[ There's a delay, as he thinks of the best way to sum up his concerns. ]
I am concerned that I will fall short of your desires, both physical and emotional. While I do have some degree of faith in my emotional capacity given the seemingly unending potential of the stone, I have much less so in my ability to satisfy any physical needs that you might have.
So when you decided to call yourself Scarlet Witch, were you trying to appeal to the grown-up goth kids who identified with The Craft a little too much, or to a new generation of Hot Topic counter-culture kiddies who can't deal with the ennui of living in white suburbia?
No judgement here. I'm just curious about your target demographic.
What is The Craft? What rock have you been hiding under?
[Scoff scoff scoff.]
Only the best cinematic experience ever made. Equal parts horror, teen romance, comedy, and social commentary. Siskel and Ebert gave it five pentagrams.
[ she has lost count of the days since the lost pietro. there are ways in which steve wishes to reach out to her, to ensure that she does not feel isolated. these moments do not go unappreciated though she still seeks to find her place among the avengers if she wishes to be part of the team. and she does.
it is still early days for wanda.
her travels have taken her to a new city, separated from the others as the mission has required them all to split up. though wanda had been tasked with reconnaissance, the situation had escalated far behind even her control. for all that she can accomplish with her powers, some brute force is needed.
then in came supergirl, a vision in blue and red and, well, ready to kick some ass. they have not worked together before but wanda feels drawn to her nonetheless when all is said and done and they are laying on the floor surrounded by broken glass, wanda with some bruises and cuts but nothing to write home about. groaning softly, she pushes herself up on one elbow, her soft and low voice still echoing in the abandoned factory. ]
[ She and Kal like to mind their own business, to put it crudely. The DEO has its job, the Avengers have theirs. They're on friendly terms: this town has to be big enough for all of them. Kara's used to having no peers there. Cap is always polite to her, Tony seems to think she needs some blunt-force patriotism to go with her uniform's colours and the super-strength. She's a little intimidated by Natasha. ]
[ But Wanda stands apart from them, and it's not because they're around the same age, or that she's a powerhouse in her own right. Sokovia hangs over her like Krypton hangs over Kara, and she wants badly to say something, but doesn't. Loss has to be dealt with in its own way, and she doesn't like to think about hers. ]
[ The moment the fight's over, Kara's at her side. ]
Hey, saving the day is what I'm for. [ Lightly, absently said, she's scrutinising Wanda's cuts, checking for infection with her microscopic vision. ] Come on. Let's get you back to HQ.
She sneaks out because when you're an Avenger-in-training ( yep, just set the timeline ), and your multiple dad-like-figures want to keep an eye on you, you've gotta get your kicks somewhere.
Pushing the sleeves up on her black leather jacket she raises an eyebrow when he comes into view. There are no expectations for tonight other than, well. Dancing, but she can't help but appreciate what she sees. "Hello."
In some nebulous time between her fugitive status and the Wakanda takeover, a reluctant hero meets a guy from Oakland, with scars both invisible and visible and a lot of anger to deal with. She closes her eyes and thinks about the Stark Industry bombs that destroyed her home and family, the warzone her country became. The warzone she left when she broke ties with Hydra. She thinks about the dead body of her brother, taken from the ruins.
Her path to redemption is not an easy one. Her heart aches without her missing other half. If anything, she at least indulges in these moments away from the work and the struggling, stealing away to meet Erik. He's a distraction, but there is something more to him, like sharp teeth and a history she wants to uncover but resists the urge to peer into his mind. That isn't how you make friends.
Wrapped in a towel only, Wanda leans against the bathtub as warm water begins to fill it, arms folded loosely over her chest as the smell of smoke wafts in from the other room. She uncrosses her ankles. "It smells interesting."
On a certain level, he isn't sure which of them is in more over their heads here. They're both people on a mission; that fire, that purpose burns vivid red behind her eyes and a figurative ochre behind his, he can see it, feel it even. They both are invisible on the ground, burner phones with late-night texts from an unknown number. They disappear for days at a time only to resurface and collide once again.
A chuckle emanates from the other room. Sometimes he looks into her eyes and feels she could peel back his soul, layer by layer, and he might be inclined to let her. To see what she says of what she finds there. Sometimes he forgets that she was a prisoner of war in her own homeland, a weapon of destruction in another, and that means she doesn't know what weed smells like.
He comes in towards the bathroom, leaning against the door. He's got on dark blue sweatpants and nothing else, bare feet making very little sound on the hardwood floors. "Cannabis. You take the flowers, these...tightly formed buds and grind them up, smoke them." He smiles then, a bit dangerous, a bit softer because it's Wanda. "You wanna try?"
Blue now is the color Love the drug I'm needing Got to keep this feeling With the headlights burning We're looking up for something Answers on the ceiling Watching out the windows Watch the way the wind blows Soon it will be morning Still the question lingers I twist it round my fingers Could you be my calling? See this winged boy falling Falling out of something Hits the drug I'm needing Arrows that he's turning Need to keep this feeling Slow drug in the morning With the headlights burning Looking up for something Something that we're needing Still the question lingers I twist it round my fingers Could you be my calling?
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I am brave and I am strong.
What else do you want to know?
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I am concerned that I will fall short of your desires, both physical and emotional. While I do have some degree of faith in my emotional capacity given the seemingly unending potential of the stone, I have much less so in my ability to satisfy any physical needs that you might have.
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And we still need to improve your cookking skills.
:)
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No judgement here. I'm just curious about your target demographic.
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i only learned what hot topic was six months ago.
what is the craft?
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[Scoff scoff scoff.]
Only the best cinematic experience ever made. Equal parts horror, teen romance, comedy, and social commentary. Siskel and Ebert gave it five pentagrams.
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do you recommend i watch it?
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it is still early days for wanda.
her travels have taken her to a new city, separated from the others as the mission has required them all to split up. though wanda had been tasked with reconnaissance, the situation had escalated far behind even her control. for all that she can accomplish with her powers, some brute force is needed.
then in came supergirl, a vision in blue and red and, well, ready to kick some ass. they have not worked together before but wanda feels drawn to her nonetheless when all is said and done and they are laying on the floor surrounded by broken glass, wanda with some bruises and cuts but nothing to write home about. groaning softly, she pushes herself up on one elbow,
her soft and low voice still echoing in the abandoned factory. ]
Thank you.
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[ But Wanda stands apart from them, and it's not because they're around the same age, or that she's a powerhouse in her own right. Sokovia hangs over her like Krypton hangs over Kara, and she wants badly to say something, but doesn't. Loss has to be dealt with in its own way, and she doesn't like to think about hers. ]
[ The moment the fight's over, Kara's at her side. ]
Hey, saving the day is what I'm for. [ Lightly, absently said, she's scrutinising Wanda's cuts, checking for infection with her microscopic vision. ] Come on. Let's get you back to HQ.
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overflow.
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And I don't trust yours, dear brother.
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i have great judgment!
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Age 4? Really?
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Is that so? I would not know.
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I'll let you decide.
special fonts are so much harder on my phone ugh
Erik is waiting, hands in pockets, and he raises his chin in her direction when she arrives, robot friend or no. "Ay."
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Pushing the sleeves up on her black leather jacket she raises an eyebrow when he comes into view. There are no expectations for tonight other than, well. Dancing, but she can't help but appreciate what she sees. "Hello."
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prompt 1 of 2
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In some nebulous time between her fugitive status and the Wakanda takeover, a reluctant hero meets a guy from Oakland, with scars both invisible and visible and a lot of anger to deal with. She closes her eyes and thinks about the Stark Industry bombs that destroyed her home and family, the warzone her country became. The warzone she left when she broke ties with Hydra. She thinks about the dead body of her brother, taken from the ruins.
Her path to redemption is not an easy one. Her heart aches without her missing other half. If anything, she at least indulges in these moments away from the work and the struggling, stealing away to meet Erik. He's a distraction, but there is something more to him, like sharp teeth and a history she wants to uncover but resists the urge to peer into his mind. That isn't how you make friends.
Wrapped in a towel only, Wanda leans against the bathtub as warm water begins to fill it, arms folded loosely over her chest as the smell of smoke wafts in from the other room. She uncrosses her ankles. "It smells interesting."
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A chuckle emanates from the other room. Sometimes he looks into her eyes and feels she could peel back his soul, layer by layer, and he might be inclined to let her. To see what she says of what she finds there. Sometimes he forgets that she was a prisoner of war in her own homeland, a weapon of destruction in another, and that means she doesn't know what weed smells like.
He comes in towards the bathroom, leaning against the door. He's got on dark blue sweatpants and nothing else, bare feet making very little sound on the hardwood floors. "Cannabis. You take the flowers, these...tightly formed buds and grind them up, smoke them." He smiles then, a bit dangerous, a bit softer because it's Wanda. "You wanna try?"
So many things start with that question.
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prompt 2 of 2
Blue now is the color
Love the drug I'm needing
Got to keep this feeling
With the headlights burning
We're looking up for something
Answers on the ceiling
Watching out the windows
Watch the way the wind blows
Soon it will be morning
Still the question lingers
I twist it round my fingers
Could you be my calling?
See this winged boy falling
Falling out of something
Hits the drug I'm needing
Arrows that he's turning
Need to keep this feeling
Slow drug in the morning
With the headlights burning
Looking up for something
Something that we're needing
Still the question lingers
I twist it round my fingers
Could you be my calling?
shhhh (hope these are ok!)