Anonymous asked: D For the fandom meme?
From this ask meme!
D: What was the first thing you ever contributed to a fandom?
Pretty sure the first thing I ever actually contributed was THIS Scarlet Witch/Vision post-Civil War fic, which is entirely fluff originating in a conversation I had with my best friend about the lack of fic for the two of them and the fact that no one had written a mid-air kiss for these two FLYING SUPERHEROES.
An excerpt:
Vision’s hand reached out, hovering just over her shoulder. “Are you having nightmares again?”
“Nothing shocking,” she said. “The same.” The wreckage of her house, her brother’s body. Strucker’s failed experiments. Straitjackets inside cages inside prisons. The Avengers, twisted and shattered in red light. “Some new.” Men without limbs, and sinking into the sea, and Vision, turning his clear cold eyes and terrible power toward her.
Vision lingered for a moment, then lowered his hand so that his palm was up, an invitation. “Come with me. Just for a little while. I promise to bring you back.”
I love this ship, y’all.
"I’ve finally found someone I want to protect. You."
—
The Vision, to Wanda Maximoff. (via mcu-incorrect-quotes)
@words-writ-in-starlight
(via littlestartopaz)
(via littlestartopaz)
For @littlestartopaz: 34 - Vision/Wanda
When you’re around I don’t
know how to hide my feelings. I count in
binary, in my head. zero one one zero
one one and you count clouds. (while you count clouds)
So it was going to be a stand-alone Vision/Wanda thing but then I started it after eight hours of researching WWI and??? Instead it’s an immediate prequel to the first Vision/Wanda fic I ever wrote, it’s mostly Natasha being smug, and Wanda doesn’t even appear, I don’t know what happened.
Natasha prided herself on being difficult to sneak up
on. It had served her well for their
brief stint in Wakanda, but now they were in America again, scattered up the
East Coast, and she was sitting on the roof of one of her less secret safehouses,
watching the sun go down. And any dense half-blind
idiot could see a six-foot bright red robot in a cape descending onto a roof in
Middle of Nowhere, Appalachia.
The only reason she didn’t immediately yank out the gun
she’d tucked away under the corner of her blanket was because Stark, Banner,
and Rhodes were all about as subtle as…well, a six-foot bright red robot in a
cape. She was confident that she’d
notice them coming, and if she didn’t they deserved
to cuff her.
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So @littlestartopaz sent me this post and a request for Vision/Wanda and I fucking love this ship and also Jewish!Wanda is my jam (LITERALLY WHO AM I KIDDING, RELIGIOUS SUPERHEROES ARE MY JAM) so I did it.
Okay also Topaz I know you sent me this prompt a
while ago but I wanted to be able to post it for the first night of Hanukkah so
I held onto it for a few days. And it’s now officially after sundown where I am, so Happy
Hanukkah, everyone!
Wanda had set up a small table in the empty hall outside of Pietro’s
room, where she could see him through the wall of windows without being kicked
out for bringing fire into the medical wing.
He was still asleep, even months after Sokovia—she’d seen him in this
sort of healing coma before, but never for so long. The external damage was healed, but his body
was still rebuilding fragile nerves and blood vessels and ruined organ tissue. The doctors said that he’d shut down every
system to preserve what he could after taking those bullets to save Hawkeye,
and she was glad for that, glad that, when he woke up, he would be her brother
again. She could stand any wait.
Or at least that’s what she told herself when she came down to sit with
him.
Wanda smoothed a blue cloth, fringed and embroidered with a white star,
over the table she’d stolen from the lab.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor inside the room was reassuring,
but she missed hearing Pietro rattle around near her as she went through these
motions. The first year they had fine
things, a soft cloth and matching candles and all, and he was comatose.
“Wanda?” a tentative voice behind her asked, and she jumped so hard the
table rattled. “I’m sorry,” Vision said
as she whirled on her heel. He was
dressed in civilian clothes, plain and disingenuous against his bright
synthskin, and he looked apologetic, as he always did when he took her by
surprise. He moved as quietly as a ghost
most of the time and the Mind Gem let him shield his mind so tightly it was as
if he wasn’t there at all, and Wanda was unused to being startled. “I was looking for you, and this was the last
place I could think of. Don’t you
usually visit your brother during the morning?”
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For @littlestartopaz, Wanda/Vision, C (“Please, don’t leave”) and G (“I almost lost
you”) from this, post CA:CW
Time for pain, children.
Blame it on the fact that I found this gloriously accurate post full of
thoughts about Wanda’s stint in the Raft. In which Wanda has some trauma from being wrongfully imprisoned by a bunch of dickheads, and doesn’t talk much anymore.
“Wanda,”
Steve said quietly, wrapping his hand around hers—he had tried to steer her by
an elbow at first, the old habits of the forties coming up under stress, but
she had stumbled back so quickly she’d barely missed falling off a curb. “Come on, let’s go.” He gave a tug and she drifted after him,
silent. He steered her toward the couch
in their newest hideout and she let him push her down until she was sitting
down, her hair pulled back into a tidy braid and her hands linked tightly
together in her lap. A blanket settled
over her shoulders—Sam—and she slowly pulled her legs up to her chest, binding
her arms tightly around her knees.
“We’re
just going to be in the next room, kid,” Sam said, resting one hand on her
shoulder, and waited, as if to give her a space to reply. When she said nothing, he squeezed her
shoulder and followed Steve out of the room.
Wanda waited until they were gone and reached out with her fingers to
catch the blanket and tug the corners over her hands.
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Request from @littlestartopaz: I has a Plunnie for thee. Little snit bits between Wanda and Vision at the compound about Vision learning to do things like when it’s okay to go into someone’s room. Or being the only one to knock on the wall like it’s a door. Or that one time he knocked on the floor under her bed because she was having nightmares and scared the shit out of her.
Pre-Civil War, so no spoilers.
“Pardon me, Miss Maximoff, Captain Rogers asked me to–”
“Hey!” Wanda yelped in alarm, casting a hand out toward him. Red light lashed out and left scorch marks on the wall, passing through him harmlessly. He looked startled, eyes widening as he hung there halfway through the solid wall, and she dropped her arm, scowling. “Do you mind?” she asked, tightening her grip on the towel wound around her chest. Her hair dripped down her shoulder, a neat twist, and she could feel each drop of water leaving a cold track over her skin. “It’s polite to knock if someone’s door is closed.”
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