#instigation with wanda and co

[aparticularbandit]

Instigation: Chapter One

Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

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Mid-May, 2015.

Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum.

It’s an impressive building.  Huge.  Gorgeous glass with a shape that might as well be mystical etched into it in shining gold.  The top is a dome, which is even more impressive given its age.  It literally gleams in the sunlight, which is odd, given how many pass it by without even stopping to look.  But, then, they’re probably used to it.  They see it every day.  If she lived here, maybe she would be used to it, too.

But Wanda doesn’t live here.  Even now, she only lives on the outskirts of town, and live is an interesting word.  She has no American citizenship, nothing to say she deserves to be here, nothing to say she can stay if the government—

The government isn’t going to send her away because the Avengers, that superpowered super team, has decided to keep her here.  With them.  It’s the same as before: she becomes immune to government interference because a more powerful political opponent takes her under her wing.  Never mind that these Avengers are apparently good.  She’d thought the same of Hydra.

It’s easy to believe when she wants to believe.

Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum with a slip of paper in her hands, looks down at the address on the paper, reads it for what feels like the millionth time, looks back up at the Sanctum, squints, and then walks past the Sanctum to the apartment complex next door.  It’s shabby.  Old.  Probably as old as the Sanctum itself, if not older, and probably more expensive to live in, even with what are likely horrible apartments.  She knows a thing or two about those; when they could afford it, she and Pietro lived in plenty.

“You have got to be joking,” Wanda murmurs in her thick accent.  She glances down at the address one more time – and, yes, there’s an apartment number on there, so it’s definitely the apartment complex Steve meant and not the much bigger and more impressive Sanctum.

“When I was a boy,” Steve had said, “there was a woman with power similar to yours who lived here.  We didn’t see her very often; Mom told me to have nothing to do with her.  But every now and again, when she was desperate enough—”

“Sounds like an old fairytale,” Wanda had cut him off.  “I don’t need a cottage witch.  I don’t do magic.”

But Steve insisted Wanda at least go check the place out.  Seventy years might be a long time, but she could still be alive.  She’d be in her nineties, but with her power, he was certain she’d still be around.  Or maybe a new “witch” lived there, someone who took on that woman’s place in society.  Vision looked up the apartment and the records of ownership, finding that whoever lived there in the forties still lived there now.  Wanda chalked that up to rent control and an apartment that got passed down to a son or daughter or gifted to a family friend, and for a while, she adamantly refused to check things out.

Eventually, though, Wanda grew so tired of Steve’s insistence that she agreed to go.  Nat even offered to join her, although Steve’s stories reminded her of so much folklore that it made her uncomfortable, but she told her there was no point.  She wasn’t going to find anyone there and didn’t want anyone else to waste their time going with her.  Now, though, standing in front of the apartment complex, she decided there was one good thing about being here: if she struck out at the apartment, she could always check out the Sanctum next door.

Not that she believes her powers have anything to do with magic.

Wanda walks into the apartment, only to find that it smells of dust and mildew, and walks along the very, very long hallway to a door waiting at the very end, one situated on the side that looks out on the Sanctum.  She checks the number, checks her paper again, and then steels her face before climbing three floors of stairs, all the way to the top of the building.  It doesn’t matter how high up she gets, the Sanctum next door is still taller, and what’s worse is that the smoke that she hadn’t smelled on the first floor seeps into the air on the second and grows stronger with each floor.

Dirty, dank, and disgusting.  Just like the apartments she’d lived in with Pietro.  But that doesn’t make this smell like home.

On the top floor, at the apartment that holds the same space as the one she’d checked previously, Wanda reads the number, reads her paper again, and sighs.  It matches.  Well, then, this is her stop.  She steps forward and knocks on the door twice, not as loud as she could, but not too soft either.

“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any!” comes calling from within.

“I’m not selling anything,” Wanda says, cheeks flushing quickly with frustration.  “A friend of mine sent me to see an….”  She checks the paper again, trying to read Steve’s not so tidy scrawl.  “Agatha Harkness?”

There’s some shuffling inside the apartment before the door cracks open.  “Who wants to know?”

Wanda stares at the woman standing in the doorframe.  “Um.”

See, Wanda wouldn’t have really cared too terribly much about the woman’s appearance in and of itself.  She’s attractive, sure, and there’s something about how wild her dark hair is that makes Wanda want to tangle her fingers in it, to pull her to her, and, in an attempt to tame it, make it excessively worse.  But she can ignore that, she can ignore the woman’s pale skin, she can even ignore the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but what she can’t ignore is that the woman is dressed in a t-shirt that barely makes its way down to her bare thighs because she isn’t wearing any pants.

“Hey, hon.”  The woman’s voice breaks through Wanda’s thoughts.  “My eyes are up here.”

Wanda jumps.  “Sorry, sorry.”  She runs her fingers through her hair and draws her eyes back up, trying not to linger on the woman’s body any longer than she already has, but then she meets her eyes, thinking that will make things easier, and has to stop again.  “Um.”

It honestly is not at all fair, how this woman looks and how she should be wearing more clothes.  This is not her fault.

The woman smirks.  “You’re not so bad yourself, toots.”  She breaks eye contact with Wanda, lets her eyes wander the way Wanda’s already have, and deepens that smug look.  “You wanted something?”

“You’re Agatha Harkness?” Wanda splutters out, refusing to believe it.  Agatha Harkness was an adult when Steve was a child; she’s got to be ninety or a hundred or something like that.  There’s no way this woman – this very attractive woman – is any older than her mid-thirties.  She’s got to be a new resident.  Or a hot daughter or grand-daughter or some sort of extended relative.  This can’t be—

“Who wants to know?” the woman asks, eyes dropping to the paper now held tight in Wanda’s hand like a lifeline.  “You said something about a friend, hon?”

“Uh, right, yes, right.”  Wanda’s accent grows thicker as she grows more flustered, and she mutters in Sokovian under her breath with the assumption that the other woman can’t understand her.  “Steve.  Steve Rogers.  He said his mother used to visit a witch here when he was a child.”  She can’t help but roll her eyes.  “He did not call her a witch, but she sounds like a fairytale to me.”

The woman listens to her words and gives a little nod.  “Steve Rogers,” she echoes.  “You mean that hunk they’re calling Captain America?  Isn’t he a hundred years old?”

Wanda’s gaze shifts away from the woman.  “Eighties.  He’s in his eighties.”  She bites her lower lip.  “I told him she wouldn’t be here anymore, but he was so insistent that she could help me.”

“You got tired of his nagging, hon.  Don’t try to shortchange it.”

“I got tired of his nagging,” Wanda admits.  She glances up.  “But you don’t look to be her, so—”

“Help you with what, doll?” the woman interrupts.  She gives Wanda another onceover, and her smirk returns.  “Don’t tell me you mean this attraction between us.”

Anyone else, and Wanda would grow so frustrated that she would have left without another word.  But this woman….

She’s attractive, and Wanda can’t help it.  She wants to show off.

“With this,” she says, lifting her hand and letting her power out.  It turns the paper she’d been holding to ash, and as she turns her hand, letting the power thread through her fingertips, she lets the ash dump out onto the floor.  For all that the complex smells horribly of smoke, her addition doesn’t hold the same scent.  Then she brings her hand up, that scarlet power still snaking around her fingers.  “He thought his old witch would be able to help with this.”

The woman’s eyes focus on the power, and its light reflects scarlet in her pupils.  Surrounded by her bright blue irises, it seems like there’s a thin ring of deep purple between them.  “What’s your name, hon?”

“Wanda,” she says, drawing her power back and letting her hand drop.  “Wanda Maximoff.”

The woman takes Wanda’s hand in hers and squeezes.  “Agnes Harker.”  Then she tugs on Wanda’s hand and pulls her into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.  “And I can teach you everything you need to know.”

[illbringthechaosmagic]

((Carter and Wanda for the ship meme! :3c

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Forever of course

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Slowly, it took time for Wanda to let herself open up to Carter.

How was their first kiss? - Sweet and unexpected

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Wanda

Who is the best man/men? - Pass (unless Carter had someone in mind)

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - No one (again unless Carter had anyone in mind)

Who did the most planning? - Twas a joint planning thing!

Who stressed the most? - Wanda

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Pass (Wanda wasn't fussed so if Carter didn't want someone there, then they would be on the DNI [do not invite] list)

Sex:

Who is on top? - Wanda

Who is the one to instigate things? - Both

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 (for now, they're slowly working on it) | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - N/A (we'll find out when they finally get there lol)

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - They will do I'm sure of it!

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - 0

How many children will they adopt? - 1 or 2?

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Wanda lol

Who is the stricter parent? - Wanda

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Carter

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Wanda

Who is the more loved parent? - Carter (coz who couldn't love her)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Both

Who cried the most at graduation? - Both of them for sure

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Carter

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Wanda

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither?

Who does the grocery shopping? - Both of them, Wanda likes having Carter there to check with

How often do they bake desserts? - Every week, though they do like buying in desserts

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Both

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Both lol

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Neither, they like staying in too much

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Neither

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Both, though Wanda likes to clean their room while Carters at class

Who is really against chores? - Neither

Who cleans up after the pets? - Both

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Neither

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Wanda for sure

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Carter

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Wanda, she likes to relax a little too much

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Both!!

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - All the time, it's a cute couples thing to do

What are their goals for the relationship? - Learn to grow with each other, make each other happy

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Both if Carter doesn't have class

Who plays the most pranks? - Wanda maybe

[thisartemisnevermisses]

Going Under 11/12

Paring: Mostly Steve Rogers x Reader; little Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, out of character acting, probable smutt in later chapters, sad reader, broken, sweet ending.

Summary: You work as head oversight for the Avengers. After a party and a little kiss, you start crushing on Steve. Only an event from you’re rookie years, is sabotaging the possibility of your crush to evovle into something more.

A/N: So, here we are, the final chapter. It’s been a hell of a ride and my writersmuse is englited again. Keep looking for the epilogue of this story!

Chapter 11 – Erase This

Standing in the shower, letting the warm water run over your body, trying to get rid of the stiffness in your limbs. You try to relax, but your body aches where she had hit you, rubbing the black and blue spot on your side, remembering her spiteful words well. You’ve won, but it had ripped open all emotional wounds, you don’t know what to do, know that you have proof of her treachery and lies. The relationship with the Avengers is tainted on both sides, not trusting or respecting each other is the biggest issue, you don’t know how to deal with that. You’re relationship with Steve hitting a death end, without it even truly having being started. A pang in your chest, assures you, you still have feelings for him. But can you trust him, can you let go of this and start over, can you just be you again?

Turning off the shower, you step out, looking at yourself in the mirror. The woman looking back as a slight glim of the woman you once were. Sure the fallout with Sharon, had given you back a piece of you. But it still hadn’t given back the confidence or guts to take a leap of trust. Touching your lips subconscious remembering the kiss between you and Steve, you can’t help but notice the burning in the pit of your stomach. Could you stay here and try to figure out this relationship, to let this relationship evolve into something more? You’d had to decide before the meeting.

While dressing you keep overthinking things and feel anxiety taking over. Walking towards the elevator you see Steve. Punching in the button for the sky room, you pray he won’t notice you in the elevator, really needing the time alone. Looking up, you see him staring at you, the slight smile on his face changing when he sees you’re panicked one. Not being able to be on time, he lets the elevator go up and jog towards the stairs. Giving you some time to settle and order your thoughts.

A sigh escapes your lips when you enter the skyline room. Thankfully nobody’s there and Steve didn’t follow you. When you had Sharon’s confession, things were clear and you figured you could move forward. That was before Fury talked to you. He made it clear that he anticipated this and that he tried to warn you 10 years ago. Knowing how stubborn you were, he made sure you were surrounded with the right people, so that when time came you had someone to lean on. The conversation went from “I told you so” in a dadlike miner, to “glad it’s over” and “were do we go from here”, conversation. Ending it with a proposition you hadn’t expected, the question still ringing in your head, “Do you want to leave the Avengers?”, you still hear Fury say. Did you? Was it time to leave the Avengers and start anew? Or would you stay here and try to mend what was broken? Tightening your grip on the banister, breathing in and out heavily, trying to get rid of this stupid anxiety, not noticing Steve stepping out of the elevator.

When a pair of warm strong arms wrap around your waist you snap out of your thoughts. Looking up, seeing Steve look down at you, a frown on his face, “What’s wrong?” he asks, worry in his voice.

“Just stuff I need to figure out on my own”, looking at him, “On my own,” you repeat, turning away from him. “y/n, I’m..-“, you interrupt him, “Sorry, I know, you’ve said it multiple times. Steve, I……you can’t just expect me to ignore what’s going on, what I’m feeling, what’s keeping me up at night and start dating you. It’s not fair to me, to you”, turning back around, facing him, seeing the hurt in his eyes.

“I know I will give you space, time to think and I will try and wait..” looking down, his shoulders sink in defeat, “I’m so..-“ you lay a finger on his lips, “Stop apologizing”, you tiptoe and give him a soft and quick kiss on the lips, he bents down, your forehead touching his. Having a silent conversation while you stared into each other’s eyes. You blink a few times, fresh tears forming in your eyes, his hand encircles yours. Entwining your fingers with his, capturing your lips in a soft desperate kiss. You want to pull away, before you lose yourself again, but can’t seem to. You can’t withstand the hunger inside you, when Steve whispers your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to saver them, you give in. The kiss is hot and passionate, full of emotion and unspoken words. One hand around your waist, the other in your hair, pulling you closer to him. When you broke away, your heart’s beating fast. Searching his blue stormy eyes, you can’t seem to find what you want. “Steve, I..”, you start to say, but get interrupted by Friday announcing that the meeting is going to start. You let go of him and walk towards the elevator, the tall Avenger silently following you.

Lexi, Callie sit opposite from Natasha and Wanda. Both have a smug smile on their face, irritating the two female Avengers. “What are you smiling at”, Wanda asked through gritted teeth. “Oh, nothing, just you and your friends going to eat dirt soon”, Callie smiled smug.

“You want to eat dirt, then let’s go outside. I can arrange that!” Natasha stood up, gesturing for Callie and her to go outside, “Come on, let’s go then”, walking towards the door. The grin on her face fades, seeing Steve and you enter the room. “Sit down Natasha and shut up!” Steve commands. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, seems like the little bitch has you in her control again?” quirking an eyebrow, waiting for you to react. “We all got played, but not by y/n, so Sit Down and listen to Tony”, Steve answers looking at you and Bucky, seeing the hurt look on your face.

When you enter the room, Bucky smiles at you, standing up and embracing you in a hug, “Finally talked to the big guy?”, he asks, regretting his question the moment he looks you in the eyes. “Bucky, thank you, let’s just get through this meeting”, you give him a slight smile, “You did it, try to let it go, you’ve won y/n. I knew it”, you look at Bucky swallowing the tears in your eyes away, “Thank you, for believing in me. You’re the reason I get to close this”, you smile giving him another hug, before seating yourself.  

“Everyone, I would like to start the meeting”, Tony sighs, motioning for everyone in the room to sit at the table.

“It’s no secret that the team took a hit with everything that has happened. There’s a big trust issue and people are on edge in each other’s company. With lies, sabotages and misleading several people, agent Carter has managed to put a rift between our teams”, Tony looks around the table.

“Unfortunately some of you believed those lies and made work for y/n and her team living hell. Thankfully with the co-operation from Steve and y/n, we have agent Carter in custody”, Tony smiles looking at you, you did well, even if it took your last shred of sanity.

“What are you trying to say”, Natasha asks agitated, cursing under her breath.

“Sharon has trivialized the cooperation with y/n from day one. Manipulated the relationship between her and Steve. Turned us against her, and you fell for it hard”, Tony looks at Natasha, who’s rolling her eyes.

“You believe it yourself? Say something about it Clint. You’re the one who warned me about y/n. You’re very quiet, Clint, Come on, say something, make them shut up!” Natasha motioned for Clint to speak up.

“Natasha, it’s true”, Clint sighs, “I was a fool 10 years ago. I let myself be manipulated by her and used it against y/n. It’s my fault things got out of hand. When we started working with y/n, she managed to manipulate me again. I told you about those things, making me the instigator of your attitude towards her”, he continues, seeing the disbelief in Natasha’s eyes.  

“When y/n and I showed interest in each other, Sharon couldn’t handle this. She saw lying and sabotaging as the only option to keep y/n away from me. I’m not proud to say that she succeeded”, remorse in Steve’s voice, “I’m afraid that I have destroyed any possibility to make it up to her. I think it’s beyond repair”, swallowing hard, looking at you, you avoid eye contact with him. Hopefully you could give him another change.

“Natasha, Wanda, Sam, you need to apologize to y/n.  She has always been loyal, not once showing mistrust. She always kept you save, even if you treated her this way. You’ve been manipulated by Sharon, just as Clint and Steve were, you need to acknowledge it,” Tony’s voice raised with every sentence he spoke, god damn, his team was so stubborn.  

Natasha looks at Tony with wide eyes, “Are you crazy or something?” she snarls, “I’m nog going to apologize to her, you’re nuts!”, standing up to leave, Sam stops her midway.

“Natasha think about it, it would confirm that gut feeling you had. You knew something was up, but couldn’t figure out what. After that first mission went wrong, we all said that it felt strange, knowing how accurate y/n team is. We let ourselves be influenced by Sharon. We are the ones who were wrong, you have to see that”, Sam looks at you, what did he do to you, “I’m sorry y/n, I know it’s not nearly enough, but I hope you see it as a start”, Sam says turning towards you.

“Thank you Sam, I appreciate the gesture. But it will take time to forgive you”, giving him a nod.

“Really Sam? How can you apologize to her? You know you can’t believe everything is said about her”, Natasha scolds.  

“Tony, I believe she needs proof, before this stubborn person can admit her wrongdoing”, you smile at Tony knowing what comes next.

“Friday, please play the footage of hanger 6, the one were y/n and Agent Carter have a standoff”, Tony commands.

Seeing the footage of you and Sharon, almost make Natasha and Wanda’s eyes pop out. Staring at you in disbelief, shaking their heads barely coping with the footage.

“So, is that enough proof for you Natasha?” Lexi asks smugly, a grin on her face. “You really think I believe that footage. I know you can temper with it very well, Lexi, you did it in Peru too. SO, no, not proof enough!”, Natasha replies barely holding her anger.

“Fine then, I didn’t want to do it, because I don’t want to take advantage of a team member’s abilities, but as seeing you’re not ready to accept the evidence”, looking at Wanda, who’s smiling at you, knowing what you want to ask from her, “Wanda, I think you know the real me, the one you’ve seen inside my head. It would have been the easy way, asking you to look inside my head and let you proof my innocents, but as I said already, I didn’t want to take advantage of your ability, seeing theirs no other way, would you do the honors and make our little widow see the truth”, you smile at Wanda, who’s nodding in consent, “Buckle up, little spider”, you smugly say to Natasha, before being engulfed in your own thoughts.

Al your memories, feelings and emotions are watched over Natasha, the memories flash hits her hard and so does her pride, “Where’s that bitch?” Natasha growls, looking flustered at you, “Easy there, she’s incarcerated in the Raft, you can’t get to her”, Tony explains.  

“Guess, I have to eat my words, huh”, Natasha looks at you, trying to analyze your reaction to her, seeing your blanc expression, she sighs, “Look y/n, I’m sorry, but I believed Clint and….” You interrupt Natasha, “There’s no but, Natasha, we know well enough you can think for yourself. I had expected more from you, seeing you ledger is red and you try to find redemption. Thanks for your apology, but we both know, you could have done something about those lies”, your replay caught her off-guard, shifting your position, you look at Tony, who nods. Standing up, taking the place next to Tony, you let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you, all of you, for believing in me”, smiling at your team, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. “For keeping me grounded, even when it got though”, you look at Tony, “For helping me find my words and hear me out”, gesturing another thank you towards Bucky, “And for making the right decision, even if it was at the last minute”, you look at Clint, shaking off your nervous, you swallow the tears away, this was going to be hard, “But…as of tomorrow I will be transferring to a new team in Japan. I have resigned as analyzer for the Avengers. As of tomorrow, Lexi will be you’re new team captain and head of diagnostics…” your voice trembles, this decision was hard, but it was the best. Getting a surprised look from all the people in the room, you look towards Steve, “I tried my best, but it wasn’t enough. I need a fresh start and people who don’t know my backstory. I need to find myself. Don’t try to talk my out of it, I leave within an hour. So this our goodbye”, you finish as steady as you can.

“Are you sure, y/n? I think the team gets they screwed up. Give them time and they will trust you again”, Tony asks, you smile at him, “That’s the problem Tony, I don’t need them to trust me, but me to trust them. And I’m not ready for that. Thanks, but I think it’s for the better if I leave”, looking at the team in front of you, two years of your life, two fucked up years, years you’re willing to let behind you. It was time for a fresh start, you needed to find yourself again. You needed to find your ‘ikigai’ your reason to life and it sure wasn’t keeping the Avengers save, right?  

[sorrytobreakyourheart]

Micmacs: weapon manufacturing criticism in a comedy

So in On Why Pre-Afghanistan Tony Stark Isn’t a Bad Person ( while not a hero ) I talked about the movie Mimacs à tire-larigot as a counterpoint to all my positive arguments to defend Tony as a weapon manufacturer, and I figured that

(A) most of you probably don’t know that movie since it’s french ( like me) ( and I’m writing this in English, which is probably not helping but eitherway )

(B) I should probably expand on why exactly liking Micmacs and agreeing to a lot of it doesn’t negate my feelings on Tony’s ethics

+ there’s a lot about that movie that stands on its own, without me throwing Tony at it. It’s, first of all, a comedy, though, so of course there isn’t a long and winded commentary of weapon manufacturing thrown in the middle by a character.

The parts that directly relates to Tony or the MCU in general will be in italics.

( I’m not, obviously, going to tell you absolutely everything about it, but mostly the part about weapon manufacturing and how it ties in with Tony’s past )

First of all, the story ( and, because I can’t control myself, the arguments in the middle ):

The Incidents

Bazil ( Danny Boon ) is a child in 1979 when his father ( a soldier ) is killed by a landmine as the man is working on removing landmines from the maroccan part of the Sahara. His mother receives his father’s things, and he learns that La Vigilante de L’Armement was the landmine’s manufacturer.

30 years later, Bazil is shot in the head by a stray bullet from a car/moto chase between two criminals, and survives, but the bullet is still inside his brain because removing it has 9/10 odds of leaving him a vegetable. That also means he spends a lot of the rest of the movie suffering from that bullet, with the risk of dying without warning at any moment. Later, he’s given the bulletcase his replacement at work found on the road: it’s from Les Arsenaux d’Aubervilliers.

Now, I would be the first to say that yes, his life was fucked up by those two weapons, but the manufacturers are not necessarily the ( only ) ones responsible for that. Assuming those two enterprises followed the rules, you can say that the first guilty party in his father’s death is the government/military that started the war/decided to use landmines, and that the criminals in the shooting could have stolen those weapons ( or gotten it from a stolen shipment ) from the military, making it the criminals’ fault.

Both are true, regardless of the manufacturers’ own guilt.

The Aftermath

On top of having lost his father and risking death by inconvenient bullet everyday of his life, Bazil lost his job ( logical, someone had to do the work while he was recuperating ) and now lives on the street, scrapping by as he goes.

After a few months, he’s taken in a by a group/family of other lost people. They live in a cavern of recycling materials ( and by recycling trash ). There’s Tambouille ( Mama Chow in English ) who’s the group’s mom. Placard ( Slammer ), who did 25 years and is possibly a former crook from what we see. Remmington, an African ethnograph who somehow ended up poor in Paris like the rest of them and uses an overwhelming amount of french language clichés. La Môme Caoutchouc ( Elastic Girl ), a contorsionist. Petit Pierre ( Tiny Pete ), an old man who doesn’t really speak but makes incredible automatons. Fracasse ( Buster ), a former human cannonball with the injuries that goes with the job. Calculette ( Calculator ), a girl whose ability to tell anything and anyone’s measurements is basically a superpower.

The Revenge

One day, as Bazil is collecting things thrown away to use again, he ends up right in between the buildings of Les Arsenaux d’Aubervilliers and of La Vigilante de l’Armement. He recognizes the logos, and tries to get to talk with the CEO of Les Arsenaux ( bullet ) for compensation, but get thrown out. Then he cross the street, and hears a speech by the CEO of La Vigilante about how making weapons is awesome ( I’m admittedly symplifying here ).

Frankly, at that point Nicolas Thibault de Fenouillet ( old-style CEO, Les Arsenaux ) and François Marconi ( modern-style CEO, La Vigilante ) don’t seem that different from Tony. They live in luxury, make weapons for their country and possibly its allies, their public persona is not necessarily likeable, but you can always chalk it up to the fact that yes, it’s a public persona ( they aren’t engineer, though, just the CEO ).

Except. Tony might have refused to see Bazil, if he had come to him for a bullet made by SI, but he wouldn’t have made the kind of joke de Fenouillet did ( “He says he has one of our bullet in his brain, sir”/”well that makes something for him to remember us by” ). On top of that, when Bazil was thrown out by security, they took their time to mock him and his head wound, to be cruel. That’s not a behavior Tony would have tolerated from his employees, supposing de Fenouillet knew about it.

Except, I made an argument in my previous post about the Ares Award and Tony’s absence, him not necessarily wanting an award for being a weapon manufacturer, and that directly relates to Marconi’s speech. Marconi, him, is there, and makes the praise of his business, and jokes about Rimbaud having been a poet only to become a weapon dealer, and himself planning to do it the other way. He does it unprompted. He shows the ego we keep hearing about in Tony, when Tony wasn’t even there for his own award ceremony, when Tony only said that the weapon industry was necessary when Christine Everhart basically asked him if she was ashamed.

Anyway, Bazil is angry. He wants revenge, which, okay.

He starts spying on both CEOs, making a plan to take them both down. And as it turns out, Marconi is ( oh, surprise! ) contacted by an African ex-dictator who wants to start up shit again because he likes being a dictator better than being an ex-dictator. Marconi spends about two seconds and a half saying he only sells to legitimate clients, before being told how much he’s going make, and then, his ethics go right through the window.

Which, you know. Tony never agreed to do. Not even when the Ten Rings kidnapped him and tortured him.

There’s a confrontation with the rest of the gang, and eventually everyone in on the plan ( which, you know, is about making les “Marchants de la Mort” pay; you know where I’m going here ).

The plan, in fact, consist of a lot of shennanigans that probably wouldn’t work in real life, but the gang is just that good, and it’s a movie. They start by incapacitating the dictator’s men, and Remington pretends to be them to offer de Fenouillet the same deal, so that both CEOs think the other one undermined him when the deal doesn’t happen. Then they get in, wreck Marconi’s cars, steal de Fenouillet’s rather disturbing collection of famous people’s body parts, steal a shipment of bombs, etc.

From there the CEOs are the one escalating. Marconi put pressure on a cleaning lady to sabotage de Fenouillet’s testing unit, which causes a massive explosion at the plant of Les Arsenaux, and there are no casualties but only by chance. De Fenouillet sends a tactical team to kidnap/murder Marconi.

It’s all interrupted when the dictator’s men get back in the story and play Russian Roulette with Marconi ( before the tactical team gets there ), Bazil gets caught because he was worrying about Elastic Girl ( who was looking for blackmail, and is currently hinidng in the fridge ), and the CEOs finally realize what’s going on ( kinda ).

Bazil almost gets killed, but the gang as a Plan B, and ends up kidnapping de Fenouillet and Marconi instead, staging a flight and arrival in the desert, putting a grenade ( not armed ) in de Fenouillet’s mouth, who’s sitting on Marconi’s shoulders, who’s standing on a landmine ( not armed either ), while they are all disguised as arab women with picture of their dead/injured children.

Before long the two are confessing to a lot of things, starting with all the people who are not legitimate clients they sold things to ( IRA, ISIS, you name it ). They are being recorded, of course, and when the gang stops acting and reveals who they are, they also download the video on ( old, old ) YouTube. Les Arsenaux and La Vigilante are about to close, de Fenouillet and Marconi are ridiculed, about to be tried, and lost all their support.

Bazil is happy with his new family.

The End.

Non-Violence

Bazil & Co’s plan never involved violence. They aren’t looking to kill either CEOs, and the employees are not treated like acceptable casualties just because they work for the two assholes. In fact, the only people who die here are not part of the plan, are killed by de Fenouillet’s men, are the dictator’s men. The most violent thing they did was release bees on workers to steal the bombs, and send a car with goons in it in a billboard

Unlike, say, Wanda and Pietro’s plan, who just didn’t give a damn about what happened to anyone ( the Avengers themselves, but also all the people who would get caught up in whatever they’d pushed Tony into doing ) as long as they got to kill Tony, to make Tony suffer, until they realized it had gone too far and (A) they were going to die too, (B) maybe seven billions people was a bit too high a casualty count even for them.

The only thing you can blame the gang for is the explosion at the factory ( if there had been casualties ), in that they instigated the rivalry, but, in the end, that’s on Marconi, much more than on the gang, because he’s the one who decided to do that ( and by pressuring an imigrant couple to do his dirty work, no less ).

Tony wouldn’t have deliberately endangered people like that. If he was like that, he’d have dropped a missile on Gulmira to get rid of the Ten Rings, without care for the civilians casualties, instead of getting there in person and targetting only the terrorists.

A Plan that wouldn’t have worked if they hadn’t deserved it

Despite the fact that Bazil wants revenge, his whole plan only works if de Fenouillet and Marconi are, in fact, assholes. Marconi didn’t have to accept the dictator’s deal, but he did. De Fenouillet didn’t have to accept the dictator’s deal, but he did. When they thought the other one had started trashing their stuff, they didn’t have to escalate. Marconi didn’t have to take his employee’s visa so that his wife would be forced to sabotage Les Arsenaux. De Fenouillet didn’t have to try and murder Marconi.

If they hadn’t sold weapons to ISIS/etc, they wouldn’t have had anything to confess at the end. They’d probably have been ridiculed, but it couldn’t have done any grave damage to their lives. In fact, the gang would have probably been labelled as the villains for having harrassed/kidnapped/threatened ( since they didn’t know the landmine and the grenade weren’t armed ) people who were doing their job within the law.

At every turn, the CEOs had a choice, and at every turn, they disappointed. Which is why the plan worked.

Tony refused to sell/make weapons for terrorists, which is what pushed Obadiah to get rid of him. Tony demands a lot of his employees, but he doesn’t force them to do anything, they can leave if they want, if they think he’s wrong.

And if Tony, somehow, had still ended up in the same situation, threatened with death to admit to having done things illegal... He wouldn’t have had anything to admit, because he didn’t do it.

Reality vs. Fiction

That’s the big difference between Tony Stark and de Fenouillet and Marconi. He’s not a bad person for being a weapon manufacturer, because he did it following the rules, but they aren’t, because they didn’t.

Being a weapon manufacturer, again, isn’t a bad thing per se, even if it isn’t a good thing either. As long as there isn’t world peace, and the absolute assurance that this peace will go undisturbed, we need soldiers, we need weapons, and therefore we need weapon manufacturers ( but I already made my argument about it in my last post ).

Now, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that most, or maybe even, all, of the real-world weapon manufacturers are not good people who always follow the rules. But in case you hadn’t noticed, Tony Stark is the ideal ( or as close as ) of what a weapon manufacturer should be ( still not good per se, still not bad per se ), because he lives in a fictional world.

If you can believe in a soldier who never obeys orders he thinks are wrong and yet never gets disciplined because of it, if you can believe in a guy who turns into a giant green rage monster, if you can believe that six people can stop an alien invasion, and then you tell me you can’t picture a honest weapon manufacturer in that same world, well.

What we don’t need are weapon manufacturers like de Fenouillet and Marconi. What we need are people who are willing to make them fall, but not by using violence first either, not when it’s not needed, not when you can do it differently.

( though, the Plan almost went South at one point, which is why, sometimes, you also need an assurance, like, say, a way not to get killed by the weapon manufacturer who has, *gasp*, weapons! )

[aparticularbandit]

Instigation: Chapter Four

Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

previous chapter

December 31, 2015.

Wanda stirs.

With her eyes still closed, Wanda curls up closer against the warm soft beneath her.  Fingers brush gentle through her hair.  She hums and curls even closer.  Then she remembers, and her eyes snap open.

“Hush, Wanda, dear.  You’re safe.”

Where once Agnes’s voice might have helped, it doesn’t anymore.  Where once it might have soothed, now it only causes Wanda a stab of anxious pain.  She sits up and immediately locks eyes with the woman who she’d liked so much.  “What,” she says, gritting her teeth together, “did you do to me?”

“Nothing to harm you, dear.”  Agnes’s voice is so smooth and so soft.  She meets Wanda’s eyes with her own bright blue ones, only there are dark circles beneath them now, and she looks just as tired as Wanda felt.  “I told you the truth: I needed to have a private conversation with your friend, Steve.”  She taps her fingertips on her thigh, on the exact place where Wanda’s head just lay.  “It wasn’t anything personal, hon.”

“You….”  Wanda’s eyes widen in realization.  “You put a spell on me—”

“—and now you’re mine.”  Agnes gives her a smile and a wink, but when she sees that Wanda is not amused, she sighs.  “Yes, dear, I did.  It was simpler that way—”

Wanda’s brows furrow.  “Steve called you Agatha.”  She glares at her.  “How many lies have you told me?”

Agnes raises a finger.  “Just one,” she says, still calm, still keeping her eyes on Wanda, as though gauging her expression.  “A very big one, to be sure, my love, but only one.  Only one.”  She seems to note that Wanda is about to say something else, and she cuts her off before she begins.  “And I will explain everything to you now,” she says, meeting Wanda’s eyes again, “if you still want to hear it.”

“You’re Agatha Harkness,” Wanda says without hesitation, without even thinking about it.

“Yes.”

“You’re the old witch Steve sent me to find.”

“Yes.”

Wanda stares at her.  She takes in Agnes’s – Agatha’s – appearance.  Oh, she thinks, and then Oh again.  “But you’re not old,” she says, bringing her eyes up to Agnes’s again.  “Is this an illusion, or....”  Her voice trails off, unsure how to put words to her thoughts.

Agnes chuckles, and her gaze drops.  “Not an illusion.”  She spreads her hands out in front of her.  “This is me, hon.”  Her gaze returns to Wanda’s, hesitant.  “This will be you, too, in a few centuries.”

“In a few…,” Wanda echoes, not comprehending.  She shakes her head.  “How old are you?”  Then she holds her hand up.  “Don’t answer that.”  Because she doesn’t want to know.  Because she can’t know.  “What do you mean me, too?”

“We’re witches, Wanda.”  Agnes’s smile fades, and her gaze drops to her fingers again.  “We don’t age like other people.”  A dry chuckle escapes her lips.  “The people who made that serum for your friend Steve would love to get their hands on another one of us.  We’re a fascinating study.”

There’s a weight to those words.  Normally, coming from Agnes, Wanda would reach over and attempt to provide the same comfort that Agnes has always provided her, but right now, she’s too upset, too confused.  There’s too much.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

Wanda opens her mouth to deny it, then she shuts it just as quickly.  Her teeth grit together, but she has to admit, “No.”  She hates that about herself, too.  “No, I wouldn’t have.”

“And if I told you the truth about who I was – if you hadn’t believed me – would you have stayed and learned anything from me?” Agnes continues, her tone still that same soft and smooth.

She must have expected this conversation, Wanda thinks to herself.  She must have known, coming here, that this would come up.

And she came anyway.

Wanda thinks over everything Agnes – Agatha – has told her, and she takes a deep breath in.  “And maybe…you didn’t want any of my friends to know your secret either,” she says, putting things together.  “Right?”

“My powers are not for sale, Wanda.”  Agnes’s tone grows rough and steely.  “I trust you, dear, and Steve knew the moment he saw me.  But your friends are unknown, and what I have learned in my centuries of life, hon, is that teams like this, led by governments like this one?  They will rip you to pieces to get what they want before they even think about what’s best for you.  Before they even think about what you want.”  Her gaze drops.  “It was never personal, dear.  I only meant—”

“—to take care of yourself.”  Wanda reaches over, hesitates, and then places her hand atop both of Agnes’s.  She understands what it is, to need to protect herself.  She’s still pissed, but she gets it.  “You don’t want to be experimented on,” she says.  “It is not a particularly good experience.”  She licks her lips.  Part of her wants to return to the lie, but Agnes – Agatha – is right.  She would never have believed her, not unless something like this happened.  So instead, she says, “You won’t…you won’t lie to me about anything else, will you?”

Agnes shakes her head.  “Not like this, hon.  Not like this.”

“Okay.”  Wanda reaches over and brushes her finger along Agnes’s jaw.  She considers it for a moment and then kisses her gently a forgiveness given without words.  When Agnes kisses her back, she can’t help but smile.  Then she asks, voice soft, “You weren’t…you weren’t lying about any of this, were you?”

“No.”  Agnes brushes her nose against Wanda’s.  “I couldn’t if I tried.”

Wanda kisses her again, pressing her against the mattress as she curls against her again.  “Oh,” she murmurs, turning away and nodding to the room.  “This is my bedroom.  I think you already knew that, though.”

“Mmmm.”  Agnes places a hand on Wanda’s waist.  “Your bedroom.  Your bed.”  She tugs Wanda closer.  “Don’t you want to take advantage—”

It would be easy – so easy – to turn into Agnes and give in.  In fact, Wanda nearly does, murmuring, “Nessie,” in a feigned tone of annoyance as she turns to her, only to stop and blink down at her.  “You don’t mind that, do you?  Nessie?  Or should I call you Agatha?”

“Nessie’s fine, hon,” Agnes says with an impatient whine.  “Now why don’t you—”

“And it’s the end of the year!”  Wanda sits back up.  “Did we miss the change over?”

Agnes slumps back against Wanda’s pillows with a groan.  “And here I thought—”

“Agnes.”  Wanda slaps her arm.  “What time is it?”

“Like you don’t have a clock in your bedroom—”

“Agnes, if you didn’t wake me up before midnight—”

Agnes sighs.  “We have five minutes.”  She glances over to the clock literally sitting on the table set next to Wanda’s bed.  “See?  Five minutes.”  She gestures to it with one hand and then slumps back on the bed with a wicked grin.  “Which means five minutes to do whatever we—”

Wanda doesn’t even wait for the end of the sentence.  She grabs Agnes and drags her out of the bedroom.  “We will celebrate the incoming year with my friends, just like we intended.  You will not take this from me, Nessie.”  She only pauses briefly when she enters the room, when her gaze flicks to Steve’s.  He gives her a subtle nod, which is more than she expected.  His gaze moves to Agnes before he sighs.

It’s not one big happy family, maybe, but it looks like he, at least, understands.  Maybe, as a warrior who submitted himself to being an experiment, that’s different for him than it is for Wanda, who did the same thing for the same reasons and was treated entirely differently – and maybe that’s a third thing entirely from Agnes, who would rather not be used in the same way.  But he hasn’t made them leave, has he?

So that seems good.

~

The countdown begins only a few moments later, and in that first moment of the new year, Wanda pulls Agnes against her and kisses her.  She’s afraid, a little bit, of what the others will think, but for once, she doesn’t care.  Funny, how she can not care and still be afraid.

Sam whoops.  Natasha gives her a knowing nod and a small smile after.  Steve meets her eyes, grits his teeth, and then looks away.  Vision looks shocked.

But Wanda doesn’t take her eyes off of Agnes, and before she kisses her again, she murmurs, “Now we can break in my bedroom.”  She grins as Agnes’s eyes light up and isn’t surprised at all when Agnes cloaks them in her own violet magic, when midkiss she finds herself pressing the older witch into her own mattress, and she can’t help but chuckle.  “Someone is—”

“Hush.”

Agnes presses her lips to Wanda’s, and she falls silent.

(If this is how her year begins, she can’t imagine how wonderful the rest of it will be.)

[aparticularbandit]

Instigation: Chapter Two

Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

previous chapter / next chapter

End of July, 2015.

Wanda clomps her way up the staircase to Agnes’s apartment complex, shoves open the doorway (there should be a lock, but she suspects it’s broken), and then clomps further down the hallway and up the many flights of stairs to Agnes’s apartment, dripping all the way.  A part of her hopes that the water dripping off of her will actually clean the carpets enough that the stench of dust and mildew and, eventually, smoke will go away, but the longer she stands in one spot, just outside of Agatha’s apartment, waiting for her to answer the door, the more she’s aware that the water is somehow making the already horrible smell worse, like it’s activating some sort of long hidden mold.

It’s somewhere between the middle and the end of July, and it should be devastatingly hot outside, even in the storm, but it isn’t, and it’s even colder in here, where weary fans beat stagnant air and, somehow, cool it.  Wanda shivers.  Wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to warm herself.  Remembers that her clothes are just as soaked as she is and thus not only don’t provide more warmth but, somehow, only make her colder.  She raises her hand to rap her knuckles on Agnes’s door again only for that door to open at just the right moment.

Agnes catches Wanda’s fist with her hand and gently strokes her thumb across Wanda’s fingers.  “Didn’t you hear, hon?  Storm’s coming.  No training today.”

“Storm’s already here, Agnes,” Wanda croaks out.  She coughs once – twice – and regrets tugging her hand from Agnes’s to cover her mouth.  “I....”  Her gaze shifts away from Agnes’s curious, searching one.  “Your complex is shit,” she finally says in her rough accent.  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, hon.”  Agnes’s tone aches in a way that draws warmth from Wanda’s chest, which should help her feel better but really only serves to make her feel more nervous.  “I’m a witch.  I’ve lived through much worse.”  Then she leans forward, hides her lips behind one hand, and whispers to her, as though anyone else in the empty hallway might be listening, “And what with the Sanctum next door…they tend to take good care of their neighbors.”

Wanda nods in acceptance of her own foolishness.  She tucks wet strands of hair behind her ear, pulls her fingers away wet.  “I…I should go.  You have everything taken care of.”

But as she turns to leave, Agnes grips her shoulder.  “Don’t you dare, super star.  It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and you’re already wet as a drowned shrew!”  The last word catches in her throat, sounds slightly more frantic than the rest, but it’s one word in a whirlwind, and while Wanda notices it at first, it gets lost in the shuffle, especially as Agnes tries to tug her into the apartment.

“Hey!”

Agnes’s face falls as Wanda whirls around, and the spark that normally lights up her bright blue eyes fades.  “You don’t want to stay with me.”  The words aren’t bombs, but the wounded way Agnes says them might as well be, the way it sinks into Wanda’s skin so much more easily than the rain soaking her does.

The problem is that Wanda very much does want to stay with Agnes.  She’s wanted to stay with Agnes pretty much every day since the moment they met.  But despite Steve’s insistence that she track the Agatha Harkness who no longer lives here down, and despite his more than excessive joy that she’d found someone who could teach her witchcraft (as Wanda now knows her “power” truly is), even he had still been hesitant about the idea of Wanda staying anywhere other than the complex, even if Agnes is her teacher.  She knows that hesitancy has less to do with her and more to do with Agnes, but sometimes….

Sometimes, Wanda feels like the other Avengers only act like they trust her.  Like maybe, in reality, they only kept her because she was powerful – not because she had nowhere else to go, but because she was just another person with powers that they couldn’t let slip through their grasp, because if they did, maybe she’d turn on them again.  And Agnes – even if she’d been honest about her, they have no way of knowing that and no way of knowing Agnes well enough to trust her.

Not more than they already are, of course.

Sometimes, Wanda thinks she can just catch a glimpse of Natasha outside, spying on them.  But there’s no way that could be true.  Sure, Natasha might be spying on them, but if she was, Wanda would never catch her.  Still, it’s…it’s the idea of it.

“There are…there are people waiting on me,” Wanda stutters out, her gaze dropping to Agnes’s hand where it’s fallen to her side.  “They’d….”  Her head tilts to one side.  “They’d be upset if I didn’t…if I stayed.”

“You tell yourself that, hon, but don’t expect me to believe it.”  Agnes lets out a disheartened sigh.  She glances out the nearby window, and while Wanda doesn’t follow her gaze, she can still see the still darkening storm clouds gathering in the sky.  “You should get going,” she says, gaze dropping even more.  “Storm’s only going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Agnes.”

Agnes just shakes her head.  “Don’t mind me, hon.  Get going before you get stuck here.”

Before I get—  Wanda’s eyes light up.  She takes Agnes’s hand in her own and gives it a gentle, if slippery, squeeze.  “Agnes, you’re a genius.”  She wants to kiss her for it – to kiss her forehead, to bring the hand in hers up to her lips, to kiss her the way she’s wanted to kiss her for a while now and simply hasn’t – but despite that longing, she doesn’t.  In spite of herself, though, she does let her fingers trace Agnes’s chin before tilting her head back so that she can meet her eyes.  (This only makes her want to kiss her more.  She suppresses that feeling.)  “If I’m stuck,” Wanda says, trying desperately not to grin, “I can stay.”

“Wanda, dear, I don’t want you to be stuck if you want to—”  Then Agnes’s eyes light up, too, as though suddenly understanding what Wanda is saying.  A grin spreads across her lips, the sort of smirk that always happens just before she gets into mischief.  “We’ll just have to make sure you’re stuck as a pig.”

Wanda blinks twice.  “I don’t know what that means, but I hope it’s good.”

Agnes just winks, takes Wanda’s hand in her own again, interlaces their fingers, and tugs her into her apartment before shutting and locking the door behind them.

~

“What does she mean she’s stuck?”

Wanda presses her lips together in a thin line.  For all that she hopes Steve doesn’t have her on speaker phone, there’s absolutely no assurance that he doesn’t – and even if he doesn’t, he has very clearly updated the others around him to her situation.  That particular quip came from Sam, with whom she has a fairly strained relationship.  She hears other voices in the background – loud enough that she can make out Vision and Natasha, but not so loud as Sam, not so loud that she can make out exactly what they’re saying.

Finally, Steve says on the other end, “We’re coming to get you.”

“No, you’re not.”  Wanda’s gaze grows steely, even though that doesn’t help when she’s on the phone.  “I will be safe here with Agnes, and if something happens, the Sanctum will take care of it.”  Again, the noisy silence as Steve relays what she’s saying to the group around her, and this time, before he says anything, she tells him, “You can put me on speaker phone, Steve.”

“I’d rather not.”

Wanda takes a sharp breath in.  She resumes her pacing, going back and forth in Agnes’s kitchen, wet pants slapping on the now quite slippery tile.  “Steve,” she hisses, her accent growing heavier in her frustration.  “Ask Natasha.  I know she’s been casing the complex.”  She ignores how the other end falls into complete silence.  “Tell him, Natasha.”

There’s a muffled sound as the phone changes hands.  “You weren’t supposed to know.”  Natasha’s voice, much warmer than Steve’s, but not any better at this moment.

“I’m not a child.”  Wanda lets out a little huff.  “You might give me a long leash, but it’s still a—”

“There’s a difference between a leash and being careful, Wanda.”  Natasha cuts through before she can finish.  “We don’t know this Agnes—”

“—and Steve doesn’t know Agatha, either,” Wanda snaps back, “but he didn’t mind my seeing her.”  Her gaze lifts just enough to meet Agnes’s, too late to notice the glimmer of amusement at the mention of the other name.

Agnes sits perched atop one of her kitchen stools, a cup of tea in one hand.  There’s the slightest possibility that she’s only listening to Wanda’s side of the conversation, but in all honesty, if Steve doesn’t want to keep their conversation private, then Wanda doesn’t particularly either.  As she looks, Agnes lifts her fingers just enough to tap next to her eyes, but Wanda shakes her head.  Sure, she could try to influence them through the phone, but then she would fall into exactly what she knows they’re scared of her doing.  Agnes just gives a little shrug and returns to sipping her tea.

“Wanda,” Natasha says, “if you want to stay, I won’t stop you.”  There’s a squabble in the background, but there’s also the sharp click-clacking of heels on tile, the squabbling growing softer as Natasha appears to walk away from them.  “You’re an adult.  You can make your own choices.”

“Thank you—”

“But I expect,” Natasha continues as if Wanda hasn’t said anything, “the next time you want to stay with your friend, you don’t use some excuse like being stuck.”  Her voice grows soft and dark.  “Don’t lie to us.  We deserve better than that.”

Wanda flushes with a shame that she knows Natasha can’t see, just like she can’t see the stern look she knows Natasha would be giving her right now, if she were there.  “I understand.”

“You are an adult, and if you want to spend time with someone—”

“I understand,” Wanda repeats, her gaze dropping.  She stamps her foot on the tile, and it catches on the puddle beneath her before she rights herself.  “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow.  After the storm passes.”

Natasha gives a little hum.  “After the storm passes.”

Wanda flips her phone shut and stuffs it into her pocket.  She takes a steadying breath, hoping it will calm her, and turns on her heel to—

To do nothing, because she immediately slips on the wet tile and falls backward.

Before her head hits the harsh tile floor, however, strong – Wanda didn’t realize how strong – hands catch her.  She looks straight up into Agnes’s bright blue eyes, breathing heavily, and thinks….  Well, it doesn’t much matter what she thinks.

Agnes offers her a smug, yet somehow soft, smile.  “I’ve got you, twinkle toes.”  She gently rights her, and when Wanda slips on the wet tiles again, she holds her steady, both hands on either side of Wanda’s waist.  Then she chuckles and leans close enough to whisper with her breath hot on Wanda’s ear, “Falling for me, hot stuff?”

“Um.”

Wanda swallows hard before she turns in Agnes’s grasp, and she bites her lower lip hard before she looks into Agnes’s eyes again.  “You.  Um.”  Her lips press together, and she shakes her head, unable to get any words out.

“Well,” Agnes purrs, “why don’t we get you out of those sopping clothes and warmed up?”  She seems to ignore the flush suddenly scarleting Wanda’s cheeks as she gently – and carefully – leads her out of the kitchen, holding Wanda in place whenever she slips again.  “I think a nice hot shower would be good for you, hon.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”  Wanda turns to Agnes, blushes, and drops her gaze.  “I-I-I don’t have anything to wear,” she repeats.  It’s the worst thing of all, how sometimes when Agnes touches her – even when they’re practicing – she falls all apart like this.

But Agnes gently lifts her chin and gives her a wry smile.  “We’re witches, dear.  I think we’ll be able to come up with something.”

~

In the shower, Wanda has a lot of alone time to think.

Well.  Not a lot.  But enough.

So when she gets out of Agnes’s singular bathroom, wearing one of Agnes’s shirts (perhaps the one she’d worn when Wanda first met her), wrapped in the sweet scent of Agnes’s soap and shampoo, Wanda makes a decision.  Perhaps it isn’t the right one.  Perhaps she’s simply tired.

But Natasha was right.  Wanda is an adult.  If she wants something, she should say it, and she shouldn’t manipulate circumstances to try and get things the way she wants without doing something about it first.  That certainly isn’t the way she likes people to treat her, and it’s certainly not the way she should treat other people.

Especially not people she thinks she might like.

Wanda finds Agnes sitting on her couch, a cup of tea set on the table next to her, and sits down next to her.  When Agnes turns to her with bright eyes, Wanda places a finger over her lips, stopping her from saying anything.  This is supposed to help.  It should make it easier for her.  But it doesn’t.

She should say something.

Wanda tries to – the words get caught in her throat; her mouth opens and closes, and nothing comes out.  Then her gaze drops.  She takes in the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of Agnes’s nose, so light that she wouldn’t be able to see them if she wasn’t this close, and then her gaze drops lower, focusing on Agnes’s lips as they spread into a smirk.

“Here, hon,” Agnes whispers around Wanda’s finger.  “Let me help you.”  She kisses it gently, and Wanda pulls her finger back, gaze returning to Agnes’s eyes and searching them gently.  Then she sits up a little straighter, lets her own gaze drop to Wanda’s lips, and then tilts her head to one side before kissing her.

Agnes is surprisingly gentle.

When she breaks away, Wanda can’t stop herself from leaning in for another kiss, hungry for the taste of her on her tongue.  She smiles when Agnes hums for her.  “This is okay, then,” she murmurs, brushing her nose against Agnes’s, “is it?”

Agnes just chuckles, a deep, throaty sort of thing.  “Wanda, hon.  At some point, you were going to need help with this attraction between us.”  She kisses her again, a soft peck of a thing.  “Why do you think I conjured the storm?”

“You…?”  Wanda’s eyes widen with understanding, and then she, too, laughs.  “You’ll have to teach me that one.”  Then she snakes her hair through Agnes’s wild hair the way she’s wanted to do since they met, tugs her toward her, and kisses her the way she’s wanted to be kissed, the way she’s wanted to kiss her.

And when Agnes kisses her back, it feels like the only good thing that’s happened in a very, very long time.

[aparticularbandit]

Instigation: Chapter Three

Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

previous chapter / next chapter

December 31, 2015.

Five months go by in the blink of an eye.

Wanda’s magic lessons persist, as they must, as she learns greater control, but now, instead of flinching with desire whenever Agnes touches her, she leans into it.  Agnes brushes hands along her arms, her hands, her waist to correct her form, and Wanda turns in her grasp to kiss her, just so she can see the smug purr of a smirk twisted along Agnes’s face.  Every session ends with something sweeter than tea and honey, something Wanda hadn’t known to search for.

For once, Wanda feels good.  Like she’s found somewhere she belongs.

But in those same five months, Wanda’s experiences with the Avengers vary.  Steve catches her after her magic lessons, as though he’s afraid of what might be happening there.  Sometimes, Wanda still sees Natasha outside Agnes’s apartment complex, and she thinks it would be easier to just invite her inside.  Then one of the others would know Agnes, too; then one of them would be on her side.  As it is, Steve comes across as an overbearing mother hen more often than not (it’s his earnestness, really, but the longer it goes on, the more suppressing it feels); Rhodey nags in a way that should remind her of Pietro, if it didn’t hurt so much (sometimes, she thinks he doesn’t know the difference between a joke and a jab; sometimes, she thinks he doesn’t realize they’re on the same side); Sam soothes things over with Rhodey and tends to take him to one side to try and correct some of his behavior (which half of the time leaves Rhodey feeling more resentful than helpful); and Vision….

Wanda doesn’t even know where to begin with Vision.  He’s a child stuck in an adult’s body, full of the wonder and joy and excitement that she lost the day her parents died, discovering so many new things – sometimes discovering everything all at once – and analyzing and questioning and learning.  In another life, she might be attracted to that, to seeing the world through his eyes, to being reminded that it can be good after spending so long in a life where it was bad.  Sometimes, she’s grateful she has Agnes; she’s certain that if anything happened with Vision, she would end up sucking the life out of him.

And every single one of them voices their opinion on Wanda’s visits with Agnes, on the ambiguous nature of it, even though those opinions aren’t always voiced to her.  Wanda keeps the specifics to herself as much as possible; she doesn’t want their budding relationship to be another point of contention, something else for them to examine or analyze.  They already analyze the possible teacher-student relationship of two witches; they already dissect what they might possibly be doing from the very little Wanda has said (and the great amount they can guess she hasn’t said).  Something tells her it would be much, much worse if she even so much as implied there was more to their relationship than that.

But fall comes, and with it, colder air, the first sprinklings of snowflakes, and warm puffs of breath that can transfigure a normal everyday activity, a habit without thinking, into creating clouds.  Holidays rest around the darkest day of the year to add some joviality to an otherwise depressing time.  Tony decides to throw a Christmas party, which Wanda sees as a public relations stunt and refuses to go, choosing to while away the time with Agnes instead.

Then Steve decides to throw a New Years Eve party, just for the Avengers, and asks if Wanda will invite Agnes.  She’s your friend, he says, and if she can make it, we would love for her to join us.  He means it as gently as possible, but it feels a bit like being asked to bring her girlfriend home to meet her parents, complete with the Please tell her not to bring any fireworks.

(Wanda and Agnes haven’t actually started using the term girlfriend yet.  They haven’t had that discussion.  Right now, Wanda is fine not knowing what they are, secure in simply knowing that they are.  Anything more concrete feels like asking for trouble.  So does inviting Agnes over for their party.)

Still, Wanda brings it up with Agnes in a roundabout way – Agnes can always tell when she’s preoccupied with something or other (in party because it comes through in her magic), and when she’s concerned, as she becomes then, she sits her down on the couch with a cup of chamomile tea (not peppermint, because it makes Wanda’s lips tingle in a not so pleasant way) to talk about it.  She’s not shocked when Wanda brings it up, only surprised it took them so long to ask, and she accepts the invitation immediately with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Which is how Wanda finds herself standing alone on the first floor of the Avengers Complex, waiting for Agnes to arrive.

Of course, standing is a bit of a misdirect.  While she is most definitely standing, it is much more accurate to say that she is pacing, walking back and forth from one end of the entryway to the other, wringing her hands together and pretending that there aren’t minute scarlet sparks flicking from them every now and again like a static shock.  She’s not sure what makes her more nervous – the idea of everyone meeting Agnes or the idea of Agnes meeting them.

For all that maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all, Wanda’s been much more open with Agnes than she has with the other Avengers; Agnes is aware, to some degree, of her friction with Rhodey, her frustrations with Steve and Natasha.  Even if it’s only in small part, she knows about it in a way that Wanda hasn’t been open with them about her feelings for Agnes.

And she hasn’t…she hasn’t had the heart to tell Agnes about that lack of honesty.  It would only make it sound as though she doesn’t care about her, and that’s – that’s not true.  It’s just complicated.

Agnes would understand that, right?

(Wanda wouldn’t, if Agnes were the one saying it to her.)

So Wanda stands and Wanda paces and Wanda fiddles with her hands and scarlet sparks fly about them because her magic is linked to her emotions and while this is absolutely not the most nervous she has ever been in her life, it may be the most nervous she has been since she’s gotten her powers.

With, of course, the exception of joining the Avengers in the first place, just before Vision awoke for the first time.

Wanda only stills when the door opens with a rushing whoosh.  Even then, she’s not completely still; she still twists the rings about her fingers, starting with the thickest ring on the smallest finger and then moving along them.  She tugs her lower lip between her teeth until she sees Agnes, and even then, though she tries to relax, part of her remains tense – a part that grows even tenser when the first thing Agnes does on seeing her is throw her arms around her and kiss her.

She hates that she tenses.  She hates that she tenses.

Agnes leans back, looks up, and searches her eyes.  “Wanda, hon,” she murmurs, “is something wrong?”

It’s only then that Wanda notices how Agnes shivers against her, despite the heavy violet peacoat keeping her warm; it’s only then that Wanda notices the snowflakes scattered about Agnes’s shoulders, melted into the waves of her dark hair such that they seem to sparkle; it’s only then that she really relaxes, enough to kiss Agnes a little more properly.  “I’m afraid,” she confesses, gaze dropping.  “I shouldn’t….  That’s not your fault.”

“Well, that makes two of us, hon.”  Agnes brushes her nose against Wanda’s and then kisses its very tip, smiling fondly when Wanda wrinkles her nose, when she scowls.  “I think, as long as we stick together, we should be just fine.”  She brushes a hand through Wanda’s hair.  “How does that sound, my little Wendybird?”

Wanda offers her the gentlest of smiles, and even though the nervousness creeps up her spine again, she forces it back down.  “You know what, Nessie?” she asks, leaning into Agnes’s touch.  “I think that sounds very good.”

~

The living room upstairs should be something to write home about, but it isn’t.  For sure, there is a very Stark quality to the whole place, but that’s not a comforting sort of thing.  It makes the complex cold and uncertain, all sharp angles and large windows and bright metal, as though they’ve been transported into some sort of futuristic landscape.

Wanda might have lived here for nearly a year at this point, but she still can’t call it home.  There’s no warmth here, even in the bedroom she’s tried to decorate more to her liking, and without warmth, it can’t truly be a home.  It’s much too sterile for that.  (She knows full well this is an additional appeal to Agnes’s apartment.  For all that she might find stains here and there, for all that it might not be tidy and Agnes might leave clothes piled up and overflowing her hamper, for all that sometimes she opens the fridge and something’s been left in there for three weeks too long (and she doesn’t understand how this can be possible when she’s there nearly every day, but there’s magic in that, too) – for all that, Agnes’s apartment feels lived in, feels warm, feels like home.  Stark’s Avengers Complex just feels like a cleaner more military version of where Wanda’s been contained for the past several years.  (She’s never told them that.  She will never tell them that.))

Sam lays sprawled out on one of the couches as they make their way upstairs, half hanging on it and half hanging off of it, one arm curled around its back as though that’s the one thing still holding him in place.  He glances up as they approach and smiles, although he doesn’t relax.  “Is this Agnes?” he asks, loping himself into a much better and more normal sitting position, leaving room on either side of him for them to sit before scooting over to one corner.  “Wanda’s Agnes?”

“Yes,” Agnes purrs as she removes her peacoat, and she settles on one the couch opposite him, placing her coat on its arm.  “And I take it you’re....”  Her brow furrows as though she’s considering, and she taps her chin twice.  “You’re Steve, right?”

That draws a chuckle from Sam, and he instantly relaxes much more fully.  “Don’t watch much tv, do you?”

Agnes shrugs.  She leans back and crosses one leg over the other – her little black skirt pushes a little higher up her thigh, and Wanda pretends to not pay attention – and then answers, “I don’t have a tv, my dear man.  Rots the brain and all that.”

Sam’s brows shoot up, and he gives Wanda a look.

“Where is Steve?” Wanda asks, ignoring him.  She crosses her arms and glances around.  When she’d gone downstairs, Steve was here, sitting in one of the chairs; Vision decided to cook something, and Natasha thought it best that someone keep an eye on him, but Steve…Steve had been here.  (Rhodey was off somewhere with Tony, who had chosen not to show up.  Probably something about a New Year’s Eve party he was throwing.  Or one he needed to attend.  Good publicity.  The Avengers don’t need someone dedicated to PR when they have Tony, apparently.)

“Sam!” Agnes says with a snap and a bright grin.  “You must be Sam.”

“Something about an emergency in the city.”  Sam meets Wanda’s eyes.  “Not big enough to need all of us, but something one of us should take care of.  He’ll be back in a bit.”  Then he turns back to Agnes.  “Now tell me how this not having a tv thing works out.”

Wanda can’t help it – something in her stomach twinges at Steve’s absence.  She glances out the large wall of windows into the darkness on the other side, not focusing on the forest nearby or the stars in the sky, just. thinking.  Agnes, she reaches out gently into the other witch’s mind, that wasn’t you, was it?  Like with the storm?

Of course not, hon, Agnes responds while easily carrying on her conversation with Sam.  Why would I cause a commotion in the city?  I want to be here with you.  Mentally, she chuckles, which sounds weird given that her expression does not change at all.  Or I want you to be here with me.

Wanda nods to herself, but something in her doesn’t settle, and it doesn’t settle for a long time.

~

Natasha eventually leaves the kitchen with a groan, gently massaging her forehead, which indicates that Vision’s attempts to cook are not going well.  She catches Wanda’s eyes before glancing over to Agnes with a gentle smile that, like Sam’s, doesn’t feel real at first.  It’s the same sort of fake smile that Wanda herself would like wear if she were meeting any of their partners, if they had partners – the same one she would wear if she were ever to meet Steve’s Peggy – although, technically speaking, none of them know that she and Agnes are involved.

On second thought, Wanda thinks it’s quite likely that Natasha knows.  She might not have said anything, and she might be trying her best to be subtle, but Natasha is an international spy.  Even without trying, Natasha could probably have picked up that Wanda liked Agnes, and now, being in the room with them, she’ll very easily pick it up, if she hasn’t already.

By this time, Sam’s already relaxed in Agnes’s presence.  He may have thought the whole television thing was weird, but then Agnes got into the technicalities of using the threads of magic to read what’s been going on in the world so much clearer than reading a newspaper, and his eyes glazed over.  It was easier once Wanda changed the conversation to sit-coms; then Agnes got to talk about The Munsters, her personal favorite, and Sam brought up M*A*S*H, which sure, was an old show, but his family had so many of them saved, and Agnes knew the show – had actually seen it, unlike Wanda, who only knew of it.  They may not be talking like old friends, but they’re certainly talking with a familiarity that Wanda still doesn’t have with Sam.

Natasha sits next to Wanda, as though feeling the subtle tones of jealousy that Wanda wouldn’t have even acknowledged she had, and squeezes her shoulder gently.  “Your girl?” she asks, leaning in and speaking so soft that the others can’t hear her.

“Yeah.”  Wanda blushes the slightest bit.  “That obvious?”

“Nah.”  Natasha shrugs one shoulder and then settles into the conversation.  It takes her a while longer to relax in Agnes’s presence, but she does.  Eventually.  At least as much as Wanda has ever seen Natasha relax in a group setting.  Sometimes, she’s not sure she’s ever really seen Natasha relax; sometimes, she thinks even that is feigned.

For her benefit, of course.  Not because Nat is trying to lie to her.  But because sometimes, when you’re worried about something, you don’t want that worry to spread.  Sometimes, you want to keep your suspicions to yourself.  Sometimes, you don’t even know how to relax anymore.

Vision comes in later, with an apron tied about his waist and apologies strung from his lips as though they’ve been sewn there.  It’s then that Agnes’s eyes truly light up, and she volunteers to join him, to show him ­not how to correct any mistakes he’s made, but how to take what he has and make the most of it.  Something about waste not, want not but in a much more creative manner.  Wanda reaches her hand out as they leave to stop her, but Natasha makes her pause.  “Don’t worry,” she says with a gentle nod.  “He’s not going to do anything, and if she can get him to listen, then it’ll be a small miracle.”

“Maybe I want a miracle,” Wanda murmurs, unable to look up.  She does so only briefly, staring after Agnes as she walks away, mouth suddenly growing dry.

It’s uncomfortable, letting Agnes walk off with Vision with no way of knowing what they’re talking about, no way of being there to diffuse any potentially bad conversations.  No, not uncomfortable.  Terrifying.  But she won’t…she won’t hover around Agnes the way she instinctively wants.  She won’t.  That’s not a way to let her new family – if they can be called that – get to know the woman she maybe loves.

(Love feels like a leap.  They’ve only known each other a few months.  But she certainly absolutely likes her a lot.  And she wants all of them to like her, too.)

And – for the most part – it seems as though things will go that way.  Sam seems to get along with Agnes.  Natasha seems to have relaxed around her as much as she can.  And Wanda doesn’t hear any unhappy screaming from the kitchen – which is more an indicator that Agnes is getting along with Vision than it is the other way around.

That’s…that’s good.

Then Steve shows up, and everything goes a little sour.

~

It’s closer to midnight than not when Steve shows up, golden hair covered in snowflakes that refuse to melt at first, that still maintain their integral structure long enough for Wanda to almost make out patterns in them – not because she’s standing that close to Steve, because she’s not and doesn’t want to be, but because she’s searching him, looking for something, trying to figure out what sort of mood he might be in.

In some ways, Steve is the most terrifying of all the Avengers because Wanda has never seen him truly mad.  Not even small mad over stupid stuff, like when a can opener won’t open the can (probably because he can tear the top of the can off with his bare hands) or when the television gets all staticky and loses the signal (probably because their television never loses its signal and even when it gets close, Vision shows up and fixes it before anything gets too problematic) or when he tries to hammer something into the wall and slips and hits his finger instead (mostly because the complex is full of Stark technology that doesn’t require hammer and nails and Tony would probably get very mad if they tried to hammer a nail into the wall).  He isn’t always happy; more often than not, he’s pensive, and when he talks about it, it’s about the past – a past she doesn’t know, none of them know, not really.

It reminds her of Pietro, of how she feels about him.

Steve’s not mad or happy or pensive when he returns from whatever he was doing in the city, but when he sees Wanda, his eyes light up.  “Was she able to—?”

“Nessie’s in the kitchen with Vision.  Trying to rein him in.”  Wanda can’t help it; her lips curve up when she mentions Agnes, and she starts to fiddle with her rings again.  “I’m sure that’s…that’s going well.”

Natasha reaches over and pats her leg.  “They’re fine.  We’d know if they weren’t.”

“Nessie?” Sam echoes, brows shooting up again.  “She’s Nessie now?”

Wanda opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it again, brushing her fingers through her hair.  “She’s…I mean…we spend a lot of time together, so Nessie’s just—”

“Did someone say my name?”

Agnes strides into the room arm in arm with Vision, the brightest of grins on her face.  She nudges him with her hip when they stop.  “This hunk of metal and I—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a hunk of metal,” Vision says, and if it were possible, Wanda would say he was blushing.  His gaze drops, and he runs his hand over his head the way someone else might push their hand through their hair.

“You’re certainly a hunk, hon.  All of you in here such beautiful people,” Agnes starts to say, letting her gaze sweep the room, letting it land on Wanda as her grin softens, letting it move on to Steve, where it seems to freeze.  “You must be—”  Her head tilts, and her expression softens.  “Hello, Steve.”  Even her voice seems to change, darker and huskier and deeper.  It’s odd.

No.

It’s wrong.

Wanda’s gaze moves from Agnes to Steve, who stands there with his jaw working.  She doesn’t understand what’s wrong.  “Steve—”

“Agatha.”  Steve stares directly at Agnes, his eyes darker than Wanda has ever seen them.

That’s the wrong name.

Wanda glances over to Agnes, brow furrowing.  “Nessie—”

“It’s good to see you again, Steve.”  Agnes’s expression contorts, twists, almost.  “It’s been such a long time.”

It’s only then that Wanda realizes that no one else is moving.  She stands and looks around – it’s not that they aren’t moving, it’s that they’re frozen.  “Nessie, what did you do?”

Agnes turns to her then, finally, and her expression softens.  “Conversation for us old folks, love,” she murmurs.  Then she reaches over and presses a finger just in the center of Wanda’s forehead.  “I’m sorry, dear, but Steve and I need a few moments to catch up.”

“What do you—”

Sudden sleepiness overtakes Wanda.  She stumbles, and just like that first time in Agnes’s kitchen, Agnes catches her.  It’s less comforting this time.  She looks up at Agnes, brow furrowing.  “Why...?”

But that’s all she can get out before she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.