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xiexiecaptain · 1 year

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I’m fucking begging people to please read about the Characteristics of White Supremacy Culture

It is a collectively, intersectionally articulated analytical tool to describe and help dismantle cultural aspects that prop up and propagate white supremacy.

Contributed to by many many amazing community activists, scholars, teachers, and regular people but spearheaded in this format by Tema Okun.

WHAT: WHITE SUPREMACY CULTURE COMES AFTER ALL OF US

“We are all swimming in the waters of white supremacy culture. We are all navigating this culture, regardless of our racial identity. We are not all affected in the same ways – some of us are encouraged to join and collude without awareness that an invitation has been extended, some are invited to participate at the cost of separating ourselves from our communities and families, some are shamed because we can never fully join no matter how hard we try, some are denied any invitation in order to be targeted or exploited or violated. Because white supremacy culture is the water we swim in, we inevitably internalize the messages about what this culture believes, values, and considers normal. We absorb these messages as individuals and as a collective. As a result, white supremacy culture shapes how we think and act, how we make decisions and behave. As a result, white supremacy culture reminds us over and over again, sometimes out loud, sometimes in a whisper, that white is right and that there is a right kind of white”

https://www.whitesupremacyculture.info/what-is-it.html

PLEASE AVOID WEAPONIZING THIS TOOL:

“I want to offer a cautionary plea here about weaponizing this list. This website, the article, the information offered here is a tool, an analytical tool designed to help us better understand white supremacy culture. The intention is to help us understand the water in which we are all swimming so that we can collaboratively work together to build and sustain cultures that help us thrive as communities and individuals. Cultures that are not based on abuse of power and accumulation of profit. Cultures that are based on interdependence, justice, and respect for each other and the earth and wind and sun and stars. Cultures that embody the belief that we all do better when we all do better.

This does not mean we can't hold each other accountable (another word for supporting each other to be our best selves), set boundaries when people have not learned yet to take responsibility for themselves, apologize and take responsibility ourselves when we cause harm, and continue to grow and learn how to be with each other even when we are getting on each other's last nerve. I will say that white supremacy wants us to attack each other as the problem. As we fight with and among each other, we fail to identify the actual problem. An instruction we might hold to is to attack the problem, not the people, not each other (thank you Cal Allen). Of course, sometimes our behavior is a problem, our conditioning is a problem, and then we can, when we are able, help each other through. And if we cannot, we look to others who have the capacity to help or be in relationship as they look to us when they are out of capacity and we are able to show up.

***THE PILLARS OF WHITE SUPREMACY CULTURE***

>>FEAR:

White supremacy culture's number one strategy is to make us afraid. When we are afraid, we lose touch with our power and become more easily manipulated by the promise of an illusory safety.

White supremacy culture cultivates our fear of not belonging, of not being enough. Living in fear that we are not enough, white supremacy culture teaches us to fear others (or hate others) in an attempt, sometimes overt, sometimes unspoken, to prove to ourselves that we are ok. An easy way to prove we are ok is to point the finger at all those who are not. An easy way to belong to each other is to hate and fear all the others who do not (thank you Cristina Rivera Chapman).

READ MORE ON “URGENCY” HERE

>>ONE RIGHT WAY:

(Intertwined with Perfectionism, Objectivity, & Paternalism)

The cultural belief there is one right way to do things and once people are introduced to the right way, they will see the light and adopt it. This belief is connected to the belief that the right way is the "perfect" way and therefore perfection is both attainable and desirable.

When a person or group does not adapt or change to "fit" the one right way, then those defining or upholding the one right way assume something is wrong with the other, those not changing, not with.

Similar to a missionary who sees only value in their beliefs about what is good rather than acknowledging value in the culture of the communities they are determined to "convert" to the right way of thinking and/or the right way of living

READ MORE ON “ONE RIGHT WAY,” “PATERNALISM/QUALIFIED,” “PERFECTIONISM,” & “OBJECTIVITY” HERE

>>PATERNALISM/QUALIFIED:

(Intertwined with Perfectionism, Objectivity & One Right Way)

>Those holding power control decision-making and define things (standards, perfection, one right way)

>Those holding power assume they are qualified to (and entitled to) define standards and the one right way as well as make decisions for and in the interests of those without power

>Those holding power often don’t think it is important or necessary to understand the viewpoint or experience of those for whom they are making decisions, often labeling those for whom they are making decisions as unqualified intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, or physically

READ MORE ON “ONE RIGHT WAY,” “PATERNALISM/QUALIFIED,” “PERFECTIONISM,” & “OBJECTIVITY” HERE

>>PERFECTIONISM:

(Intertwined with Paternalism, Objectivity, & One Right Way)

Perfectionism is the conditioned belief and attitude that we can be perfect based on a standard or set of rules that we did not create and that we are led to believe will prove our value. Perfectionism is the conditioned belief and attitude that we can determine whether others are showing up as perfect and demand or expect that they do so. White supremacy culture uses perfectionism to preserve power and the status quo. As long as we are striving to be perfect according to someone else's rules, we have less energy and attention to question those rules and to remember what is truly important. We can be perfectionist in our social justice circles when we assume or believe there is a perfect way to do something and we know what it is. When we look more closely at our own perfectionism, we see that the perfectionist tendency is always in service of our own power or the current power structure. We might be fighting power out in the world but when we are perfectionist about how we do that, we preserve a toxic power structure internally.

>Mistakes are seen as personal, i.e. they reflect badly on the person making them as opposed to being seen for what they are – mistakes; making a mistake is confused with being a mistake, doing wrong with being wrong

>Little time, energy, or money is put into reflection or identifying lessons learned that can improve practice, in other words there is little or no learning from mistakes, and/or little investigation of what is considered a mistake and why.

>A tendency to identify what’s wrong; little ability to identify, name, define, and appreciate what’s right

>Often internally felt, in other words the perfectionist fails to appreciate their own good work, more often pointing out their faults or ‘failures,’ focusing on inadequacies and mistakes rather than learning from them; the person works with a harsh and constant inner critic that has internalized the standards set by someone else

READ MORE ON “ONE RIGHT WAY,” “PATERNALISM/QUALIFIED,” “PERFECTIONISM,” & “OBJECTIVITY” HERE

>>OBJECTIVITY:

(Intertwined with Paternalism, Perfectionism, & One Right Way)

The belief that there is such a thing as being objective or ‘neutral.’ The belief that emotions are inherently destructive, irrational, and should not play a role in decision-making or group process

>Assigning value to the "rational" while invalidating and/or shaming the "emotional" when often if not always the "rational" is emotion wrapped up in fancy logic and language

>Requiring people to think in a linear (logical) fashion and ignoring or invalidating/shaming those who think in other ways

>Impatience with any thinking that does not appear ‘logical’ or 'rational' in ways that reinforce existing power structures; in other words, those in power can be illogical, angry, emotional without being disregarded while those without power must always present from a 'rational' position

>Refusal to acknowledge the ways in which 'logical' thinking and/or decision-making is often a cover for personal emotions and/or agendas often based in fear of losing power, face, or comfort

READ MORE ON “ONE RIGHT WAY,” “PATERNALISM/QUALIFIED,” “PERFECTIONISM,” & “OBJECTIVITY” HERE

>>EITHER/OR & THE BINARY:

(Propped Up By Perfectionism & Urgency)

Cultural assumption that we can and should reduce the complexity of life and the nuances of our relationships with each other and all living things into either/or, yes or no, right or wrong in ways that reinforce toxic power.

>Positioning or presenting options or issues as either/or — good/bad, right/wrong, with us/against us.

>Little or no sense of the possibilities of both/and.

>Trying to simplify complex things, for example believing that poverty is simply the result of lack of education.

>A strategy used by those with a clear agenda or goal to push those who are still thinking or reflecting to make a choice between ‘a’ or ‘b’ without acknowledging a need for time and creativity to come up with more options.

>A strategy used to pit oppressions against each other rather than to recognize the ways in which racism and classism intersect, the ways in which both intersect with heterosexism and agism and other categories of oppression.

READ MORE ON “EITHER/OR & THE BINARY” HERE

>>DENIAL:

(Intertwined with Defensiveness, Propped Up By Individualism)

White supremacy culture encourages a habit of silence about things that matter

>Claiming the right to define what is and what is not racism.

>Insisting that white supremacy and racism require intent. Attempting to separate intent from impact in order to claim that if racism is not intended, then it is not happening.

>Refusing to consider or acknowledge the historical legacy of white supremacy and racism and the structural nature of racial disparities. Rewriting, reframing, or omitting histories to erase or downplay racism.

>Insisting that individually or collectively, a person or group is free from racialized conditioning, leading to statements like “I don’t see color,” and “we’re all the same.”

>Erasing intersectionality - generalizing about a whole group without recognizing the ways in which class, gender, sexuality, religion, age, dis/ability, and other identities inform our individual and collective experiences.

>Denying what another person is saying about the ways in which white supremacy and/or racism are showing up in an interaction or space.

>A pattern that often has a white person with different levels of power denying what a Black, Indigenous or Person of Color or a whole community is saying about their experience of racism.

READ MORE ABOUT “DENIAL” & “DEFENSIVENESS” HERE

>>DEFENSIVENESS:

(Intertwined with Denial, Propped Up By Individualism & Either/Or & Binary)

>People respond to new or challenging ideas with objections or criticism, making it very difficult to raise these ideas.

>People in the organization, particularly those with power, spend a lot of energy trying to make sure that their feelings aren’t getting hurt, forcing others to work around their defensiveness rather than addressing them head-on. At its worst, they have convinced others to do this work for them.

>Because of either/or and binary thinking, those in power view and/or experience criticism as threatening and inappropriate (or rude).

>White people targeted by other oppressions express resentment because they experience the naming of racism as erasing their experience; closely linked to either/or/binary thinking.

>White people spend energy defending against charges of racism instead of examining how racism might actually be happening.

>An oppressive culture where people are afraid to speak their truth.

READ MORE ABOUT “DENIAL” & “DEFENSIVENESS” HERE

>>RIGHT TO COMFORT:

(Intertwined with Fear of Conflict)

Our cultural assumption that I or we (or the ones in formal and informal power) have a right to comfort, which means we cannot tolerate conflict, particularly open conflict. This assumption supports the tendency to blame the person or group causing discomfort or conflict rather than addressing the issues being named.

>Scapegoating those who cause discomfort, for example, targeting and isolating those who name racism rather than addressing the actual racism that is being named

>Demanding, requiring, expecting apologies or other forms of "I didn't mean it" when faced with accusations of colluding with racism

>Feeling entitled to name what is and isn't racism

>White people (or those with dominant identities) equating individual acts of unfairness with systemic racism (or other forms of oppression).

READ MORE ABOUT “RIGHT TO COMFORT” & “FEAR OF CONFLICT” HERE

>>FEAR OF (OPEN) CONFLICT:

(Intertwined with Right to Comfort)

>Emphasis or insistence on being polite; setting the rules for how ideas or information or differences of opinion need to be shared in order to be heard (in other words, requiring that people "calm down" if they are angry when anger often contains deep wisdom about where the underlying hurt and harm lies)

>Equating the raising of difficult issues with being impolite, rude, or out of line; punishing people either overtly or subtly for speaking out about their truth and/or experience;

>When someone raises an issue that causes discomfort, the response is to blame the person for raising the issue rather than to look at the issue which is actually causing the problem

>Pretending or insisting that our point of view is grounded in the "rational" or the intellectual when we are in fact masking our emotions with what appear to be rational or intellectual arguments.

>Labeling emotion as "irrational" or anti-intellectual or inferior, which means failing to recognize the importance of emotional intelligence;

READ MORE ABOUT “RIGHT TO COMFORT” & “FEAR OF CONFLICT” HERE

>>INDIVIDUALISM:

(Intertwined with Perfectionism, Qualified, One Right Way, Defensiveness, & Denial)

Our cultural story that we make it on our own, without help, while pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps, is a toxic denial of our essential interdependence and the reality that we are all in this, literally, together.

>Failure to acknowledge any of the ways dominant identities - gender, class, sexuality, religion, able-bodiedness, age, education to name a few - are informed by belonging to a dominant group that shapes cultural norms and behavior

>Valuing competition more highly than cooperation; or where collaboration is valued, little time or resources are devoted to developing skills in how to collaborate and cooperate

>For white people: a culturally supported focus on determining whether an individual is racist or not while ignoring cultural, institutional, and systemic racism; the strongly felt need by many if not most white people to claim they are "not racist" while their conditioning into racism is relentless and unavoidable

>Desire for individual recognition and credit with failure to acknowledge how what we know is informed by so many others

>Isolation and loneliness

>For white people: seeing yourselves and/or demanding to be seen as an individual and not as part of the white group;

>For BIPOC people: individualism forces the classic double bind when BIPOC people are accused of not being "team players" - in other words, punishment or repercussions for acting as an individual if and when doing so "threatens" the team

>Little experience or comfort working as part of a team, which includes both failure to acknowledge the genius or creativity of others on the team and a willingness to sacrifice democratic and collaborative process in favor of efficiency; see double bind for BIPOC people above

I'm the Only One (or he/she/they are):

>An aspect of individualism, the belief that if something is going to get done "right," ‘I’ have to do it

>Connected to the characteristic of "one right way," the belief that "I" can determine the right way, am entitled and/or qualified to do so, in isolation from and without accountability to those most impacted by how I define the right way

>Little or no ability to delegate work to others, micro-management

>Based in deep fear of loss of control, which requires an illusion of control

>Putting charismatic leaders on pedestals (or positioning yourself as a charismatic leader on a pedestal); romanticizing a leader (or yourself) as the center of a movement, idea, issue, campaign

>Hiding or covering up the flaws of a leader (or your flaws) in fear that the organization, movement, effort cannot survive

>Defining leadership as those most in front and most vocal (thank you Cristina Rivera-Chapman for these last four bullets)

READ MORE ABOUT “INDIVIDUALISM” HERE

>>PROGRESS IS MORE:

(Intertwined with Quantity over Quality)

The cultural assumption that the goal is always to be/do/get more and be/do/get bigger. This leads to an emphasis on what we can "objectively" measure - how well we are doing at being/doing/getting more - as more valuable than the quality of our relationships to all living beings.

>Assumption that the goal is to grow - add staff, add projects, or serve more people regardless of how well they can serve them; raise more money, or gain more influence and power for its own sake - all without regard to the organization's mission or especially the people and/or living beings that the organization is in relationship with

>Valuing those who have "progressed" over those who "have not" - where progress is measured in degrees, grades, money, power, status, material belongings - in ways that erase lived experience and wisdom/knowledge that is invisibilized - tending, cleaning, feeding, nurturing, caring for, raising up, supporting (thank you Bevelyn Ukah)

>A narrow focus on numbers (financial, people, geography, power) without an ability to value processes (relationships), including cost to the human and natural environment

>Gives no value, not even negative value, to its cost; for example, increased accountability to funders as the budget grows in ways that leave those served exploited, excluded, or underserved as we focus on how many we are serving instead of quality of service or values created by the ways in which we serve

>Little or no ability to consider the cost of growth in social, emotional, psychic, embodied, spiritual, and financial realms

>Focus on getting bigger (in size, transactional power, numbers) leading to little or no ability to consider the cost of getting big in social, emotional, psychic, embodied, spiritual, and financial realms (thank you Bevelyn Ukah)

READ MORE ABOUT” QUANTITY OVER QUALITY” & “PROGRESS IS MORE” HERE

>>QUANTITY OVER QUALITY:

(Intertwined with Progress Is More)

>Most or all resources directed toward producing quantitatively measurable goal

>Things that can be counted are more highly valued than things that cannot, for example numbers of people attending a meeting, newsletter circulation, money raised and spent are valued more than quality of relationships, democratic decision-making, ability to constructively deal with conflict, morale and mutual support

>Little or no value attached to process in the internalized belief that if it can’t be measured, it has no value

>discomfort with emotion and feelings

>little or no understanding that when there is a conflict between content (the agenda of the meeting) and process (people’s need to be heard or engaged), process will prevail (for example, you may get through the agenda, but if you haven’t paid attention to people’s need to be heard, the decisions made at the meeting are undermined and/or disregarded)

READ MORE ABOUT” QUANTITY OVER QUALITY” & “PROGRESS IS MORE” HERE

>>WORSHIP OF THE WRITTEN WORD:

The cultural habit of honoring only what is written and only what is written to a narrow standard, even when what is written is full of misinformation and lies. Worship of the written word includes erasure of the wide range of ways we communicate with each other and all living things.

>Those with strong documentation and writing skills are more highly valued, even in organizations where ability to relate to others is key to the mission

>Those who write things down get recognized for ideas that are collectively and generationally informed in a context where systemic racism privileges the writing and wisdom of people in the white group

>Claiming "ownership" of (written) knowledge to meet ego needs rather than understanding the importance of offering what you write and know to grow and expand the community's knowing

>If it’s not in a memo, it doesn’t exist / if it's not grammatically "correct," it has no value / if it's not properly cited according to academic rules that many people don't know or have access to, it's not legitimate

>Academic standards require "original" work when our knowledge and knowing almost always builds on the knowledge and knowing of others, of each other

READ MORE ABOUT “WORSHIP OF THE WRITTEN WORD” HERE

AGAIN THE WEBSITE CAN BE FOUND HERE AND I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO READ THE WHOLE THING! THIS IS A BRIEF OVERVIEW!

And all of this was copied from the website (aside from some formatting for the post.) I am just trying to spread this info/tool to people who could use it to help them dismantle white supremacist cultural aspects in their own lives/communities/organizations. I’ve found if very very helpful myself in always working toward anti-racism in my own actions. Hopefully others do too.

#dismantle white supremacy #anti-racism #decolonization #racial justice #tema okun #original posts #<- not original content this is just for tagging posts i make to find them later

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party-gilmore · 5 months

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[not even through first page of dash on allotted brief lunch time tumblr break]

[absolutely fantastic post about Palestine and Palestinians persevering and living and don’t let your western media propaganda bias dehumanise them to you based on stereotypes about their people during this ongoing genocide perpetuated by the state of israel]

awesome awesome hell yeah cool yes reblo-

“so anyway yeah Death To Israel”

…it would’ve been so fucking easy.

to not immediately miss the entire subtext of your own damn post.

“Dissolve.” “Dismantle.” “Deconstruct.” “Topple.” “Overthrow.” or i don’t know, just fucking…

one of so many other words that explicitly and specifically describe a process of removing the authority and sovereign status of a nation/state and its radical, war criminal government and occupying military forces.

but no instead let’s go with Death just fucking kill them all wipe them out the same way they’re doing to Palestine because as we all know of course there’s no “citizens” in israel actively fighting and protesting and campaigning and being targeted by their own radical government for it. they’re all just exactly the same as the stereotype all the media making it out of israel shows - toxic, racist, inhuman, bullshit viral video/tiktok stars, who are all cheering and making jokes about it, and if you try to humanize israelis right now what are you a fucking zionist how DARE you not support Palestine?

and then these same folks will turn around and say “okay y’all STOP freaking out about retaliatory violence, NO ONE is saying freeing Palestine means theyre are gonna turn around and try to wipe israeli’s* out the same way, that’s making a LOT of incredibly harmful assumptions about them based on barbaric and fearmongering stereotypes ”

…in the same fucking breath they just said “death to israel.”

8 whole minutes in and that’s ALREADY enough social media for the day 🫥

#*’israeli’ in this case often notably used interchangeably with ‘jews’#given the amount of people on here who still haven’t figured out that those are… two separate circles on the venn diagram #not the entire fucking middle bit #and let’s be clear i also don’t think genuine retaliatory violence is at this point a realistic fear or even if it WAS not a reason #AT ALL to continue this absolute atrocity against Palestine - i’m saying it’s hypocritical as FUCK to dismiss that fear when YOU YOURSELF #are… calling for their death…#and don’t try and be all fucking ‘it’s just hyperbole chill the fuck out’ 1) it’s probably fucking not first all - when people ‘joke’ about #shit like that they’re usually testing the waters to see if they can get away being serious about it. and 2) even if it IS genuinely just #a joking exaggeration 2.a) what the fuck is funny about that and #2.b) that is still going to enflame and embolden everyone around you that ISNT fucking joking #israel #palestine #free palestine #but for fucks sake stop buying into that Every Israeli Is Complicit - Their Deaths Don’t Matter bullshit

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zersk · 4 months

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I’m sure you’ve gotten enough questions about the vaspider post but I have to ask cause I genuinely don’t get it… what was racist about saying that Palestinians don’t like Hamas? I mean I get it’s probably wrong, but I don’t understand how it’s racist.

I’m taking a stab here but does it seem to suggest Palestinians care more about Hamas than Israel? But can’t they dislike both?

I'm going to respond assuming this is in good faith, but first of all it's important to note that I didn't say racist specifically, rather that it's anti-Palestinian rhetoric. That feels like a very abstract distinction but it feels important to note as it's a bad idea to think in terms of American racial structures here (which the term racism I think, unfortunately, tends to bring up in people's minds lol).

It's anti-Palestinian for a few reasons, and whether or not Palestinians ACTUALLY support Hamas is only a part of that. I said that it's rhetoric the IDF is using to justify the war they're waging on the Palestinian people. Which is true! These past three months have made it incredibly clear to anyone paying attention that Israel has very little hope of actually destroying Hamas whatsoever, rather they're more focused on slaughtering civilians. In claiming that "Palestinians don't actually like Hamas", whether or not that's TRUE, the actual point of claiming such is to justify the war. It's to go "ah see, Palestinians are actually held hostage by Hamas, and by eradicating the militant organization we are actually saving them." And then they get financial support to go in and continue doing the horrible atrocities they wanted to do.

This should sound insane to anyone with half a brain, but it is the framing that the United States seems to be using to support Israel's actions. Biden, Blinken, whoever else keeps claiming that they want Israel to protect civilians more, and to work towards giving the Palestinian Authority control in the region, under the pretense that that's what's best for people in Gaza.

Israel doesn't care! Nobody in the war cabinet, nobody in the military, and large portions of civil society want the Palestinians dead. Some of them want to forcibly resettle Gaza after killing and shoving out the remaining Gazans. The pretense that Palestinians don't like Hamas themself is just a useful tool to this end. It's an argument that doesn't actually give a shit about Palestinians.

Now I should point out of course, that there was a video attached (I didn't screencap it because. One why would I screencap a video lmao. Two I didn't expect anyone to reblog the original post, like I'm kind of a nobody in tumblr terms lol), but with very little context for WHEN the video was filmed, WHERE it was filmed, and even if the language being used in the video WAS accurately translated. Other people on the post have done a more thorough deep dive than I'm willing to do here, but I should point out that even if it is real, and there's no trickery going on in the information… In the past three months it's definitely not the case anymore. In the time since, support for Hamas and the Al-Qassam Brigades has risen sharply, and the vast majority of Palestinians in both Gaza and the West Bank(!) have supported Hamas's role in this fight. Clearly they have the people behind them.

That isn't to say that any criticism of them within Palestine is illegitimate or a false flag operation of course, but like I said, it's definitely to the benefit of the western and Israeli media to portray this criticism as "Hamas needs to be dismantled, please Israelis come save us". This is an unnuanced view of things, and criticism of Hamas could range from being unhappy with their interaction with civil society, other glaring issues, or even that they're not fighting Israel enough. None of this would justify the Israeli response, nor is it meant to. The fact that other militant groups in Gaza are in support of Hamas in this war (including groups such as the PFLP) however, should be telling to you.

While I'm not saying Hamas is perfect, the framing that "Palestinians can dislike both, can't they?" is utterly removed from the reality on the ground in Gaza, where the Palestinian Resistance is proving itself the only people actually fighting to protect Gaza from utter destruction. Not the US, not the European powers, certainly not Israel, and not any of the surrounding Arab states. The fact that Hezbollah, the Houthis, and recently the Islamic Resistance in Iraq are the only groups actually in any way fighting alongside Palestine should be, if anything, evidence of how deeply ashamed everyone else should be for their inaction.

(I'd also suggest actually looking into the history of Hamas in Gaza, and why they may have been able to keep the public's support for this long. Sources that don't treat the Palestinians as hapless bystanders completely powerless in their own fate, or that the entire organization was secretly an Israeli plant and nothing more, which is the common liberal zionist intonation I've seen).

Point is, it's anti-Palestinian rhetoric because it denies any actual agency to Palestinians, or acknowledges what Palestinians are saying, and it's anti-Palestinian rhetoric because the REASON PEOPLE ARE SAYING IT, rather than the actual nature of the content, is to convince everyone else that this invasion is necessary. I feel like people struggle to understand that information, even when true, often has a motive as to why its being shared. And that motivation can be pretty insidious when scrutinized.

(I'm not citing any sources to this answer, treat this as a learning exercise and go read what actual Palestinians have been saying, try to backtrack the information I've claimed, and scrutinize everything I've said on your own terms. Consider who's posting the information, and where, and think about what they might have to gain from sharing it. Everyone has ulterior motives, but ulterior motives aren't innately bad, especially when it's from someone being eradicated by an occupying force. Also, learning to parse information like this is healthier for you than if I tagged links to websites you weren't ever going to read lmao)

(Seriously though Palestinians have been posting and sharing and writing and recording things non-stop for the last three months please just. Go see what they've been saying, it matters more than I do, and it definitely matters more than what scumbag liberal zionists like vaspider or hindahoney do.)

#palestine #zionism #israel

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unhonestlymirror · 8 months

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A reply to this post from @eywind:

"Maria, you probably won't see my reply. But I will try to remind you of your own reality.

Since 2014, your leader and your team have refrained from condemning the annexation of Crimea and the war in Donbas. Aleksei Navalny even stated that “Crimea is not a sandwich” and, in fact, proposed to hold some other referendums on the clearly illegally occupied territory of Ukraine out of some kind of fright.

Why is that? First, of course, this apparently largely coincides with your personal positions. But even if this is not so, and deep down in your soul, you really support Ukraine with all your heart, there is a critical “second”.

You, as politicians, miraculously understand that direct support for Ukraine - an absolutely moral, honest, and legal (corresponding to international law) position - actually means political death in Russia.

You know very well that you will not win popularity among the Russian people if you say directly that Russia must give up territories to Ukraine, Georgia, Moldova, pay reparations and repent for several decades more for the crimes committed. Although this is what would be right and moral.

You know very well that the majority of the Russian people either support the war or treat it with positive neutrality. Therefore, they are forced to shift the focus in their domestic political messages to the fight against corruption, which translates into “they steal, therefore they do not produce missiles that kill Ukrainians efficiently enough” (this would be as funny as jokes about a shark if there were no deaths).

You are afraid to take a moral position even after the start of a full-scale war. On international platforms, where naive Western leaders are happy to invite you, not a word is heard from you on the topic of Ukraine. You consider all the crimes of the Putin regime only from the standpoint of your personal suffering, in order, again, to shift the focus from the fact that the Russian people are not that much suffering now. That the Russians, even having got out from behind the Iron Curtain, do not even try to organize mass anti-war protests. How many of you left there, more than a million? Where are they?

Putin is taking away Russians' pensions and future. You are silent about what Putin takes from Ukrainians. Because the very Russians whose psyche you protect so much will stop loving you. Who voluntarily go to war (for evading the mobilization of ZERO criminal cases) and wish Ukrainians death every day in thousands of comments (and not all of them are bots).

Whereas an effective Russian state, if you build it for those people from whom you now want to earn the trust - Russian voters - it will be better to fight.

It turns out that you, indulging the immorality of your own people, taking an absolutely immoral and cynical position, designed for the political future, have the audacity to teach morality to Ukrainians.

Your calculation is wise and cunning. I would do the same in your place. With one caveat - if you put your political future in your country in the first place, then shut your mouth to the Ukrainians. You are not our friends, at best, negotiators, and your Putin is your problem (we will solve our problem, but you and collective Putin will still remain).

And if you really want to put morality in the first place and want Ukrainians to at least not show contempt for you (you won’t reach respect anyway), then put your system of values in order."

"The Putin regime can be dismantled, but the Russian people will remain the same 100 millionth collective Putin.

Without revision and rethinking of Russian culture, politics, and everyday life as well, real changes in Russia are impossible.

That's why I don't trust FBK. They can not fail to understand this, but at the same time, they do nothing in this direction. This means that their goal is not real change in Russia, but simply to become a new regime themselves, which for the first conditional 10 years, will be friends with the West in order to accumulate funds again and then take revenge."

#stop russian aggression #support ukraine #genocide of ukrainians #russia is a terrorist state

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jyndor · 6 months

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Russia's attack on Ukraine is not a fucking proxy war. Weapons support from the US is literally mostly old things that would cost you tax dollars to dismantle. Now they get used in Ukraine instead and the US citizens can use that money elsewhere. I don't think you have much understanding of what military assistance in practice means. It's material help. Tangible things that already exist and have already been paid for years ago. What are the poor USAmerican citizens going to do with soon expiring ammunition?

lmao rebelcaptain secret santa this is what i get for opening up my anons again just so you know

so many things lol

i support the us sending weapons to ukraine because i believe that ukrainians deserve the right to not be butchered by russia, i do believe that support does have limits - those limits are fairly high (like nukes? did i have to say i specifically do not think nuclear war is good? that's pretty much my line, i literally said i support a word that sounds like ass and nation lmaoooo) and not likely to ever even need to be talked about but like yes i do in fact have limits, and the military assistance that we've been doing i am fine with, trust me i'd rather you have them. also the us prints its own money i personally think we can do both but americans don't understand our government soooo

russia's attacking of ukraine is not the proxy war of course, which i never said and idk maybe i wasn't clear but i think i was. the us and the west frankly caring about ukraine is about russian power and not about ukrainian lives, and never forget that. this is why i said that it's a proxy war FOR THE US. as in a us proxy war. i'm sorry that that probably feels shitty to think about but that's what ukraine is to the us. geopolitics sadly aren't about morality and justice for governments. it's about power and hegemony. we are more concerned with russian power than we are human rights. and by we i do mean my government and not me or even other americans.

btw of course the us has spend money on not just nearly expired weapons but also humanitarian aid, financial aid and of course training and logistical support. again i don't care about the money, but don't fucking act like the us hasn't sent billions of dollars of aid in the past few years, it has which is why it is so important that the us continues to send billions of dollars of aid to ukraine in order to continue to fund the war effort.

i'm going to support marginalized people every and that includes here in the us where the empire harms its own and has from the inception of this country. yes us americans have a right to be annoyed at not having basic human rights like healthcare, a decent education system, livable wages, and lack of housing and shelter. but they're probably not the ones hemming and hawing over the dollars spent abroad btw - that's more likely to be upper and middle class americans and republicans/conservatives. but we can do both - provide for the general welfare of americans and also provide for the general welfare of everyone else. and fight fascism, but we don't have a good track record on that one.

#if this is the same anon... lmao wow #ukraine #war tw #reading comprehension is neat #us politics #anonymous #asks #answered

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bestworstcase · 2 years

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Salem who knows humankind is strong when they band together due to her experience of gathering an army to fight literal gods vs Ozpin who was put in a position that already came with a secret he felt he couldn’t share who has seen strong groups fall to doubt and fear which is huh… what made him and Salem break up bc their doubted and feared what the other was hiding from them. Which came after Salem convinced him to become gods to the humans bc their powers combined convinced them they could do so.

I Love Tragedy and Complicated Relationships and How Ozpin and Salem are both their own jailers and biggest asset. It’s wild

tbh i don't think the conviction with which salem believes in human potential because of the experience of rallying armies against the gods--like, she's always had this fundamental inkling of optimism, it would never have occurred to her to lead a rebellion if she didn't believe in the possibility of victory, but i think the experience that really crystallized this part of her worldview was living long enough to see that the gods failed. they crushed her rebellion in the blink of an eye by obliterating every person on the planet, dismissed humankind as a disappointing experiment that had now ended by their hand, and then left her to rot.

and then humanity came back.

that was not supposed to happen. that should not have happened, not when the gods so thoroughly and brutally dismantled their little exercise in sharing their toys. that humanity crawled out of the mass grave the gods condemned it to is the ultimate defiance of the gods and ultimate proof that humans really CAN liberate themselves from the tyranny of their creators.

( there's a part of me that always side-eyes what salem says to ozma after they reunite. "we could be the gods of this world. our powers surpass all others; our souls transcend death." like. the natural assumption here is that by we salem means herself and ozma, but... salem was there when the gods slaughtered humanity, and then she watched humanity rise again all by themselves. she once rallied armies to "claim the powers of [the gods] for themselves and [...] perfect their own design"—and i really think as far as salem is concerned, she lost the battle that day, but the gods lost the war. it's all muddied by her earnest desire to support ozma's vague ambition of "bringing people together" and the unanswered question of exactly how much salem was willing to compromise in order to give him what she thought he wanted, but particularly given the repetition of "the hearts of men are easily swayed" i DO wonder if salem was really suggesting what ozma understood her to be suggesting or if, instead, she had in mind more of a "rebellion against the gods...2!" in mind on the grounds that humanity ultimately won the first round. )

( by the same token i also wonder how much ozma might have picked up on that subtext, because his reaction to what she's saying is puzzled with, at worst, a tinge of skepticism until the very, very end, when salem proposes with such casual confidence that they could make the world BETTER than it was when the brothers ruled over humankind. the like... layer of theological disagreement, apostate vs disciple, in the tragic unraveling of their marriage is endlessly fascinating imo. )

another thing i think about A NORMAL AMOUNT in this regard is that, while jinn says that salem and ozma "each withheld parts of their story" after their reunion, a statement that implies approximate equivalence in dishonesty on both their parts—salem "blamed the end of the world on the gods," which is, um, accurate, whereas ozma "kept his task and the relics a secret," which by necessity means that he told her nothing. and of course, this bit of narration plays over a silent scene that depicts salem talking—soaked in an inexplicable wash of red light—before panning over to ozma who says... nothing.

my read on lost fable generally is that jinn is answering very precisely the question ruby asked her, which is "what is ozma hiding from us?", and consequently ozpin's own biases, misconceptions, incomplete understandings, and genuine doubts about the veracity of what salem told him back then are left intact and conveyed through the narrative structure of a fairytale—exactly the way ozpin would have told this story himself.

but at the same time jinn is the avatar of knowledge (and her personal disdain for ozma, and the enjoyment she takes in exposing him as a liar, are both quite clear) so... i think the incongruences between the spoken narrative and the flashback narrative arise from jinn's own desire to paint a more complete version of the truth than merely ozpin's side of it; she tells salem's story with the same edge of condemnation that creeps into ozpin's commentary on the girl in the tower, but she shows her audience the genuine anguish, desperation, and fear salem felt, shows them the cruelty and indifference of the gods, shows them salem grieving and distraught as the gods leave and shards of the broken moon hammer down... and then, when factually recounting ozpin's side of the story requires her to make this misleading implication that salem lied to him too, she literally DISTORTS the accompanying flashback by abruptly suffusing it with red light. it's like. a literal red flag that the verbal narrative does not add up. that it's nonsensical to imply that salem telling ozma that the gods destroyed the world is the same, a deception on the same level as ozma not telling her that the god of light had promised to return one day to exterminate humanity again.

( either that or the sudden sinister red lighting is jinn's way of representing ozpin's intense desperation to believe that salem lied to him back then, because if she told him the truth then it's his fault, isn't it? if he's the only one who lied. if she really meant the things she said, if she wasn't just maliciously stringing him along to fulfill her own violent designs the entire time, if the things she did were based on genuine trust and support of him, because she believed him when he said he wanted to bring people together under their banner—like. he feels so much self-loathing and guilt as it is. it's fucking boiling him alive and the only way he is coping even slightly is by frantically reassuring himself that salem lied to him and manipulated him too, that he fell for an elaborate deception, that maybe there was something rotten in her all along, even from the very beginning, even in the tower—anything, ANYTHING to make it her fault. it's less painful to convince himself he was a gullible fool back then than to torture himself by wondering if things might have turned out differently if he'd just trusted her with the truth from the start. i think deep down there's a part of ozma that is terrified he's the one who ruined them both, and he's trying so hard to smother that fear by convincing himself that salem was always a monster and his only mistake lay in failing to see it, but he... can't. )

anyway lost fable fucks me up good

also on the subject of blame im obsessed. OBSESSED with ozpin in v5 gravely and honestly saying "it's all my fault"—bc he really truly believes that—before sharing a distorted sliver of the truth that at once takes the blame for things that are unequivocally not his fault AND YET ALSO obfuscates and ignores the actual things he did wrong, the lying the lack of trust the manipulating salem into serving the abusive tyrannical gods she openly despised. half truths and lies blown wide open in the first act of the next volume. im obsessed with this bc—stares at salem's "it's all my fault" moment in v8, at the unspoken tension between the transparent manipulation and the pointedly intentional choice to not do to cinder what the gods did to her all occurring in the context of the dramatically shifting dynamic of her relationship with cinder who much like the kids were with ozpin in v5 is chafing hard against salem's control and outright demanding answers and compromises and essentially equal standing from someone who had hitherto been an unquestioned authority in her life and WHAT IM GETTING AT HERE IS. v6 took ozpin's manipulative "it's all my fault" and turned it inside out and drastically shifted the entire paradigm and in V9 IT'S GONNA BE SALEM'S TURN

#lost fable...2!

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discount-actuary · 3 months

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Pro- ending the Ukraine war isnt right wing. Wanting Ukrainians to capitulate after being unable to win the war and make massive concessions to russia is not the solid position you think it is. You either want Ukrainians dead or support Svoboda, neither is good

The right-wing positions I was referring to wasn't supporting a negotiated settlement, which there is of course room for. Negotiated settlements are how basically all wars end, and the Russian invasion of Ukraine is at least trending toward what could reasonably be called a stalemate. There are important principles to fight for, and then there are people's lives, and it is up to the people of Ukraine to make decisions regarding what losses they do and do not accept when negotiating the end of the war that the government of the Russian Federation has imposed upon them (and which the Russian Federation hasn't show much of any willingness to negotiate at less than maximalist terms). It sounds like we don't really too much disagree there, if at all.

The right-positions of Jill Stein I refer to are the faux-neutral framing of the conflict as Ukraine being caught between two great powers each trying to use Ukraine as a puppet, rather than a decision of the government of the Russian Federation to launch an unprovoked invasion of Ukraine with the intention of eliminating the independent government and the cultural distinction of the Ukrainian people, a genodical project based on a broader ethno-nationalist state ideology. In this conflict, and in the leadup to it, Russia and the US have played very different roles, and I take great issue with some forms of leftist political discourse that use a starting point of "the US military is bad" (which is broadly correct, see current US military support for genocide against the Palestinian people) as a pretense to justify, excuse, or do whataboutism for war crimes committed by other countries. I'm saying that as someone who would rather the US military (and police) be dismantled, in case you're concerned that this is coming from a right-wing perspective. This is coming from a place of leftist critiques of other leftists. I support principled oppposition to genocide in all circumstances, and I believe that anti-fascism includes clearly identifying when genocide is being committed by other countries and not just by the US or other "western nations" against countries identified as "third world" (while of course avoiding the pitfalls of justifying unjust interventions such as, broadly, the "war on terror".

On the subject, I would also enourage people to look into the history of Ukraine and Russia in colonial and post-colonial terms, with the history of "internal colonization" of Ukraine in the early soviet era and the genocide of the Holdamor.

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hoursofreading · 5 months

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Take the now infamous case of David Shor. He lost his job for tweeting about well-supported research that non-violent civil rights protests persuade people whereas violence turns the public against the civil rights movement. He told the truth, of course, but Lefty anti-police activists and various other Left types love and romanticize street violence for various complex ideological reasons and decided to make it a coalitional demand, during the Summer of George Floyd, that everyone adopt the attitude that a riot is the voice of the unheard and that street violence must either be cheered or blamed on the police (or sometimes both). So you couldn’t tell the truth about what tactics of civil rights protests are effective. And of course, the Left paid a dear price for that insistence that the coalition must not tell the truth— almost no significant police reforms came out of the George Floyd murder. Bills to abolish “qualified immunity” and allow citizens to sue the police? They failed. The much ballyhooed “George Floyd Justice In Policing Act”? Didn’t go anywhere. The Left took over a city center for a period of time (Seattle), allowing crime and mayhem to fester, and attacked government buildings in two more cities (Portland and Minneapolis), but in terms of actually doing something about Black people getting harassed or attacked by the police? Nada. Maybe, just maybe, if they had listened to David Shor and stuck to the truth, they would have been more successful. This problem, in fact, is getting worse and will continue to get worse. Because the problem is that the activist world works on deliverables, and rhetoric is an easy deliverable. What do I mean by that? Well think about how hard it is to pass a bill in this era of polarization. If you are promising your donors legislation, you are going to leave them empty handed a lot of the time, and many of them may stop donating. But language is a really easy deliverable. We’ve seen this in a related issue, which is the ridiculous lengths that Left activist groups go to propose new terminology and change the way governments and institutions speak. This is easy to do, because nobody wants to be called a racist and everyone wants to use the latest jargon. So if you want to convince Planned Parenthood and a bunch of Left-leaning bureaucrats to say “pregnant people” instead of “women”, you have given yourself a very easy task. And then you can tell your donors you got them to do this. And a very similar dynamic occurs with respect to getting your coalition partners to lie. Go back to my first example, the Republican rich donors who want tax cuts and talk up religion. Many of them certainly don’t believe in any sort of religion and see the entire enterprise as BS, but they see it as harmless BS. You can imagine their reasoning. “So what if I pretend to believe in God and Christianity. It’s harmless, it doesn’t mean anything anyway, and I can get these folks to support tax cuts that will grow the economy.” It makes perfect sense. The coalition partners are happy because they can go to their constituents with the deliverable, and you can get the policy outcomes you want. Only it isn’t harmless. All the conservatives who know that global warming is real but who don’t say so for coalitional reasons have succeeded in creating an environment where half the public will reflexively oppose any attempt to do anything about global warming, making the margins narrow even for the most moderate legislation, and encouraging Republican Presidents to dismantle measures to fight global warming to play to the ignorance of their coalition. https://dilanesper.substack.com/p/the-danger-of-coalitionism

#quote

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readingthroughtheapocalypse · 7 months

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Read 08/10/23 - 15/10/23.

4 stars. Nick Cook’s ‘Fighting for Our Lives’ is a remarkable and incredibly thorough portrayal of the collective resilience and commitment displayed by communities directly affected by the AIDS crisis in Australia, starting in the 80s and moving through till the 2000s. The book delves into these most harrowing two decades, amidst the backdrop of illness, fear, discrimination and stigmatisation, and immense loss, and highlights the extraordinary actions taken by different communities in response.

While the book obviously predominantly focuses on gay men and gay organisations, I truly appreciated Cook’s exploration of sex workers and their community efforts, as they have historically been seen as scapegoats in the wake of health epidemics and considered vectors of disease. Cook explains that despite there never being a confirmed case of HIV transmission frm a female sex worker (amazing!), they were still, of course, unjustly vilified and stigmatised. The book sheds light on the crucial role played by organisations such as the APC (Australian Prostitutes Collective) and SWOP (Sex Worker Outreach Project) in helping sex workers confront the looming threat of HIV/AIDS and dismantling harmful stereotypes and championing safer sex practices.

In a similar vein, I also enjoyed Cook’s examination of the shifting perception of condoms in society, as prior to the AIDS crisis, condoms were primarily regarded as a contraceptive method fr cis women, but as the awareness of HIV/AIDS grew, they evolved through public awareness campaigns into an indispensable tool fr preventing the transmission of HIV and other STIs. This transformation not only underscored the public health significance of condoms but also played a pivotal role in destigmatising their use. Condoms began to be seen as a responsible choice fr people of all gender identities and sexual orientations, that are a critical step in protecting themselves and their partners frm potentially life-threatening infections.

I also enjoyed Cook’s focus on the complex reasons why many individuals kept their HIV status hidden, as during the 80s-90s, when the HIV/AIDS crisis was at its peak, the fear of disclosure was not just about personal discomfort, but was about very real, life-altering consequences. The instances of harassment at work, eviction frm one’s home, and discrimination and stigmatisation were pervasive, w heartbreaking stories of lives shattered by the disclosure of one’s status. Cook’s mention of the statistics and stories frm that time paint a grim picture of the social and legal environment. As well, the fear of being isolated, ostracised, and even the dystopian threat of government-sanctioned segregation created an atmosphere of uncertainty and dread fr the HIV-positive community, and in the face of these very tangible repercussions, it’s understandable why many chose to keep their status secret. In light of this, that’s why we must always champion ongoing awareness, education, and advocacy to ensure that such injustices are not repeated and that we continue to support and stand w those affected by HIV/AIDS.

The book also emphasises the broader impact of the AIDS crisis by highlighting the role of organisations like ACON. These orgs engaged in things such as comprehensive safe sex awareness campaigns and the widespread distribution of safe sex tools, educational initiatives, harm reduction fr drug users, mental health and wellbeing campaigns and support, palliative care, and counselling, among many other things. Their efforts reshaped the narrative around HIV/AIDS, saving countless lives in the process. Organisations like ACON are champions of health and wellbeing w/in the queer community, as the essential services they offer thoroughly address specific issues that affect the queer community. And by doing so, they have very effectively contributed to the overall wellbeing and longevity of queer individuals and the broader queer community.

I also feel pretty passionate about this book due to it being in part a history of ACON, as I volunteered at one point w ACON’s Community Visitors Scheme, where you visit w and provide companionship to socially and/or culturally isolated LGBTQ+ seniors. So I feel like it gives me a tiny tiny tiiiiny piece of personal connection to this narrative, or at the very least has strengthened my already high opinion of all that ACON has done and still is doing. Frm its rocky beginnings, ACON has been at the forefront of advocacy and awareness, and they’ve worked tirelessly to challenge discrimination and stigmatisation, fight fr equal rights, promoted societal acceptance, etc etc. ACON’s staunch advocacy efforts have not only immensely benefitted the queer community but also helped educate the broader public, ultimately fostering a more inclusive Australian society.

‘Fighting for Our Lives’ is a testament to the power of community action, mutual aid, advocacy, and resilience, across different marginalised communities, frm the obvious gay male community, on to sex workers and drug users. It captures the high-stakes, life-and-death chaos of an extraordinary two decades, making it an essential book to read fr anyone seeking to deepen their understanding of the profound impact the AIDS crisis had in Australia and of the collective efforts that sprung up in response. Highly recommend!

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babybluebex · 3 years

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me and my husband [baron zemo x reader]

summary ↠ in the process of making sure zemo is okay after a fight in latvia, you find a way to put captain john walker in his place. pairing ↠ baron zemo x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 1.6k warnings ↠ explicit language, itty bitty tfatws ep. 4 spoilers, john walker being misogynistic and a Total Dick a/n ↠ (yes the title is a mitski reference) enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio! (also thank u @therenlover for your invaluable support and screaming in my instagram dms)

As far as you were concerned, John Walker could rot in hell.

You had only just heard the fight break out, the smashing of glass making your quicken your step, and you had rushed into the room the moment that Walker, in his infinite prickishness, had hurtled that dumb metal shield through the air. You had watched it collide against your husband’s cheek, and Helmut had gone limp instantly and crumpled to the floor.

“What the hell?” you had cried, enraged, and Bucky and Sam were quick to come in after you. “What the fuck was that for, you prick?”

John Walker had given you a confused look, then looked to his partner, then to Sam and Bucky. Originally, Sam had initially been opposed to bringing you along on their mission to retrieve information about the Flag Smashers, but your husband had extended an ultimatum: “She comes with me, or I don’t come at all.” They needed Zemo to get into Madripoor, so the Americans sighed and allowed you to come. You yourself weren’t quite sure why Zemo was insistent that you come with him, but, the moment you saw him get hit by Captain America’s shield, it made sense: to vouch for him when he couldn’t.

“Who’re you?” John had asked carefully, and Sam huffed out a laugh.

“Aw, this’ll be good,” Sam had mumbled as you stormed towards John. Your shoes clicked against the floor as you came chest to chest with him, and you planted your hands on your hips.

“My name is Zemo,” you had told him. “And you just gave my husband a concussion.”

John stared at you for a minute, then at Helmut at his feet, then back at you. “Husband?” he replied. “But he’s been in jail for seven years.”

“Of all the people to explain my relationship to, you are not high on that list,” you spat. “Now, get him up.”

John looked around at his compatriots in obvious confusion, and Bucky sighed. “Just do it, man,” he mumbled.

“And why won’t you do it?” John asked.

“Because he’s not the one with the giant metal trash can lid strapped to his arm,” you said. “You are. You are the one who hurt my husband, and you are going to fix this. So, Captain, I suggest you move him from the middle of the floor.”

And now, finally back in the small Latvian flat, you were able to properly tend to Helmut. He had come to just as John had set him on the sofa, and you could gauge that he was concussed. It didn’t seem too bad, but he was still a bit disoriented. Helmut gave a small groan, certainly one of pain, and you whispered, “There he is. How’re you feeling, love?”

Helmut glanced around you for a moment, trying to get his bearings, and he mumbled, “What happened?”

“An American oaf with a trash can lid took you out,” you explained. “He got you in the face pretty good.” Gingerly, you skimmed your fingers over his cheek, testing for any tenderness, and you heard a low groan escape him when you touched the red patch on his face. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

“I can do it, mein Schatz,” Helmut began, but you gently pushed on his chest to keep him down.

“Hel, please,” you sighed. “You need to rest. Let me take care of you.”

After a moment, your husband sighed and laid back down, and he rested his head back on a pillow. Just as you stood up, Helmut reached out and grabbed your hand tightly. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, stroking his thumb along the back of your hand. “What would I do without you?”

“There’s no telling,” you sighed, and you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed back, a bit weak and tired, but his hand on yours spoke the words that his kiss didn’t. “Take off your jacket, my love, you’ll get too warm.”

You walked across the space to the bathroom, and you grabbed a small hand towel to run under some cold water. As you did your task at the kitchen sink, you heard John, Bucky, Lamar, and Sam all muttering between themselves, and you hardly listened to it. You expected it to be some drivel about teamwork or patriotism or whatever it was that any conversation with Captain America turned to, but you finally tuned in when you heard your husband’s name. “Zemo’s got you two cornered,” John said. “Making you do his shit for him. And he demanded to bring her along? Why didn’t you say no?”

“We needed him,” Bucky replied. “And there’s no him without her.”

“Oh, they’re some sorta Bonnie and Clyde?” John huffed. “You’re harboring a fugitive here. A-And you! You’d really put your wife in danger like this?”

“Mein Schatz is resourceful,” you heard Helmut mutter, and you drained the rag of excess water before moving back to him as he spoke. “Smart, clever, and cunning; I married her for a reason.”

You sat on the floor next to him and settled the cold rag over his eyes. He smiled a little and gave a quiet groan, and you rested your hand on his chest. He had done as you had asked and taken off his coat, but you still saw the red flush under his collar. Carefully, you reached up and undid the top few buttons in his wine-colored shirt, and you gave a playful tug at his gold necklace. “Can I get you anything?” you asked him quietly; you spoke in Sokovian, for no other reason than to make John and Lamar squirm.

“Bourbon?” Helmut asked, following your linguistic lead.

“Of course,” you replied. You took his hand off of his stomach and gave his knuckles a kiss, and added, “Anything else?”

“A kiss,” Helmut said, and he gave a quiet little laugh. “I can’t see your face, my treasure, but I know you’re grimacing at me.”

“Never,” you said with a click of your tongue, but you sat up on your knees and pressed a soft kiss to your husband’s lips. You liked kissing Helmut Zemo, especially moments like this, when it was just you and him. Of course, you were surrounded by men who were all bigger and stronger than both of you, but your mother language gave you a feeling of exclusion that you welcomed.

“Alright, whatever the fuck this is has gotta stop,” John groaned, and you broke away from the kiss slowly. “Listen, we’ve put up with a lot of your shit, Zemo, but your little cock-sleeve or whatever she is is taking things one step too far.”

Helmut sighed with the weight of the insult, took up your hand blindly and squeezed, and he whispered, “Go easy on him, won’t you?”

“Would you?” you asked, and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. You stood carefully and smoothed out your shirt, and then you turned to John. He truly was an impressive figure, but you felt his uneasiness radiating off of him. You were the player, and he the instrument; you only had to find the right chord. “First of all,” you began. “Insulting a woman because she likes to have sex? Low blow, Walker. I thought that Cap respected women.”

“He does,” Bucky said. “He’s supposed to.”

“I’m not Steve--”

“Did I ever say Steve?” you snapped. “No, I said Cap. Captain America is a title and a role that you should be fucking thankful for, and you treat it like a curse that’s been put on you. Cap protects and serves, and look at what you’ve done while you’ve had that shield: you’ve been frolicking around on television and causing more trouble than you’re worth.”

Sam gave an affirmative grunt from over your shoulder, and, if you had been facing him, you would have seen the way he pressed his fist into Zemo’s shoulder with a smile.

“You may not be Steve,” you said, taking a step closer. “I truly doubt that the world needs another Steve Rogers. But Captain America is supposed to inspire peace and freedom and trust and all of those American buzzwords, and you’re doing a piss-poor job at it. You have to trust that Sam and Bucky are making the right decisions here, even if those decisions involve me and my husband.” You paused and titled your head in trademark Zemo fashion, a habit you had picked up from Helmut, and you said, “I think that you’re forgetting that you’re in the presence of a man-- the man-- who managed to dismantle the Avengers. Bucky wouldn’t have gotten him out of prison without a good fuckin’ reason, and I think that his help’s been pretty invaluable. But what do I know, right? I’m just his little cock-sleeve.”

You pushed John aside in order to go to the kitchen area and fulfill Helmut’s request of a drink, and you felt proud of yourself. You had wanted to put him in his place ever since you had first heard of him, and your stomach was warm with pride.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Zemo,” John called across the room as you settled a few ice cubes into a small tumbler. “Sometimes I just… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sure if I want to accept that apology or not,” you replied. “Let me sleep on it.” You brought the drink back to Helmut, and he moved himself to sit up on the couch properly. You took the cool towel from his face and carefully pressed it to the back of his warm neck, and you watched John and Lamar exchange uncomfortable glances. “Oh, and, Captain?” you added, and he turned to look at you. “Missus is nice, but it’s Baroness Zemo to you.”

#baron zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel bruhl x reader #kit.txt

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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

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You’ll Be Okay

AO3

fourth owl fight attack! This one’s prompt was “Hunter and Luz being siblings” and I went a whole Direction with it

Summary: The Emperor was defeated. Amongst the ruins of a half-destroyed castle, Luz finds Hunter. While waiting for the others to find them, Hunter's shields finally fall apart. After all, at the end of the day, he was just a kid.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Luz found Hunter in the wreckage of the Emperor’s Castle, using his staff (the one that had Rascal perched atop, not the other, artificial staff. That one had been snapped in two) to support himself, his other hand clutching his side.

“There you are!” She breathed, rushing forward.

Hunter flinched at the noise and whirled around, lifting his staff to aim it before falling over at the lack of support. He hissed and curled up on the ground, eyes squeezed shut.

Luz faltered for a moment before continuing towards him, albeit much slower and cautiously now.

“Hunter?” She called, crouched down low.

He cracked open a wild, unfocused eye. It took a moment till it landed on her, and a few more until she could start to see him process who she was.

“Hey,” He croaked, slowly raising his head. “I was beginning to think I’d gotten rid of you for good.” He chuckled, before he was wracked with coughs and curled back in on himself.

“Oh please, you’ll have to try way harder than that.” Luz huffed, though the forced teasing in her tone didn’t work much. “Are you…okay?”

“Take a wild guess,” Hunter muttered, bracing one hand on the ground as the other stayed wrapped around his side.

And yeah, in hindsight, he really wasn’t. His white cloak was ratty and torn all over, the piece of under armor he often used barely hanging on by one strap. He was covered in gashes, bruises, grime, and who-knows-what. His breathing was ragged and raspy, and she figured that, yeah, when one is used as a living portal-booster they aren’t going to come out of it okay.

“Alright, fair, bad question.” Luz admitted, inching closer and placing a hand on his leg. “You need any help?”

“If I say no,” Hunter wheezed, eyeing her hand for a moment. “You’ll help me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Luz shrugged. “But it’s polite to ask.”

“Never stopped you before,” He rasped with the faintest of smiles, slowly leaning back until he was flat on the ground, staring up at the sky.

“Need a minute?” Luz asked, scooting until she was sitting right beside him.

“Or three,” Hunter agreed, shutting his eyes. “Everything kinda hurts.”

“Then rest, someone will find us eventually.” Luz assured. “I…may have run off to find you when I realized you weren’t with the others.” She admitted sheepishly, rubbing her neck.

“If they accuse me of kidnapping, I’ll break your shins.” Hunter threatened, though his tone never changed, and his eyes stayed shut.

“Understood,” Luz smiled, watching as Rascal transformed back into his usual self, chirping as he settled himself on Hunter’s stomach.

And the two remained silent for what felt like hours, though Luz was willing to bet it had been no more than ten minutes. She just looked out at the rubble around them, aching all over as a light wind breezed by. Had she not seen Hunter’s ear flicking periodically with the wind tickling it, she probably would’ve thought he’d died then. His breathing barely even disturbed Rascal, which she had to wonder if he was doing on purpose or not.

“When are you leaving?”

Luz blinked, turning her head down, finding Hunter had cracked open a single eye and was peering up at her.

“Huh?”

“The portal, you went through all this trouble to go back to the human realm, right?” He said. “So, when are you leaving?”

“Oh, uh,” Luz swallowed, shoving down the memory of standing before blinding car lights, reaching for a hand she phased right through. “I...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Hunter repeated, giving her an incredulous look. “You went through all this trouble--”

“Okay, in my defense, this goes a little beyond getting the portal back, there were other reasons.” Luz said, waving her arms to the ruins around them.

“Still,” Hunter braced his arms under him, grunting with the effort as he pushed himself upright, disturbing Rascal. “Last I checked, the portal’s fine. How come you’re not making a beeline for it?”

“Uh, because I need to make sure my friends are okay?” Luz said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world, which, really, it should’ve been. “I’m not gonna leave right away. I need a day or two to make sure everyone's alright and figure out what they’re gonna do now.”

“Go back to normal?” Hunter raised a brow.

“An entire government was just dismantled, Hunter.” Luz deadpanned. “My fantasy books never really got to the part of explaining how they fixed a toppled tyrannical way of ruling, but knowing the Boiling Isles, I doubt this is gonna be easy.”

“Let the people good with politics handle that,” Hunter said casually, slumping back down on the ground and throwing an arm over his face. “They’re not gonna listen to a teenage human and her band of misfits for a new government, anyway.”

“Lilith might be good at figuring that out,” Luz hummed, ignoring him. “She has experience. Raine, too, technically.”

“If you put Lilith in charge, every witch and demon in the Isles will riot in the street.”

“We’re not putting her in charge,” Luz stressed, appalled at the thought. “Just guiding people. See? This is why I need to stay for a little bit, I gotta know what's gonna happen!”

“Do you actually want to go back, or was this all a game of keepsies?” Hunter muttered.

“Of course I--I’m not arguing with you, you’re wounded.” Luz said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

“I'm not in that bad of shape."

“Really now,” Luz said drawled, reaching out a hand towards his chest before Hunter batted it away.

"You trying to hurt me more?" Hunter grumbled, rolling onto his side and wincing with the movement.

"I don't think you could get any more hurt if you tried." Luz deadpanned.

“I’ve had worse than this.” Hunter wheezed out, Rascal fluttering around him anxiously.

“Worse than a living portal puppet...thing?” Luz lifted a brow disbelievingly.

“...alright, fair,” Hunter sighed, a wheezing, noisy one as he shook his head. “This is probably the worst. New record.”

“I don’t want to know what the old record was.” Luz cringed as Hunter rolled onto his back once more, wincing with the movement. “You think the worst of it came from the portal, or being thrown around like a ragdoll by an eldritch abomination?”

“Portal thing,” Hunter said, eyes shut. “I’m used to…” He trailed off, mouth clicking shut as he refused to finish the sentence.

Used to Belos, Luz reasoned, was likely where he was going with that. She gazed at him sadly, his hands clenched into fists over his stomach now, Rascal nudging at his shoulder.

“He didn’t make it, right?” Hunter asked softly, and she didn’t ask him to clarify who.

“I don’t think so, we didn’t find anything.” Luz answered. “We could go check where we last saw him...if you’d like.”

“...later,” Hunter sighed, raising his hands to press the heels of them up against his eyes, fingers gripping his hair. “I don’t wanna think about it much right now.”

“I’m,” Luz started, fiddling with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, about all this.” She said, because she didn’t know what else she could say.

“No, you’re not.” Hunter scoffed bitterly. “You’re glad it’s over.”

“I am,” Luz agreed. “That doesn’t mean I’m still not sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you, I get it.” Hunter said, agonizingly gently. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not--Dios,” Luz muttered as she ran a hand over her face. “Me olvidé de lo reprimido que estabas. You are my friend,” Luz shoved lightly at his shoulder, and he jerked and raised one hand away to give her an offended look. “And as your friend, should the stars align, I am sorry that this terrible situation happened to you, because I care about your well being.” She said, perhaps a few notches more aggressively than intended.

“...I’m your friend?” Hunter blinked, removing his other hand.

“Yes! Yes, you’re my friend! Are we seriously still on that page?” Luz demanded, almost yanking at her hair. She raised a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “If you start protesting about all the times you were a jerk to me before you switched sides, I’m going to hit you.”

“...you have a very mean way of expressing concern.” Hunter settled on, voice small.

“Because you,” Luz poked at his forehead and got a growl in return. “Can’t get it through your thick head that other people can care about you. Newsflash, buddy. Eda’s already talking to Hooty about making another room for you.”

“She what--”

“So I’m sorry that the castle is destroyed, and I’m sorry that your uncle is gone, because you cared about him.” Luz continued before he could butt-in. “And about that whole...Grimwalker thing, which is a whole other pile of messed up things, but you get the point.” She waved her hands around. “You...you deserved better.” She finally finished, realizing she’d sat up at one point to face him, and now leaned back on her knees.

Hunter stared at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. Rascal had crawled his way up and onto his shoulder now, looking between the two of them.

Eventually, the tension left his body, and he lay on his side, cheek pressed into the dirty, rocky ground. Rascal jolted, fluttering up onto his head.

“He was awful,” Hunter mumbled, like he was trying to convince someone.

“I know,” Luz sighed, looking down at him. “But you loved him.” She said, and Hunter didn’t dispute it.

“...m’sorry,” Hunter got out, which sounded like a shuttering gasp, as though his throat was closing up.

“What for?” Luz tilted her head.

“You want the list?” Hunter managed, his snark falling short as he rapidly blinked his eyes. “I’d ask why you care at all, but you’re Luz.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“It worked out this time, didn’t it?” Luz said, offering a tiny smile as she held out a hand, just short of touching him.

He eyed her hand for a moment, then his gaze flicked across her face, searching. He must’ve seen something, because the little resolve he had left broke, and he reached for Luz’s hand and gripped onto it far more forcefully than needed.

She hoisted him upright, and barely had a moment to spare until he was grabbing onto her, hands fisted in the back of her shirt as he pressed his face into her shoulder. She froze for just a moment before she returned the hug, forcing herself not to protest against the tight grip along her back, definitely going to form nasty bruises later.

She saw that the white of his cloak was covered in dirt and blood all across his back, from injuries he must’ve sustained, though most of it looked dried now. She wondered if it hurt for him to lay on his back like that, and avoided disturbing those wounds as he trembled in her arms.

He shook with cries that were barely choked back, and she pressed the side of her face against his head. Rascal warbled sadly and nuzzled into his head from where he was perched in his hair.

Luz murmured words she couldn’t remember for the life of her, rubbing small circles across the uninjured parts of his back. He only pressed closer, clinging desperately like she’d vanish if he didn’t, and Luz had to put in effort to not fall back.

It might’ve been a few minutes, it might’ve been longer, but gradually, Hunter ran out of steam. His strained cries became muffled sniffles, slumping against Luz like dead weight.

“Sorry,” Hunter hiccupped again, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I think I got your cloak dirty.”

“It was already pretty messy.” Luz assured. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Hunter muffled, hunching his shoulders.

“Okay,” Luz said simply. “We’ve got time.”

“And ain’t that a new concept,” Hunter mumbled, raising his head slightly to instead rest his chin on top of Luz’s shoulder, and she could already feel him wiping at his face. “Having time. I didn’t think I’d make it past nineteen, if I was lucky.” He sniffled, voice hoarse and raspy.

“That…” Luz frowned. “Yeah, we’re gonna make you see someone for all of that.”

“Make me?” Hunter repeated, a faint, fading amusement to his tone.

“We have our ways.” Luz said with a hint of pride. “You’d be surprised.”

Hunter remained quiet for a moment, and Luz watched the old, ripped tapestries in the rubble wave when the wind went by them. She wondered if Eda would be stealing any of those as a trophy, and how long it’d take before Lilith took it away from her.

“Are you going to come back?” Hunter asked, quietly, curiously, without any hint of pleading in his tone, which she was quite impressed by. The subtle grip around her sides tightening just an inch gave him away, though.

“Of course,” Luz said, not needing clarification on what he had meant. “I couldn’t leave this place forever, not even if I wanted to.” She said, and prayed she wasn't lying.

“Yeah, you couldn’t.” Hunter snorted, slowly pulling back as he wiped up the last of his face, though it was still pretty damp as he faced Luz. “They’d be insufferable trying to get you back.” He said, frazzled hair hanging into his eyes.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t put in an effort, then?” Luz scoffed good-naturedly. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”

“Well now how am I supposed to respond to that?” Hunter demanded in a whine. “I say yes, and you start getting melodramatic and bringing up pointless random acts of kindness like I’m a liar. I say no, and you get all starry-eyed and unbearable.” He complained.

Luz laughed, despite it all. Hunter rolled his eyes and sat back, looking up at Rascal on his head like they were in on some joke she was missing. He chuckled along with her and shook his head, ears twitching down.

“You’re impossible,” He huffed, though he bore a smile.

“I know,” Luz grinned. “And what’s it say about you, still caring anyway?”

“Don’t push it.” Hunter warned, shoving her shoulder as he leaned further back, her only giggling in response.

A call sounded off in the distance, and they both snapped their heads in the direction of the sound. Hunter’s ears pricked high, the sudden shift in personality from relaxed to alert being another slightly alarming thing to put on Luz’s list of traits Hunter had.

The call sounded again, and Luz could recognize the sound of Eda’s voice. She smiled and stood, untangling herself from Hunter as she peered out at the terrain, seeing a figure off in the distance, and if she squinted enough, she could see a few more not too far away.

“Over here!” Luz shouted, hands cupped around her mouth.

“Ow,” Hunter winced, rubbing at his ears.

“Oh, are they sensitive?” Luz worried, lowering her voice.

“Just a bit, I think I had a concussion earlier.” Hunter said, shaking his head to clear it.

“You’re seeing a healer,” Luz said firmly, looking back out to the figures in the distance. “Cover your ears.”

Hunter grumbled something about Luz being dramatic, covering his ears as Luz continued waving her hands and hollering to the others. It took a moment, but she saw one of them break away before the others followed suit, and Eda’s wild nest of hair could be recognizable from anywhere.

“Are you ready to make formal introductions?” Luz grinned down at Hunter, who slowly drew his hands away from his ears.

“Do I have to?” Hunter whined. “I could just live off the land, making a tent isn’t that hard. I know how to steal.”

“Nice try,” Luz lightly pushed at his head. “Unless you’ve got a proper living space, you’re staying in the Owl House.”

“I’m sixteen, no place in Bonesborough will give me an apartment unless I’m rich.” Hunter complained.

“Precisely,” Luz said simply, offering a hand to him. “Wanna try standing up?”

“I guess,” Hunter grumbled, taking her hand and letting her pull him to his feet.

He stumbled for a moment, hissing and favoring his right foot, and would’ve fallen right back over if Luz didn’t stop his fall with her body, hanging onto his arm to steady him.

“Yeah, that’s sprained. Or twisted, don’t really feel like checking.” Hunter gritted out, Rascal cheeping from his head before flying off, transforming into a staff that Hunter was quick to grab and then lean on, taking his weight off Luz.

“Viney can take a look at it, I’m pretty sure she came with us.” Luz said, grabbing Hunter’s hand and slinging it over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s meet them halfway. You’re lighter than a sack of lumpy potatoes, it’s not hard to carry you.”

“I resent that,” Hunter growled, though he let her do as she wished. “You're just weirdly strong.”

“You live in the Boiling Isles, you're telling me you're not?” Luz scoffed, beginning to walk with Hunter, who used his staff occasionally to push aside heaps of rock or try and limp himself along.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a frame of reference.” Hunter drawled, looking up, his ears pinning back against his head when he could make out who was approaching in the distance. Luz could now see that King was sitting atop Eda’s shoulder, too.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Luz said, noting Hunter’s nerves suddenly spiking. “Are you ready to meet everyone, outside of, you know, portal mishaps?”

Hunter swallowed, looking down at Luz with something that might’ve been fear swirling in his eyes. He searched her face, closing his eyes and taking in half a breath, anything more causing him to cough, exhaling as he opened his eyes again, facing off towards where the others were gathered, the fear replaced with determination.

“Yeah,” He said, clearing his throat when his voice started to shake. “Yeah, I think so.”

Luz smiled, bumping her body against his, and he looked at her with a smile of his own that might just have been hopeful.

She turned back to call a greeting to her friends as Eda was already scolding her for running off the moment she was in earshot, King wailing something about being worried. Hunter gave them his best crooked smile, despite his earlier claims, insisting she’d only come to drag him out of the rubble.

Yeah, Luz thought as she watched Eda and King pause and look Hunter over, easily slipping into mocking him for how beat up he looked, like nothing had ever gone sideways, and it was any other day in the Isles. They’d be okay.

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 20 - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

My official gif maker @abimess, thank you.

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.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 20 - Part XX - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

You don’t sleep for long, there is a sound of something breaking that makes you blink confusedly as you move on your bed.

Then you realize that it is the wood up your head that is moving, along with a red magic that you know very well.

You look forward, only to find Wanda with an impassive look on her face as she merges the bed into one.

“I’m sleeping with you from now on.” She says simply as she finishes, and you lay back on the mattress, not sure of what to say about that.

You hold your breath as you hear her taking off her shoes, changing to her pajamas next, staring on the roof of the tent as she does it.

She pulls the blanket to lie down, and then is mimicking your position.

"Would...would it be okay if I hugged you?" she asks after a moment, and you feel your heart race.

"I'd like that." You mumble clumsily, turning to the opposite side.

And it takes half a second for Wanda to wrap her arms around your waist, burying her face in your shoulders, inhaling your perfume and making you blush heavily.

Your legs entwine from underneath the comforter, and you feel more secure than you ever have before.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs against your skin. You think she is talking about what happened with the horcrux, and you just nod softly, but she repeats the apology against your ear, intertwining her hands in front of your belly, and you realize she is talking about everything.

"I love you." She confesses next, and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

The hug gets tighter, and you sink your face into the pillow, allowing yourself to cry.

And Wanda doesn't let go, even when you sob, and it takes a while, but you finally fall asleep. And when you do, she stays.

//-//-//-//

You woke up first. And you don’t wanna get up. Not when you have Wanda wrapped around you like this, your face buried her neck, as you both turned around during the night, and now your legs are completely entwined, and you are practically lying on top of her.

And all you do is sink even deeper against her body, sighing against her skin. She smells so good.

"-morning." She whispers hoarsely, still with her eyes closed, her hands around your body moving slowly against your back down and up, and you just murmur into her skin wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

"We should get up." Wanda says after a moment in silence, not seeming to really wish to do so.

"No, thank you." You retort and your voice comes out muffled against her neck, the vibration making her laugh.

"We need to darling, I think we have some lessons. "She says and you mumble softly, the curiosity to pursue the story Agatha was telling is enough to make you pull away.

But when you are about to let go of Wanda, she pulls on your forearm, and you look at her with confusion, but she moves forward and kisses you firmly.

It's slow, and soft. It makes you sigh, so you kiss her back, sinking right back onto the bed as her hands wrap around your hair to deepen the kiss.

When her tongue asks for passage, you see stars, melting under her touch. Wanda smiles against your lips, pulling you by the shoulders to lie on top of her.

But before you can do so, the sound of footsteps catches your attention, along with a soft hiss, and you grumble before pulling away.

Throwing your face back into the pillow, you try to calm your breathing and rapid heartbeat as Agatha strolls through the tent, until she comes to your room.

"Are the sleeping beauties going to get up, or should I bring coffee in bed?" She teases with her arms crossed as Wanda hides her smile as she notices your state. "You two know this isn't a honeymoon trip, right?"

"Stop being so bitter, Agatha." Wanda complains as she sits up. "We'll be right there."

"And a good day to us, ladies." The older witch retorts before leaving.

Wanda laughs softly, turning her attention back to you as you scramble up on the bed to sit down as well.

"How are you?" she asks, intertwining your hands on top of the mattress, and you let your gaze roam over her face, biting your lips against the urge to kiss her again.

"Fine." You murmur half hoarsely, from sleep or lust, Wanda will never know. "And you?"

"Better." She says with a nod, and you feel your heart race. Better with you here.

Wanda squeezes your hand before letting go, and she stands up, looking at you one last time before walking off toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you throw yourself back against the mattress, trying to push away the feeling of her tongue against yours and focus on the fact that you were even closer to completing your mission with one less horcrux to destroy.

//-//-//-//

“Where are we now?” You asked as you observed the surroundings. It’s the entrance of an old garage, in the corner of a city. But the real Agatha ignores your question as she guides you two inside, further into the memory.

Your dad, just a teen boy, maybe eighteen, is inside, working on a large machine, it seems that he was really a muggle mechanic, since there were cars all around, dismantled or not.

"Stark." It is Agatha from the memories who says, and startles your father slightly, who almost drops the screwdriver. But when he looks up, he smiles.

"Professor Harkness!" He says getting up, and wiping the grease on his apron quickly before greeting her. "You really did it!"

"I told you I would come." She says, and you are surprised at the affectionate way she looks at your father, "Look at you, Howard, you're so grown up."

Your father laughs, bowing his head softly. "Thank you, professor."

"I only say that because I've known you since you were a child." She humorously clarifies. "And now you are even growing a mustache. Tell me, do muggle girls like that sort of thing?"

Your father laughs with flushed cheeks, and Agatha follows him. Before they can say anything, there are voices and the sound of footsteps approaching, and soon, two people enter.

Wanda chokes softly next to you. "Mama."

You also recognized Magda, because you have seen pictures before. She had the same appearance as in the photos, and you were saddened by this, because she must have died not so long after this memory.

Erik stood beside her, wearing muggles like the woman next to him.

"Professor Harkness, you made it!" He greets politely, hurrying to shake the witch's hand as she smiles. "It's so good to see you again! This is Magda, my wife."

"It's a pleasure, dear."

The memory speeds up, you want to fight Agatha for cutting off Wanda's moment of seeing her mother properly, but the way Wanda strokes her thumb against your hand makes you give up saying anything.

The scene settles down in what you think is the apartment at the top of the garage where they were, all around a table, drinking beers.

"You guys know why I came all this way, don't you?" Agatha says, and seems to have just had a short pause in the conversation, as if everyone had been laughing before and suddenly got quiet. And the tension only increases with her comment.

Her father sighs, nodding. "There is no daily prophet here, but I have met some travelers. They are talking about a war, Agatha." He says worriedly. "But I want to hear it from you. Do you really think that could happen?"

Agatha gives a humorless laugh. "It's already happening." She says, placing her beer on the table, and straightening her posture. "The minister of magic waited too long. And now, this group, these so-called death walkers, or whatever ridiculous name they are thinking of trying, are everywhere. In the ministry, in the diagonal alley, in the Order."

Your father looks really upset, but you notice how uncomfortable Erik looks.

"And do you really think that's what they're after, Agatha?" He asks. "War. Do you think that's what the walkers are after?"

The teacher raises her eyebrow slightly. "What else could it be, besides chaos and complete destruction of our society, Erik?"

His former teacher is unaffected by the snickering, he just gives a half-hearted laugh. " Well, freedom of course." He says, clearing his throat softly. "See, that time we've been here. New York is fascinating. Things are bad for muggles it's true, but for the rest of us, damn. The wizards are doing just fine. They have so much magic here, so much freedom to study what they want. The ministry encourages the discovery of new areas, gives financial support to researchers!"

Agatha crosses her legs, listening to Erik's speech carefully.

When he realizes that he may be defending Mephisto's group too much, he pauses, straightening up. "I'm just trying to say that maybe a change in the British government is exactly what our society needs to evolve, Agatha."

"You know, when Fury told me he wanted to recruit you boys to the order, I told him that children don't fight wars." She declares and you see the boys widen their eyes. "You two know that Katherine is dead, right? That Nick took over leadership of the order in his mother's place, and the first names he wanted were yours."

Your father nods, as does Erik.

"Well, I didn't agree." She says. "I said I knew other wizards, more experienced, more trustworthy. Wizards who didn't flee their homeland to live the American dream."

"That's not-" Your father begins but the look in Agatha's eyes makes him shut up.

"Nick insisted that I come here." She continues. "He said that you have kept in touch by correspondence, and that you continue to have the same, what was the word, moral inclination. But now I wonder if he was really right about that."

"I didn't mean to say that the walkers are right!" Erik exclaims defensively, looking embarrassed, but Agatha just smiles.

"Don't worry, honey." She says as she leans in. "I think that kind of moral difference is exactly what makes this whole conflict interesting."

"That's sadistic of you, Agatha." Howard comments seriously. "We're talking about a war."

"Don't be hypocritical now, Howey." She retorts with a wicked smile. "You think I don't know who the travelers you've been talking to are? Say, the magical trafficking laws are simpler in America, aren't they?"

Your father locks his jaw, but keeps his face up.

"I did what I needed to do to survive here." He says simply, and Agatha laughs.

"Of course you did." She says. "So did we all. And now we have a potential battle ahead of us, something that could change the course of wizarding life for future generations. Tell me, do you intend to stand here fixing machines and pretending that your friends are not dying for your freedom? And I thought you were tired of this kind of attitude, golden boy."

Your father stands up, enraged. But he says nothing, and swallows his pride. He gives Erik one last look before leaving the room.

Agatha sighs softly, turning her attention back to Erik, who has his fists clenched in his lap.

"You know very well that the situation is not so simple." He says and Agatha smiles.

"And you know it's him don't you?" She retorts and Erik clenches his jaw.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you know very well, Erik." Agatha insists. "When I fired him, he didn't stay in England. He came to America with his favorite student."

"Keep your voice down." Erik quickly retorts, looking back a moment before leaning forward. "It's not what you think."

"But I don't think anything." She says. "I'm exactly giving you the chance to explain yourself, before I draw my own conclusions."

Erik takes a deep breath, and turns to Magda, squeezing her hands.

"Honey, can you give us a minute?" He asks, and Wanda's mother looks like she's going to say no, before nodding.

She walks off in the same direction as her father, and then Erik and Agatha are alone.

"Professor Faustus has asked me for support, Agatha." He says. "He was out of a job, and with his name tainted with rumors that no one has proven. And he never treated us badly, so I helped him."

"You kept this from Howard? I thought you were best friends." Agatha teases but Erik laughs humorlessly.

"Of course not." He says. "Who do you think paid for the tickets?"

"Interesting." She says. "Why tickets?"

"Because he was being investigated for the dark magic rumors." Erik says. "The ministry put a blocker on him. Any magic he tried to do would go straight to the minister's notes. And well, he needed Howey's help to remove the device from behind his neck."

"While he was hiding, I imagine he told you about his wonderful ideas."

"No, Agatha." He says. "Faustus just looked tired. And he felt betrayed, mostly by you. But in general, he complained, and studied. Howey and I would work all day, and he would stay in his room, among the magic books, unable to conjure anything, not even a light spell. I've never seen him so frustrated."

"I'd feel sorry for him, if that wasn't his fault." Agatha murmurs and Erik sighs in agreement.

"A few months after we arrived, Howey got it." Erik recounts. "Tivan gave him the materials he needed, and he freed Faustus from the blocking device in his skin. He thanked us, said he'd write, and then disappeared. We never heard from him again, but the letters from Fury started coming in the next months."

"Did Howard suspect?"

"No." Erik says squirming uncomfortably in his chair. "Howard trusted him, mostly because of the way he stood up for him in school. About supporting him to study mechanics, even if no one else would. But I knew I had to be smart after what happened with Raven."

"He tried to recruit you?"

Erik sighs. "No, Agatha. But he will."

"I know." She says. "That's why I came."

" I should have guessed that you don't make friendly visits, even to your best students."

Agatha laughs softly, leaning her arm on the carpet. "You think just because you can conjure a patronus you're my best student, Erik? I helped establish the order of merlin. You are not even remotely the most talented wizard I have taught."

"You are hurting my feelings." The man jokes, making the other woman smile.

"How will this work then, Erik?" She asks. "Are you going to accept Fury's offer? Or will you follow your heart?"

The man smiles, standing up. "That just concerns me, and my wife, don't you think?"

"Actually, no." Agatha retorts without sounding angry as Erik moves to collect the beer bottles and put them in the trash. "In fact, I think you even need to leave her."

Erik laughs in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"A muggle, Erik." She says as if it's obvious. "You're going to drag her into a war? That's cruel."

"Magda is stronger than you imagine."

"I'm sure she is." The witch says getting up as well. "But that is until she is hit by the first spell."

“Agatha, please.”

“Muggles can't handle magic like we can, Erik." She insists seriously. "You know that. A simple stupefy could kill her."

"I love her." He says turning away. "And I'm not going to England without her. If she decides to stay, then I will too."

"That's disappointing." Agatha comments, but Erik doesn't flinch, crossing his arms. The witch sighs. "Then do me a favor. Howard, at least he, needs to go. We can't afford to lose allies."

"I'll talk to him." Erik assures. "But you know that with all that his father has done, he doesn't want to go back to London anytime soon."

"This is so much bigger than a family feud." Agatha retorts. "Tell him that, and he'll feel guilty enough to accept it."

"Your mind games are wicked, professor." Erik says before nodding in agreement, leaving.

Agatha sighs, getting pensive.

Just then Magda walks back into the room.

"Miss Harkness?"

"Hello, dear."

"I just came to ask if you're going already? Erik looked upset, but I can walk you to the door. It's good manners."

The memory shakes until they are outside, and Magda leads her to the same place she should have appeared before.

"Please, before you go, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetie."

Magda hesitates, but takes a deep breath and says. "If Erik stays, what are the chances of this war reaching us?"

Agatha looks at the woman for a moment. "I don't think there is a way to escape what is happening in England, Magda. And if we lose, it's not just the witches who will suffer the consequences."

Magda nods in understanding, then steps forward. "Tell me how I can help you."

"He wouldn't approve, but I can't watch everything fall apart around us. Tell me how I can help."

Agatha smiles, touching Magda's shoulder. You hold your breath, as does Wanda, who also notices the magic in the witch's fingertips, and the purple color in her eyes.

"Leave him, dear." She says. "But it needs to be natural, okay? As best as I can, he must not suspect it was my idea. Erik would never put you in danger, but he wouldn't leave you alone either. So you need to end it all."

Magda has tears in her eyes, but she just nods mechanically. And the memory becomes blurred.

Wanda is tense beside her, and you are silent.

"That doesn't make sense." You mutter. "Carol told me that Magda was in Sokovia, and that-"

"She's not my mother, is she?" Wanda cuts you off, looking at the floor. The real Agatha sighs, as you look at the two in confusion.

"How could you tell?" She asks.

"I don't have her eyes."

It was a funny detail about the few pictures of Magda that Erik had in the Maximoff house. All the pictures were old, because they were from muggles. And they were never sharp enough in detail, just good enough for you to be able to recognize the woman in the recollection.

Agatha laughs softly. "Is that all Erik told you about your mother? That you had her eyes?"

Wanda squeezes your hand, and with the other she wipes her cheek.

"Just show me the truth at once, Agatha."

"As you wish."

//-//-//

You stumble gently as you get used to the dirt floor that has stabilized at your feet.

"Are you okay?" You whisper to Wanda, but she just nods, smiling weakly before looking back at the memory forming in your eyes.

You were startled by the bright lights in the sky, recognizing them immediately as wandering spells.

Someone just fought here, and it was no small fight.

"Agatha!" Erik shouted, approaching quickly, coming from the corner as if he had been hiding until now, and the teacher had emerged.

Wanda also held her breath as she noticed the large cut on his forehead, the blood dripping down his face.

"T-They've surrounded us..." He says breathlessly, his wand in fists as he stumbles to get closer. "We narrowly won and-"

"Calm down boy." Agatha says as she holds his shoulders, working quickly to heal his wounds. "Where are the others?"

"Further away." Erik replied visuvelmettely exhausted. You could tell he was a little older than the last memory, but he was still young. "Back to the mansion.

"Good, they' ll be safe there." She says as she helps Erik stand properly. "Where's Natalya?"

And Erik chokes, sobbing. You frown in confusion, and Agatha makes a pitying face.

"Oh, Erik."

He cried, shrugging. "She was.... She tried to gain ground. She hit four of them at once. But... But she-"

And he sobbed, and Agatha didn't insist, hugging him.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered.

And the memory trembled until they were back on the mansion's dirt path, almost at the iron driveway, the man visibly calmer, though quite shaken.

"Erik, what about the children?" Agatha asks as she stops walking in front at the gate.

The man looks on the verge of tears again, but only sighs.

"I have no idea, Agatha." He says. "No place is safe in the UK anymore. I can't leave the order to look after them, I don't know what to do."

And Agatha looks at him a moment, before nodding. "I will help you."

You see many flashbacks of memories, Agatha greeting injured order members, then going back to write letters, and checking the news. You think you see flashes of fights too, big duels, before everything stabilizes again.

It's Magda in front of you, and she looks more mature too.

"Years ago, you asked me how I could help you." Agatha spoke behind you, and you startled yourself by jumping to the side, and watching intently as the witch touched Magda's hands. "You saved yourself by leaving him. But you will save his life and the rest of the wizarding world if you accept what I am about to ask of you."

Magda's eyes widened, but she nodded after a moment. Agatha waved her hands, and a cart approached you.

"Run away, Magda." She says. "Their mother had a house, enchanted to protect from invaders on a hill in a small country in Europe." Agatha explains as Magda lets out a surprised exclamation at the babies in the stroller.

"They... are beautiful." She whispers excitedly, touching the children with her fingers, who fall asleep innocently. "What happened, Agatha? Where is Erik?"

"The fight just got bigger, hon." She explains. "Much bigger than we ever expected. Your people are suffering too, but they're saying it's natural disasters."

Magda is shocked, but she speaks again. "Agatha, I am not a witch. I can't protect them."

"That's exactly why you can." Agatha retorts, taking the other woman's hands again. "Go to Sokovia. There are no witch communities there. Hide yourself, hide them. You have no idea how important it is to keep them safe."

"Tell me, then."

Agatha swallows dryly, and looks away from the babies. "It's only a legend, but it could change the fate of this war. The girl, Magda, is a powerful witch. A special kind, like her mother was."

"My god, she's just a child, Agatha."

"That's exactly why she needs to be protected." The witch retorts. " She' s fragile, like a crystal to be stolen. She must not be found, promise me you will protect her."

"I promise." She says nodding, but Agatha sighs, and her eyes turn purple, her grip increases.

"No matter what happens, Magda." She says. "You will protect them, do you understand?"

"Yes."

The memory shakes again, and this time, your father is in front of you, and you hold your breath, shocked to see him so close so suddenly.

“You’re a snake!” He accused angrly, but without any movement, his eyes were serious with his arms crossed.

You turn to realize he was talking to Agatha, in a room that had no windows.

“I was keeping them safe, Howard.” The woman said. “I don’t expect you to understand the feeling of desperation, because you have an armored mansion at your will.”

“You used Erik’s grief to manipulate him into believing in you!” He shouted. “I’m not asking you again, where are his children?”

Agatha laughs softly, looking at your father indignantly.

"Are you listening to yourself, Howey?" she teases. "Erik switched sides, accept that."

"Nat died on our side." He retorts. "She was my friend, my ally. And she trusted us to protect the twins, you had no right to hide them!"

"They are safe!" Agatha retorts, and looks at the man with a warning expression. "And I suggest you stop making such a scandal about it, Howard! You don't want Mephisto to find out about the girl's true nature. We're close enough to defeat already."

"This isn't about that stupid legend-"

"Isn't it?" Agatha interrupts with irony. "Then why only now? It's been weeks since I took them. I know exactly what you want with the twins, Howard. You want to see if it's true, if they really can change the war." She says approaching. "I will clear that up for you then, since you clearly have no knowledge at all on the subject. A scarlet witch is worthless until she reaches maturity. If you try to take the magic from the baby, you'll just get a victim. And I won't allow that to happen."

"I wasn't going to steal the child's magic, Agatha. Who do you think I am?"

"I don't give a damn who you say you are now, Stark." She retorts."Not to you, nor to Erik, who can't make up his mind whose side he's on."

Agatha moves to leave, clearly ending the conversation. But before she leaves, your father calls out to her.

"Why are you so committed to protecting them, Agatha?" He asks.

"Natalya was my family before she was an Auror, Howard."

As Agatha leaves, the memory fades, but you and Wanda are wide-eyed, confused by the latest revision.

And the ground is shaking at your feet, and you are being pulled back into consciousness.

//-/-//-//-//

You awaken last, stretching confusedly away from the tree you had leaned against as you sat on the ground to begin viewing the memories watched with the other women.

Wanda is already getting up, to find Agatha standing peacefully looking at the mountainous landscape ahead.

"So, what are you?" she asks the older witch.

Agatha sighs softly, without looking at Wanda.

"Natalya Maximoff was born in Romania, during the witch revolution in the country." She begins nostalgically, a short smile at the corner of her lips. "I found her shaking like a leaf, less than twelve weeks old inside a box of potatoes."

You are shocked, as is Wanda, but you just listen.

"I think her mother tried to hide her. But she got caught in the middle of it. Romania was in chaos at the time, it was a real bloodbath. "She says. "I was there to fight. The English ministry provided special witches to take on a wizard, known as Kang the Conqueror."

Agatha gives a humorless laugh, sounding upset.

"If you think Faustus is bad, it's because you've never met him." She counters. "He was a master nocramanter. He created an army of the living dead, the inferi. It was the worst fight I've ever been in. But we won, and he was killed. For real this time."

Agatha looked away from the landscape to look at Wanda.

"I bonded with the child, Miss Maximoff." She says. "I could have left her in that box, and gone on my way. But I took her in my arms, and only let her go when she was mature enough for that."

"And then?" Wanda asked with emotion in her voice, looking at Agatha with tears in her eyes.

"I found out that she was a scarlet sorceress, but unlike you, she never completed her forging." The witch says sadly. "She died at the age of 20, a year before she was going to do the spell."

Wanda looks down at her feet, crossing her arms as she absorbs the whole story. Agatha thinks this is a good opportunity to keep talking.

"The war was already over when I found Natalya." She says. "The village where I believe she was born had been destroyed in a shambles. And they put her in the box, while the British aurors were doing the stakeouts. I took her with me, I didn't tell anyone." She recounts. "When she turned eleven, I found out what she was. I taught her everything I could, but I didn't let her go to Hogwarts. I kept her at home, where she wouldn't put the students or herself in danger."

You bite the inside of your cheek, surprised that Agatha was able to hide a daughter. But honestly, it wasn't that shocking.

"When she turned 16, she started rebelling, you know how teenagers are." She says. "She left because she didn't agree with the way I saw the world. And I said I would be waiting for her to come back when she realized that only I could help her."

"But she didn't come back." Wanda completed and Agatha sighed, nodding.

"No, of course not," she says. "She moved to a muggle province, and built a house. And ran away from her fate until her power got too overwhelming."

"Did you look for her?" You ask, and Agatha nods in agreement, turning her gaze to the landscape.

"With the war, I wanted allies." She says. "And I really thought I could get to the house of the daughter I hadn't spoken to in years to ask her to fight for me."

"But she accepted, didn't she?" Wanda says and Agatha sighs.

"On her terms, yes." Answered the woman. "Your mother was a smart girl, Wanda. She made me swear under the best intentions."

And it takes a moment for Wanda to understand what was really being said.

"How?"

Agatha sighs, turning to you again. "I took a perpetual vow to do what was right. What would save lives, what she considered right." She explains. "But contract magic is so encompassing. Especially when you say ambiguous phrases like do the right thing, or stuff like that. That's why I was able to get around the spell so many times. That's why it shaped itself with her death."

"That's why you can't hurt Wanda." You conclude in a sigh.

Agatha nods. "The power of the Scarlet Sorceress has always been tempting. But I would never steal it from Natalya, she was my daughter." She says. "But you were just a student. And I wouldn't mind taking that responsibility out of your hands."

"Not even if I was her daughter?" Wanda asks in a mixture of disgust and indignation, but Agatha only gives a humorless laugh.

"Don't judge me so much." She retorts. "If I didn't care, you wouldn't even be alive. Least of all your girlfriend."

But Wanda steps away, putting herself in front of you.

"You didn't do this because you care." She accuses. "You did it because of the vow. Because you will die if you don't keep your words to her."

"Maybe." She says,shrugging. "But what matters is my actions, not motivations. Actions are all that matter in the end."

"I'm sick of this, Agatha." Wanda retorts indignantly. "You think you can say some philosophical shit and get rid of the things you've done? You manipulated my entire family, and you played with my destiny. I'd rather be alone than around you."

Wanda walks off at a brisk pace, and you follow her, not knowing exactly what to do.

Agatha clenches her jaw, refusing to turn around and apologize.

Wanda begins to pack up very quickly, and you stare wide-eyed as she puts Godric's sword into her purse.

And soon you are outside.

"I told you I wouldn't forgive you if you crossed another line with me." She says. "But I realized that there's nothing more you can do besides all the bad things you've already done."

"If you expect me to apologize for keeping you alive so far, you are deluding yourself." Agatha retorts stubbornly, her arms crossed.

Wanda gives a humorless laugh, her hand interlacing hers. "I don't expect anything from you, Agatha. Even if you think it's the right thing to do, stay away from me. And especially from her."

"As you wish, Miss Maximoff."

You notice the tears in the older witch's eyes before she looks the other way. Wanda turns her face to you next.

“Think of a safe place.” She asks in a whisper, and you nod. It takes a second before everything spins around.

//-//-//-//-//

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x yn #wanda x reader #marvel imagines #the scarlet witch x reader #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

A Discowing at the Wayne Gala

Summary: Getting Jason to go to the Wayne Gala each year was more difficult than putting the Joker away in Arkham; he insisted the part was full of pretentious, rich social climbers who were horribly boring. As it turned out, all he really needed to persuade him was an upset, drunk girl rambling about how much she was going to deck her highschool enemies there to convince himself that he’d be in for a great show. (AKA the extremely chaotic and nonsensical salt/crack fic)

____________________________________________________

“I, Mar--” she hiccupped, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng solemnly swear to rip Lila a new one with Discowing’s godawful costume.”

“You say it girl!” called some random person from across the bar.

“I will--” another hiccup “--use Batman’s Batmobile to run over Kim. And slam Red Hood’s ugly ass helmet onto Adrien’s stupid face.”

“Better yet,” Marinette pounded the table, “I will use their stupid utility belts to dismantle Gabriel’s empire. Somebody give me a yeah!”

“Yeah!”

All in all, the sight wasn’t that atypical for a bar in Gotham, if it weren’t for the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was barely five feet, wore pigtails, and knocked five men on their asses when they tried to approach her.

“Take that, Hawkass,” she hissed. “Think you can pull a fast one on me when I’m drunk, do you? Well I’ve got news for you!”

Her words slurred together, and she leaned on the bar for support. “When I get my way, you’re going to be tied up into a pretzel and dumped into a volcano, then the tundra and then we’ll see how you like your stupid little jewlery touched.”

“Dupain-Cheng,” her blonde companion hissed. “Get yourself together. We don’t need another one of your breakdowns now. You know we’re going to be busy tomorrow night, and I don’t want to deal with you completely hung over all throughout the gala.”

“Aww,” Marinette squished her cheek onto Chloe’s “You know you love me.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit. If you want to make good on your plans, you need to be in tip top shape.”

“Ughhhh, why are they even invited to the stupid gala? It’s not even like they’re rich! Oh wait, I guess they are…” Marinette pressed her face to the bar, which was undoubtedly dirty. She reveled in it’s coolness, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And why do you have to be right? I guess I have to stop drinking if I want to make any of my plans work.”

“Your plans will work, hungover or not. It’s just a question of how much you’ll be able to enjoy them. I don’t want you complaining for months after the fact that you don’t remember half of what happened.”

“I guess you’re right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm feeling a little too warm to ice them out.” Staggering, Marinette got to her feet. “Call an Uber?”

“It’s already here.”

“What made you change your mind?” Tim frowned at Jason, doubtful that he wasn’t going to cop out at the last second. He was sure that he was only putting on his suit as some sort of deliberate ploy to get out of the Gala. Truthfully, it wasn’t required that all of them attend the Gala, but it was one of the few events that brought together most of the Wayne family.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Let’s just say I’m expecting quite the show.”

Jason kept a hawkish gaze on the entrance, waiting for the appearance of one short, pigtailed girl, and a taller blonde. They arrived almost forty five minutes into the Gala, which was good timing; not late enough to be considered rude, but most people have already arrived and have made their rounds.

Marinette looked different out of the dim lighting of the bar, and even though she definitely looks like she’s nursing a light hangover, she still managed to look stunning. With a matte-black floor length dress that attracted all light in the vicinity towards it, it’s hard not to look her way; Tim, for one, stared at the outfits that Marinette and her companion are wearing with stars in his eyes. Any moment now, he’s going to approach them. Or he would if he weren’t on Jason-sitting duty.

“I’ll play nice,” Jason promised.

“You? Nice?” Tim sounded incredulous, and it’s not like he can fault him. Whenever Jason did successfully get roped into coming to the Gala, it’s a sure thing that he gets at least one fist fight started, if not an everyone for themselves sort of situation.

“They’re the reason I decided to come. It’s not me you have to be worried about.”

Tim groaned. “Really? They’re trouble makers? But they’re wearing MDC!”

Jason chuckled, slipping a hand into his pants pocket. Tim was weirdly obsessed with the highly secretive French designer. Nobody ever saw them in person. “Wearing your fashion icon doesn’t mean they can’t kick ass.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, looking at the two girls calculatively. “That’s right. If anything, they’re more likely to kick ass, because that’s the kind of confidence that MDC inspires in their designs. Well, if you’re not going to fight them, I’m going to introduce myself.”

“And I can’t leave my little brother alone.” Jason said, watching the blonde girl point in the direction of, if he wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel Agreste’s son and his plus one.

Who knew that doing a preliminary reading of the guests would be so informative? He could only guess what kind of beef Marinette had with Agreste Jr.--Bruce had enough problems with Gabriel; even though Wayne Enterprises only dabbled in fashion, Gabriel was a ruthless man when it came to his competitors, and tried to edge them out of the market multiple times. Foolish on his part, not taking into consideration that both Bruce and Tim were very, very stubborn people who only get more difficult to face when dealing with a challenge.

Wayne Enterprise might primarily be considered with R&D and technology companies, but underestimating the amount of influence Tim could gather when someone pissed him off was just a bad idea.

“Hi, I’m Tim--”

“--and it’s lovely to meet you, but we’re on a mission right now,” finished the blonde girl, who Jason was now 98% sure is Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’ mayor and Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois. “Dupain-Cheng, it’s your time to shine.”

“God,” Marinette muttered underneath her breath, ducking her head. “I can’t believe you’re holding me to what I said while drunk last night.”

“It’s not just what you said drunk last night, it’s the most effective way of dealing with that liar. She’ll be so embarrassed she’ll hide away forever. Maybe get some plastic surgery and change her name. Daddy will make sure she can never step foot in Paris again.”

“Chloe,” Marinette groaned. “We all know how that panned out last time. Do you want a repeat performance?”

“By that time Hawkmoth will already be taken down. No need to worry about evil butterflies.”

“Evil butterflies?” Tim frowned.

“We can fill you in later, Marinette has a car to steal.”

“Chloe!”

“Oh stuff it, Dupain-Cheng, you’re no goody two shoes, even though you pretend to be one.”

Marinette whispers into Chloe’s ear, eyeing Jason and Tim. “Do you have to discuss that with other people around?”

“Well,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You boys aren’t going to rat us out, are you? They’re part of the infamous Wayne family. They’ll definitely be in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know they already reached out-- I can’t risk--” Marinette kept cutting herself off. “Fine, but if you-know-what falls through, I’m putting it all on you.”

“Like they’re going to pass you up just because of what’s going to go down at this gala. If anything, they’ll be glad to know that you’re as vicious as you are creative,” Chloe checked her nails and touched her hair, making sure it was in place.

“Sorry, what? I’m a little bit lost.”

“Keep up, Drake. I’m beginning to doubt your title as child-genius.You have the unique opportunity to watch history in the making.”

“Wait,” Tim’s jaw almost dropped at the display in front of him. “How did you even--”

“Trade secret. Marinette doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But that’s the Batmobile.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jason laughed. He stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile, Marinette stole the whole thing. What a sight.

Here’s how the rest of the night went: Chloe plied Marinette with copious amounts of water, trying to get rid of her headache. Marinette hopped into the driver’s seat of the Batmobile (to which Chloe cackled, “And she doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet,” and Tim paled to the shade of freshly fired ceramic plate.) They ran over Kim, who, somehow managed to get into the event as a server of sorts, at which point Tim swore that the background checks would have to be upped again. Marinette landed the Batmobile in the middle of the gala, barely managing to avoid several innocents who were in her path. She reached into the convenient storage compartment that Jason was previously unaware of and pulled out the Discowing outfit and his helmet-- seriously, how did she get those?-- and slammed the car door.

Security, of course, was waiting for them. How couldn’t they, with that big of a disturbance? Half of the guests were up in a tizzy-- mostly the ones who were experiencing their first Wayne Gala-- and the other half were looking on, amused. Tim waved the guards off as Marinette made her way to Lila and Adrien, like a vengeful Valkyrie.

“You,” Marinette grimaced. “Chloe, say the words, I forgot them.”

“We decided that words were useless, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Marinette said, before promptly slamming Red Hood’s helmet onto Adrien’s head hard enough for him to fall to the ground, likely concussed. Lila, who started screeching and running away made for a surprisingly difficult target. Well, difficult in the fact that she was using other people as shields, but once she came across a group of Experienced Wayne Gala Goers, she got pushed out of her comfort zone.

In eight inch heels and with her hair down, Marinette stalked towards her prey.

“Lila Rossi,” Marinette intoned. “Your sins will be judged.”

“What are you going to do, Marinette? You have no power here. We’re in America now. No Ladybug to back you up. No public opinion in your favor.”

Marinette shuddered. “Ugh, your voice makes me want to vomit. In any case, I sentence you to life in Discowing’s costume.”

“You can’t make me wear anything!”

Famous last words, Lila.

“I’m still so confused. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe gave Tim a pat on the back. “You’ll get used to this kind of thing if you end up hanging around Marinette more often.”

“I think I’m in love,” said Jason.

“Get in the back of the line. The only thing Marinette has time for now are her plans to take down Hawkmoth.”

“I’m not opposed to joining you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Jason paused. “By the way, has she already stolen the utility belts to take down Gabriel or does she need more? I’ve got contacts.”

"Fair warning, everything in Paris is at least twenty times crazier than what you’ve seen here today.” Chloe swiped through a few notifications on her phone. “And please, do you think someone who hotwired the Batmobile needs your help getting her hands on a couple utility belts? If she really put her mind to it, she could get the Lasso of Truth from Wonder Woman.”

“Yeah, Jason, I’m definitely not going to join you on that trip.” Tim turned his attention towards Marinette, who was currently passed out on the hotel couch. “Anyways, You two are wearing MDC, right? I have a meeting with them tomorrow!”

Chloe looked at the poor boy with pity. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

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i’m really churning out these jasonette prompts like butter (god butter is so freaking good you ever eat butter straight? i do. heart attack city & the next paula dean) even tho i only thought about joining in right when july was ending but here we are

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