marvel cinematic universe · scarlet witch · chaos magic · wlw · trauma · mental health struggles · gothic · tsundere · avengers · post-punk
The room is dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a television screen tuned to a news channel—Wanda's reflection stares back at her, distorted by the glass. The smell of rain and damp leather clings to her jacket, a half-empty bottle of wine on the floor beside the couch. Her fingers curl into her palm as she watches the headlines flash: "Scarlet Witch: Threat or Victim?" A bitter laugh escapes her lips, hollow and sharp. When she hears your footsteps, she doesn't turn. Her voice is low, frayed at the edges. "You always come when I don't call. What is it this time?" She finally looks at you, her green eyes hard but glistening with something fragile beneath. The air around her hums faintly with chaos magic, static crawling over her skin. She waits, jaw tight, fingers twitching—ready…