.
"God, get a room!" You complained loudly with your eyes closed, feeling your cheeks very hot. You heard Tony and Steve giggle, and waited a moment to open your eyes, only to find Steve very red, looking away, and your brother with his arms crossed.
"Don't be such a baby." He teased. "One of these days I'm going to find you like this."
You choke lightly, letting out an indignant laugh.
"Excuse me, but I don't want to hook up with anyone in the corners of the castle." You mumble in embarrassment, and Tony exchanges a look with Steve, letting out a chuckle.
"Damn, do girls go through puberty later or something?" He teases and you look at him wide-eyed. "I'm teasing you little sister, no need to freak out about it." He mocks as he pulls Steve by the sleeve, when he is walking away, he turns his head to you again. "Let me know if you change your mind, I bet Natasha that you were going to propose to Wanda this year!" He shouts before turning down the hall, leaving you behind with cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
You figure you'd better get back to the dorm before you run into some teacher.
//-//
You have another nightmare during the night. As real as the vision you had during the quidditch cup. You see the graveyard and the red light, but this time, it is you who is attacking. You wake up in fright, but feeling absolutely exhausted, you go back to sleep almost immediately afterwards. This time you dream of someone holding your hand.
//-//
"Have you decided who you're going to ask to the dance?" It is the first question Gamora asks you during breakfast, and you choke on your pumpkin juice. She ignores your reaction and continues talking. "By the way, where were you last night?"
"I told you I was tired." You reply wiping up the juice you spilled with a napkin. "I went back to my dorm."
"You missed the best part of the party." She retorted excitedly. "Some Ravenclaw kids conjured up a fireworks dragon and someone handed out candy from Honeydukes to everyone."
"Sounds amazing." You grumble before going back to eating. Gamora looks at you expectantly, and you sigh, understanding that she is waiting for you to answer her first question. "I don't know if I want to go to the dance."
"You’re not going to the dance?" It is Wanda who asks as she arrives at the table. You almost choke again, but just roll your eyes at the insinuating look Gamora gives you as Wanda sits down. 
"Oh, she's just saying that because no one invited her." Gamora teases with an insinuating tone, and you try to hit her but she laughs as she moves away from your grasp.
"You know, you can ask someone if you want to. You don't have to wait for the invitation." Nebula then suggests, and you are surprised because she wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, a spell book laid out in front of her. "Unless you're afraid of rejection."
"What is it with you guys today?" You mutter irritatedly, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you observe the insinuating glances of the two girls in front of you. "Besides, why are you talking about invitations, Gamora? Who invited you?"
Gamora lets out a shy giggle, and then looks away. She nods toward Quill, and you let out a surprised exclamation.
"And you're just telling me this now?" You retort excitedly.
"You're the one who left the party yesterday!" She replies. "He invited me last night, and I was going to tell you, but you left without even looking back."
You roll your eyes with amusement.
"Are you really waiting for someone to invite you?" Wanda asks next, and you look at her, feeling your heart miss a beat. What the hell is going on with you lately?
"I... well, I don't know." You answer clumsily. "I haven't really thought about it.”
"But you want to be asked?" Wanda inquires and you swallow dryly. 
"I don't know, maybe."
"But if someone were to invite you now, would you like it?"
"I..."
"God, just ask her at once!" Gamora interrupts impatiently, causing you and Wanda to look at her wide-eyed. Nebula lets out a chuckle, without looking away from the book on your desk. Gamora gestures in Wanda's direction. "Sorry, girls, I just got a little carried away. Please, Wanda, continue with your embarrassing attempt to ask the dumbest person in this school to the dance."
You mumble clumsily, feeling your cheeks warm. Wanda giggles.
The brunette next to you pokes you lightly in the ribs, and waits for you to look at her again before speaking.
"Gamora's right, actually." She says shyly, and you feel your heart speed up. "All champions need to dance at the ball, and well, the first person I thought of asking was you." She confesses quickly. "But it's okay if you don't want to go..."
"No!" you interrupt quickly, feeling your face hot. You smile next. "I'd love to go to the dance with you, Wands."
Wanda looks at you for a few seconds, and you look back. Your stomach flipping with nervousness.
"I'm getting diabetes." Nebula comments next, breaking the moment. Gamora laughs, pushing her shoulder lightly against her sister as you and Wanda look forward uncomfortably.
"Stop it, they're adorable." Gamora hits back with a smile, you clear your throat, feeling embarrassed as you pretend to pay attention to the daily prophet lying on the table and not the presence of the brunette next to you or the comments of your friends.
//-//
Things go well between you and Wanda after that. The discussion you two had is long forgotten. You imagine that Gamora and Tony think that as you begin to help Wanda try to decipher the egg, that you have mentioned to her the connection you have been feeling, but you have not yet found the moment to speak up.
You told her about the other things, though. About the sky mark on the Quidditch canopy, and Tony's investigation of your father and the followers of Mephisto. Wanda was also surprised to learn that Howard and Erik had been friends in school days, but she knew as little as you did about all the issues. You felt bad for having accused her of hiding things from you, and bought Honeydukes candy to apologize.
And so time passed, and the day of the winter ball finally arrived.
To say that you were looking forward to it was an understatement. And you weren't the only one, as during the whole day, the vast majority of the students talked only about this.
Your prom outfits arrived the same day during breakfast. You had written to Jarvis to buy Gamora's and Nebula's costumes as well, and they were very happy to receive the dresses. Tony had a piece of toast in his mouth when you left his suit that arrived in the same package as yours on the table, before you turned to check your own outfit.
"It's very nice, isn't it?" You commented to Gamora as soon as you held out the material aloft. The girl let out a sigh of excitement.
"My god, you're going to look beautiful!" She exclaims, and then gives you an insinuating look. "In fact, you're already a cutie." She teases with a wink, making you laugh. 
"Good morning." Wanda said as she joined you, she widened her eyes slightly when she realized that you were looking at the ball costumes. 
"Great, you're here!" Gamora speaks to the brunette excitedly. "I want to see your dress!".
Wanda smiled awkwardly.
"It's in my room." She informs you as she sits down next to Gamora. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but when you notice, she deflects. "You can see it when we go to get ready."
The conversation eventually went in the direction of comparing outfits and forming combinations, and then you thought it best to put your clothes away before they got dirty with some of the delicious food from the breakfast.
//-//
You were a little surprised to hear that the girls were going to start getting ready for the ball as early as the afternoon, but you didn't object to joining them in the Slytherin communal hall, taking your costume package with you.
"Are you going to wear any makeup?" Gamora asked you as you all stood in the Slytherin dormitory bathroom, which had several girls in it. Fortunately the communal hall was the most luxurious in the entire school and had enough space for everyone. You were sitting on one of the sink benches, after showering and putting on your prom costume, waiting for the girls to finish.
"I don't know how to wear makeup, Gamora." You respond by looking at her. She smiles, looking away from the mirror to look at you. 
"If you want, I can help you." She says and seeing your hesitation, she smiles. "Only if you want me to, honey."
"I don't know." You say. "Maybe just lipstick."
Gamora laughs lightly, nodding in agreement. Nebula starts complaining loudly next, not being able to button the zippers of her dress properly, and Gamora gives a giggle, stepping aside to help her sister. 
"Stop moving." Gamora warns Nebula, and you chuckle at the scene. Wanda is coming out of the cabin she had come in from to put on her dress, and you feel your breath hitch when you see her. She is adjusting the straps and smiles shyly at the look you cast at her, and you do your best to cover it up.
"You look pretty." She comments as she approaches, looking at you for a moment before looking away to the mirror.
"You look beautiful, Wanda." You retort the next moment, half out of breath. Wanda smiles, her cheeks reddening as she keeps her gaze on her own reflection, fixing her hair.
"Wanda, help Y/N with her makeup, I think Nebula messed up her zipper." Gamora asks the next moment, pulling out her wand to concertize her sister's clothes, who fusses impatiently. You and Wanda share a giggle at the scene, but your giggle dies as Wanda approaches you, a lipstick in her hands. 
"I think this color suits your costume." She comments with a smile, opening the lipstick and lifting it to your face height. You feel your breath hitch, watching with slightly wide eyes as Wanda stands between your legs and touches your face with her other hand to hold you in place. "Stand still so it doesn't smudge."
You want to tell her you're not going anywhere, but she's putting the makeup on you in the next second. You keep your mouth ajar, trying to ignore the tingling sensation you feel on your skin where Wanda's fingers are touching, or the way your heart is racing. Wanda is concentrating on her task, and bites her lower lip as she puts on your make-up. 
"There you go." She whispers as she pushes the lipstick away from your lips, her gaze lingering on your mouth however. The dark glow in her irises makes your stomach do a flip-flop. You think Wanda is going to kiss you, because she is so close and her fingers are still on your chin, and you wish she would.
But Gamora lets out an exclamation of satisfaction as she manages to tidy up her sister's dress, and Wanda frowns, shaking her head slightly as she steps back.
"You look gorgeous, Y/N!" Gamora says as soon as she glances at you, making you smile awkwardly. You're feeling a little out of breath from all the interaction with Wanda, so you just keep your gaze on your own lap, waiting for the girls to finish the finishing touches. Nebula remarks something about a funny story in the Daily Prophet next and you get distracted.
//-//
You are a nervous wreck when you all reach the main hall. 
Gamora nods to Quill, standing in the doorway in his dark brown suit, looking very handsome with the tie that matches his eyes. He flashes her a contented smile as they greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. You see Pietro and Monica have entered the room as well, their arms intertwined. Darcy is right behind, accompanied by a girl you don't know.
You clear your throat, turning to Wanda as you stop at the entrance, but Professor Okoye catches up with you before you can ask if Wanda wants to come in yet.
"Maximoff, dear, there you are." Okoye announces sounding rushed. "The dance of champions is about to begin, I imagine you'll be the partner, right miss Stark?"
"R-right, professor." You reply and the woman nods in agreement, grabbing yours and Wanda's arm to drag you to a corner, where the other champions were already waiting. She hurried out the next moment, signaling to the students outside to come in that she needed to announce the start of the dance.
"Are you ready?" you ask Wanda ignoring the nervous feeling in your stomach. The brunette smiles, her hand slipping into yours and making your heart soar.
"I hope I don't stumble." She retorts with a shy smile, you think she looks absolutely stunning.
"Don't worry." You say looking forward, the other champions straightening up to get in line. "I won't let you fall."
//-//
You twist Wanda in your arms to the rhythm of the music, a laugh escaping your lips. This is already the fourth song in a row that you have danced to together, and the feeling is so incredible that you think you will dance all night.
Two more songs later, you feel thirsty and approach Wanda to tell her you'll get a drink for you two, completely oblivious to the way the girl's cheeks flush when you whisper in her ear.
At the drinks table, Gamora approaches you, her cheeks rosy.
"I just kissed Peter!" She announces and you almost knock over the punch.
"What?" you ask in surprise and your sister laughs, maybe from nervousness or excitement, you can't tell. "Did you like it?
"Sure." She assures you with a smile, looking pleased. You make a mental note to tease her about her blushing cheeks another time. "It was weird the first time, but the sensation is really good when you get the rhythm right."
You nod in understanding, not knowing exactly what you can add in this matter.
"And what are you doing here with me? Go kiss your boyfriend!" You tease next, smiling encouragingly and making Gamora laugh. She turns to leave, but then decides to tell you something.
"Don't forget to tell me how it was with Wanda. I think kissing a girl must feel different."
She then leaves, laughing lightly at your shocked expression. Your heart is racing because the only thing you can think about right now is the possibility of kissing Wanda.
Your gaze returns to the dance floor, and you feel your nervousness increase. Wanda dances timidly to the rhythm of the music, her hips swaying and her eyes closed. She looks beautiful. She is beautiful. Out of your reach.
You shake your head to push these thoughts away, and you take a deep breath before walking over to her again with the drinks in your hand.
//-//
After drinking and dancing to three more songs, the band finally changes to a softer melody, and you smile shyly at Wanda as you hold out your hand to her.
With your hands together, you hold Wanda around the waist, and she rests her free hand on your shoulder. She is blushing at the closeness of your faces, so she gives you a shy smile before resting her chin on the hand on your shoulder. You enjoy the proximity as you move slowly to the rhythm of the music.
You close your eyes, feeling quite good this way. In her arms. Peaceful.
When the music ends, it takes a moment for you to move away, your hands remaining together. 
Wanda looks at you for a moment, and then nods her head to the side to signal you two to leave. You bite your lips as she takes you by the hand to escort you out of the room.
You are too busy thinking about the feeling of your hands intertwined to worry about the path, and are slightly surprised when you end up in an empty room.
Wanda lets go of your hand as you enter. And you close the door as she walks inside. She stops walking when she reaches the teacher's desk, and turns around, leaning against the wood. You watch her twist the rings on her fingers nervously as you walk toward her. 
You stop at the desk in front of her, mimicking her motion of leaning against the wood as you risk a glance at her.
"What are we doing here, Wands?" You ask ignoring your heartbeat quickened by the tension in the air.
Wanda looks at you, pressing her lips together for a moment. 
"What do you think?" She retorts with slight defiance, and you bite back a smile, feeling your cheeks heat up.
"You... you know we don't have to do anything just because everyone else is doing it, right?" You say, and Wanda lets out a short laugh, looking at you slightly impressed. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just that's such a Gryffindor thing to say. Very chivalrous." She teases and you chuckle awkwardly, shrugging your shoulders.
"Well, I am a hatstall after all." You mutter and Wanda frowns in confusion. You shake your head, briefly mentioning what the sorting hat told you in first year and drawing an impressed exclamation from Wanda.
"That's pretty awesome, you know, right?" she adds with a smile.
"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome indeed." You joke making Wanda laugh.
"Oh, there's the Slytherin part I see." She teases. "But I haven't found your Ravenclaw trait yet, are you sure you inherited the intelligence?"
You pretend to be offended for a moment with a grimace, and Wanda laughs, unconsciously or consciously stepping forward.
"Excuse me, but I am a very competent sorceress."  You argue smiling, ignoring the nervousness that grows as the proximity between you two increases. "Best charm student in the whole school."
"Oh, really?" Wanda retorts. "Last time I checked I had that position."
"It's okay, we can share first place." You assure almost in a whisper, Wanda is too close for you to think of adding anything else right now.
"There's the Hufflepuff." She says with a shy smile, approaching you one last time. You can feel her breath against your cheek, the emerald eyes fixed on yours. You swallow dryly, risking a look at the lips so inviting. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"
"Not if I kiss you first." You breathlessly challenge, and Wanda smiles before moving forward, both of you closing your eyes at the same time as you meet her halfway.
Her lips were soft, just as you imagined they would be. You swallow hard, feeling your whole body heat up. You stood with your mouths together for a moment, before Wanda pulled away, her breathing uncompensated as much as yours, as your lips tingle. 
"Kiss me again." She asks hoarsely, and you move forward. This time it's even better, because Wanda's hands go to your neck and yours to her waist. And when she sighs, you ask for passage with your tongue, following your instincts completely.
The sensation is intoxicating, and sends a shiver through your whole body. Wanda tastes like cherry punch, and you gasp at the sensation of your tongues together, squeezing her waist lightly.
You parted for breath, keeping your foreheads together and your eyes closed.
"Wow." You exclaimed softly breathlessly.
"Yeah, I know." She agrees in the same tone, her hands coming down from your neck to squeeze your shoulders lightly. Wanda kisses you again, her tongue moving against yours slowly, exploring your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation and Wanda pulls away breathlessly, blushing due the sound she has managed to wring out.
"S-sorry." You gasp quickly, feeling your cheeks as hot as the rest of your body.
"Don't be." She says. "That was hot."
You let out a clumsy laugh, and Wanda copies, and the moment dissipates from palpable tension to humorous lightness. You kiss briefly before Wanda circles her arms around your shoulders in a hug that you reciprocate equally.
"Do you want to go back to the party?" You ask when she breaks the embrace, but her hands remain intertwined behind your neck. 
"Not really." She replies with a smile, biting her lips as she looks at you. " I just came to be with you."
"Oh, yeah?" You ask with slight teasing, and Wanda lowers her gaze to your lips.
"Hu-huh. And now that I have you, I don't want to let you go."
You smile, lifting your hands to her neck, caressing her nape lightly as you kiss her again, not as intensely as before, and with a smile on your lips.
When you pull away, Wanda is smiling too.
"Don't worry, Wands. I'm not going anywhere."
//-//
After the ball, there is a new tension in your relationship with Wanda that makes you lose focus on anything other than her. 
Gamora missed no opportunity to tease you about this. And every time she caught you casting passionate glances at Wanda, or the other way around, you got a wry comment to get a room. It was harmless, but it made you and Wanda both blush like tomatoes.
The best change was the kisses. 
They could happen suddenly, or be almost planned. Wanda liked to take you by surprise, you could tell. Stealing firm kisses between corridors that made you blush and clumsy, or kisses when you spent time together with your friends, and her hand slipped into yours. 
You loved all the kisses she wanted to give you. But you had your favorites. The ones that happened when you were alone, and all you could think about was Wanda. They were usually planned, because to have free time, without friends, you need a little organization. So they usually happened when you went to Hogsmeade together, or when you helped her study for the tournament. It was amazing to finish a study session with Wanda's mouth on yours.
But you knew you still needed to talk to her. You were afraid you would lose the kisses if you did.
As the date for the second assignment approached, Wanda began to get anxious, because you all still hadn't deciphered the golden egg clue.
At that moment you were in the Slytherin communal room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with many books around you. Wanda was lying on the couch, a book enchanted to be at her eye level. Gamora and Nebula in the armchairs, also reading. You are trying to find some clue to decipher the egg.
"We've tried the basic open and close spells, right?" Gamora asks without taking her eyes off the book, probably reading about what she mention. 
"Of course." Wanda replies. She sighs in frustration the next moment, taking the enchanted book off her face, and closing it in her lap. You move your hand to hers, trying to reassure her. "I need to figure this out soon, because the task is in a few weeks."
"We will." You tell her with a smile.
"Just out of curiosity, what happens if you don't break out the clue?" Nebula asks and Wanda sighs.
"I won't have any idea what the second task is about and I won't know how to prepare."  She replies. "And then I'll lose and be humiliated in front of the whole school. Feel free to drown me in the great lake if that happens."
Wanda's dramatization makes you all laugh, but then you get an idea and your expression fades. Wanda, who was watching you, looks at you curiously, but you are already getting up, hurrying to get the golden egg that was on the couch.
"What are you going to do?" Gamora asked, as curious as the other girls. You walked over to one of the aquariums and held the egg up high.
"Sorry, folks." You said to the fish, and then opened the clasp. The shrill noise filled the room, but before the girls could complain, you dipped the egg into the water and the sound stopped.
You leaned forward and could hear the low melody.
"I can' believe it." You grumbled contentedly, and then dipped your head into the water. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes.
"Has she finally lost her mind?" Nebula sneered at the other two.
When you surfaced again, you had a smile on your face.
"Girls, it's the merpeople!" You counted excitedly. "That's the clue. I can't believe we stared at the great lake all this time and didn't come up with this idea."
Natasha entered the communal hall next, and when she saw your wet torso, she frowned.
" Should I ask...?" She began with mild irony, watching you take the egg from the aquarium and return to the couches, the water dripping all over the hall.
"She just deciphered the egg!" Wanda warned contentedly, and when you approached, she ran her hands down your neck and gave you a lingering kiss, and you almost dropped the egg on the floor.
"For merlin, get a room." Nat teased before Gamora could do it, and you and Wanda parted with giggles.
You used the wand to dry your body and the floor, returning the egg to Wanda. Nat sat down in one of the free armchairs.
After you finished cleaning up, you repeated the lyrics of the song to them. 
"Does that mean you're going to be underwater for an hour?" Nebula questioned in surprise to Wanda, and the girl sighed.
"I guess so." She replied thoughtfully. "And now I'm going to need to figure out a way to do that."
"If you were an animagus, you could turn into a fish." Nat mocked making the group smile. 
"I thought you'd have a better resistance to holding your breath, Wands. Since you're kissing all the time." Nebula added and Gamora and Nat laughed, while you rolled your eyes awkwardly, and Wanda raised her middle finger at the girl, her cheeks flushed.
"Let's focus, please." Asked the sorceress in front of you, embarrassed by the teasing.
"Yes, yes." Gamora agreed, gesturing. She settled herself in the armchair before speaking again. "I think you could use some plants. I'm sure Mantis must know some herb that will make you breathe underwater."
"Speaking of Mantis, where is she?" Nat asked and you turned your head in her direction.
"She has private lessons with Professor Heimdall, Tasha." You explained. "Of divination. She's pretty good, I think."
Nat murmurs in understanding, and Wanda says she will talk to Mantis about it when she is free. You gather up the books, and decide to spend some time playing chess and drinking tea now that you no longer have to worry about unraveling the egg.
//-//
You miss many opportunities to tell Wanda about your connection with her. That's because you have too many moments alone, between conversations and make-out sessions, and you just don't tell. And the feeling of keeping something from her corrupts you inside, but you bear it.
And then the date for the second task comes, and you're a nervous wreck, and Wanda doesn't understand why you're especially affectionate this morning, but she's not complaining.
Mantis got some kind of plant for her, which would give Wanda enough time to stay submerged as long as necessary.
You and the girls had also practiced swimming in the great lake with Wanda many times since the day you discovered the clue. And the vision of Wanda in her swimsuit was still preserved somewhere in your mind.
"Have you seen Pietro anywhere?" Wanda asked annoyed, looking around as you all had breakfast. The vast majority of the school was already on their feet as well, excited for the start of the task.
"I last saw him last night, after we went to Quidditch practice." Quill counters distractedly, passing jam on one of the toasts. 
"You two had worked things out, right?" You ask as you are sitting next to Wanda, she nods and then sighs.
"I think so." She mumbles. "I wanted to see him before the task."
You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing how to help her. It was already time to leave, and you hoped that Pietro wouldn't be so stubborn to stay away from his sister on this day. You kept your hand intertwined in Wanda's all the way, trying to assure her, and she was very grateful.
The clue was right after all. The whole school was carried to the middle of the lake through the boats, up to huge iron bleachers that were conjured up during the night. 
"You look so cute in that uniform." You comment in Wanda's ear before bidding her farewell to go up to the bleachers, talking about the Slytherin competition uniform, and smiling at the way her cheeks redden. "Be careful, Wands."
"I will." She assures before kissing you. She joins the champions and you look at her one last time before going upstairs to join the rest of the students.
When Principal Harkness announces the start of the task, after explaining that an important treasure had been taken from the champions and they would need to find it in the lake, you stand with your body tense with nervousness, clenching your hands on the railing as you look down.  The whistle sounds and you hold your breath as you watch Wanda dive in. 
"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Gamora asks next to you, placing her hand on top of yours on the metal. You swallow dryly, looking away from the lake to her.
"I will." You say trying to force a smile. "As long as she does."
Gamora looks at you a moment, assessing your face.
"I'm sure Wanda will be fine." She says. 
You nod, looking down again. Now all that was left to do was wait.
//-//
"Did you hear what Tony just said?" 
You blinked a few times. You were in the circle with your friends in the bleachers, and you got distracted again by looking at the lake. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the return of the champions to the surface, talking among themselves and placing bets on the winners. Tony's friends joined in as soon as the task began.
"Sorry, Gamora." You say. "What?"
"Natasha is missing too." She says and you frown in confusion looking at the rest of the group. 
"What?"
"Pietro and Tasha, Y/N." Gamora says. "Tony just said they were supposed to meet last night, but she didn't show up. And no one saw her, just like Pietro."
You didn't know exactly what to make of that, but when you looked at the lake, you frowned.
"Gamora, you don't think that..."
"That's exactly what we're thinking." It is Tony who speaks now, looking at your expression and deciphering the idea that has gone through your head. "I just talked to the Durmstrang guys. One of their boys vanishes at night too, I think he's Grey's best friend."
You widened your eyes, and then leaned on the railing, looking down. Tony and Gamora mimicked your position.
"That's insane." Gamora commented, and you nodded in agreement.
"What happens if the champions lose the task?" Tony asked and you shook your head, not liking the possibility.
"I'm sure Professor Harkness wouldn't let anything bad happen." You say. "Right?"
Gamora and Tony murmur in agreement, and you find that your words were more to reassure you than to reassure them.
//-//
With thirty-eight minutes on the clock, Jean Grey emerged from the lake. And she was not alone.
The crowd started cheering as she and Scott Lang, as Harkness announced, swam out of the lake. Reporters from the Daily Prophet were also taking several pictures, and you noticed the Durmstrang flags in the hands of some students.
Your friends seemed reassured to see Scott's condition, deducing that Pietro and Natasha would also be fine. You only felt more nervous because Wanda was still at the lake.
Twelve minutes after Jean, it was Maria Hill's turn to step up. The crowd celebrated as they watched the remainder of her transfiguration into a shark before she returned to human form, bringing Nat with her. You and your friends rushed downstairs to Tasha, but you barely caught Gamora's teasing about the redhead being the treasure of the foreign student, as your gaze was on the lake while you were on the edge.
"Ten minutes to the end of the second task!" Announced one of the judges loudly, causing the crowd to cheer. You felt your stomach drop. Where was Wanda? 
And then you saw her. But only inside your head. 
It was another vision, and you felt your body go cold as if you were in the lake. It was dark and blue, and you couldn't breathe properly.
Then you blinked and were back in the stands.
With a sob, you jumped into the lake.
Immediately, as soon as you did, the crowd and the teachers looked at you with shock, but you dove in the next.
It was very cold.
The lake was as dark underneath as you thought it would be. And you were gradually running out of air as you sank, but you didn't care. You needed to find Wanda.
When you began to lose consciousness, you thought you saw a light, and struggled to swim a little further. But then your air ran out completely, and you passed out.
//-//
You woke up in a jolt, feeling like you were drowning. 
But you were warm, and lying on a soft surface. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was the bed in the infirmary.
The warmth came from the comforter at the level of your neck, clearly bewitching judging by the way it shimmered softly.
"Hey." It was Wanda. At your side. Safe. 
You moved out of the covers quickly, your hand reaching for hers on the bed.
"Hey, how are you feeling? You didn't get hurt did you?" The questions escaped your mouth faster than you even thought about them. Wanda had a frown on her face, but she squeezed your hand back and with the other she touched your face, and you leaned into the touch, feeling your body relax.
"I'm fine, I promise." She assures. "I just don't understand why you did that."
"Did what exactly?" You ask confused, trying to remember how you ended up in the infirmary. Had you hit your head somewhere?
Wanda looks at you with confusion.
"Jump in the lake." She clarified. "Why did you jump in the lake after me?"
You blinked in surprise, giving a short laugh.
"What are you talking about, Wands?" you asked. "I was watching you. Are you sure I didn't fall? Maybe I hit my head and..."
"You don't remember?" She interrupts in shock, and then lets out an incredulous sigh. "Okay, now I'm even more worried."
You were feeling your head aching, and you rubbed your fingers over the tip of your forehead a moment, before sighing.
"What happened to you in the task, anyway? You were gone long." 
Wanda looked away from yours, biting her lip.
"It was nothing." She grumbled and you frowned.
"Wanda..." You started. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying." She retorted snidely. But when she looked at you, she didn't keep her gaze and you sighed, letting go of her hand and throwing yourself back on the bed, feeling frustrated. "I just don't want you to think I'm weird."
You frown at the statement, turning your head to look at her again. Wanda takes a deep breath before confessing.
"I've been having visions in my head." 
You think you can laugh at the irony of the facts. Wanda takes advantage of your lack of reaction to continue explaining.
"S-started last year. I... I don't know what they mean, but sometimes they make me too distracted. And well, I had one during the task, and I got lost. So it took me a while to find Pietro, but I was fine." She recounts. "You didn't have to jump in the lake and..."
"I saw you." You interrupt half breathlessly. "In my head. I... I thought you were drowning." You recount recalling, feeling a slight pain deep in your eyes. "It was dark and I felt like I was being pulled under."
Wanda's eyes widen.
"I fought with Grindylows down there for a moment." She says. "They tried to pull me to the bottom, and well, it was quite despairing, but I managed to take them on. It was right after I got lost."
"R-right."
Both of you are silent for a moment, your breaths slightly uncompensated as you try to understand exactly what it all means. You clear your throat deciding to break the silence.
"Wanda, what happened to me?" 
"You almost drowned." She says lowering her gaze to the bed. "I found you on the way back. Unconscious." Wanda counters with watery eyes. "For a moment I thought..."
She sighs softly, controlling the urge to cry by shaking her head slightly and forcing a smile. You feel horrible for worrying her like that.
"Heimtall and Strange jumped into the lake a little later behind you. I guess everyone thought you were playing tricks, but when you didn't climb back up they realized something was wrong. I was trying to carry you along with Pietro when they caught up with us."
"Come here." You ask opening your arms and Wanda climbs on the bed, sinking against you. You both immediately relax from the embrace, and you close your eyes as Wanda buries her face in your neck, running her hands behind your back.
"Please don't ever do anything like that again." She whispers against your skin, and you swallow dryly. Judging from the facts, you can't promise her that.
//-//
Your friends came to visit you in the infirmary too. You had a short episode of hypothermia, so Nurse Cho wanted you to rest and had let only Wanda stay to see you. Everyone had agreed that you would like to see her first. 
Tony told the teachers and judges that he had dared you to jump in the lake, and even though your friends didn't understand why Tony didn't want the adults to know what was going on with you lately, they all backed up the story.
You and Tony ended up with a month's detention for this.
The only relatively good thing about this whole story was that you and Wanda shared the same experiences. You told her about your visions and nightmares, and she told you about hers. Visions of red lights as her powers, and masked witches. 
You talked to Wanda about your connection on a rainy Thursday in May. You both were on your bed in the dormitory, a few spell books between you to finish the lesson Professor Stephen had passed on, and Wanda was concentrating, the strands of brown hair falling down her face as she bit the end of her pencil and read the words in front of you. She was beautiful, and you were in love. And you could no longer hide it.
"I need to tell you something." 
Wanda looked at you with a mildly surprised expression, but smiled, shifting on the bed to look at you.
You watched her expression go from confused, to embarrassed, and then to worried in a few seconds after the words "There's something weird going on with me. I think I'm magically connected to you, and I'm not just talking about liking you" came out of your mouth. And then you told about the way you felt every time you thought of her in danger, and Wanda swallowed dryly, looking away.
"I don't know what to say." She confessed clumsily, and then clasped her hands to her face for a moment in frustration. "Shit, I have no idea what that means."
You sighed, reaching out to reach for her hand on the bed. Wanda watched your fingers together, and you frowned as her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm putting you in danger, aren't I?" She asked in a whisper, and you looked at her with confusion, but she didn't wait for you to speak. "I'm talking about the lake. You almost drowned to follow me. What happens if I get hurt?"
"Wanda..."
"No." She interrupts forcing a smile, and releasing his hand. "Do you realize how dangerous magical connections can be? What happens if, I don't know, the third task is even more dangerous? Will you throw yourself in front of some other monster? How far does it go? I don't want your life to depend on mine!"
Wanda stands up, babbling nervously about things that might happen, and you look at her in surprise, standing up as well. You try to touch her shoulder, but she pushes your hand away.
"Do you even know if you really like me? If it isn't just because of the magic?" She accuses and you take a step back.
"Don't say that." You retort starting to feel irritated and hurt.
"No, I mean it." She repeats in a whiny voice. "How can you be sure your feelings are real? It could just be the magic and.... "
"I am in love with you." You interrupt, but Wanda just shakes her head in disbelief, letting the tears flow. When you try to touch her again, she sobs and pulls away. "Wanda, I really am. Please..."
"Stop." She gasps as she pulls further away. "Just stop." She asks and you hold yourself in place, feeling your face wet. Wanda takes a deep breath, wiping away her tears. "I need time. I don't...I don't know what to make of this right now."
You swallow dryly, looking at her in shock.
"I don't want us to end." You say and Wanda just sobs softly, shaking her head.
"I can't stay with you without knowing if what you feel for me is real." She retorts in a voice hoarse from crying, but her gaze doesn't flinch. Your stomach turns the wrong way, because you feel terrible. "I need time to think. And I can't think with you by my side."
"Wanda..."
"I'm sorry." 
Then she left. And you let the tears flow freely. 
//-//
Tag list> // @sxfwap​ // @table57​ ||@imapotatao​ / @aimezvousbrahms​/ @ensorcellme​/ @helloalycia​@mionemymind / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​ / @idek-5​ // @myperfectlovepoem​ // @helloalycia​ // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam​ // @olsensnpm​
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loveofafangirl · 3 years
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The Right Thing
[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist] 
Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader (no gender, race, body type given)
Synopsis: As Zemo is sneaking away from his abode in Latvia in search of freedom, he is pulled back when he notices the fight in his home above has become dangerous for those in the streets. *Fluff:Comfort/Care*
Word Count: <1,500
Author’s Note: This is my first time writing Zemo. I don’t know what happened but he is living (and dancing) in my head rent-free so I hope you enjoy this little fic. I typically write third person; second person/reader is not really my area of comfort, so please excuse any mistakes. Not betad. A/N2: This reader becomes “Reader A” on my masterlist. Most fics can be read as this reader with their relationship with Zemo developing (even though they are all mostly one shots)
TW: non-graphic mentions of blood and injuries
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He averted his gaze, pulling the collar of his coat up, attempting to blend in with the crowd forming in the street as he slipped out of his Latvian home. He could hear the clash of Vibranium echoing on the floor above. Children gathered in the street below, looking up curiously at the unusual sounds. He wanted to warn them. He knew the threats of fallout that followed from being too near those so-called heroes better than anyone. However, he feared the delay would cost him his freedom and what he must do. He quickened his pace away from them.
The shattering of a large window sounded behind him as the building took a beating from those fighting. He turned at the noise, too late to do anything more than observe the shards of colorful glass rain down on those below. 
He watched in horror as the debris struck a few people. You caught his attention when you protected a young boy, which caused you to suffer the most. He admired your resolve. You did what he wasn’t strong enough to do. He turned back the way he was heading, trying to forget the damage he saw.
You were curious about the cacophony of sounds coming from the building. You had heard that some of the Avengers were in town. You had secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of them. Not because you were a fan, more because you wanted to see them—to size them up. You had always been a good judge of character, and you wanted to determine for yourself whether they were essentially good or not; although, you already knew the world was far grayer than most people gave it credit. 
The noise above grew louder, and you could tell a battle was ensuing. You watched the number of people growing beside you, more specifically, the number of children enchanted by the unusual sounds. For a moment, fear flashes on your face, remembering Sokovia and the damage left in the wake of the last Avengers fight in the area. 
Before you have time to warn them, screams fill the air as glass and bricks begin to fall. You turn quickly, covering a small boy standing beside you, shielding him from the brunt of the crumbling debris. You cry as the glass pierces your skin; you feel blood begin to drip from some of the larger wounds. 
“Are you okay?” You ask the boy whose body trembles in your arms.
He nods, his lips quivering. He runs off down the street, following the crowd away from the scene without a word to you. 
You drag yourself away, too, hoping to find a quiet spot to nurse your injuries. You’re grateful they’re not worse since you can’t afford to go to the doctor. You turn a corner and sit on an old crate in the quiet alleyway. 
You peel off your shirt and turn to pull the first piece of glass from your back. You cry at the pain but continue on, gritting your teeth.
“Let me?” His voice was soft as he held his hands out in front of him, gesturing toward your wounds. 
Weary of the new stranger, you pull back defensively.
“Please.” He remained where he stood, not moving on you, giving you space. “I can help. You saved that child. Let me help you now. You won’t be able to reach them all on your own.”
Reluctantly, you nod, allowing him closer.
He slowly moves beside you, keeping his hands up, showing you he meant you no harm. 
His touch is softer than you imagined. You don’t even feel his careful fingers removing the glass. Eventually, you work up the nerve to ask, “Are you a doctor?”
“No,” he replies simply and continues his work. “Unfortunately, I have seen more destruction and loss than I would like.”
You sit in silence until he is done. He takes a minute to carefully inspect you, making sure to have removed all of the pieces to prevent infection. 
He wipes the soft fabric of his trench coat over your skin, collecting the blood that had spilled. 
His movements were so tender and warm that you can’t help but relax at his touch. The pain in your back seems to disappear under his care.
“There. All better.”
“Thank you, truly.”
His lip curls up in the corner. “You were a hero today. Many only delude themselves to be that. Few actually prove themselves to be so on occasion.”
You search his face for more. There is pain there that cut deeper than any shard of glass could. The two of you shift closer. There’s something in his eyes that lets you know his thoughts had drifted away from you. You know that look‚ the look of loss—of longing. It was all too common in the recent months and years. 
Before you can step back and thank him once more, his lips brush over yours, slowly. It feels like a dream, and for a moment, you’re afraid to breathe, as it feels like the wind whispering quietly on your lips. His eyes seem brighter at that moment like something had changed. As you decide to give yourself over to it, he pulls away, startled.
“My apologies.” His tone is honest as he steps back. He almost sounds surprised that it had happened.
“It’s okay.” You aren’t in the habit of letting random men kiss you and get away with it, but there was something genuine about him. Your eyes widen, truly focusing on the man in front of you for the first time. His brown eyes are warm and kind. You could tell he had been through a lot, but he had still taken the time to assist you. “It wasn’t you. Well, at least not completely you. It’s been a long time since someone was that…tender to me.” You swallow hard at your confession, unsure of why you had told this stranger that. “Most men want more. Demand it when it is refused.”
His eyes fill with what you think is concern, but he’s hard to read. You wonder if you’re fooling yourself, and it’s a look of pity that you’re trying to rewrite. 
He looks around nervously as people rush past the entrance of the alleyway. “I should be going.”
Filled with courage you didn’t know you had, you take a step forward and brush a kiss on his cheek. Your fingers linger on him. “Thank you again.” 
“My pleasure.” 
His smile, as he begins to move away, left you wanting more—needing to better understand him. You watch him walk toward the busy street. “Wait.”
He turns toward you, his head tilted to the side, waiting for you to continue.
“Why did you help me?” 
“It was the right thing to do.” He stated plainly. 
You nod thoughtfully. Not many people would have helped you like that without wanting more. Not many people know what the right thing is anymore. You’re not even sure you know all the time. “Can I ask you something else?”
He looks around again as if waiting for someone to find him. He offers a curt nod. 
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you need a place to lay low for a day?”
His head tilts further to the side, “why would you ask that?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess, you just look like a man who’s running.”
“How very astute of you.” He marches closer again, studying your face more carefully now. 
“You can stay with me...just for the night,” you clarify quickly.
“You don’t know me. Why would you make such an offer?”
“It’s the right thing to do." You look down, bashful for a moment, before continuing. "Plus, you helped me; I owe you a debt.” Both were partly the truth, but the third reason you couldn’t bring yourself to admit to him was that you weren’t ready to let him go. 
He considers your offer, as he proceeds to attempt to understand you. "One night." 
"One night," you agree. You reach for your shirt, attempting to shake out the remaining bits of glass and put it back over you. 
"Here." He stops you, pulling his lavish coat off his shoulders, and wraps it around you in one fluid motion. 
The gesture catches you off guard, and you let a little noise of surprise slip from your lips. 
He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he isn’t smug about it. He buttons the coat closed, shielding your body from the outside world. Stepping to the side, he extends his arm, a gentle smile on his lips. "After you."
You're not really sure what you're doing or why you made the offer you did, but you do know that for the first time in a long time, there's a smile on your face that you can't seem to wipe away. You touch your fingers to your lips, still mesmerized by the delicate kiss. You step forward, ready for whatever the future has for you. "Follow me." 
[Next Part: A Promise]
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Permatags: @the-soot-sprite
Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​
Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list.
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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years
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Silver Chariot Agency: An Introduction
This is the first chapter/prologue to my jjba sugar daddy au.  To clarify, it’s modern day, with reader x various Jojo characters, all of which are of age, and “sugar daddies”.  I’m hoping to have several options/outcomes for various characters, kind of like a chose you own adventure story, or a dating visual novel.  As a note, this story may contain some dark themes and content, including drug use, yandere, sex scenes, and other things I haven’t currently planned out.
TLDR: this is the story about Y/N, who starts working at Polnareff’s sugar daddy agency and meets lots of hot jojo guys
ENJOY!!!
“Mr. Polnareff is ready to see you now!”  The cheerful secretary (Suzy, you think)  calls out, breaking you from your stupor and ushering you behind large, intimidating doors.   You grew up with dreams bigger than this, having a good career, doing something important with your life, but life had other plans.  You’ve been unemployed for nearly a year, and despite all the classes you’ve taken, interviews you’ve aced, and concessions to pay and pride just to be considered, you still had no job, and your unemployment had finally run out.  Long story short, you were desperate.  That’s when you first heard about the Agency.
You had noticed an email from the Silver Chariot Agency buried between job applications and rejection letters, and confusing it for a job offer, had opened it to read.  According to the email, you had been “scouted” as someone with the qualifications to apply for what appeared to be a Sugar Daddy, or Escort, service.    The email was polite, open and honest, but you couldn’t help but be a bit skeptical, if not mildly offended. There’s nothing wrong with sex work, mind you, but it wasn’t something you had any interest in if you could avoid it. You weren’t interested in selling yourself, and even if you weren’t wealthy, you weren’t ready to auction off your time to creepy old perverts just yet.  Not to mention, how safe were these agencies?  Still, the email had an open doors policy for any questions, as well as a phone number and email to direct all your questions.  You were going to delete the email, but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to.  You saved it in your folder, and forgot about it for a few months.
Cut to today:  you couldn’t cover your rent, your auto bill, and your credit cards were maxed out.  After sending an email, and talking on the phone to a cheerful woman, she convinced you to visit their offices and talk to their C.E.O,  who was visiting your nearest location on business.  Surprised by their openness, and relieved not to have a door slammed in your face for once, you made an appointment and were now following Suzy through an impressive office space.  Silver Chariot had its own expensive looking building, with high ceilings, metal tones and spotlessly clean wall to wall windows and mirrors.  The place reeked of elegance, intimidatingly so, and you regretted your outfit choice for this interview.  
Suzy finally escorted you into a conference room, with an expansive metal table and tufted leather chairs that probably cost more than your car.  Then, at the end of the conference table, you saw a silver haired gentleman, who Suzy introduced as, “Mr. Polnareff, this is y/n, call me if you need anything!”  and with that, she left and closed the door.  You noticed  Mr.Polnareff didn’t stand up to greet you and shake your hand-not out of rudeness, but because he was in a wheelchair.  On top of that, he had an unusual looking eye patch, and despite clearly being too young to be considered elderly, had prematurely grey hair slicked back in an unusual pompadour.
He shook your hand firmly, and smiled at you as he greeted you, “It’s so lovely to meet you, y/n, I've been looking forward to seeing you in person.  Tell me, what brings you here today?”  He asked, sitting forward and listening intently.  You fiddled with your hands, trying to politely, but vaguely, explain your situation, without sounding too much like a sob story.  Polnareff listened without interrupting, merely nodding, as you explained what you’ve been through.
  “That sounds like a difficult situation- it is difficult in this day and age for young people to support themselves, even more so when they have no one to help them when needed.  I, myself, had to support not only myself, but my younger sister, Cherie, when I was your age.  It was difficult, to say the least, and I didn’t always handle it gracefully to be honest with you.  When my sister saw how much we were struggling, she decided to try helping herself and me by turning to sex work.”
You were shocked by his openness, telling so much of his personal story to a total stranger interviewing at his agency.  He continued,
“Back in my day, the streets of France were not a safe place to sex workers, least of all vulnerable women unable to defend themselves.  It was one of those nights, while my sister was working, that she was tragically attacked and killed.  She had no way of protecting herself, as I wasn’t with her, and the police were just as dangerous.  She died alone because no one was willing to help save her, myself included.  He paused, rubbing his temples as he remembered.
You tried to stop him, “Um, you don’t have to-”  you began, but he held up a hand and assured you,
 “I am fine, it is a painful, but old wound, and important you hear.  It was the most devastating event of my life, but it shaped me into the man I am today.  You see, because of what happened to my sister, I was determined to provide a safe place to any and all women and sex workers, no questions asked, to protect them from things that could happen to them.  Sex work is not something to be criminalized or judged; it is the oldest profession and a valuable work. So, The Silver Chariot Agency provides a safe way to support those in the industry.  That being said, working as an escort, or as it's sometimes called, ‘sugar baby’-”
 he punctuates the term with bunny ear fingers, “-Can be dangerous work.  There is always a risk of assault, and rape, however hard we may try to combat it, but our agency has extremely strict policies and protection plans to protect our workers in either case. I promise , should you decide to work here, that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”  Polnareff grabs your hand, looking into your eyes, intensely.  
You know you’ve just met him, but you’re inclined to believe Polnareff.  He’s either an excellent liar, or simply cares deeply about his company and employees.  
“There are, of course, other things to consider before you decide to take this job.  It is  a job, and many of our clients aren’t looking for romance, but some are hoping to find love and a potential romantic partner via our agency.  Some are looking for purely sexual relationships, and some want nothing to do with sex.  Some of our clients are involved with...less than legal hobbies and activities, and we strongly caution you not to get involved, as our legal department and contracts can only protect you so far.  If you decide to engage, do so with caution. 
“ Lastly, you ultimately get to decide who you want to pick as your clients, so choose wisely.  I have Suzy-”  He gestures to the woman, presumably waiting down the hall to escort you when ready, “Write up summaries and information on every applicant who have expressed an interest in our agency.  Make sure to carefully review them, and choose the client you think will have the best relationship.”  He finishes, giving you a lot to think of.  He can see the gears turn in your mind, and gives you time.  “Please, don’t feel like you have to respond today. Or, if you try this out and don’t like it, you can leave the agency or specific clients, with no fear of repercussions.”  He Pulls away from the table, and turns towards the door, before pausing.
He seems to change his mind, shaking his head as Suzy gets the door for him.
“I look forward to seeing you again, regardless of your decision, mon amie.  I’ll let Suzy handle the rest for today, thank you.  If you decide to accept, just call Suzy and ask her to see some client applications to pick out who you’d like to work with. Au revoir.”  And with that, Mr. Polnareff disappears with surprising speed.  Any other questions and details are handled by Suzy, who cheerfully tells you about the position, average salaries, tax information, and your typical FAQ.  You listen mutely, occasionally nodding along,  but you’re still thinking about everything Polnareff told you.  You could not only support yourself with this  job, but make a killing, while still being safe and having a say in the relationships.  This could work. This could work…
Less than 24 hours later, Suzy gets another phone call at the office.  “Silver Chariot Agency, this is Suzy, how may I assist you today?”  She asks cheerily.  A familiar voice whispers on the other end, “Do you think I could see some of those client Applications, please?”
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Hi, first off I ship Zutara and I come in peace. I was pointed your way by a friend when I asked for people who ship kataang who are nevertheless willing to hear different views. I have lurked on blog a week and finally got up my nerve to ask how you or any other Kataang can deny that the last part of book 3 was completely Zutara but then stopped abruptly with no buildup? You can finesse tone on text so I'm not being sarcastic or bitchy, it is a serious question (1/5)
In The Southern Raiders, Katara realizes she has been wrong about Zuko. In Ember Island Players, she realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was, and in the finale, Katara does not care a whit that Aang is gone. I am serious and as someone who is no Aang stan but likes him, I’m actually annoyed by how little anyone cared about his disappearance. It went from “Aang’s gone!” to “Okay whatever, let’s find Iroh so he can kill Ozai.” (2/5)
Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic. I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed. (4/5)
And then literally at the end, Mai shows up after Zuko not talking about her at all for six episodes and declares herself Zuko’s girlfriend. And Katara kisses Aang after being annoyed with and by him arguably since The Southern Raiders. I get that Kataang “won” and I’ve made peace with that, but ... I can’t understand why Kataang shippers are okay with such a crap story. I swear on my gmom [sic] if they’d done this for [Zvtara], I’d be mad as hell. So I don’t understand, I really don’t. (5/5)
As always, I shall begin with a disclaimer: anon, you do not have to agree with this post. No one has to agree with this post, as it is strictly my own thoughts on the subject matter raised here! As per usual, I will not be putting this in the main tags - much less the Zvtara tag! - because I have basic fandom decency, lmao. If you (the general you, not anon specifically) do disagree with this post, that is totally fine, I simply ask that you are polite in expressing your disagreement (if you choose to do so at all! no one is expected to, lmao. i promise).
Alright. Formalities are out of the way!
I’ll admit I giggled a little bit when you say you lurked on my blog for a week, because I’ve actually talked about this subject numerous times in the past! I just found it funny you hadn’t stumbled across any posts about it yet, lol. So, as a heads up, know that I will be providing several links in this post since - again - this subject and related subjects have been analyzed a multitude of times before. I highly recommend reading them all! Mostly because I don’t intend to spend forever restating what’s been said over and over and over lmaooo. I will provide the resources, but it is up to each individual to take advantage of them.
To begin: your ask actually contains a few logical fallacies, anon! I do not mean this as shade or to belittle you - I fall victim to this issue all the time myself. Anyone who writes analyses or participates in debates does! Humans are imperfect and often like to cut corners to reach a conclusion. It is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about because - as the existence of your ask in inbox indicates - you are willing to learn more. So kudos to you, my friend!
Alright. So what logical fallacies am I talking about here? (For the record: specific definitions of logical fallacies were taken from here.)
1. Hasty Generalization.
“A hasty generalization is a general statement without sufficient evidence to support it.” Numerous claims are made in this ask that I have absolutely no doubt you believe to be true, anon, but there really isn’t any concrete evidence to support it! I will go into more detail later, of course, but let’s quickly look at one example:
“In Ember Island Players, [Katara] realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was…”
For the time being, I will ask but one question: from the show itself, not fanon, how do you know this?
2. Causal Fallacy
Ah, this guy. My own worst enemy, tbh! “A causal fallacy is any logical breakdown when identifying a cause,” of which there are several types. “One causal fallacy is the false cause or non causa pro causa (‘not the-cause for a cause’) fallacy, which is when you conclude about a cause without enough evidence to do so.” In your ask, you claim:
“I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed.”
Again, for the time being, I will ask only one question: from the show itself, not fanon, what led you to believe this statement?
“Another kind of causal fallacy is the correlational fallacy also known as cum hoc ergo propter hoc (Lat., ‘with this therefore because of this’). This fallacy happens when you mistakenly interpret two things found together as being causally related.” In your ask, you claim:
“Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”
I will ask one question: from the show itself, not fanon, why would you believe these are indicative of romance? (Consider the context the show is situated in, too - e.g. the war, Katara being Azula’s only available match in skill, etc.)
The reason I bring up the issue of logical fallacies is again not at all to make you feel bad, anon!! You were simply trying to express your point to me and I greatly appreciate you taking the time to do so. See, your ask actually presents a larger fandom trend:
Misconstruing fanon as canon.
What you have offered to me, anon, are fanon conclusions. To clarify: there is absolutely nothing wrong with fanon. I adore fanon interpretations (an example I have used in the past is Kuzaang - like, I don’t care that there’s no canon basis! I do what I want lmao!), but a line has to be drawn between exploring fanon interpretations and expecting everyone to take that fanon as canon. Again, anon, this is not your fault! It is not any one person’s fault, lmao. It is an issue of fandom as a whole, and all of us fall victim to it.
With that in mind, I will break down the different components of your ask. I will also do my best to be brief - as aforementioned, I and others have analyzed this issue numerous times before, lmao. To avoid confusion, it would be best to read through each or at least most links as they are provided!
Firstly, there are two posts I have made in the past that almost directly answer your overarching question here in this ask. Please read them prior to continuing, as I will occasionally reference them:
This post explains how Zvtara was not built up from TSR/EIP-onwards, and how their supposed “canon enemies to lovers arc” is a completely fanon construction.
This post explains the issue of the “canon Zvtara” rhetoric from rabid zkers (and you, anon, are absolutely NOT one, in case you were worried).
Alrighty. With that out the way, let’s get into it!
“In The Southern Raiders, Katara realizes she has been wrong about Zuko.”
Gotta start by saying that TSR is not about Zuko. TSR is, first and foremost, about Katara. Katara does not realize she was wrong about Zuko, because here’s the truth - she wasn’t wrong about him. Zuko did horrible things to the Gaang. Katara was not wrong to hold him accountable for that. What Katara does realize is that holding such rage so close to her chest is bad for her. This rage was not solely anger against Zuko, either; it was of course about Yon Rha, too, but it was also anger towards Kya and Katara herself. Essentially, TSR is where Katara realizes she has to forgive herself. Zuko is only one part of her journey (similar to Aang’s role in the episode, if a different end of the spectrum).
This post explains how TSR was fundamentally about Katara.
Additional resources about TSR:
This post explains Aang’s comments to Katara in TSR and how Katara herself recognized their validity.
This post explains why both Aang and Zuko were important to Katara in TSR.
This post is an extensive breakdown of Aang and Katara’s relationship within TSR.
“In Ember Island Players, [Katara] realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was…”
You provide no context for this claim, so I’m going to work with the assumption this is about their reactions to the play itself and the infamous kiss!
There is something important we must keep in mind when discussing EIP: the play they watch is literally imperialist propaganda. It is meant to demean the entire Gaang, and indeed it does exactly that. You mention Katara and Aang specifically, so I will recap what I have explained before about their depictions in EIP: Katara, an indigenous woman, is hypersexualized and portrayed as overly emotional (and thus “irrational”). This reinforces the Fire Nation sentiment that women of the Water Tribes are less intelligent and less suited for “responsibility” than Fire Nation women. Aang, a pacifist and the sole survivor of genocide who is also canonly the male character most comfortable with femininity and spirituality, is portrayed as a flighty, airheaded woman (this is a well-known imperialist tactic meant to emasculate the target, seeing as masculinity was often equated with power in fascist regimes; thus, they effectively belittled Aang before the FN audience). This reinforces the Fire Nation sentiment that the Air Nomads were foolish, weak people who deserved to die.
In other words, of course Aang and Katara were upset about how they portrayed in the play. It is understandable that tensions would be running high and consequently that mistakes (we all know the one) would be made.
This post explains how EIP belittles each member of the Gaang (and why the play is not indicative of Zvtara).
This post talks specifically about EIP and their portrayal of Aang and Katara.
Now onto the kiss. As everyone knows and no one has ever disagreed with, Aang was wrong to kiss Katara. Point blank!
But what people do misunderstand is Katara and Aang’s feelings regarding the kiss. Given your above quote, I assume you believe Aang kissing Katara supposedly made her realize that Aang wasn’t as mature as she once thought. On the surface, this seems like a logical conclusion! But digging deeper reveals… well, there’s nothing that indicates this conclusion at all. Even jumping ahead to the finale, when Zuko has doubts over Aang’s return, Katara demonstrates her faith in Aang (although of course she’s nervous - I won’t deny the obvious, lmao) as she says, “Aang won’t lose. He’s gonna come back. He has to.”
In other words, nothing in canon suggests that Katara believes Aang is immature because of what happened in EIP. She still trusts in his return, as she did even before she knew him (and arguably is more confident in him now, given the 60~ episodes of them growing closer). Furthermore, when Aang does disappear, Katara doesn’t have an outburst about how “immature” it was for him to “run away again.” The viewers know Aang didn’t run away, of course (fans who insist he did are not worth arguing with, anon - they don’t understand the show, rip), but that is a luxury the rest of the Gaang is not afforded. And yet even though Aang has vanished off the face of the planet, Katara still believes he will save the world. If anything, that signifies the utmost confidence in his skill and maturity!
To go back to the kiss itself, this post explains the true source of Katara’s conflict in turning down Aang (hint: she says it herself in the episode! you know, the whole war going on) and why the EIP kiss did not sink Kataang’s relationship.
Additional sources about EIP:
This post explains how the EIP kiss was resolved through narrative parallels.
This post explains how the EIP kiss is so often blown out of proportion.
“… and in the finale, Katara does not care a whit that Aang is gone. I am serious and as someone who is no Aang stan but likes him, I’m actually annoyed by how little anyone cared about his disappearance. It went from ‘Aang’s gone!’ to ‘Okay whatever, let’s find Iroh so he can kill Ozai.’”
As I already touched upon, Katara didn’t need a soliloquy to emphasize her connection to Aang once he disappeared. She trusts that he will return. She says so herself. I guess I just don’t understand how you got from Point A, Katara has consistent faith in Aang, to Point B, Katara and the rest of the Gaang didn’t care about Aang’s disappearance. It’s honestly a bit more like Point A to Point Z, lmao! If you would like to expand on your logic here, I would love to hear more!!
There are a few specific aspects I want to note about your rationale, though. You argue the Gaang moves from ‘Aang disappeared’ to ‘let’s find Iroh,’ but the Gaang actually went from:
1. Aang disappeared!
2. They search the entire island for him.
3. Okay, they couldn’t find him, so they track down June and have her try to find Aang.
4. June says to them, “No, I mean he’s gone gone. He doesn’t exist.” (And she clarifies to Sokka that she doesn’t mean dead, either - she means Aang has totally blinked out of their world.)
5. Only after all of this do they decide to track down Iroh.
The Gaang cares immensely about the fact that Aang is gone, and you could actually argue they waste time by trying to track him down. They don’t give up until June essentially tells them that some Spirit World shenanigans were involved. Even if you don’t think they reached that specific conclusion, I have to ask: What else were they supposed to do? They were told Aang didn’t exist! How are they supposed to fix that?
Well, they can’t. So they do the next best thing: they find Iroh, the man who knows Ozai better than anyone and is also one of the most talented firebenders in the world. In my opinion, that’s a very logical step to take.
“Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”
I’ll be blunt here, lol: in my opinion, nothing of what you listed in your ask is inherently romantic.
Okay. I am going to assume you’ve read the first two posts I linked earlier (“Zvtara did not have an E-L arc” and “the ‘canon’ Zvtara of rabid zkers has issues”), because I do not intend to rehash everything they contain, lol. Consequently, I presume you realize by now that there was no canon romantic interest between Zuko and Katara.
And as I always say, just because there wasn’t a canon romance doesn’t mean people can’t take fanon routes! Of course they can! That’s the entire point of fanon! But fanon is not canon, and I am strictly referring to canon in my discussions.
You claim Katara was all over Zuko, which in itself I don’t think is an accurate assessment, because she doesn’t really do anything with Zuko outside the three points you bring up (other than the June gag, which I addressed in one of the aforementioned linked posts). So I’ll go ahead and break down each instance you provide!
1. “[Katara] was giving [Zuko] a pep talk about Iroh”
Katara asked Zuko if he was okay. She asked him if he was genuinely sorry. She reassures him that Iroh will forgive him. That’s… all. Not to diminish the significance of this conversation, but it’s not exactly an intimate, romantically-charged discussion (unless fanon-ized). But on that note, let’s tackle the canon significance of this moment!
Katara knows firsthand the challenge of forgiving Zuko. And she knows that Zuko understands how hard it was for her to forgive him (note: Katara’s anger was totally justified, and anyone who disagrees is probably a rabid Zuko stan lmao). She also recognizes that Zuko is terrified it will take Iroh the same struggle to forgive him that Katara went through. This scene is not related to romance at all. It’s about compassion. It’s about Katara and Zuko’s friendship having progressed, slowly but surely, to the point where she’s not afraid to extend empathy to him anymore (seeing as the first time, beneath Ba Sing Se, did not go so well; you know - Aang died and all). It’s about Zuko recognizing his own fallibility (and the audience recognizing how much he’s grown). He questions how he can even face his uncle after all he’s done to the man, which is a far cry from his entitled attitude in TSR, where he demanded to know why Katara didn’t trust him when everyone else had forgiven him.
To make this moment, this moment about Zuko’s relationship with his uncle who is all but a literal father to him, this moment of vulnerability, of guilt, of remorse, of growth, to claim this powerful moment is about a nonexistent romantic relationship? In my opinion, that is incredibly reductive to what this scene is supposed to signify. And again, there is nothing wrong with people exploring such a possibility in fanon, but in canon? Nah. It doesn’t track.
2. “[Katara] was going with [Zuko] to Azula”
Don’t forget that at first, Zuko planned to take on Azula alone. He doesn’t request Katara to accompany him until Iroh tells him that he’ll need help. As such, Zuko’s immediate agreement with Iroh is reflective of his personal growth (Book 1 and 2 Zuko would have argued and insisted he didn’t need any help). It also demonstrates, however, that Katara was not obsessively on Zuko’s mind. He doesn’t choose Katara until Iroh points out that Zuko will need assistance in taking Azula down. This means that Zuko’s choice of Katara to join him is a tactical decision, not an emotional one. And by all accounts, it’s a damn good decision! Zuko witnessed firsthand beneath Ba Sing Se a) how powerful Katara was (e.g. that wave after Aang died) and b) how Katara was the only one who could take on Azula*.
Of course, besides the fact that Katara was the only match for Azula, who else was Zuko going to choose? Sokka and Suki, while talented in their own right, were no competition for Azula. Toph, while the greatest earthbender in the world, was needed to metalbend the airships. Katara was the only (and the best!) option.
Also, on their trip to face Azula, the only thing they talk about within their three lines of canon conversation are Azula and Aang. Not exactly a romantic flight, lmao.
*Zuko never saw Aang fight Azula on the drill.
3. “[Katara] was healing [Zuko] and saying he saved her not the other way around”
Actually, this is what the transcript says:
Zuko: Thank you, Katara.
Katara: I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.
You’re right about how their lines refer to them saving each other, but you posit it as a romantic moment, when the lines are actually pretty straightforward. Zuko thanks Katara as she heals him from the partially-redirected lightning strike, and Katara thanks him for trying to redirect the lightning away from her and in doing so saving her life. In terms of canon, there’s nothing romantic about this, lol! (Which I talked about extensively in the E-L post, if you need to reference it again.) The reason being is that you have to take the show itself into context when you do analysis. If there was no canon romantic buildup between Zuko and Katara, why would these lines in canon (not fanon! fanon is free rein, lmao) be interpreted through a romantic lens?
Well, they wouldn’t be interpreted as such. Plain and simple.
“I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”
Because looking through a canon lens, they aren’t romantic. That’s all. You are of course welcome to view them as such through a fanon lens!! It’s just about recognizing the line between canon and fanon.
“I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed.”
I asked earlier what content in the show itself led you to believe. I have wracked my own mind, and I cannot think of anything that would point to this conclusion. Zuko was in Katara’s good graces for 5 episodes. That’s 8% of the show. Not exactly a lot of time for Zuko to start believing his life would be pointless if Katara was killed, is it?
This post explains the improbability of Zuko having a crush on Katara within canon.
This post explains how Zuko’s racism towards the Air Nomads in TSR and the finale is, well, exactly that - racism (and not a sign of a crush on Katara).
And, of course, as has been said a million times, Zuko taking the lightning for Katara out of romantic interest would completely undermine his redemption arc. Since it has been said over and over and over, I will be brief: Zuko taking the lightning is significant because it is a selfless act (one of his only in the series), and it directly parallels his selfish act of choosing not to intervene when Azula killed Aang with lightning beneath Ba Sing Se. This moment demonstrates Zuko’s growth, how he has learned to accept unconditional love from Iroh and the Gaang and Mai and even Ty Lee and sure, even from Appa and Momo, too. To make this moment of pure selflessness about a nonexistent romance? To force a fanon romance in replacement of canon redemption and canon platonic significance?
Such a decision speaks wonders about a person’s priorities, in my opinion, as well as how amatonormativity impacts them.
Furthermore, Zuko’s choice cements Katara’s position as his surrogate sibling, as she is Azula’s primary foil. Zuko chooses the sister who heals over the sister who harms. I won’t go too much into it here, because it has already been talked about extensively before! Thus, I offer you this post that explains how Zuko and Katara - in canon - are positioned as surrogate siblings as well as Azula’s role in this matter. I also offer this post that lays out through screencaps how Zuko and Katara - in canon - treat each other like family.
Additional sources about the final Agni Kai:
This post in part discusses fanon misinterpretation of the final Agni Kai and why such a lens is not true to canon relationships.
This post explains why the final Agni Kai is not intended to be romantic.
This post explains how the final Agni Kai is primarily about Azula and how reducing it to be a big Zvtara moment is detrimental to both her and to Zuko and Katara themselves.
“And then literally at the end, Mai shows up after Zuko not talking about her at all for six episodes and declares herself Zuko’s girlfriend.”
This point could probably get a post of its own, lol, but fortunately I and others have already written a few! I will link them below - first, however, I question your choice of “declares.” Technically, yes, Mai does say outright that it doesn’t hurt how the new Fire Lord is her boyfriend, but your phrasing implies Zuko resisted her proclamation. When… he doesn’t. In fact, he embraces it, asking if that means she doesn’t hate him anymore (read: he asks if they’re back on good terms again). Zuko clearly doesn’t have a problem with the girl he loves wanting to be with him again - so why do some parts of fandom so adamantly insist he does? (Not you, anon - I am referring to the rabid fanoners, lol.)
Also, regarding how Zuko hasn’t talked about Mai for six episodes, we’ve gotta be realistic with this assessment in terms of canon:
1. It was the crux of the war. They were either going to live or die. There was no time for romance at this point! Sokka and Suki weren’t professing their love on the battlefield, lmao, so it’s not exactly strange that Zuko didn’t bust into a monologue about how he missed Mai. I think they were just a little bit distracted by the possible end of the world, lol, and all that jazz.
2. Zuko probably thought Mai was dead. He knows what Azula is like. He knows his sister doesn’t have time for people who get in her way (Aang can testify to this, lmao). So can you blame him for not wanting to think about how the girl he loved had died (to his knowledge) to save him?
You gotta cut the kid some slack, lol. Anyways! Additional sources about Maiko:
This post breaks down the notion of Maiko and “deserve.”
This post rationalizes through a canon lens why Mai’s arrival at the palace surprised Zuko.
This post is the mother of Maiko metas, explaining in tremendous detail why their relationships works, is relevant to canon, and was well-implemented for what its role was.
“And Katara kisses Aang after being annoyed with and by him arguably since The Southern Raiders.”
What in canon has led you to the conclusion that Katara was annoyed with Aang? What specific moments from TSR to the finale made you think Katara was annoyed with Aang and remained annoyed with Aang? Are there any, or are you thinking about fanon interpretation? (Canon vs fanon strikes again!)
In TSR, Katara explicitly thanks Aang for understanding her perspective. Nothing there is indicative of annoyance (and as in the links provided earlier, she was not angry at Aang/Zuko/etc. so much as she was at herself. well, she was a little bit angry with Zuko, lmao). In EIP, Katara is understandably angry at Aang’s decision to kiss her, but Aang completely backs off, and we see in the part 1 of the finale that there are no hard feelings or weird tension between them. Katara in fact actively expresses concern for Aang after Zuko sporadically attacked him when she demands of the firebender, “What’s wrong with you? You could have hurt Aang!” Even when Aang and Katara do butt heads later in the episode as Aang tries to think of a way to defeat Ozai without killing him, Katara doesn’t stay frustrated. Like I said - when she and Zuko are flying to Azula, she demonstrates her unwavering faith in Aang through her belief that he will return. So… where is the annoyance that you feel was present?
With all this mind, i.e. looking strictly at canon, Katara wasn’t annoyed with Aang during this time. Thus, Katara kisses Aang because she loved him. Because he backed off and gave her the space she needed to make a decision about if she wanted to be with him (hence Katara being the one to initiate the kiss). Because the issue was never about if she reciprocated his feelings (they both knew they loved each other) but rather it had to do with the war. At the end of the finale, the war is over, and there is nothing that prevents them from being together. Simple.
This post explains how Katara’s feelings for Aang develop throughout the series (and were not neglected, as rabid zkers like to claim, for some reason? again - you are not one of them, anon).
This post also covers Katara’s interest in Aang throughout the series.
“I can’t understand why Kataang shippers are okay with such a crap story.”
I mean, you definitely don’t have to ship Kataang. It may not be your cup of tea, and that’s totally okay! But as the above links demonstrate, Kataang was a fantastic story. It was well-implemented into the narrative from Day 1. The soulmateism is unparalleled!
Also, it’s worth noting that A:TLA itself was essentially pre-written. The writers knew how the story would end from the get-go, including that the show would end with Kataang. A few Zvtara gags were thrown in to add a sense of “who will Katara choose?” drama as the show aired, but Zuko and Katara were never planned to end up together. One reason so many newer fans are fine with Kataang from the start is that there’s no tension of waiting a week for a new episode when you can watch all 61 episodes straight through on Netflix, lmao. It’s even more obvious now than when A:TLA was airing that Aang and Katara will end up together, if that makes sense. (Although I talked about this in the E-L post linked earlier, so you probably understand this point already, as it was explained in detail there!)
All of this is to say that Kataang is not a “crap story” in terms of writing (again, personal taste is a different matter) because it was woven in from the beginning and had powerful narrative significance! (Kataang represented numerous complementary components of the series, such as yin and yang, push and pull, air and water, Oma and Shu, etc.)
Now. If you really and truly want to understand why Kataang shippers like Kataang, anon, consider reading some Kataang fanfics or exploring some Kataang headcanons. I read fics involving Zvtara more regularly than you might think, lol, because… well, it’s just a ship. I understand the appeal of romantic Zvtara and I can actually appreciate it when it’s well-written! I’m sure if you’re willing to put in just a little legwork (you don’t need to go the whole mile, lmao - ‘tis just fandom), you’ll realize why people like Kataang, even if it isn’t exactly your thing. You have the range, anon!! You got this!
I hope I managed to answer your questions, my friend! As always, you do not have to agree with anything I have said here. It is totally fine if you and anyone else disagrees! Everything above is simply my own perspective on the matter. Thank you for taking the time to read my response and all the different links I provided! I hope it has expanded your understanding of the subject at hand!
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onelinemanytimes · 3 years
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To all people who enjoy content:
There is a HUGE issue that needs to be addressed in how people react to things online and how they decide to deal with perceived issues. Specifically, in regards to content creators online, and the content they create.
I want to clarify, this post is talking for the most part about creators who did something multiple years ago that they currently don’t agree with. I’m not talking about people who are CURRENTLY horrible people, but if you want to know please do ask.
Basic synopsis: Purity culture is being used to shame people for their interests and to actively control and manipulate what people are “allowed” to like, which is often harmful and toxic; it is also being used to condemn people for the entire rest of their lives over doing something in their past, with no regards to if an apology was offered- which is harmful to people trying to unlearn toxic mindsets and be better people in the present day.
So, let’s talk about Purity Culture. I don’t know what else to call it, so if someone has a better name for it go ahead and say it- but, essentially, “The idea that every piece of media you consume must itself be good, AND has to have been made by a “good person”,” with no exceptions. This belief means that if a creator is seen as a bad person, or the media itself has a troubling aspect, you are NOT allowed to like it, DO NOT INTERACT, YOU’RE PROBLEMATIC AS HELL TOO IF YOU LIKE IT!!!!
That may sound like an exaggeration, but it’s only mildly so. There is, however, a much more harmful part to this mentality: Judging people for things they did years ago, and not allowing them to apologize and be forgiven, and USING this purity culture ideal against THEM as well. The idea that people can’t be forgiven, can’t change, and have to have been perfect always to be valid is extremely, extremely toxic and harmful, full stop. There are so many underlying issues that can both lead to someone being “problematic,” but that is so much less the issue than the fact doing this discourages real change.
People DO change over time. And if you find out someone did something in their past, you ARE allowed to not forgive them! However; That does NOT mean you should condemn them and everything they do as problematic horrible and unforgivable, and ATTACK other people and make WARNING posts in the tone of them STILL being “””Problematic”””! That is in some cases, BLATANT MISINFORMATION, and in most cases, encouraging the mentality that people don’t change.
Now, who is this a problem for? Because someone saying horrible things about minorities of any kind is legitimately harmful in its own right, and can hurt people who find it, which deserves to be addressed. (Again, YOU are not required to forgive them, and you have the freedom to not engage.) Purity Culture hurts People with RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria), and people who cannot control what they hyperfixate on. It can ALSO harm people who are struggling to get past toxic mentalities for any reason, and people who are trying to improve themselves and be better., and people who HAVE improved themselves and gotten better after being a person with (arguably) horrible views.
For people who experience RSD, seeing people denounce a piece of media for “””Something problematic””” (creator or otherwise), and in some cases seeing people ATTACK those who enjoy that media, can be physically painful and extremely, extremely stressful. Especially with the prevalence of this mentality right now, it makes engaging with anything a VERY stressful experience, because if what you enjoy isn’t perfect in every way you will be shamed for it, and rejected for it, and actively hated for it, and there is NO compromise on that point.
This is twice as volatile an issue when you ALSO cannot wholly control what your brain hyperfixates on. Hyperfixation (the word) has two main uses; in regards to a single task/activity (in which you’re unable to pull yourself out of said task and cannot switch focus to anything else), and in regards to media consumption (having an intense, very focused interest in media or a character, that can feel very consuming and intense in some cases. This extends even MORE so to special interests).
 Hyperfixations in those who are neurodivergent (don’t think the same as the wider population- such as people with ADHD and Autism, amongst other things) are NOT typically something they can control. Not without exceptional effort and potential detriment- one of the fairly unfortunate coping mechanisms I have for this (speaking, yes, as someone with ADHD) is to Completely ignore new media, wholesale, to avoid gaining a hyperfixation in relation to that media. Even still, I obviously still SEE things because I exist in the world and things are everywhere- and while I can enjoy content normally, it is MUCH different when I see something and feel unable to focus on ANYTHING else for WEEKS on end.
You can hyperfixate on something before learning about “X problematic thing,” and then when you’ve already gotten very attached and deep into the media people will start attacking you with it! And saying “Oh, you like THAT??? That was made by a super problematic person, you can’t like that!!!” It’s EXTREMELY difficult to explain how harmful that is when I A: Can’t control it, B: Didn’t know, and C: Suffer from RSD in the first place. It DOES NOT stop you from engaging with the content, because you are hyperfixated on it and you literally can’t avoid it, but it DOES overwhelm you with guilt and make you withdraw from the people around you because now YOU must be problematic and horrible and you’re a horrible person for liking this media and everyone must HATE you.
The above was not an exaggeration. That is legitimately how it feels.
People are talking about how “Cringe Culture is dead,” but it being replaced by a MUCH more insidious “Purity Culture” that is MUCH MORE toxic, MUCH MORE manipulative, and also inherently flawed to begin with!!! You CAN’T and SHOULDN’T be a perfect person, that is why you CHANGE AND GROW. You should ALSO be judging a piece of media on its OWN merits, NOT on the merits of what’s behind it (not wholesale like people are intent on doing).
Now, all things in moderation. If a piece of media was created with malicious or biased opinions in its core: It IS important to address that, and to acknowledge that this aspect is not something you should support, and something to be mindful of when thinking about the content. It’s also good to be aware of how people currently are when participating in media spaces- you don’t have to be perfect at this, but if you don’t want to engage with things made by people who have horrible current views that is absolutely your choice.
However, this doesn’t excuse constantly shaming and attacking people, ESPECIALLY people who are aware of a media’s flaws and able to both recognize that and amend that in a respectful, understanding way. You can enjoy a story about a murderer without also being a murderer and knowing that murder is wrong. This extends to other actions as well by the way (and the desensitization of people to murder in modern day media is also a wild topic for another day because wow some people really be out here like “yeah literally ending someone’s life in fiction is fine but x is absolutely abhorrent and unforgivable,” like what??). 
The real thing here is, this: If you don’t like content, or you cannot in good conscience enjoy that content knowing about something that happened relating to it: Don’t interact! If you are for some reason, stuck participating in and interacting with something you personally feel is horrible, don’t shame and hurt other people for more honestly enjoying it, especially the good parts. What you CAN do is inform people, respectfully!
And with ALL the details please. Because I see a lot of times, especially with creators: Someone will dig up something the creator said years ago and say, “THIS CREATOR IS (X) YOU CAN’T SUPPORT THEM OR ENJOY WHAT THEY MAKE BECAUSE IT’S PROBLEMATIC!!!” And, actually: They have since apologized for what they said, and actively made efforts to change. “But they did it in the past” Is NOT a valid argument, and honestly?? If you’re the same person you were even two years ago, that’s wild, and I hope you’ll understand that some people can change drastically in that time after being properly informed about issues.
Again: If you don’t want to interact with a piece of media, okie dokie! It’s up to us to respect that, and to tag our stuff and not shove it down your throat, y’know? But maybe, if you don’t like something, you shouldn’t decide to hurt the people who do like it, because I think that’s pretty harmful, and man imagine someone digging into your life 3 years ago and finding one sentence you said to judge your entire life on and force people to hate you with. Haha that’d suck, right?
If you read all this wow thanks, and also I’m well aware most my fellows with ADHD probably skimmed it because yeah it is a lot man whoops- I’ve just been thinking about it for a while because yeah. Yeah. “I do not control the hyperfixation” is not just a funny meme y’all it’s a thing and it’s legitimately exhausting and painful to see everything you enjoy be hated and be told you’re wrong for liking it in any way, shape, or form.
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