The Wish Assistant

By Adrienne Valentine

Summary: It was like I'd gotten some sort of magic, wish-granting spell cast on me! Everything was going my way today. Now, if only I could appear in the Marvel-verse like one of those cliché fan-fictions. That would be awesome...

AN: This is a very silly fanfiction meant to be, well, very silly and very fluffy and overall, not to be taken too seriously. I don't write silly or fluffy very often, so we'll see how long it lasts that way. If you want something darker or more serious, you can read my Avengers/X-men Evolution crossover fanfiction: Shadows Never Lie instead.

The day so far had been amazing. I had gotten signatures from all of the main Avengers actors, which was amazing. I'd done my best not to jump for joy and look like the nerd I was. I'd even gotten a picture with Tom Hiddleston in my costume, which was totally going to be developed and framed as soon as possible; along with a few other pictures I'd taken. I'd gotten a stack of new comics to read, and some silly little collectibles. Loki, Captain America and Iron Man plushies. I'd gone to my hotel room, dropped off said things and then gone drinking. Getting, of course, more pictures. Largely of me in costume with other nerds in costume, being drunk. No real surprise there. Tomorrow I'd probably be spending the rest of my carefully saved up money on other frivolous things that would sit on a shelf and look cool.

But the first day of Comic Con had been awesome. I had a blast so far, where everything had been going amazingly well for me. Like I'd had some sort of magic wish-granting spell over me or something. Like a Genie. Not a Djinn. Djinn tended to skew your wishes into something one-off, while genies were nicer. Like in Aladdin! Wow, I really am a nerd if I'm differentiating genies and djinn when I'm just glad I've had a good day. I mean, really, at this point, the only thing that could make it better was actually being transported into Marvel-World ala oh so cliche fanfiction.

The idea is enough to give my half-drunk mind something to laugh about as I slide the keycard into the door, pushing it open to reveal the neat, clean smelling room, freshly stocked, with my collection of swag from the convention placed haphazardly on the bed. Thrown, more like, really, as I'd rushed in and out to meet my friends at the bar. I hadn't changed, none of us had, that was part of the fun, after all. A huge group of costumed nerds invading the nearest bar and ordering more than our fair share of drinks. And having plenty of them ordered for us lady-nerds.

Especially if our tits had been hanging out, I mused as I glanced down at my own chest, hanging out very clearly, my phone and my camera shoved down into my bra at some point at the bar for fear of losing them. I reached up and carefully removed the horned helm I was wearing, placing it as carefully as I could on the table near the door. I pulled the massive (fake) fur cloak off of my shoulders, throwing it on the bed, where it covered half of the stuff I'd gotten. I was really tempted right then, looking at the elaborate costume I'd chosen to wear for the day, to just fall asleep with it on and deal with taking it off when I wasn't still feeling the copious amounts of alcohol. Copious was a funny word, I thought with a chuckle as I reached behind me to undo the lacings of the corset I was wearing. Damn things were a pain to undo at the best of times. Right now? It was a bitch, but I ended up taking it off, throwing it on top of the cloak.

It was much quicker to get out of the rest of the tight green leather-looking outfit, the gold knee high boots, the over-skirt, the gloves. I made a pile of it ontop of the cloak, not even bothering to make a neat pile right now. Walking around in my underwear, I had to grab a glass of water to drink as much as I could before I went to bed. I wonder if I have any crackers? I do not want to be hungover tomorrow. It's really not that interesting of an evening as I start to put all my things away before even getting dressed again. Looking at the plushies, a very silly idea struck me. Grabbing the Captain America one, I stuffed 'him' down my bra and chuckled.

"Stay there. Don't want you getting cold." I was far too amused by myself.

Glancing at the stack of comics now sitting next to the horned helm, I grab a couple of them as I decide to finally get dressed. Pulling out a pair of yoga pants and gripping the comics tightly between my teeth (something most comic nerds would kill me for), I don't really have any hands when I trip over one of the legs, falling over and hitting my head on one of the tables in my room.

The room went black for a moment and the whole world was spinning around me, as if I'd fallen from some uncertain height. Definitely made me want to puke, stomach contents churning uncertainly, clutching my stomach with one hand, and pulling the comics from my teeth with the other, preparing to wretch right there on the floor.

But soon the world stopped spinning, the light came back and my stomach started to settle. Opening my eyes, however, did not prove as... encouraging as I'd thought it would. Sprawled across a cold floor, with a couple of figures staring down at me, I had to be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Something, because there was no way that Tony Stark, Dr. Bruce Banner and Nick Fury were in my room, hovering above me.

Whatever was going on, however, was too much for my inebriated state and setting my head back down against the floor, the world faded back to black.

AN: I don't know if I want to keep up first person. I don't like writing in it too much. So prolouge only? Change this rubbish into third person and be done with it? Bah. We shall see. Title also subject to change. I have no idea what to call this story... Reviews will be loved, dearies.