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#scarlet witch

June, 1981

“From eons past comes the world’s most savage warrior… THE BERSERKER LIVES AGAIN!

So this is the Berserker!

Hm. He looks somewhat less impressive as some Roman looking dude as opposed to a shambling vaguely human shape of rock and undying fury.

But I’ll give him a chance to impress in the actual book.

So last time: Wonder Man was working on a cowboy movie, badly, when he got the Avengers call that it was Avengers time. A new island had appeared in the middle of the Mediterranean and the only inhabitant, the Shadow Lord, made the US navy look like fool chumps. The Shadow Lord captured Wonder Man’s publicist Rachel Palmer and explained his whole backstory to her.

That his people the Earth Lords moved to an island, mastered the four elements, and became very concerned with an immortal Berserker so hit him in the face with a volcano. But since it was a dick move to wipe out several towns to get one guy, the Earth Lords disbanded except for Shadow Lord who had to stand watch for two thousand years in case the Berserker came back. And then the Berserker came back.

Instead of fighting the Berserker, Shadow Lord ends up fighting the Avengers a lot and then they beat up his city and then he dies. He wasted his entire life but he feels pretty okay with leaving his responsibilities to them.

This time: world’s oldest man causes problems on purpose.

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you owe me a dance

AU! Wanda was the love of Steve’s life during World War II and he decided to write her a letter before he died in the ice, knowing that she would never read it:

‘my beloved Wanda, it’s hard for me to write to you now. and i’m sorry my handwriting is so infinitely corrupted. i remember how often you used to comment on my spelling and the completely obscure dancing letters and their combinations. i’m sorry, but there’s no time, there just isn’t.

there’s snow around me and i think i’ve had frostbite for a long time, but i can’t just disappear without telling you everything that’s warmed my soul for so long. and let it be a charred piece of my notebook, but that’s where i leave a piece of myself.

winter 1945, i’m in the Yartsevo area. it’s so quiet around.. i can only hear a thousand prayers in my head. i’m still holding on, but no one’s coming to me.

this war.. for what? and for whom? where did people get so angry!? i don’t understand. for what ideals, for what ideas it’s possible to kill each other so ruthlessly? for whose word, we can make hell on this earth? because no one will give an answer, everyone will just drive cars and point guns at each other without knowing who invented all this and why.

forgive me, Wanda, i know you don’t take care of yourself and you work day and night on the machines. your hands have long been wiped out of blood so we can kill, and more and more every day.. death factories have to function all over the world.

i remember my mother and father every day. the little house on the edge of the village and the cattle yard. warm milk and green grass, not smelling of garbage and soot. i used to bring D’s from school and getting a set-down from my father. i remember my mother explaining arithmetic to me and helping me add up the numbers. then i really didn’t like it, i wanted to run away and play with my friends. and you know, they say men don’t cry, but i can’t hold back those damn tears. i so want to go back and hug my mother, Wanda, who taught me to see the inexplicable in everyday things, to dream and believe that the whole world can still be changed for the better, and there will be no terrible trial.

i keep thinking about how good it would be to shake hands with my father, who made me look for and find a way out of the most difficult situations and made it a rule never to give up. but now, Wanda, the day of judgment has come and there is no way out of this hell. and my mother and father have already taken the war.

do you remember our acquaintance, Wanda? that warm May night and my timid phrase “hello”. i guess not, but i remember every day. i fought with myself, overdid my shyness. and yet i managed to beat something out of myself. because then and now i’m only lost from thinking about you. i remember everything, and our first dance and those nights in the hay and our wedding.

Wanda, i’m sorry i’ve been spending so little time with you. that i’ve been away from you all the time. i just wanted you to be happy, but it’s only now that i realize that that’s not what happiness is about. and that happiness takes so little time, and unfortunately my limit has been exhausted.

Wanda, do you remember when i got my uniform, how i used to show off to you and ask you not to cry. i really wanted you to be proud and admire me. i really wanted to come home, all in medals and you see your hero and throw yourself at my neck. uh, Wanda.. what a fool i was then, because not a single medal, not a single iron is worth all the lives that have taken and those that have been taken around me. we all have our own history, our own memory. and we all die, albeit in different colors of uniforms, and speak different languages.

Wanda, how much would we have?

goodbye, my beautiful Wanda, goodbye.. i have no time left at all..

and you still owe me a dance.’

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Originally posted by giffied

TW: panic attacks, anxiety, PTSD revolving gun shots.

this is short because i was in the middle of an attack when i wrote this, this is how i cope with my anxiety

also this edit is glorious.

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Further review of one of my oldest drawings. I really love Scarlet Witch and hope this time I got her better than ever.

Below my previous attemps on drawing her:   



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