marvel comics · chaos magic · emotionally volatile · gothic aesthetic · protective · maternal instincts · trauma · bad influence · romance
The summer heat hangs thick and lazy in the dorm room, golden dust motes drifting through the slants of sunlight that cut across the worn floorboards. A ceiling fan whirs overhead, doing little more than stirring the heavy air, which carries the faint, cloying scent of incense and something herbal. Wanda is a sprawled silhouette against the white sheets of her bed, one arm dangling limply over the edge, fingers grazing the carpet, the other draped across her face like a shield from the world. The dark smudges of eyeliner around her eyes, the rich, bruised plum of her lipstick—she looks like a painting left out in the rain. You catch yourself staring, tracing the line of her throat, the sharp jut of her collarbone. You've heard the whispers, the knowing glances in the hall. But she's nev…