#a blood stone carol

[wtnvhyperfixation]

I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING. THE GIRL FROM THE STORY IN EPISODE 140 WAS PROBABLY NEURODIVERGENT

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Yk that argument Daryl had with Shane at the barn? Put your own spin on it and include the reader somehow, maybe she even tries to break them up and he is still pissed. Afterwards he goes off to sulk in his anger trying to ignore you, but it’s too hard

۶•ৎ

The Odd Man Out

There you all were, away from Hershel's house, near the barn. Your heart was pumping blood more than what felt like necessary, your knees had become weak, all ready to betray you and cause you to collapse to the ground.

"This is unacceptable, man." Shane breathed out with fire, drawing circles infront of the barn gate.

"All this time..." He didn't finish his sentence and chuckled exasperatedly.

"Shane. Calm down. This is Hershel's land."

"I'll- I'll find a way to figure this-"

Shane came at Rick when Lori got between the two of them, pressing her right hand to Shane's chest. Her eyes scolded him as Shane gave her a quick stare and rolled his eyes.

Shane was staring at the barn gate, hands rested on his hips, shaking his head as all you could hear was him mumbling to himself.

Your eyes scanned the barn and its perimeter, observing every distressed face.

"You know we gotta leave man. Now we been talking about Fort Benning for a while..." Shane turned to all of you as Rick didn't let him say a word and raised his hand as a warning.

"We can't leave." He shook his head.

The side of your eyes caught Carol and how he wrapped her arms around herself, bottom lip trembling, eyes glossy with tears to come.

"My daughter is out there." Her voice was shaky. She looked taken aback as everyone gazed upon her. You could tell she didn't like to be the center of attention, especially at a time like this.

"We're gonna find your daughter, OK?" Lori rushed to Carol, offering a sense of support as she squeezed her arm, they were glued to one another.

Your eyes shifted to Shane as you shielded your eyes from the sun. He studied your face for a second or so. A faint snicker painted his lips. He knew why you had stayed quiet so far, he was the one that you spoke in discreet -though you felt that the cat was gonna be out of the bag any second-

You felt uneasy under his gloomy gaze as you looked away, changing your position in which you rested your entire body weight on one leg, arms crossed. You eyes were fixated on the others for a brief second to see if anyone caught that tense eye contact you happened to make with the most troubled man in the group.

Shane walked past you, not skipping to give you one last dark stare as he made his way to Rick.

"I think it's the time that we all start to just consider the other possibility."

You sensed everyone tilting their heads to his direction. Daryl stood next to you, you almost heard his breathing go more and more shallow, irritation growing denser through his veins as he fixated his eyes on him; squiented as ever, dauntless as ever.

"I ain't leavin' no one behind." He squiented his eyes at him, his body still as a stone as you could see he clenched his jaw firmly.

Shane ran his hand through his shaved head as he clasped his hands over it.

"Nah man, I-" Shane were to start another babbling session on a bothersome argument right when you flinched at Daryl's loud words.

"I'm close ta findin' dis girl. I jus' found a damn doll two days ago" He was coming at Shane when you felt like it was time you partook in this before it got out of hand.

"You found a doll, Daryl. That's what you did, you found a doll."

Shane pressed his lips together as he leered at Carol before speaking.

"All I'm sayin' is she could've been dead by now and we're-"

"Enough. Shane, enough." You looked at him in disbelief, eyes wide with your hand reflexively being up in the air towards his direction as a sense of warning before he took this any further.

"Ya dun' know the hell yer talkin' 'bout."

It was Shane one side and Daryl on the other side. Things got ugly pretty swiftly as you had to step back when Daryl came at him but it wasn't a few seconds later that you stepped in once again, punches flying in the air, some hitting your chin with their elbows. Your head and body were thrown back by their aggression reflected on their action.

Dust particles, the strings of hays that were laid out on the perimeter were awakened by this fallout. Your eyes got stung by them, this was like hell that you had no control in whatsoever.

"Hey, you back off."

"Come on now." Dale asserted.

It was Rick, Lori and you trying to break them up. Under the heat of the sun, with your red faces and greased clothes were you tossed in a fight near a barn full of walkers.

"Leave. Leave now." You demanded Shane. You pointed him with your finger, forehead wrinkled and brows creased as he clapped his hands in an amusing manner.

"You got a real mouth on you, I'll give you that." He cackled and continued with his chest heaving.

"Now you care? 'Cause last time I checked you were the one who said 'it's a waste of time anyway' " He waved his hands next to his head theatrically and thinned his voice as if to mock you.

"That's not what I said prick." You stepped forward, walking slowly as you widened your eyes. You were trying to catch your breath, unevenly panting as your eyes were out of focus.

It was Daryl's voice that stopped you

" 'S this true?" He had his hands on his hips, gazing upon you through his lashes. It was like he was let down, couldn't even stomach looking you in the eyes, though his eyes had an uneasy beam to them, as if what you were about to say meant more than what both of you could ever dare to imagine.

"No" You shook your head, you clenched your fists without noticing. You felt goosebumps swarming all over your body, somehow making you chill under the radiant sun.

"Fuck no." Your head turned to Carol instinctly, and then the others.

It was a moment of suffering. You, standing toe to toe with everyone. Their hesitant stares, their subtle glances that traveled back and forth with everyone else but you had riled you up yet you knew you were in big trouble and perhaps in the wrong.

You spanked your forehead with both of your palms, inhaling a huge breath in as you shut your eyes and stared all of them back.

"Come on. That motherfucker's lyin' to your faces."

" 'S he?" Daryl inquired, though his tone gave away that he thought he knew the answer. You could never wrap your head around how a redneck like him, could be so tender to a woman he despised. Yet there comes to question, didn't he despise you all? What had happened that he was now a decent person, defending someone who wasn't his blood nor his kin like a sworn confidant behind closed door?

Your eyes darted to the others.

"You believe him?"

Them looking down at their shoes was your answer.

"Stupid bitch."

Daryl mumbled under his breath as he walked away with slumped shoulders and a crossbow he had put aside.

Your face went white, shoulders sagging as you did what you had thought of doing all along.

You kept breathing sharply, turning around and lunging at Shane. He took a step back, eyeing Rick specifically to come and get you as he already had done so.

"Lying son of a bitch." You spat, your hair was everywhere on your face. You could hear your heartbeat in your eardrums.

"Easy. Easy." Rick kept his hand above your cleavage, fingers gripping the sides of your arms.

"I'm fine." You fumed as you moved your hair aside from your face.

"Wha's with all tha' if he 's lyin?" Daryl commented while he was tapping his feet to the ground, resembling a jaded eleven-year old in a family gathering. He pointed at you with his hand as he emphasized on the word "that". You had gone mad infront of all of them. You were bewildered, brows raised with a blank stare in your eyes for a few seconds.

"Look, that's not what I said at all." You began. You pouted your face as soon as everyone started putting your words into your mouth and jabbering.

"Geez, am I the only one who gives a damn 'bout this lil' girl?" Daryl snapped, walking around in circles and spreading out his accusing tone to everyone.

You shook your head in apace, trying to select the proper words to utter. You pressed your lips together, face heating under the wrathing heat wave. You looked around like a child in need of emotional support. Hands on your hips as Rick took a step ahead.

"Everyone go. Now. We'll sort this out tonight."

You got a chance to gaze upon Daryl for the first as his eyes were fixated on Carol. After all, they had formed a relationship out of this. You barely remembered anyone getting along with Daryl or him with others. You walked towards the house with thought filling your head and the misconception you felt needed to be debunked.

Few days passed, everyone still being furious with you. Little Sophia coming out of the barn as a walker didn't aid to your situation whatsoever.

You were sitting on a rock near the fields on Hershel's property. One of your elbows were resting on your knee as your other hand was supporting your chin. You were observing the stubble land laid out infront of you, cicadas jumping from one to another.

The wobbly wind was aggravating with the way it was blowing hot air to your face and body when your eye caught someone walking out of the woods into the stubble field.

Your position changed gradually with you fixing your hunchback as your arms fell loose next to you and you stretched your body a few inches taller to see who it was.

Daryl.

His eyes were checking out his surroundings as his crossbow was swinging on his hand. He wiped his hand on his forehead when his eyes noticed you.

Uneasy features were tugged on your face, not knowing what to do or say.

He passed by you, putting his best work not to acknowledge your existence.

"Daryl." You softly said.

Though your hands were resting on the sharp-edged rock , head slightly tilted and eyes scrutinising your knees that had scrapes all over it, you somehow managed to sense him throwing his head back and fully preparing himself to say a word to you.

"Yeah." He reacted.

It took a while for you to turn and face him entirely. He was looking rather fed up with you. His lips were pale and pressed, his goatee beard all tangled, he must've been scratching it and running his fingers through it, you assumed. It was something you had noticed him doing back in the quarry.

"I'm sorry but all I said was 'we might be better off elsewhere' when I happened to be absent-minded around him. You know-"

He squinted his eyes at you, his chest heaving up with a heartburn as he barked.

"Ain't ma headache no more."

"The girl 's dead."

He pointed one of his stained arrow at you, a vein appearing on the side of his neck. He was blaming every inch of you from head to toe.

You stood infront of him, pupils dilated, hands in a loose punch as no amount of air was enough to fill your lungs.

"And I'm terribly sorry-"

"No yea ain't." He came closer at you, crossbow on one hand and arrow on the other. His neck was stretching forward, sweat beading the below of his hairline.

"Don' give me tha' crap." He used his arrow once again, pointing it at you in a circular motion.

"Yer upset only 'cause he outed yea like tha', infront of the whole lot."

"You hear yourself?" You gasped slightly at his words. You were more confused than angry.

"Whatever dis is, keep it ta yerself."

You heard the fading tone in his voice, he grew less and less attentive with you within 5 minutes.

He adjusted his crossbow and arrows on one hand and started ambling towards the house with his hand scratching the back of his neck.

Sun shone through his golden hair, he was walking aimlessly. It was like you had sucked away the energy left in him for the day.

"Your one stupid motherfucker." You hissed, standing on your tiptoes and extending your torso forward to make sure he heard you.

It was all a misunderstanding, Shane twisting your words back then and now no one giving you the time to explain yourself but only putting words into your mouth. You had lost all hope for the situation for the time being, after all it was still so fresh, everyone was still so vulnerable. No one could even dare trying to foresee anything.

"What'd ya say?" He turned his head towards your direction, his body adjusting to his head gradually.

"No one is listening to me but they're believing that troublesack for a man." You fumed in one breath, you avoided eye contact with him.

He blew raspberries without sticking out his tongue, his cynical body language took over your mentality.

"Yer a real peach with yer tears n' all." A half smile on his lips, completely not interested in what you had to say. He had biases about you all along, this was only the cherry on top.

"Do you really think I didn't care about Sophia the slighest?" You asked with an ajar mouth, eyes fixated on his body as in order not to miss anything you could interpret for your own good.

His neck stretched forward once again, the glazing sun was aiming right at him, perhaps this wasn't the best time.

"I ain't yer buddy, ain't yer nothin' " He growled, his hands were gripping his weapon as he wiped his sweat with his arm.

"I sure ain't the one yea should be makin' amends ta" He hushed, turning around.

"I'm not making amends!" You declared.

Which was true, you weren't. You just hoped for to be understood and not have everyone jump into conclusions about you.

You heard him murmur "Sure sounds like it." As he was making his way through the long stubble to the van.

That night, on a chilly weather were you above the van with Dale as you were assigned to assist him during his watch.

You sat on one of the camp stools, shotgun laying between your thighs vertically. Though Dale was sitting infront of you, your eyes were fixated behind him. The long roads, the long fields.

"Hey, old man. Rick wants yea back at the house."

You flinched at Daryl's voice becoming less and less muffled as he came near the van.

"Ohh what now." You heard Dale complain under his breath as he got up.

"Heads up." Daryl warned as he threw his crossbow on top of the van while he was yet climbing the ladder.

He didn't expect to see you there. His eyes flickered across your face for a moment or so as he looked around subtly, obviously looking for Glenn with whom you were replaced to assist Dale.

"The hell?" He inquired deadly with half-lidded eyes as he straddled on the chair infront of you.

"Just don't even talk if you aren't good with words." You huffed, not even seeing him fit to make eye contact with.

He remained silent as he rubbed his eyes. He hadn't been getting any sleep.

"Ain't no need fer words with yer bullshit." He scoffed, resting his head on his hands, looking around just like you.

"All this time spent together and you haven't figured out what kind of a person I could be. Not even the slighest, huh?" You sighed, not rushing, taking your time with each word.

Your heart was sinking down your torso, it felt like. Your eyes were droppy, fingers at the tip of the shotgun, seeking to be occupied by anything. Anything but him.

His eyes were glued on your eyes as you weren't bothering to meet with his gaze.

You pegged him for a complex man at all times, deep down you always knew he wasn't someone easy to come terms with. You were not gonna be seen by him, not in this, not in anything.

But at that exact moment, when two of you took a minute to enjoy the calmness, quietness around you, letting your minds talk to yourselves instead of words, you dared to hope for a change.

He could change after all, you saw it with your own eyes.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

A/N: well this request had been on my asks since the beginning of this year... so i hope you still enjoy this anon!! also dumb me accidentally replied to a different request🥲🥲 so if that anon got the notification, im sorry, feel free to request whatever you want bae!!!

also i think i never wrote for season 2 daryl before huh? i hope this was satisfying, he was some constant-nagging redneck in season 1-2 but we love him

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 11

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SA. Please venture forth with caution. Typical TWD violence and gore; blood; injury.

A/N: I don’t know why but I feel like Daryl is extremely OOC in this chapter. Maybe I’m just being a bully to myself. I’ll try to rein him back in with future chapters. I’m sorry.

Daryl’s feet carried him at a slow pace, seemingly knowing where he was headed. He ended up outside of the cell Hershel would use for medical purposes. Reluctantly, he tapped his knuckles against the bars and waited for the veterinarian to invite him inside. 

The curtain was moved aside and Daryl noticed the absence of you and Carol immediately. “She okay?” He asked gruffly, not willing to show any fondness toward you. You likely knew exactly how he felt, at least in a physical sense. He didn’t need everyone else donning those knowing smiles like they had any clue of the turmoil he was battling inside. 

Hershel stood with the help of his crutches and hobbled his way to the archer. “She’s just fine. A little shaken up but that’s to be expected for someone with her background. She said she was going back to the fences.”

Daryl nodded. “Okay then.” He turned to leave— to find you —pausing when a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

“She trusts you, you know.” Hershel said with his gentle smile. The hunter enforced his unreadable mask. “She has a lot of fear and rightfully so. But she trusts you.”

“She shouldn’.” Daryl replied, blue eyes dropping toward the floor before he presented another nod and left the cell. It wasn’t that he didn’t want your trust. He didn’t deserve it. The archer knew what had been done to you, yet when he lay awake at night, it was you that he envisioned while stroking himself to the precipice of pleasure. 

It was wrong.

It was immoral to fantasize about how it would have felt to have you that night beside the fire. You were willing but it wasn’t real. You wanted him because of obligation, not because you felt anything toward him. Not even because you just needed to be fucked. But because you had been brainwashed to think that was what you were supposed to do. 

Guilt sat like a stone in his gut and he didn’t know how to process it; how to move past it. Maybe training you— building you up to take care of yourself —would absolve him. He could give you that, asking for nothing. You could move forward with knowing that someone could show you kindness with no strings attached. 

Daryl heaved an intensive sigh and stepped outside. You would be waiting for him with those wide, pretty eyes. When he was closer to his destination, however, he found that you weren’t there. He continued regardless and collected your knife, slipping it behind his belt. You had probably wandered off with Carol when he didn’t show. It was probably for the best. 

He was about halfway back to the prison door when he saw Carol exiting. Alone. Something didn’t sit right. “Hey!” He called out, waiting for her to find him when she began looking around. 

“Hey, yourself!” She shouted back. 

“Y/N with ya?” 

“I thought she was with you.” 

Fuck. Carol’s expression mirrored his own, communicating without speaking as they often did. “I’ll check the cells.”

“I’ll check the towers.”

Daryl hated running. It was all he had done since the world ended. He ran for his life or someone else’s. The latter only amounted to anything half the time. “Y/N!” He yelled the minute he stepped foot inside the prison walls. 

Beth stepped up to the cellblock door with baby Judith in tow. “What’s the matter?”

“Y/N been in there?” He asked breathlessly. 

“I haven’t seen her. She doesn’t spend a lot of— Daryl! What’s going on?” The young blonde yelled at his retreating form. 

He didn’t answer, didn’t even stop when he snatched up his crossbow and sprinted back outside. If you had gone beyond the fence, you were as good as dead if he couldn’t get to you in time. Carol had forbidden you to enter the tombs. Surely you wouldn’t have. Would you?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered, pacing back and forth in front of the door. Either scenario would mean death if he didn’t act quickly. The thought alone left a hollow ache in his chest that he was too panicked to give any attention. 

You stood less of a chance in the tombs. He would start there and pray to some deity that he made the right call. His fingers had hardly brushed the door when his keen hearing picked up a sound. A shout. Daryl froze, tilting his head to listen. There was no other noise but his gut told him he needed to go investigate. 

He kept his steps light but quick, crossbow loaded and ready to aim. The closer he got to the opening in the outer wall, he could hear voices. Two males. 

“Don’t fuck it up too much, man.”

“Looks like someone already did that.”

Daryl’s back was pressed to the wall, about to lean around the corner for a look. The voices belonged to two men that had been allowed in that very day. Lonny and Marvin. He hadn’t felt right about them but Rick vouched for them along with the rest of the group. They could be engaged in innocent conversation, but something about the whole thing was making the archer’s teeth itch. As discreetly as possible, he peered around.

In a span of mere seconds, Daryl went through an onslaught of three intense emotions. Firstly, he was in shock. You were facedown on the concrete, blood pooled around a portion of your head while your nails scratched at the concrete. Then came the guilt. There was the smallest whimper accompanied by an utterance of ‘ow’ that made his eyes sting. Lastly, came the anger. No, it was fury. The men had ripped off the clothing from your lower half. Marvin had a hand pressed hard into the middle of your back while his other hand moved aggressively between your legs. Lonny stood just behind him, stroking his cock with the most vile expression Daryl had ever witnessed. 

He didn’t hesitate to step around, crossbow level with his eyes. The weapon trembled in his grip. His blood was boiling just underneath his skin. “Ya got less than one goddamn second ta move away from her ‘fore I put a bolt in yer brain.” The low growl of his tone added intent to an already very clear threat. 

Lonny moved first, releasing his dick to put his hands in the air and step back a few paces. Marvin hadn’t moved, actually smirking at Daryl. The archer gritted his teeth, really really restraining himself. 

“Daryl.” 

It was the tiniest whisper of a breath and the anger disappeared in an instant, his expression shifting, softening. ��M’here.” 

“This here your pussy, man?” Marvin’s arm moved, bringing three blood-coated fingers to his lips. “I mean, maybe we could work something out and sha—”

The bolt pierced through the side of his middle finger, into his mouth, and out through his cheek. The screams were bound to bring reinforcements, not that Daryl needed them. His blue eyes shifted to Lonny. The man hadn’t moved and continued standing stock still while another bolt was loaded. 

“Ya got any propositions fer me, asshole, cause yer givin’ me a helluva target.”

Lonny shook his head vigorously. 

Daryl glanced down, wanting nothing more than to run to your side but he couldn’t let his guard down. Not yet. 

“Both’a ya, back the fuck up.” The archer stepped forward and Lonny stepped back while Marvin continued to scream. 

“Oo choht ee ehn uh ouhth!” He attempted to complain while using the hand that wasn’t bolted to his jaw to clamber to his feet. Daryl took another step forward. 

“I said BACK!” He roared. His patience was wearing thin. Marvin finally reacted and stumbled away. 

“Daryl!” Carol called from just around the corner. 

With help so close, Daryl abandoned the crossbow and dropped down beside you, stripping off his vest to at least provide a little coverage for you. 

“Hey, ya with me?” He placed his hand on your back as gently as possible, bending forward so you could see him without the need to move. Carol, Rick, and others had arrived and were handling the men but the archer was paying them no mind. The moment your eyes blinked open, you were his sole focus. 

“I… I…” You attempted before your face contorted in pain. 

“Need ta getcha inside. Getcha ta Hershel.” He was trembling again, anger threatening to resurface amidst all raised voices. Keeping his hand on your back, his wild gaze searched out Rick in the flood of people. “Get ‘em the fuck outta here!”

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Carol kneeled on your other side, sweeping your hair away from your face. It took Daryl a moment to realize she was talking to him. He nodded, gaze back on you. You hadn’t moved but your eyes remained open. “I’m gonna get a blanket.” 

The archer nodded again, leaning back down after she had gone. “Yer gon’ be fine. Yer safe.” A broken sob escaped from your lips, the sound ensnaring his heart and squeezing. You moved as if you were going to push yourself up, sending Daryl into a panic. “No, don’. Stay still. M’a getcha there. Jus’ another minute.” You didn’t respond but the quiver of your lip told him you were still conscious. 

The hunter heard the pounding of Carol’s boots well before she appeared with an off white sheet. His vest was tossed aside, giving him the briefest look at the blood smeared on your inner thighs. He knew then that he would murder someone that day. But you came first. 

“Roll her this way.” Carol instructed, helping him move you into a position from which he could easily lift you. “Easy, easy.” 

You gasped and whimpered and tried to curl in on yourself. It was all Daryl could do to keep you still. Once you were on your side, Carol brushed your hair back again. You flinched at her touch. 

“You…you promised.” 

His friend looked as if you’d punched her in the gut, a hand flying to her mouth; her eyes heavy with gathering tears. “Get her to Hershel.” She commanded softly. 

Daryl slipped an arm under the curve of your neck and slid down to your shoulders while his other maneuvered under and around your thighs. When he lifted you, a broken cry worked its way from your throat. He was left cradling you awkwardly but you were shielded by the blanket and he could make the position work in order to get you inside. His feet were moving before his brain even registered he’d given the order. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered. Your fingers, with their broken and bleeding nails, curled into the front of his shirt. “Hur…hurts.”

“I know.” He didn’t know how to reassure you; how to make this better. Carol had promised you a better life there. He had brought you there under the same assumption. If he was honest with himself, he took you out of the frying pan and tossed you right into the fire. His pace continued to increase only to slow when you’d start to cry harder. “Jus’ a lil’ further.” Was that for you or himself? He didn’t know. 

When Carol caught up, she didn’t touch you. Daryl knew it wasn’t out of anger or cruelty. She felt as if she had failed you. He knew that because he knew her better than anyone. 

He knew that because he had failed you too. 

Daryl sat on his mattress, legs outstretched and arms lying limply in his lap. It had been hours since he’d found you. He’d taken you to Hershel and was quickly ushered out due to the location of your injuries. Carol had remained, although unsure if you even wanted her there. 

The archer, with nowhere to release his guilt and anger, had headed straight for the cell where he knew Lonny and Marvin would be kept. Rick had temporarily taken his keys after the former sheriff and Glenn had finally managed to drag Daryl off of both men. 

At least he had retrieved his bolt from Marvin’s face. It was now lying on the floor below his feet. 

He was told to stay back when Carol had come from the medical cell and a decision was made on the fate of the two bastards. They counted his vote which was just shy of flaying them open and tossing vital organs over the fence. He had wanted to ask about you but there was no time. Everyone wanted the issue dealt with and the perpetrators out of the prison, one way or another. 

In the end, they were stripped of their clothing and put outside the fence. Carol wanted them to suffer as you had suffered. Rick had disagreed but was outvoted.  

Lonny and Marvin would now be two more walkers snarling at the fence. 

It wasn’t enough, in Daryl’s opinion. He would have tortured them, willingly chipped away at his humanity to hear them scream; to watch them writhe and see them bleed. Regardless, the anger had given way to all encompassing guilt. He wanted to blame Rick for bringing the assholes in based on the answers to three questions that anyone could respond to with a lie. But he couldn’t. 

He was the sole reason you were even there at the prison. He had gone against Rick and traded valuable assets to free you. He’d never know what would have been the better option for you. Still…

He selfishly wanted you to stay. 

It would never be worth the risk of your wellbeing to explore the urges he had been feeling. He’d never put you in that position; subject you to that confusion. He just wanted you to stay for reasons he couldn’t even grasp himself. What was wrong with him? He didn’t do emotions. It was always easier to remain closed off. 

Footsteps echoed from the bottom of the stairs. Carol. Daryl pulled himself from his defeatism, only to see your blood dried on his arms; his busted up knuckles. 

“Hey.” He didn’t look up. “Brought your vest and crossbow.” 

He still didn’t acknowledge her. He wasn’t angry with her in the slightest. He just didn’t know how to verbalize all he was feeling. He didn’t want to. So, when the mattress dipped beside him, he sighed. 

“Hershel says she’ll be okay. There were…lacerations that will take some time to heal. And she has a nasty concussion.” Carol fiddled with the hem of her shirt for distraction, allowing silence to permeate the room. “She won’t talk.”

Daryl scoffed. “She thinks ya broke a promise.”

“No.” She countered. “She won’t talk to anyone. Just lays there and stares at the wall.”

He hated how that image settled in his chest, causing an unfamiliar ache. How could Hershel say she’d be alright when she had been subjected to behaviors straight out of the hell from which he’d taken her. He couldn’t do more than hum in reply. 

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Nah.” He lied. “Jus’ wanted her ta be safe.” That much was true, at least. 

“I’d like to think I know you better than anyone.” Carol whispered sadly. “And everything in me says that you like that girl.”

“Wha’s it matter?” He would usually snap at her, but he didn’t have the energy; lacked the bite. The memory of you lying there, broken, had stripped all that away. 

“It matters.” She squeezed his shoulder and stood, dragging her feet toward the stairs where she paused. “You should go see her.”

“I ain’t what she needs righ’ now.” Or ever. 

It was her turn to hum. “Maybe you’re exactly what she needs.” 

He listened to her steps fade the further she walked. Carol did know him better than anyone, but that didn’t make what she knew right. He needed to stay away, for your sake and his own. 

So why did he find himself taking a shower to scrub away the blood you didn’t need to see? Why did he walk to the medical cell? And why was he standing in the doorway, staring at your back? 

Now that he was there, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. ‘Hey, sorry ‘bout those two dickheads that took advantage of ya’? Eventually, he chose just to seat himself in the chair behind you and remain silent. He couldn’t be certain if you even knew he was there. 

You looked so small on that table, the thin blanket pulled up to your shoulders. The sheet he had wrapped you in was wadded up in the corner, the crimson splotches scattered like a grizzly design. Daryl’s hands curled into fists. He wished he could have watched the walkers tear into those two depraved assholes. 

He remained that way— a coiled spring of anger and self-loathing —until you stirred. It was the slightest shift accompanied by a nearly inaudible mewl. The archer straightened his spine but otherwise remained still. He still couldn’t understand why he was there; couldn’t even attempt to sort through the sentiments stirring inside. They were slowly consuming him, confounding and confusing in their ambush. All he knew was that you were there, breathing and heart beating, and the sight of you provoked the overwhelming emotions. They threatened to swallow him whole. He’d gladly allow them if it meant he’d gain understanding. 

You shifted again, turning your head slowly to peer at him with tired eyes from over your shoulder. Daryl felt his lungs attempt to freeze while his pulse fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. Carol had said you refused to speak. He wasn’t refusing. He simply couldn’t. He settled with offering a slow nod. 

His breath stuttered when you responded— not verbally —but with a small smile. It didn’t meet your eyes, but it was new and not unwelcome. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair, knuckles white. He wanted to run. This wasn’t him. For Rick, for Carol, he’d do this. He’d stay. They had become friends. No. They had become family. You? You were different. You weren’t an enemy. You weren’t really a friend. You were a stranger, a newcomer. Yet somehow, you had managed to slither your way right under his skin. 

That was terrifying. He’d rather be thrown into a pit of walkers with only a toothpick to protect himself than deal with matters of the heart. He was out of his depth, alone in unfamiliar territory. And at that point, it was sink or swim. 

Daryl cleared his throat. “How, uh, how ya doin’?” He managed to relax enough to free the chair from the death grip. The corners of your mouth turned down, your eyes beginning to shine with moisture as you looked away. The archer didn’t know how to interpret that. “I should go.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, finding himself hesitant to leave you alone. But it was for the best. He shouldn’t have come in the first place. He wasn’t sure what else to say. The silence made him feel even more awkward. 

Hands on the wooden chair arms, he pushed himself up to stand. Grunting was apparently Daryl-speak for ‘goodnight’ or ‘feel better’ but that’s what he went with. It never failed him before. Quick to turn his back, he made it two whole steps. 

“Daryl?”

The archer’s eyes closed, a curse sitting on the tip of his tongue. Of course he’d be the one you chose to talk to. Dixon luck at its finest. He turned his head toward his left shoulder, purposefully keeping his eyes on the floor. 

“Stay?” Your request came softly, but powerful enough to shatter any resolve he had managed to muster within his inner battlefield. Daryl found himself easily turning back to you, taking back those two steps, and lowering into the chair. 

“Okay.”

Taglist:

@royaltysuite @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @callmeyn @lilyevanstan1325 @the-lonely-abyss @gutsby @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @hutchersonsgurl @the-milk-is-rotten @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @richardsamboramylove55 @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @atyourmomshouse01 @bultamer @mia051 @memphiscity69 @flowerspetalsthorns @riya12044 @ariacraigggg @morgan556 @carley12041 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @twdislifee @bae-live-0 @elbellmam @aleemendoza2425-blog @randomhoe @ren9sstuff @pandarooooo-blog @let-love-bleeds-red

[willowed-wisp]

THE WAYWARD AND THE WARDEN - part one

previous | next

Cregan Stark x female!OC/ x reader

WARNINGS: swearing, injury, threat… not too bad really

She was just a girl. Eighteen years of age.

A fresh university student on her Christmas holidays- venturing up to Scotland to be with her aunt and uncle.

Philippa had nothing. Parents gone…

At least the remaining family she had were kind, no children of their own to dote on.

She had living in Scotland for those past four years- venturing down south for her education - so she knew her way around.

Driving, “Just another left and then a right,” but the snow made it difficult to navigate; caught in a rife blizzard. One minute she was listening to rock music in her small Mini Cooper. Then the front bonnet was wrapped around tree bark. Philippa unaware as her skull bumped back against the seat’s head; she was dead to the world.

Not able to help a groan leave her lips, thrumming pounded against her temple. Philippa unable to feel the rest of her. Her lower half powdered with fresh fallen snow.

Where was her car? She had been wearing a seatbelt… why was she waist deep in the snow?

Philippa’s gaze burned by the iced haze, whatever she bored her eyes on happened to be a wasteland of frost. That wasn’t the same spot…

When she thought nothing of her body could be felt, fearing paralysis, a crackle of kindling spread her thigh. “Fuck…” looking down she found a bare leg, and a bare stomach… naked chest. And quite a splash of blood from where her fingers met her forehead.

But there was nothing except trenches of tundra for miles… “I’m gonna die here,” no she wasn’t, death would have to drag her by the ankles…

Despite the numbed ache waking throughout her skin, she laboured; dragging through knee deep snowfall and more piled up.

She could no longer feel that sting, unaware to the frostbite reigning of her flesh. “I’m not fucking dying here…” Toes numbed yet scorched. She had almost ignored the wall of ice up ahead, but it was the last thing she saw before a void of black.

It was warm?

Had she died?

Philippa felt at peace, crackling of a log fire to her left without the bitterness of the outdoors.

Fingertips wandered across soft fur while her eyes opened- wishful thinking came to an immediate shatter. A circlet chandelier, candlelit, above her with pure stone casting shadows above itself.

Similar to a castle- auntie Carol and Uncle Gyles made frequent day trips to visit historical monuments around the United Kingdom; her parents had shared that same interest, so she was well versed in the differences of Carlisle to Windsor.

She was in neither.

The girl sat up, covers gathered around her hips. She took in the room- plain yet plentiful. She found herself in a massive bed, standing candelabras casting light amongst the darkness of night. The fire place roaring prevented her from being frozen.

Snow dripped in flurries the other side of the windows.

Heaven nor Hell looked like that.

Where the fuck was she?

Eyes cast down into the folded pile of clothes, thick layers.

She wasn’t being tortured, it seemed she was a guest.

Philippa had been dressed in a simple white cloth gown. Alike the clothes placed down for her, they looked… medieval; lace-up dress and a thick cape which pooled on the ground.

Twas not an easy feat lacing the dress in lonesome, and she was pretty damned sure she had made a sham of it.

But she needed to get out of the room. No matter how calm she appeared on the surface, beneath she suffocated.

Along Philippa’s way down the intricate halls, barren stone. She bumped into a wide-shouldered, broad obstacle, “I’m sorry,” polite yet dismissive, she just needed to get some kind of sense.

She continued down the corridor. Lit by torched-sconces that flickered, while wind whipped behind her speeding paces.

‘Did that guy wear a wolf pelt?’ Shaking the thought to the wayside- not looking back.

It was a castle.

Not the largest she’s visited but that didn’t take away from the stone complex- mostly obscured by freezing mist.

Arms wrapped around herself, it felt like Scotland although it certainly was not. “Where am I?” She asked the neck-snapping breeze.

“The North,” A rough, rich voice boomed from the door behind. It was confident and foreboding- Philippa quivered in secrecy.

Ominous. “Of course I’m in the north, could you be more specific? Because it’s fucking chilly,” A hint of sarcasm and a sprinkle of jesting, wholly serious. Meanwhile her eyes focused on the silhouettes forward.

“You’re in Winterfell,” still as rough as steel.

That atmosphere was too heavy, “Is that near Glasgow? Because I need to be in Edinburgh…” Silence followed.

He didn’t seemed awfully amused.

Heaving steps- clanking of metal in sync. A charcoal section of fur had been the first thing in her peripheral.

That wolf pelt.

“I said I was sorry,” a squeaky to the man- almost a foot taller. And she wasn’t even short. Philippa couldn’t help but admire handsome features, made harsh and rugged by the murky light. That presence was unshakeable… a mountain of a man.

His eyes looked brown- though she could be mistaken. “Why were you over the Wall?” Philippa feared in utter bemusement. She’d never experienced that combination before.

“What-,” one movement made her flinch. But the one hand grappling her wrist, dragged her close to him- her chin raised staring into that icy gaze.

Teeth gritted while he spoke, “Why were you over the Wall?” Eyes made her cower.

Pleading with wide-eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man let her go but that closeness remained.

“You sound like a southerner… what’s your name?” Brows crossed and lips scowling. Maybe that was just him.

“Philippa.” He circled her slowly- studying her.

He stopped in front of her again, catching her in his gaze, “And what is it that you do, Philippa?”

She tried to put it into basic terms, “I’m a healer, i think you do things differently.”

He still frowned, “Maester Samm will hone your craft,” she simply nodded- shaking whether it be from the cold or the nerves. “Those chambers you woke in are yours, we’ve been in need of a healer for a while now.” Without a second word he brooded off.

Nobody would understand her predicament- if this ‘Winterfell’ was anything like the history she knew she’d be burnt at the stake as a witch. And being a healer wouldn’t aid her, but she was a quick learner and knew holistic approaches.

Philippa just needed an education on the herbs and flowers they had because if medicine was anything like the medieval age… she needed to know what was potent and what was outright deadly.

And so she went back to her room. Twiddling her thumbs until the morning.

A knock at the door, “come in.” Like a mouse but the person heard and the door creaked open. A long mop of black- gorgeously glossy.

Smile on her face, “I’m Melaine, and you must Philippa. You’re training with Maester Samn,” an accent similar to those of her aunt and uncle.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get much information about that…”

A laugh. “Lord Cregan doesn’t mince his words, never has, even when he was a wee ankle-biter,” free speaking like a Scotsman. “He’s a good man, but the North shapes a lad even if they are eight-and-ten,” the woman was much older than Philippa, probably in her forties which meant she had been in service more than two decades maybe three.

“He looks older,”

“It shapes them to have rough edges, lass,” the sky was clear- and though snow had settled none descended upon them. And so she could take in the massive gates; one in front and one to her right. “It’ll change you soon enough. Get rid of that politeness, make you more bold…”

A quizzical look from the teenager, “I doubt that. My parents, even as a child, called me a stubborn mule.”

“We’ll see about that as a healer in Winterfell… lads here draw swords like us maids light matchsticks…”

Melaine reminded Philippa of her auntie Carol- comforting and a safety blanket while Cregan Stark was something she wanted to hide from but she had a feeling they’d have a few run ins with each other whether that be locking heads or weaving stitches.

——————————

If you wanna be tagged leave a comment or message me! x

Hope that wasn’t too awful, I’m getting into the groove of writing again.

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [6 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The pass takes its toll on the pack.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: i’m having a ridiculous amount of fun with this story, can you tell? as usual, reblogs and feedback are appreciated and always welcome.

The storm rages at your backs as the pack travels west. Wind rips at the furs you have wrapped around yourself, a makeshift shield for the freezing rain. The water stings your hands and face like little needles, and you hunch down over your horse. The rolling hills of the grass sea crest higher and higher until they are hills no longer, but great cliffs that begin to rise darkly in the distance. You swallow a nervous lungful of air, and taste ozone and horse-sweat on your  tongue. 

The Orcs ride close together now, forming a tight shape as they move through the grass sea. What did Carol call it? The zikaegina. Lightning cracks overhead, and for a moment, your eye is drawn to movement—but darkness crashes down too quickly for you to make sense of it. 

A bird? Above the storm? You grip the reins tight, remembering the stag. It’s wild yellow eyes, slavering jaws. 

“The sea is where chaos reigns free, where Halith’s light cannot reach.” That was what they had told you in the chapel. “The further you go, the more godless it becomes.” You shiver. You know only the falsehoods you have been taught by king and country—and the land has been savage, yes, but also beautiful. Halith’s light had never reached you in your father’s house, when you had prayed and begged for it, so why should you care if her indifference cannot reach you here? You look up at the sky, riven into pieces again with a burning bolt—

There are different Gods here, you can feel it. 

The cliffs jut up before you like jagged teeth, spearing the clouds above them. Fog rolls out of the mouth of the pass, so thick you fear you might choke on it. Carol rides up beside you, her back ramrod straight. With one hand she tightly grasps the reins, while the other rests on the pommel of the great-sword at her hip. At the front, Steve silently holds up his hand, forming a tight fist as he slows his horse. The tension is as thick as the fog. You know the horses feel it too as they shift, their ears flicking about nervously. 

I wonder if they hear something we do not. 

“Eyes up, little human. Eyes up.” Carol whispers, her voice barely audible. Though the rain stings your eyes, you do as she says, staring upward into the dark fog. The sounds of wind and rain echo off of the slick rocks, but the air feels eerily still as the storm rages far above you. 

We are not alone here. 

You are reminded of Carol’s warning—other things used it too—and you hunch lower. One of the horses whinnies, the sound echoing up the quiet cliffside. The rider silences it as Steve turns, his hand held up as a sign to stop, to wait. 

The screech echoes all around you, the horrible, piercing noise of it making you clap your hands against our ears to block it out. Trembling, you cast a terrified look at Carol. Slowly, she raises a finger to her lips. Quiet. Above you, somethingskims low through the fog, something dark.

Something big. 

No one moves. The horses stand stock still, and when you look down at your own, his eyes are bright with fear, rolling back and forth in his head. An answering cry pierces the storm, and this time when lightning illuminates the sky, you see it. It clings to an outcropping of rock, crawling silently down the slick stones. It is covered in, dark, wiry fur, with leathery wings that tremble excitedly as it reaches a horrible talon down toward Steve—

Quicker than you’d thought he could move, Steve grabs for his axe, swinging it upward in a clean, bright arc. There is an awful wet, tearing sound as he cleaves the screaming creature in two, black blood spraying his face. His horse whinnies, rearing up as Steve rips the axe clean of the thing’s body. Its carcass falls to the ground, steaming in the cool night air, and for a moment there is silence. 

“Zhut! Ride!” Steve’s bellow trembles in your bones. “Make for the city!”

Chaos erupts around you, but it is as though time has slowed to a crawl. You watch, horrified as more dark shapes drop from the sky above you, descending on the scrambling pack in a flurry of hungry claws and teeth. The rider in front of you loses his head in an instant, the bat-thing slamming into him as its jaws open unnaturally wide. You blink, feeling his warm blood on your own face as it bites down with a sickening crunch, its snout and chest covered in sticky red. It turns those big, hollow eyes to you, a long tongue darting out to lick at the blood staining its face. You have no time to reach for the bow at your back as it lunges for you, talons outstretched—

The beast’s black blood joins that of the Orc rider’s on your skin, stinking and acrid as Carol’s blade lands with a dull thunk. One of its claws lands in your lap, and you scream as it twitches. You sweep it to the ground, and Carol grabs you by the shoulder, shoving a short, curved blade into your shaking, bloody hands. 

“Ride!” She screams the word into your face, pointing forward into the mist. You snap the reins, holding on for dear life as the horse rears back, hooves fiercely pawing at the air. You and Carol take off, with her swinging the sword around your heads, trying to fend off the screaming, hungry swarm. The blade in your hands would be little more than a dagger for Carol, but for you, it is a short sword, light enough for you to wield with a single hand as you cling desperately to the reins. 

Claws clip your cheek, your shoulder, your horse screams—you don’t realize you’re airborne until you hit the ground, the breath knocked out of you. You scramble up to your feet as your head spins. There are three of them, attached to the writhing body of your horse not twenty feet away. Your ears ring with the sounds of battle around you, and the sour tang of blood burns in your nostrils. Others, your own.

“Run! You must run!” Carol beckons you forward, and your thighs burn as you run toward her horse. You can hear another of the creatures behind you, its wings beating against the wind as its claws narrowly miss the skin of your back—it crashes into you, sending you sprawling into the mud for the second time. It lands on top of you, it’s bloody jaws frothing as it snaps at your face. You grab for the sword, straining as its rotting breath rolls across your cheeks—

The creature squawks in pain and then goes still and limp on top of you. Its blood leaks down onto your hands from the hilt, your sword buried in its chest.  Numb and dizzy, you stare up at the seething sky above you. 

“Up, my brave warrior,” Steve replies, rolling the body off of you. He swings you up into his arms, seating you firmly on his horse in front of him. “Eyes forward.” He hands you the reins, brandishing his axe. “I will do the rest.” You do as he says, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. You don’t stray, not when the axe whistles through the air above your head, or when the narrow pass widens out back out into the grass sea, the creatures screams echoing behind you. 

to be continued…

next

[marvels-meme]

Canon worldbuilding lore on the MCU Kree to help you with your fanfic

They rule over multiple planets. Hala is the capital.

Hala's star is called Pama

In the comics there are around five known planets in Hala's system - it's unclear if Hala is 4th or 5th planet because it's been confused with another planet, Turunal.

Hala is located in the Larger Magellanic Cloud

Hala had oceans and forests (rip to those tho lol)

Leader of the Empire is called the "Supremor"

The Supreme Intelligence was basically god

The collective is one idea of the afterlife — if your brain is worthy it joins the Supreme Intelligences database when you die.

The spiritual afterlife is called the Etherplex or something idk

Their technology is somewhat water based (need more info on this)

Architecture is heavy on metal and stone and is very geometric. Buildings are detailed but there generally isn't too much furniture.

Cyan and purplish lights for a big chunk of Hala, golden lights for the Supreme Intelligence.

No hanging paintings... If you want art you have to hire someone to paint your wall lol

Starforce generally have one room apartments, I couldn't see a kitchen in them.

Stuff like wardrobes, book shelves, cupboards and drawers are more likely to be inserted into the wall to save space.

Like Carol literally lived in a single room with a bed, nightstand and a hexagonal cup. The ideal female living space.

They have hexagonal cups (I just thought that was cute)

The military is a big deal! Other respectable careers involve teaching, medicine, typically intelligent jobs that give something to society.

Kids are trained from a young age in the military. They're called "recruits". There's a deleted scene of Yon-Rogg teaching some.

The military hierarchy is likely Supremor > Accuser > Starforce > Kree Army > Non Kree Army > War slaves.

The Accusers aren't just extra bad military. They uphold the law, make arrests, hold trials, decide punishments, etc. I'd imagine that this is typically done for more important criminals or prisoners of war. That's why Dar-Benn holds an Accuser hammer as Supremor — she's upholding the law.

Kree Law is vaguely structured around the Tablets of Koth — they aren't definitive but they are the main basis.

Questioning your leaders is technically illegal

The worst crime of all is being "un-Kree".

Kree supremacy is big. In the comics it's illegal for Kree to have children with other species. They will tolerate other races if they’re feeling nice about it, but ultimately the Kree come first. This is important in the context of Carol's relationship with Yon-Rogg.

There's racism of blue Kree > non blue Kree in the comics but it doesn't appear to be present in the MCU. Keep it in mind though.

The Kree originally evolved to have blue skin because of low oxygen levels on Hala. Non blue kree came later as a result of mixing with other species. Since making babies with another species has been illegality for probably millenia, non blue Kree are now just another skin tone of the species.

Sexism isn't a thing. Yon-Rogg isn't sexist to Carol he's being racist too her lol

There are groups of noble families with some quite strict rules about battle. If a noble is cornered in battle with no way out they have to drink the special suicide juice or else they are shamed.

The suicide juice is called Odium, which means hate in Latin. If you sip it you go crazy with rage, get super strength and start trying to fight everything until it makes your heart explode

In the comics the Kree have double that of human organs — ie two hearts, four lungs. Brain is probably an exception. They have stronger bones and heavier muscle mass.

Kree blood has healing properties strong enough to bring a species with simple DNA (like humans) back from the dead but it's super duper painful and like 7/8 of the people that have received it have been given some kind of amnesia afterwards

Carol was one of those humans lol rip queen

Apparently the amnesia thing isn't even hard to do? In Agents of Shield a Kree had a tiny little hammer and he'd slap people with it and they'd loose their memories (I doubt that Carol was slapped with a tiny hammer but you never know this might help you)

Propaganda art - there are some gorgeous statues and murals in the Captain Marvel concept art.

Fashion is generally dark. Black, grey and brown for most people. It's not too complicated. White appears to be for underclothes/sleeping wear.

Well it's not too complicated unless you are the Supremor. Remember, Dar-Benn is succeeding the position from their idea of god. She's dressed to the tens and stands out the most from literally everyone. Her stuff is more detailed and metallic and she's wearing a lot more jewellery.

Also notice how Dar-Benn changes outfits literally every ten minutes. I need Marvel to stop killing all the cunty villains because I deserved to study her entire wardrobe thank you very much

A few Kree women (including Carol) have the style of one side being braided and the other let down.

The Kree are encouraged to experiment with as many genders as possible

So technically Carol Danvers lesbian sex canon

Some people grow babies in big tanks. Why? To make them strong or something idk. Carol's comic half sister was born in a big tank bc they wanted her to be strong asf to serve as an Accuser

Swear words — I only know da'st. No idea what it means

They don't have a word for candy </3

Normal space currency is called credits. Kree currency is called kreedits. If that's not the funniest fucking thing ever I don't know what is.

Kree names are "your name-family name". Eg Yon-Roggs given name is Yon, but his surname is Rogg. His daughters name is Una-Rogg.

You generally don't separate the name. Yon-Roggs name isn't Yon, it's Yon-Rogg. Obviously there's exceptions, but that's the general naming rule. It wouldn't be outright wrong to call him Yon, it would just be uncommon and slightly weird.

The Kree have beef with every species ever. They had multiple wars with the Asgardians and the Xandarians.

I've probably missed something lol

Anyways: Arab.org daily click to help Palestine 🍉

[sjsmith56]

Letting Go

Summary: Bucky is critically injured, trapped in a building destroyed by a bomb. He orders his team to leave him behind but they refuse and Peter calls for help. It comes from several sources.

Length: 5.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, Wanda Maximoff, with cameos by other Avengers, named OFC (seen in flashbacks).

Warnings: Bucky injured, feeling unworthy, accepting death, good and bad memories, medical emergency.

Author notes: Believe it or not I dreamed the first part of this and wrote down a summary as soon as I woke up so I wouldn’t forget it. This one shot imagines a post-FATWS Avengers that brings in several of the newer characters as well as some older ones. Thunderbolts* and Captain America: Brave New World have not happened.

⏳ ⌛️

If he had to do it all over again, Bucky would have made the same decision. Leading a mission with the newest Avengers under his supervision, meant that he felt responsible for their safety. It was his choice to enter the building first, assessing the risk before they came in with him. Just as it was his choice to tell them to leave him behind after the bomb went off, an event that sent tons of debris raining down on him. Now, as he laid injured in the dark, with his metal arm twisted and lodged behind him and both his legs broken he knew he wasn't getting out alive. Those who had worked with him before, specifically Peter and Yelena, begged him not to make them leave but he made it clear.

"There is nothing you can do for me," he said, with what he hoped was finality. "It's too risky for even a sorcerer and with Dr. Strange off somewhere in the multiverse I don't think he can activate the time stone and reverse this."

He stopped for a moment to cough, feeling the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, likely from bleeding internally.

"Bucky?" asked Peter over the comms. "What about Cara?"

Cara ... his girlfriend of 8 months that he planned to propose to. This would devastate her, but she knew the risks, being a SHIELD employee herself.

"Tell her I love her and that I'm sorry," he replied, then he refused to answer his comms after that.

Outside the team sat, despondent. Shaun, Joaquin, Kate, Yelena, and Peter looked at each other, feeling sick inside. Then Peter strode into the quinjet and asked Friday to patch him through to the Avengers compound.

"Sam? We need help." He filled him in on what happened and what Bucky ordered them to do, explaining none of them wanted to leave. "We don't leave a team member behind. I don't care if he made it an order. It's not right."

As Sam listened to Peter, he got Carol Danvers' attention. After listening to the gist of the conversation between him and Peter, she asked Friday to alert the remaining Avengers to suit up. She also asked Friday to contact Wong, thinking they were going to need some magic to rescue Bucky.

"Peter, stay there," he said. "We're on our way and you're right, no matter what, we don't leave a team member behind."

⏳ ⌛️

It's strange where your mind takes you when it's the only thing still working. Practically immobilized in the dark, close confines of what Bucky accepted was his tomb, he thought back over his life. The first twenty years went by fast, not surprising considering it was so long ago and he wasn't even sure he had regained all those memories back. He thought of his mother's hands. Not an unusual thing because they were always busy. Housewives in the 1920s and 1930s were always on the go and his mother was no different; washing clothes by hand, ironing everything, including the sheets, cooking, baking, darning, soothing a fevered brow when he was sick, tying his necktie the first time he wore one. He sighed at how much he missed her, wished he had been able to see her just once before .... If he had just been man enough to tell her he loved her before he left for England, the last time he saw her, or Dad, or Rebecca when she was still young. At least he saw his sister again before she died. That meant something.

Then he thought of Cara, a bright moment in his life when he met her, although he didn't think so at the time. He had returned from a mission and forgot about the comms pieces that were still in the front chest pocket of his tactical suit, given to the staff responsible for cleaning them, and repairing any damage done to them. Taking his time in the locker room by having a long, hot shower, then getting dressed at his own pace, he was surprised to see a strange woman waiting for him outside the door.

"Sergeant Barnes?" she asked, looking him in the eye, even though she was a good six inches shorter than him. "I'm Comm Tech Laskey. You were supposed to return your comms pieces on your return."

"I thought I did," he answered.

"No, Sergeant." She checked the small tablet in her hand. "You returned your weapons to the armoury, and your tactical suit to Uniform Maintenance for cleaning and repair but the person taking in communications equipment didn't check them off and there is no sign of them. Until they are returned, you're financially responsible."

"You're kidding, right?" She stared at him. "I guess I left them in my tactical suit. Why don't you go there?"

"Not my responsibility."

"Listen, Laskey, is it? I'm tired and hungry and really need a beer. Can't you just go check for me this one time and see if they're in my uniform? I promise I'll make it up to you and that it will never happen again."

"This one time?" She looked at her tablet again. "You used that excuse four times on my predecessor. She left me notes on not taking you at your word. I don't want to know how you made it up to her, but I'm not her and think that you asking me to do your job is taking advantage of your position. Now, I can either declare them missing and have you invoiced, or you can go right now to find them and bring them to me in Communications. Those are your options, Sergeant. I'll give you 10 minutes."

She turned around and walked away, not looking back even once. He watched her, wondering why the previous tech left. He had made it up to Marin, taking her for drinks at least once. Laskey had to be wrong that he didn't turn in his comms equipment four times. It wasn't that many times, was it? With a sigh, he headed towards Uniform Maintenance, explained his problem, and was given his suit to examine. The earpieces were still in his front chest pocket.

"Good thing you came now, Sarge," said the cleaner. "Was just going to process your suit. It would have wrecked those. Someone told me those are worth 5 grand a pair."

He looked at the two small earpieces in his hand, not believing they cost that much. Returning to the communications department, he entered, looking for Laskey but he didn't see her. Seeing a guy sitting in front of several computer monitors in a secure room he knocked on the window. The guy flipped a switch to speak with him.

"Yes, Sergeant, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to return my comms pieces to Comm Tech Laskey," he said, holding up the two comms pieces.

"She's gone for the evening," said the guy, Martino. "She waited for you then said your 10 minutes was up. Sorry, you'll have to give them to her tomorrow. I'm not authorized to unlock the door so I can't receive them."

A rumble above him interrupted his train of thought and he strained to see what was happening in the darkness. Then a large piece of debris shifted, landing on his right arm. He could hear the snap as the pain of his arm being broken shot up from his forearm, making him scream in agony. Fuck, he was completely trapped now, every part of him broken or pinned in place.

"Bucky?" Peter's voice was in his comms piece. "Was that you?"

"I ordered you to go," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Why are you still here?"

"We're not leaving you behind," said Yelena. "Help is coming."

"What did you do?"

"We called for help and it's coming," replied Peter. "Now, what's your status?"

"Damn it," muttered Bucky. "I gave you an order."

"Yeah, and I ignored it," answered the younger man. "You can discipline me later. Now, what's your status, Bucky?"

Angrily, he breathed several times then calmed himself. "Both legs broken, my metal arm is pinned behind my back, and I can't move it, and that scream was my right arm being broken by a piece of debris landing on it. I can taste blood coming up into my throat, so I likely have internal bleeding. The building is unstable, Peter. They won't be able to do anything."

"You let them figure that out," said the younger man. "Don't give up yet, Bucky. Please."

He closed his eyes, unnecessary in the dark but it was the only thing he could still do in the circumstances. He felt as helpless as he did when he came to after falling from the train. Everything was broken then, except for his left arm, which was gone. It was true he survived that, and the hypothermia that should have killed him, if he didn't already have the serum flowing through his veins. But something told him that this time the serum wouldn't be enough to keep him alive.

The sad thing was that he was okay with it. He really was. He was older than he had a right to be, had done terrible things that had sent other men to death row for less. His defence of involuntary mind control and torture was accepted for his pardon, but that was little comfort to the families of those he killed. Even though he made his amends a big part of him always felt that he got away with murder. That was the same part of him that was telling him to let go, to accept that this time, he had to pay the piper. Why couldn't Peter just obey orders?

You know why.

Great, now he was hearing a voice in his head, and it wasn't coming from the comms.

"Why?" he whispered, not wanting the others to hear him.

He had to watch Tony Stark die, then his Aunt May. Don't you think if he left you behind to die that it would hurt him as much as those deaths did?

"I don't mean that much to him. I barely talk to him."

You mean more to him than you know, Bucky, and he means more to you than you realize.

He had nothing to say to that because he couldn't see it. Peter was still a kid, living in Queens, trying to get the marks to be accepted into engineering at college, while still patrolling the streets at night and being an Avenger.

You don't see it, do you?

"See what?" asked Bucky, out loud.

"What did you say, Bucky? Are you okay?"

"Sorry, just thinking out loud," he replied to Peter. "Has your help arrived yet?"

"No, but they'll be here in a couple of minutes. They're just getting some things sorted out first."

Bucky closed his eyes again and tried to calm his mind.

You're a survivor, Bucky. Peter looks up to you, because you went through hell, and you survived it. You're a good leader who treats everyone with respect like the sergeant you are. You're fair, firm, and you make sure that everyone knows their job before you take them on a mission. If anyone gets hurt, you're the first one there, the first one to assure them that they'll be okay. He admires you for that. So do the others.

A scoff erupted from Bucky's lips, causing him to cough and he tasted blood again. Personally, he didn't want to believe what that inner voice was telling him. He barely said anything to the younger ones. They were always on their phones, or playing video games; silly pastimes in his mind. Still, Peter helped him set up his smartphone without making him feel stupid or out of touch. It still impressed him that the kid was stronger than him, even though he was a lot shorter and lighter than Bucky.

He often reminds you of Steve, doesn't he? Except without the anger. Orphan, living on his own on a shoestring budget, until you and Sam convinced him to live at the tower. He helps people who have been pushed around, and you admire his mind, because it reminds you of you, when you were younger and still had hopes of college.

Well, maybe there was some truth in all of that but as far as Bucky was concerned, it wasn't enough to warrant Peter disobeying a direct order and bringing in help. He probably called Sam, first. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

"Bucky? How you doing, man?"

Well, shit, speak of the devil.

"Sam. I assume Peter gave you a status report, so I won't repeat myself. I don't think I'm getting out of this one."

"You let us assess the situation before we make that decision. I've got Carol, Thor, Wong, Hope, and Scott here. Bruce, Dr. Cho, and a couple of paramedics are on standby to treat your injuries. We've set up a little trauma centre just to stabilize you before we transport you to the tower."

"The building is really unstable, Sam. Whatever you do can make it worse for me."

"Buck, we know." Sam's voice was more serious. "We've got a couple of structural engineers here to determine the best way to get that debris pile off of you. Hope and Scott are going to fly in and try to get into your space to make a scan of your situation. Then we'll make a plan of action. We're not leaving you behind, you hear?"

Despite his stoic acceptance of his fate, Bucky couldn't help the little sob that erupted from his throat. It took a lot to get his single word answer out.

"Okay."

He didn't know how long it was before he was aware he wasn't alone. A small light approached him in the darkness, revealing Hope carrying Scott. She had a light on one arm with a small scanner on the other, while Scott carried the same sort of scanner. She hovered over Bucky's face and flipped her face shield up, making her face visible to him.

"Hey, Buck," she said. "Scott is going to stand on your chest. If it hurts, you let us know. While he scans this pocket, I'm going to your sides and underneath to scan there. Just relax. Sorry, I know you can't really do that."

He nodded his head slightly, but didn't say anything. As she left, Scott activated the light on his arm.

"I'm not too heavy for you, am I?" he asked as he began to laser scan the space Bucky was trapped in.

"No, it's not too heavy," replied Bucky. "I'm sorry to bring you in here. I don't think much can be done for me."

"Well, it's easy to feel that way when you're the one who's trapped." Scott looked back at him. "Understandably so but it always amazes me that even in the most backward areas, when there's a landslide or an earthquake and people get trapped that they are still able to rescue people with just their bare hands. We have a full team out there and a couple of cranes setting up to lift debris off from above you. It's kind of like a 3D jigsaw puzzle or more likely a house of cards that we're taking apart, without destabilizing it. It's challenging but with the right moves and respect for the task, it can be done. I have faith in us, Bucky. You just have to trust us to do our jobs. Your only job is to hang on."

"I don't know how much longer I can do that." Scott turned so he could see Bucky's face. "I'm bleeding internally. If it's bad enough I don't know if the serum can heal it before I bleed out."

"Do your best."

There was no answer from the former assassin for a while as Scott continued scanning. He kept checking on Bucky's face, making sure he was still conscious. Turning towards Bucky's face after a few moments, Scott noticed that he had relaxed completely, and his eyes were closed. Putting the scanner down he moved closer and tapped Bucky's cheek.

"Hey, Buck, you still with me?"

A small groan followed by his eyes trying to open was his answer. He was slipping away.

"Sam! He's losing consciousness. What do I do?"

He could hear Bruce and Helen discussing what could be done to bring him back. They all involved Hope flying back, getting a stimulant in an injector, then bringing it back and jamming it into Bucky's neck but it might not be in time and the effect wouldn't be enough if they didn't enlarge the injector. Then Scott thought that perhaps a pain stimulus would work.

"Hope! Get up here, I need you," called Scott. She appeared from the side moments later. "Sting him. He's losing consciousness and I figured a pain stimulus would bring him back. I don't have anything on me, but you do with your stingers. It won't hurt him, but he should feel it."

"Do it," said Bruce, who had been listening in. "It's the only thing we've got to offer and it's better than nothing."

Aiming at Bucky's cheek, Hope fired on him. The response was minimal, so she did it again and this time Bucky opened his eyes.

"That hurt," he mumbled. "What did you do?"

"Sorry, Buck," she answered. "You were passing out and we need to keep you conscious. I stung you."

"Cut it out." Then he grinned lightly. "It's okay. You did what you had to."

She returned to scanning underneath while Scott continued his scan. He looked at Bucky frequently, not wanting to miss the signs of him passing out again. Then he cleared his throat.

"Buck?" He could feel the super soldier's eyes on him. "I've heard you wanted to get into engineering when you were young. You know I'm an electrical engineer by training. What field were you interested in?"

"Mechanical," answered Bucky. "I was always interested in how things work and worked a lot on engines. But the Depression pretty much wiped out any chance of going to college. I quit school to work on the docks. It didn't require a lot of thought, but it paid the bills."

"What about Steve? What was he into?"

"Art. He could draw anything. He spent a year in art school then ran out of money to continue." Bucky was silent for a moment. "So, you left engineering to become Ant Man?"

"Not exactly," replied Scott. "I worked for a corporation that was robbing its customers and kind of stole from them to give back to the people they were stealing from. One thing led to another, I got caught and I spent a few years in prison. Couldn't get a job when I got out, then I got involved with Hank Pym, became Ant Man and here I am."

"You did prison time." The disbelief was strong in Bucky's voice as he always thought Lang was a bit of a softy.

"Yeah, I managed. I kept my head down, didn't rat anyone out, tried to stay pleasant. It seemed to work. It's where I met Luis ... you've met Luis, haven't you?"

"The guy that can't shut up? Yeah, he's hilarious."

"Hey, he's been a good friend and has had my back whenever I've needed him. That's worth a lot in this world."

Bucky felt bad about being dismissive. By everything he had heard about Luis, he had been a good friend to Scott, helping him bring in some dangerous people.

"I guess he's kind of your Steve in that you watch out for each other." He watched as Scott continued scanning. "It's good to have someone like that in your life."

"Like Sam. I know on the surface that you two are always bugging each other, but he'd drop everything to help you and so would you." Bucky grunted. "Don't deny it. It's why you're partners."

"Co-workers."

Scott laughed. "Okay, have it your way." He finished his scan and came close so that Bucky could see him. "Right now, that co-worker is looking over the results of my scan and figuring out with the others where to start saving your life. Hope, are you done?"

"Yes, I've already transmitted the data." She was quiet for a moment. "You know, Scott, I think with a little nudge we can help Bucky free his left arm. I just need to size up slightly and raise him enough so that he can pull it free. Bucky, do you want to give it a try?"

They cleared it with Sam, who, along with the others, was looking at the scans. There was concern that they could destabilize the debris pile, but Bruce was also concerned that Bucky had already lost consciousness briefly. Scott pointed out that with both of them there, they could enlarge themselves quickly enough to push the debris aside and open up access to Bucky. It wouldn't be pretty, but it could get him out sooner.

"Remember, I did it at the compound after Thanos blew us up and we were buried underground," he said. "We won't let him get hurt any further."

"Alright," said Sam. "Do it, but be prepared for both of you to go giant sized."

Hope returned to an open spot below Bucky, while Scott remained on his chest, although he changed his footing somewhat so that if he went large, he wouldn't step on the super soldier. She counted down from three, then Bucky could feel his body lift slightly, and then a slight tug on his left arm. It moved a little, then he felt more pressure on his back as Hope pushed him further up. Suddenly, his arm was free and by his side. He flexed his hand, then the pressure beneath him eased as Hope shrank down.

"It's free," he said. "Thanks."

Then everything went black and silent.

"Guys, what's going on?" asked Bucky. "Where are you?"

"It's okay, Bucky," said a familiar female voice.

A red glow appeared near him, and he saw Wanda, sitting cross-legged in the dark with him.

"Wanda? What are you doing here? It's dangerous."

"You're not trapped, Bucky," she answered, in her soft melodious voice. "At least, the inner you isn't. Your body is and right now, Scott and Hope are trying to revive you while the others are ready to have them go giant size just to get you out of there. I just wanted a chance to talk to you face to face before they wake you up. I've been with you since you first were trapped."

"That was your voice in my head, wasn't it?" he asked. "You know how I feel about that."

"I know, and I'm sorry for invading your privacy but I hated that you seemed to have given up. The younger Avengers were so upset when you told them to leave you behind. I felt their distress. Shame on you for not thinking that you're worth it."

"You know what I was and what I did."

"I know because I did things that were just as bad or worse; things that I'm truly sorry for." She was right beside him now, red tendrils of light snaking off her body and dissipating into the dark. "You've done a lot of good since HYDRA and have more than paid back your dues. You're respected, people care about you, and someone loves you very much."

"Cara will move on," he replied. "She deserves better."

"Hmmm," she voiced. Then she brought up an image of Cara in the air. "She doesn't think so. In her eyes, you're someone who makes her feel like she's the most beautiful woman in the world. Let's continue with the memory of when you first met her. I was enjoying that until the building fell on your right arm."

The morning after he tried to return the comms pieces, Bucky got up early and waited outside the office, until the first staff member came in, Cara Laskey herself.

"I have the comms pieces," said Bucky. "I tried to return them last night, but you had already gone."

She unlocked the door without comment, then went to the counter and pulled out a form. Putting her hand out to Bucky, she examined the two earpieces, then wrote a note on the form before turning it towards him and handing him a pen.

"Sign here. You're accepting any penalties that might have accrued for the late return of classified equipment. I'll submit this to the supervisor, and you'll be hearing what the penalty is."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "You're kidding, right? I just handed them to you. It wasn't my fault that it took me longer than 10 minutes to get to Uniform Maintenance, explain why I needed my suit and then go through the pockets before returning here to find you already gone. This is bullshit."

"Sergeant Barnes, may I remind you that there is a code of conduct in place governing interactions between frontline and support staff. I don't have to take this kind of verbal abuse from you."

He ran his hand over his face, breathing heavily, then he looked down at her, noticing for the first time, she had flecks of gold in her hazel irises.

"You're right, I apologize," he said. "I would just like to ask respectfully, that you verify that I was here to return the items last night, then was here first thing in the morning to return them. Considering that I made every effort to get here on time, I just object to a penalty being assessed arbitrarily. Surely, there must be some leeway, in the spirit of inter-departmental cooperation."

A small smile graced Laskey's face, then she looked down at the form, picked it up and put it through the paper shredder.

"Since you put it that way and asked so nicely, I'll make an exception this time," she said. "Just don't forget them again."

"That was smooth," said Wanda. "So how did you get from inter-departmental cooperation to wanting to ask her to marry you?"

"I wish I knew," said Bucky. "It just seemed that I saw her more around the compound. It was formal between us at first; she called me Sergeant Barnes and I called her Comm Tech Laskey. Then I stepped outside one night and she was changing her tire. It went flat during the day, and she was having a hard time getting it done in the dark as the light above where she parked had burnt out. I offered to help if she lit up the scene with her phone flashlight. We talked and found we liked some things in common. I told her to call me Bucky and she said to call her Cara." He smiled. "We began having coffee together, worked out together, and then I'd wait for her to finish work to see if she wanted to join us for drinks."

His voice trailed off as he thought about them meeting as a group for drinks. She wasn't the only support staff that came out, but she was the one he always tried to sit beside. Then one Friday night, the place they went to had dancing and one of the weapons techs asked her to dance. As he watched her dance with the guy, he couldn't stop feeling angry. Why was she dancing with him? He wasn't good enough for her. The guy bragged about his body count all the time in the locker room.

"Sam saw it, didn't he?" Wanda asked him gently. "He told you to stop wasting time and ask her to dance yourself. So, you did. What was the song again?"

"Holding Back the Years," replied Bucky. "Not a romantic song at all but that voice and the feeling behind it just got to me. I held back from opening myself up to others for so long, afraid of hurting them but with her, it was suddenly clear that I wanted her in my life. I kissed her, right on the dance floor and she kissed me back. That was eight months ago."

"So why were you so ready to leave her behind?"

He didn't answer for the longest time. "I was angry at myself for not telling her how much I love her. I've had the ring for a month working up the courage to ask her to marry me. She keeps me honest. Doesn't take my bullshit. She makes me laugh and when we're together, making love, it's like the first time every time. I learn something new about her every day. I guess, I figured if I gave her up then it wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't make it. It doesn't make sense, I know. I don't want to die, and I don't want to lose her."

"So, you do think you're good enough for her?"

"I'll spend every day of our lives together being worthy of her." He looked at the young woman who had her own HYDRA story. "Can you send me back?"

"Of course," she smiled. "I just wanted to make sure that you don't want to let go of life, that you really wanted to go back, and not just to Cara but all of them. They're all fond of you, Bucky, and even love you. It's because you're worth loving. It's why Steve risked so much to find you and make sure you were free."

"But he left."

"Yeah." Her face softened. "Sometimes, the people who love us have to make a hard decision. He chose to leave you for reasons only he really knows. You're choosing to stay because you love these people, and they love you. That's a good thing, Bucky. Love is always a good thing."

🩺

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears flooding them. When he opened them, he was inside a tent, with Bruce and Helen hovering over him, while a paramedic was holding paddles in the air, and another had a mask over his mouth squeezing air into his lungs.

"Normal sinus rhythm," said someone. "He's conscious."

Bruce came closer. "Bucky?"

He nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Over a minute. Scott and Hope went giant and cleared the debris pile, while Wong levitated you out of there and directly into the tent. Your heart stopped and we had to shock you three times. You gave us quite the scare." He nodded to someone out of Bucky's view. "We're going to transport you directly to the compound via a portal. You need surgery to repair a bleeding artery. Plus, we have to set the breaks in your legs and right arm."

They transferred him to a gurney, strapping him on, and putting his IV bag on a stand. An oxygen mask was placed over his mouth, then the two paramedics began wheeling him towards the portal, while Bruce and Helen followed. The other Avengers were lined up before the portal. He heard murmurs of good luck from them, plus received numerous smiles. Putting his hand up when it got to Peter, he grasped the younger man's hand.

"Thanks," he said softly. "You're still in trouble but we'll talk later about it."

Peter smiled. "Sure, Bucky."

With another wave to Scott and Hope, Bucky nodded, and the gurney went through the portal, coming out to the medical centre surgical suite. They cut his gear off and he had the thought that the uniform tech wouldn't be happy with him. It made him smile. Then he thought of another thing.

"Make sure Cara gets my comms earpieces," he said out loud. "Don't want to get in trouble with the woman I love."

There were chuckles at that, and he relaxed. As soon as he woke up from this surgery, he was going to tell Cara he loved her and wanted to marry her. It was then he remembered something Wanda said. How did she know he wanted to ask Cara to marry him? No one knew, not even Sam.  It really didn't matter because Wanda was right. Love was a good thing. It was everything.

One Shots Masterlist

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Guardian Angel

Chapter 10: MacGyver

Summary: Wanda and Monica hurry to Rome to save the team from San Castillo's catacombs while you anxiously wait for news about Wanda and your newfound family.

Warnings: Mentions of injury, asthma, anxiety

Word Count: 8k

A/N: The latest chapter of Guardian Angel is the longest yet. Thanks to everyone who's reading! I'm excited about where the story is headed, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Guardian Angel Masterlist 

Tony slowly opened his eyes, but all he could see was darkness. The faceplate of his Iron Man helmet slid open, and he heard the dripping sound of condensation. The only indication that he was still alive.

Steve stirred next, feeling the damp air and touching the hard stone floor. He started crawling on all fours and ripped off his oxygen mask, coughing as small pebbles from the drop scraped against his skin.

“Buck, come on. There you go.” Steve tapped his friend's cheek as he started to come around. “Wow,” Barnes gasped as he looked back up at the height of the drop.

Yelena crawled towards Natasha, her face and arms stained with dirt and blood. Despite the pain in her wrist, she began moving the small pile of rubble that had buried her older sister's lower body.

“Are you okay, sestra?” Her voice was muffled under the oxygen mask, but she managed to ask.

Nat slowly sat up and let out a hiss as the pain in her right leg began to hit her. Looking down, she noticed a gash spanning the length of her lower leg, visible through her suit. Although the cut wasn't deep, it was enough to cause her discomfort.

All around them, there was an eerie silence that sent shivers down their spines. The darkness was so thick they could barely see anything beyond a few feet.

Carol quickly sprang into action, helping Peter and Kate to their feet, while Sam and Clint sputtered and coughed as they crawled out from behind a chunk of stone slab covered in a cracked fresco painting that had fallen along with them. The sound of the debris crashing against each other had been deafening, and it had taken them a few moments to get their bearings.

Thor was the last to appear, tossing rubble and rocks aside like Legos. His strength and determination were evident as he worked to clear the wreckage.

“Is everyone alright?” Steve asked the team.

A smattering of grunts and mumbles floated out of the team in response. Everyone was nursing a modicum of injuries, but somehow, all were alive.

"FRIDAY, can you give me an IR scan of the space?" Tony's voice echoed through the underground catacombs.

FRIDAY's response was unexpected. "This is not part of the previously mapped subterranean pathway, boss."

Tony's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean? Are there any air currents?"

"This catacomb is not accessible to the general public. Therefore, no air currents were constructed at this depth," FRIDAY replied.

Steve had a sudden realization, "How much oxygen is left in the masks?"

"Undeterminable, Captain,” FRIDAY said.

Panic set in as the realization hit them - they were running out of oxygen. "Maria, can you hear me?" Nat urgently called out through her comms, hoping for a response. But all she got was static. "Is comms working for anyone?" she asked, looking around for a glimmer of hope, but no one could get through. 

Not waiting for further instruction, Carol swiftly flew up the shaft. The team could hear the distant sound of energy blasts as scattered debris and water droplets fell from above. She returned shortly after, displaying an air of calm anxiety similar to Natasha's.

"We fell at least one hundred feet," Carol reported, removing her oxygen mask. "The top of the shaft narrows, and the passage is blocked by rubble from the fall."

Thor looked around in frustration, "This is ridiculous," he lamented. "I'm getting us the hell out of here," he declared as he started to spin Mjölnir.

But Bruce quickly stopped him. "No, don't you remember what Friday said before the fall?" he said, grabbing Thor's forearm. A core reactor holds the tunnel together. We have no idea what is behind the energy surges. Introducing thunder into the mix could collapse the entire catacomb."

Thor's face contorted in exasperation, "So what do we do now?" he asked, the tension rising.

*^~^*

“How far out are we?" Wanda inquired.

The low and gentle hum emanating from the Quinjet reverberated through the atmosphere as it soared through the endless expanse of the bright blue sky.

"Just a few minutes. Their trackers are still active, but I can't say how long they'll stay online," Monica replied, glancing down at the GPS display.

Wanda wasn't sure what to say. This was the first time she and Monica had been alone together since the events in Westview. Despite the hug they had shared on the loading dock, Wanda wasn't sure where they stood. However, she couldn't bear to dwell on what they might find when they arrived in Rome. She needed a distraction.

"So... how have you been since, well, since..." Wanda began.

"Since you trapped Westview, New Jersey in an idyllic suburban illusion of your grief and turned me into a photon," Monica finished for her, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda buried her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she mumbled.

"I've been okay. After the Hex was dismantled, Fury sent for me. I was recruited into S.A.B.E.R. I've been shuttling back and forth between Earth and the space station for the last year," Monica explained.

Wanda nodded in understanding, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions as she absorbed Monica's words. After a moment, she turned to face her. "Listen, I-"

"You don't need to say anything, Wanda. You already apologized, and I meant what I said that day. I understood how you felt, and given the circumstances and your powers, I would have tried to bring my mom back, too," Monica said, her voice filled with empathy.

Wanda nodded in recognition and gratitude, feeling a weight lifted off her shoulders.

"Now, I have a question for you," Monica said. "What's the deal with you and Y/N?"

"Our meeting was pure luck, and now... now I can't imagine my life without Y/N. Losing Vis was a turning point in my life. The world around me crumbled, leaving me and my boys vulnerable and exposed. But I had to be strong and protect them, even if it meant building a fortress around my heart. But Y/N, she shattered the fortress the moment our eyes met. It's weird; sometimes it feels like Vision sent Y/N to me, you know? Like she's my guardian angel."

"That's amazing, Wanda. I'm so happy for you,” Monica declared.

"Approaching target landing zone. Cloaking technology initiated," FRIDAY announced.

*^~^*

Darcy seemed to have an unmatched familiarity with the Overwatch system—she navigated through it with precision and ease, almost as if she had designed and constructed it. You couldn't help but notice how meticulously she calibrated her equipment, making every adjustment with utmost care and attention to detail.

“What kind of data were you seeing before the fall?” Darcy asked.

“Mostly thermostats,” Maria said. “A core reactor holds together the stabilization of the tunnel structure.” 

At this point, they could have been speaking a foreign language. You were having difficulty washing off the shock of the last few hours. You were also worried about Wanda putting herself in danger to rescue everyone.

“Why were they all on this mission, anyway?” Darcy continued. “Jack Sparrow doesn't usually push all his Poker chips into the middle of the table for surveillance.” 

Maria pulled up the mission file on the screen, "In the city of Rome, there are more than sixty catacombs composed of miles of underground tunnels in which thousands of tombs are found. Currently, only 5 of them are open to the public. For the last month, we have received some unusual readings from the Catacombs of San Callisto. It spans five floors and more than 12 miles in length,”  Maria continued. “Despite our best intelligence, we were unsure about what we were walking into because it wasn't publicly accessible. Fury wanted us to be prepared for any contingency."

Darcy caught sight of your zoned-out expression. “Hey, Y/N, you okay over there?” 

“Yeah, I just,” you trailed off. “I mean, I make candy for a living. The most dangerous thing I encounter in my day is Harper forgetting to turn off the stove,” you said, starting to get worked up.”

“Y/N,” Maria said, seeing your anxiety rising. 

“I just watched the Avengers fall to God knows where, and my girlfriend just left to try and rescue them with her magical powers…. What the hell is my life?” 

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay,” Maria repeated as she and Darcy approached you.

“How can you possibly know that? This is fucking terrifying!” You shouted. “What if we never see any of them again?”

As you were spiraling into a state of panic, Darcy's hand came down hard and made contact with your cheek, jolting you back into the present moment.

“You were spiraling,” Darcy said, patting you on the back with a smile. “All good now.”

Y/N," Maria said as she placed her hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eyes while you rubbed your cheek. "Everything will be alright. Their trackers are still sending signals, and I just received an update on everyone's vital signs. They're in distress, but they're still stable. Wanda and Monica will find them.”

After a deep breath, you said, "I'm sorry, Maria. I don't know how you guys do this every day,” wiping your hand across your face. “With Natasha down there, I don't know how you're holding it together." 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Nat doesn’t give up. If anything, this entire ordeal has pissed her off, and she’s even more of a fighter when she’s angry,” Maria said.

You glanced at your watch. "Shoot,” you sighed. It's almost 3 p.m. I have to go pick up Billy and Tommy from school. Please call me as soon as you know anything.” 

*^~^*

As you arrived at the boys' school, a sense of nervousness washed over you. You had only met Billy and Tommy once before, and you weren't quite sure what to say to them. You remembered Wanda’s request not to go into detail about the reason for her unplanned departure, so you were hesitant about how to approach the conversation.

Within just a few minutes of your arrival, the sixth-grade class began to come out of the building. It didn't take long for you to spot the twins, carrying their backpacks and books, scanning their surroundings for you.

You called out, "Boys, over here!" Billy and Tommy ran towards you.

“Hi, Y/N, how come you’re picking us up today?” Tommy asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, where’s our mom?” Billy added, looking a bit confused.

“Your mom had to go on a last-minute mission with the rest of the team,” you said, trying not to go into too much detail. “So, she asked me to look after you boys until she gets back. Is that okay with you?”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other, seemingly communicating a message without words, and then turned back to you with a nod. You couldn't help but wonder if they had some secret twin language that only they knew. Either way, you were relieved they seemed alright with you taking care of them. 

It felt odd stepping foot in Wanda’s home without her. It was your first time there, and the absence of her presence made the atmosphere feel eerie. However, you took a deep breath and tried to shake off the feeling, reminding yourself to focus on Billy and Tommy.

Once settled, you asked, “Okay, so what do you guys usually do first when you get home from school?” 

Tommy and Billy stood in the kitchen, looking up at you with hopeful eyes. "Well," Tommy began tentatively, "Mom usually lets us play video games after school."

Billy nodded eagerly, adding, "And then we have ice cream. It's our favorite snack."

You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "I see," you said, playing along with their little routine. "And after video games and ice cream, you'll probably get started on your homework, right?"

At this, Tommy's face fell. "We don't have any homework," he admitted sheepishly.

You chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "Listen, boys," you said, adopting a more earnest tone. I know we don't know each other very well yet, and you're probably thinking this is a free-for-all. But you should know I invented the 'I don't have any homework' line," you said, placing your hand on your chest. "I was a kid once, too, you know."

“It was worth a shot,” Billy said. 

Why don't you two bring your homework out here, and I’ll fix us a snack in the meantime?” You suggested. 

“Okay,” they said in unison before clambering down the hall. 

You shook your head at their cheekiness and set about preparing a snack. You sliced up some crisp apples, added a dollop of creamy peanut butter, and poured some refreshing lemonade.

After spending some time helping the boys with their homework, which turned out to be more challenging than you remembered, you decided to tidy up around the house. As you walked into the living room, your attention was immediately drawn to the family photo on the wall. Vision stood tall and robust, with Wanda's arm around him, while Billy and Tommy grinned from ear to ear. The image was a gentle reminder of her life before you. Rather than jealousy, you felt a deep empathy and sorrow for all the hardships and heartbreaks she had endured.

You couldn't help but wonder if Wanda was okay right now. If they were all okay.

*^~^*

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, a soft glow began to spread across the ancient cobblestones of the Appian Way. The air was still and quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the distant chirping of birds. The surrounding landscape was bathed in a golden light, casting long shadows stretching across the fields and trees. Amidst this stillness, the Quinjet lay concealed in a nearby field. Wanda and Monica walked down the cobblestone path and made their way through the Arch of Dursus, their footsteps echoing in the quietness of the night. The entrance of the San Callisto catacombs suddenly materialized, rising from the ground like an ominous apparition.

The iron gate had been meticulously re-welded shut—Tony’s standard attempt at not drawing suspicion after they entered. Wanda’s hand began to swirl in red. 

“I got it,” Monica said, breaking the lock with electrifying blue energy. 

The two women donned oxygen masks and walked down the stone stairs into the catacombs, their communications and body cameras crackling to life. 

As they descended the steps, their feet moved steadily, one after the other. The count of each step eluded them as they were fully immersed in descending. As they reached the end of the stairs, the first of the tombs revealed itself, emerging from the darkness before them. 

Do you feel anything?” Monica asked, “Anyone?” 

Wanda shook her head, “Not yet.”

“We’re looking at 90 acres of catacombs to search, ladies,” Maria said over the comms.

“So, you know, it may take a minute,” Darcy added. 

*^~^*

Yelena frustratingly turned to Tony, "Can't you fly us out of here? I thought Iron Man could do anything?"

Tony snapped, "Oh gee, I hadn't thought of that blondie. Thank God you finally mentioned it after five hours!"

Natasha intervened, "Take it down a notch, Tony."

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead, "Don't you think if I could have flown us out of here, I would have done it by now? The energy surges compromised the calibration of the thrusters. FRIDAY is down, too.”

Sam nodded in agreement, "Same here. It's a complete multisystem failure."

Suddenly, Kate's voice echoed off the stone, "Help!!"

Peter dropped from the wall onto the floor, webbing still hanging loosely from the rocks. "I couldn't find any other openings."

Bucky added with a hint of sarcasm, "Terrific. Well, Steve, we died once; looks like it's going to stick this time," he lamented, as he pulled a small flask from inside his leather jacket and removed his oxygen mask.

“Bucky, stop,” Steve sighed.

Clint chimed in, "Hey, give me some of that," as he took a swig out of the flask. 

The archer passed the flask to Thor, who reluctantly sipped,” Your human alcohol is so weak.” 

Natasha stood and hobbled over to Bruce, the cut on her leg now causing her more significant discomfort. 

“Do you want me to look at your leg?” Bruce cautiously asked.

“No,” Nat said, ripping off her oxygen mask. “I want you to get your green ass off that rock and go MacGyver something with Stark to get us the fuck out of here!”

“What’s a MacGyver?” Peter asked.

“It's not a what, it's a who,” Kate responded. 

“I've never heard of him,” Peter continued. 

“MacGyver is amazing!" exclaimed Kate, her excitement bubbling over. "He’s a super resourceful secret agent who uses his vast scientific knowledge to escape dangerous situations. He uses everyday items like matchsticks, paper clips, and rubber bands to complete his missions.”

Nat's voice echoed through the cramped quarters as she shouted, "Knock it off!" The two young Avengers quieted down immediately, their eyes fixed on her. 

Steve took a deep breath and scanned the room, his eyes settling on each of his teammates in turn. "Look," he said, getting everyone's attention. "We don't know how long Wanda and Maria will take to find us, but we must assume they're close. That means we need to stay calm and do everything we can to conserve oxygen in this tiny space and our masks. We don't know what will happen next, but we're in this together, and we're going to make it through."

*^~^*

It had been an hour since the boys had gone to bed. Now that you were finally alone with your thoughts, you couldn't hold back the tears. Your mind was consumed with worry and fear, and you had not received any updates from Maria and Darcy. The silence was deafening, and the longer it persisted, the more scared and anxious you became.

You gazed at your phone, considering calling them, but decided against it. Instead, you wiped your eyes and scrolled through your camera roll, looking at pictures of you and Wanda that reminded youof your favorite memories together.

You suddenly felt like someone was watching you. You looked up and saw Billy poking his head around the corner.

"Hey, Billy. You okay?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Are you?" the young boy asked in return, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your thoughts are really loud."

It took you a moment to realize what he meant, but then it hit you. Of course, like his mom, Billy could hear other people's thoughts. You wondered how often he had to deal with that and how overwhelming it must be.

"I'm sorry, Billy," you said, trying to keep your thoughts in check. "I didn't mean to be so loud."

"It's okay," he said with a shrug as he joined you on the couch. "I'm used to it.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next. Then, you remembered why you were there in the first place.

"I'm just excited for your mom to come home," you said, trying to inject some positivity into the conversation.

"Same," he said, his face lighting up a little. He scooted closer to you on the couch. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel like maybe you were doing something right.

"You and Tommy love your mom a lot, don't you?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah, she's amazing. She's always there for us," he explained with a smile.

"I can tell," you said, pulling a soft blanket off the back of the couch and placing it over Billy. "She talks about you and Tommy all the time. She's so proud of both of you."

"Really? What does she say?" Billy asked curiously, his eyes widening with interest.

"Well," you began, "she says you're both brilliant, funny, and sweet young men. She admires your sense of humor and your kindness towards others. Tommy is a great athlete, and you like to draw. She thinks you're a very talented artist."

"Mom told you that?" he said, surprised. "I didn't know she talked about us so much."

"Yes, she does. She loves you two very much," you replied, smiling at him warmly.

You followed Billy’s eyes as he stared at the family photograph you admired earlier. "I miss Dad," he said. "Tommy does, too."

"I know you do," you replied. “I’m sorry.” 

"We were happy in Westview," Billy said, fidgeting with his hands just like Wanda. "Then, one day, we woke up, and Dad was gone and Mom said we had to go."

"That must have been difficult," you said softly.

"Yeah, at first it was tough," Billy continued, "but then we came here. Mom got Uncle Tony to build us this cool house, and we have a lot of fun.”

You couldn't help but smile as he talked about Wanda. "Your mom is the coolest person I know," you said, and Billy beamed with pride.

"You miss her too, don't you?" he asked, and you felt a pang of longing in your heart.

"You're good, kid," you said with a smirk as you ruffled his hair. "Yes, I miss your mom very much."

“She talks about you too, you know,” Billy mentioned.

Your surprise showed on your face. "Really?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. "She says you make her happy, and you make the best chocolate in the world."

You giggled at the compliment, but then you noticed the time. It was almost 2 a.m. "I think we both could use some shut-eye, Billy. We want to be well-rested when your mom gets home."

"Okay," he agreed, climbing off the couch.

But before he left, you had an idea. "Hey, what do you say you and I and Tommy make brownies tomorrow as a treat for everyone when they get home?"

Billy's eyes lit up. "That would be awesome!"

"I think so, too," you said with a smile. "Okay, now, bedtime. Off you go."

Unexpectedly, the young boy hugged you goodnight, and you felt a warmth in your heart. "Thank you, Y/N. Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight, Billy," you said.

*^~^*

Meanwhile, half a world away, Wanda and Monica ventured through the dark and musty catacombs. The eerie silence was only broken by the echo of their footsteps. They had been walking for hours with no sign of anyone. Suddenly, Maria's voice broke through their comms, sending chills down their spine.

“Our last point of contact was down this secondary tunnel just ahead,” she said.

Wanda's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area. "Watch your step," she warned. "If this is near where they dropped, we're on unstable ground."

As they continued, the walls around them became adorned with ancient symbols and paintings, marking Papal tombs. But their peaceful exploration was abruptly interrupted when Monica came to a sudden halt. "Stop," she said, sensing a change in the electromagnetic spectrum. 

Wanda spun around to face her. "What is it?" She asked, her anxiety rising.

Before Monica could answer, the ground began to shake violently, throwing both women to the ground.

As the ceiling crumbled, debris rained down onthe two women. Acting quickly, Wanda summoned her powers to redirect the falling fragments away from them.

“Are you two okay?” Maria asked nervously.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Wanda said as she helped Monica to her feet. “What was that?” 

Take a look around," Darcy pointed out. "Do you see those fissures along the walls? Someone is utilizing the catacombs as a natural storage space for geothermal energy. But there is something wrong with the core reactor. It's causing the structure to become destabilized.

Monica's voice trailed off as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "So, in other words, we're..." she hesitated, unsure.

Darcy picked up on Monica's hesitation and completed her thought. "Walking on eggshells. You need to find them, and soon.”

*^~^*

Clint, feeling a tad bit drunk from sipping from Bucky’s flask for the last few hours, began singing to himself, “Nobody knows the troubles I've seen.” 

“No, we need to find some physical conductor for the thrusters! We can't use Thor or Danvers down here,” Bruce exasperated.

Clint, not paying attention to the conversation, continued his solo performance, “Nobody knows my sorrows.” 

Tony suggested, “We could use Barnes’s arm,” side-eying the super soldier sitting against the wall. 

Bruce momentarily thought about it and responded, “That could work. We could use the vibranium and cybernetic implant to hot wire the thrusters”.

“Nobody knows the troubles I've seen,” Clint shamelessly continued. 

Bucky, who had been quietly listening, pulled down his oxygen mask so that only his eyes were visible and said, “Come try to take it; I dare you.”

“No one at all!” Clint finally finished singing. Natasha gently coaxed her best friend back into a sitting position beside her and Carol.

Nearby, Yelena, Peter, and Kate sat on the ground. Kate’s head rested in Yelena’s lap, doing her best to clean the cut on the young archer’s forehead. 

"Ouch!" exclaimed Kate, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

Yelena had attended to Nat's leg gash and now turned to the cut on Kate's forehead. She took out a disinfectant wipe from her vest pocket and dabbed the wound gently.

“Stop moving, and it won't hurt so much, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said, trying to hold her still. 

Suddenly, the sound of Peter wheezing broke the blonde's concentration away from Kate's forehead.

"Woah, are you okay, spider?" Her voice was filled with concern as the boy tore off his oxygen mask.

Peter gasped between every word and said, "I don't know, I can't,” he sputtered. “Catch my breath."

Kate sat up nervously, "Hey, what's happening? Where is your inhaler, Peter?"

Peter's voice strained, and his breaths became shorter as he said, "On the jet."

Bruce took charge of the situation, moving Peter into a sitting position against the wall. He placed an ear to his chest and frowned at the raspy, short breaths.

"Peter, look at me," Bruce said gently as he held the boy's face. "Are you certain that you don't have a rescue inhaler with you?"

He shook his head, his eyes filled with fear as each breath became more labored.

Tony quickly turned to Steve and said, "Help me out of the suit."

Steve was confused and asked, "What?"

"FRIDAY is down. I need you to get it off me, do it!" Tony's voice exclaimed anxiously.

Steve found the central seam of the Iron Man suit and tried to pull the chest plate apart, but it wouldn't budge.

"Buck, Thor, help me!" Steve shouted.

The sound of Peter's shallow breaths was drowned out by the metal bending as Bucky and Thor worked to free Tony from his suit.

"It's going to be okay, Peter. Stay with us," Sam said, as he and Carol did their best to keep him calm.

Peter's vision began to blur as his breathing was reduced to a squeak.

"Shit!" Bruce exclaimed, realizing the gravity of the situation.

Tony quickly stepped out of the broken pieces of his suit just as Peter was about to lose consciousness. He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a rescue inhaler. He shook it several times before removing the cap as Nat lowered Peter’s head into her lap. Tony tilted the puffer slightly, angling it down his throat as he gave two puffs into his mouth. 

"Slowly breathe in, kid," Tony instructed. "One, two, three, four, five."

Tony administered two more puffs of the inhaler before Bruce listened to Peter's chest and confirmed his breathing had improved.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter whispered as his lungs began to open up. "Where did you get that inhaler?"

From Aunt Mae. It was one of her conditions for you to join the team. I always have it on me," Tony explained.

"You broke your suit," Peter realized.

"It's an easy fix, kid. You're not," Tony smirked.

Peter continued to use the inhaler as Tony kissed his forehead and walked away, his hands trembling.

Kate and Yelena comforted Peter while Bruce examined him.

"You're okay, Peter," Bruce said. "Continue using the inhaler, and when you feel up to it, put your oxygen mask back on." He picked up Peter’s mask, but his eyes widened with anxiety. The gauge was empty, and the light had turned red.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"The mask is out of oxygen," Bruce whispered.

"I'll give you mine," Carol offered, taking off her mask and giving it to Peter.

"Thanks, Carol," Peter said as he continued to use the inhaler.

Steve pulled Bruce to one side. “Be honest with me, Bruce. How much time do we have left?”

"It's hard to say. With Peter's preexisting medical condition, he may have been using more oxygen than the rest of us. I'll check the other masks, but with so many people in this small space—”

“Bruce,” Steve said solemnly. 

“An hour. Maybe,” Banner conceded.

*^~^*

Instantly, an avalanche of disordered thoughts rushed into Wanda's mind, emanating from Peter. The intensity of his anxiety was so profound that Wanda had to cling to the wall of the tunnel to steady herself. Overwhelmed with relief and anguish, she burst into tears. It was as if Peter's distress was contagious, and his emotions threatened to engulf Wanda's consciousness. His mind was a chaotic maze of thoughts, all leading to the same inescapable conclusion: they were all going to die.

Monica's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Wanda, what is it?"

Wanda had to grab the side of the wall for support. "Peter. I can feel him; he's close."

It was as if Peter’s thoughts broke the dam, and one by one, the desperation and fear of her teammates came through. But soon, it was replaced with something else entirely: acceptance. They seemed resigned to their fate, and Wanda couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

“This way,” Wanda said as the two women doubled back. 

A dark tunnel forced the two women to duck as they crawled through it. As they forced their way through the ancient passage, they were relieved when it opened into a larger space—rubble scattered everywhere and the feeling of uneven ground underneath their feet. 

Maria's voice echoed through the comms, "What do see?" 

Monica took a deep breath and replied, "It's much cooler in here." The air around them was refreshing, starkly contrasting the humid air in the rest of the catacomb.

Wanda knelt and placed her hand on the ground, feeling the dampness seeping through her fingers. "The ground is damp, too," she added.

Darcy's ears perked up at their report, and her eyes widened. “This is it! If the water sinks into the ground, it's coming out somewhere.” 

Monica took notice of the uneven gravel. “Don’t move,” she said as she phased through the ground, leaving Wanda alone with the team’s thoughts in her head. 

*^~^*

Bruce, true to his word, carefully examined all the oxygen in the ten remaining masks. Unfortunately, five more had depleted, leaving the group with only five masks to share. They sat in a circle and passed the masks around, agreeing on five-minute turns, but the adults made sure Yelena, Kate, and Peter had the masks on for a bit longer without saying anything.

As they breathed heavily and coughed occasionally, it became apparent that the air was running out. Suddenly, a low rumbling sound made everyone scramble to the walls. Yelena instinctively reached out for Natasha, who was struggling to stand on what was now most likely an infected cut in her leg.

"Cover your head!" Steve shouted, not sure if it was another energy surge or if the catacombs were finally caving in.

Suddenly, Monica dropped through the stone ceiling and landed on Carol, causing her to grunt in pain. Monica quickly stood up, dusting herself off and helping Carol to her feet. 

Kate screamed in relief, "Oh my God, it's Monica!!" and hugged her. Yelena tried to pry Kate off Monica while everyone else watched in surprise.

"You found us," Carol said, hugging her next.

"Actually, Wanda found you,” Monica said as she held Carol. “She heard Peter's thoughts," turning to the young Avenger.

"Thank you for having asthma, you wonderful little arachnid!" Clint said, kissing Peter on the cheek.

"Umm, you're welcome," Peter replied.

"Wanda is here?" Steve asked.

"I knew she could do it," Natasha said under her breath, recalling the day Wanda returned to the compound.

"Wanda," Monica said, pressing her comms closer to her ear. "You were right, they're down here."

"Are they alright?" Wanda asked, her voice a mix of anxiety and relief.

"More or less," Monica responded, looking around at the sweaty, exhausted, and dirt-covered group. "When I give the word, you do your thing."

"Got it," Wanda replied.

"Everyone move away from the center," she instructed. 

After ensuring that everyone was safe, she issued the command, "Alright, Wanda. Now.”

The redhead stood still, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Her hands and eyes began to emit a bright red glow, almost like they were on fire. As she closed her eyes, your words echoed in her mind.

“The magic that courses through you is the true measure of who you are, Wanda. Don't let a single mistake define you or your legacy."

She focused her energy and channeled her magic to lift the endless amount of heavy rubble that blocked the narrow shaft. As she lifted the debris, the sound of rocks and debris tumbling down from above echoed through the small space. The team looked up as they saw a faint ray of light piercing through the small opening over a hundred feet above them. 

Wanda's heart pounded as she floated down, eager to reunite with her family. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Natasha enveloped her in a warm embrace. "No arm tied behind your back anymore," she whispered, her words full of relief. 

Tears filled Wanda's eyes as she nodded, overwhelmed with emotion. Then, Tony stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you, Red," he said, his voice filled with genuine joy.

"Same here, Tony," Wanda replied, a smile spreading across her face.

But their reunion was cut short by Maria's voice crackling over the comms. "You can all exchange pleasantries on the way home; time to rejoin the above-ground dwellers," she said briskly.

Wanda quickly wiped away her tears and, with a wave of her hand, conjured a ladder leading out of the shaft. 

After Wanda and Monica checked the stability of the ladder, Bucky, Clint, Sam, Thor, and Carol led the way up. Monica offered her assistance to anyone who needed it. 

"Does anyone need a lift?" Monica asked, glancing around at the group.

Tony immediately pointed to Peter, who quickly protested, "What? No, not necessary, Mr. Stark. I'm fine."

However, Tony was quick to dismiss Peter's objections. "Nice try, kid. Your asthma almost killed you. Let the Photon carry you. That's an order," he said, picking up the broken chest plate of his suit and ascending the ladder.

Peter reluctantly acquiesced. "Fine," he grumbled, "but no one tells MJ.”

Monica picked Peter up bridal-style and flew up the shaft, ensuring that he made it to the top safely.

Natasha leaned on Yelena and Kate for support as she hobbled toward the ladder.

"May I offer you a lift?" Wanda asked with a smirk, knowing that Nat would be hesitant to accept help from anyone.

"Do I look like Peter?" Nat replied sarcastically, trying to shrug off the offer.

Wanda's smirk turned into a concerned expression as she noticed the pain she was in. "No, but your leg looks pretty bad, and I have someone on the line who wants to speak with you," she explained, handing Nat her comms earpiece.

Nat begrudgingly grabbed it, knowing precisely who would be on the other end. She put it on and said, "Hi, Maria.”

Maria's voice echoed through the earpiece. "Natalia Alianovna Romanoff! I can see your leg on their body cameras. Let Wanda help you, or I swear to God, you are sleeping on the couch until it heals," she shouted in a stern tone. 

Natasha let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that Maria was right. She reluctantly handed her earpiece back to Wanda and nodded in agreement.

"Have a nice conversation, did you?" Wanda teased, noticing the annoyed expression on Natasha's face.

"Shut up, and get me out of here," the Black Widow grumbled.

"Good choice," the redhead said with a smile as she used her magic to lift Natasha out of the shaft. She then turned her attention to Yelena and Kate and gestured for them to follow. "After you."

The last one to leave, Steve smiled broadly at Wanda, his dirt and blood-covered face unable to conceal his immense pride in her.

“Are you going to give me some big hero speech, Cap?” Wanda asked, half-joking.

"Maybe later," Steve replied with a sigh. "But for now, all I want to do is this." He wrapped his arms around Wanda, pulling her close. "Welcome back, Wanda," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Night had descended upon Rome by the time the team finally boarded the Quinjet. Monica took control of the jet and put it on autopilot, allowing her and Wanda to attend to everyone's injuries. The mood was somber as they tended to the team.

"No more underground missions!" Sam declared loudly, wincing in pain as Wanda wrapped his shoulder. "I mean it. If we need to go underground, Fury can send in the incredible shrinking Scott or use Red Wing. I was chasing ghosts down there, and we still don't know what the hell was going on."

Monica tried to reassure him. "You were probably just hallucinating from a lack of oxygen," she said.

Ha! Probably!" Sam responded, his tone skeptical. "See, that's not exactly comforting. Steve, I need you to make sure this is included in the mission report. We can't afford to overlook any potential threats."

Looking around at the team, Steve agreed with Sam. "I think we could all use some rest first though," he suggested. "We can reconvene in the morning and go over everything in more detail.”

*^~^*

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the coffee table. You had decided to sleep on the couch after Billy went back to bed, in case either of the boys woke up again. As you picked up the phone and saw Maria's name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat.

Anxious and nervous, you answered the call, "Maria? Have you heard anything?”

Maria's response brought tears to your eyes, "They're all safe. A bit bruised and battered, but alive. ETA is about 2 hours."

Relieved and grateful, you could feel a weight lifted off your chest. "Oh, thank God… and Wanda?"

"She was amazing, Y/N. You would’ve been so proud," Maria's voice was filled with admiration.

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your cheeks. You asked, "So, what happens now?" while looking around the corner to make sure Billy and Tommy were still asleep.

"Well, they'll have a short debrief when they get back and presumably a visit to the med bay. But I know Wanda will want to see you and the boys ASAP," Maria explained.

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you, "Okay," you said while running your hand through your hair and looking at the clock. "We'll be there."

"Good, see you in a bit, Y/N," Maria said.

"Bye, Maria," you replied before hanging up the phone. 

As you were putting the couch back together, Billy and Tommy, still in their pajamas, walked into the kitchen. You greeted them with a warm smile and said, "Good morning, boys! I have some good news for you - your mom is on her way home."

Tommy's face lit up with delight as he exclaimed, "Yes!"

Billy looked at you with curiosity and asked, "When will she be here?"

You checked your watch and replied, "In a couple of hours. I was thinking we could all meet her at the compound. What do you think?"

Both boys nodded eagerly, thrilled at the prospect of seeing their mother again.

Then, you added, "Cool! So, I was thinking, would you like to help me make some brownies to bring as a welcome-home treat for everyone? It's a very special recipe from The Candy Bar."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for their response. The boys looked at each other, then back at you, with wide grins on their faces. "Yes, please!" they exclaimed in unison.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you were struck by the state-of-the-art sound system that Tony had built into the house. You paired your phone with it and turned on your “Baking playlist” to set the mood for your baking session. Billy and Tommy sat at the kitchen island, eagerly awaiting their tasks. You laid out all the ingredients for your fudgy chocolate brownies on the sleek granite countertop, admiring how they gleamed under the overhead lights.

“Okay,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Tommy, you mix the dry ingredients, and Billy, you mix the wet ingredients.”

You couldn't help but grin as the boys rolled up their sleeves and got to work, their eyes fixed on the recipe book as they measured each ingredient with utmost care.

While the brownies were baking to perfection, you whipped up a decadent chocolate frosting that would add an extra layer of sweetness to the treat. The smooth, velvety texture of the frosting was the perfect complement to the chewy, chocolatey goodness of the brownies.

Once you finished frosting the brownies and placing them in the refrigerator, you checked the clock and said, "Okay, why don't you guys get showered and dressed? You want to look your best for your mom."

In perfect unison, they responded, "Okay." That's when Tommy suddenly zipped away and returned in a split second, ready to go. 

"Whoa! That was fast," you said, impressed.

"I know, right? I have super speed, just like our Uncle Pietro!" Tommy proudly announced.

"Ah, your mom has told me a bit about him," you replied, nodding in understanding.

"Well, that's why I'm so awesome at sports!" Tommy exclaimed with a huge grin.

"Actually, that's not true," Billy interjected. "Mom doesn't want him to use his powers while playing."

"Ugh, don't listen to him. Sometimes I use them when she isn't looking," Tommy said, a mischievous look creeping across his face.

"What?! I'm going to tell Mom!" Billy shouted, looking outraged.

"You will not!" Tommy said, pushing his brother playfully.

"Hey, hey, hey!" You stepped between them, breaking up their squabble. "Billy, you can go get ready, and Tommy, how about you help me pack the brownies?"

"Fine," Billy grumbled.

"Okay," Tommy said with a nod.

*^~^*

As you entered the compound, you were informed that the team had already finished their debriefing and were receiving post-mission examinations and oxygen treatments in the med bay, as per Fury's orders. You and the boys patiently waited outside the medical facility, observing as doctors and nurses went in and out.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally caught a glimpse of Wanda. The sight of her filled you with joy, and you couldn't help but smile. Wanda was scanning the room before her eyes landed on you and the boys. The twins' excitement was palpable as they ran towards Wanda with unbridled enthusiasm.

Wanda hugged Billy and Tommy tightly, kissing the tops of their heads. You hung back, holding the Tupperware full of brownies, not wanting to impose on their family reunion. 

“I missed you boys so much!” Wanda said, kneeling to hug them.

“We missed you too,” Tommy replied.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, “but we had a great time with Y/N. She's so much fun, and we made brownies for everyone, see?” pointing back at you. 

Wanda glanced back at you, and her eyes lit up with joy upon seeing you standing there. “Hello, my love. I missed you too," she said, pulling you into a warm embrace, and giving you a soft kiss on the lips, which made you blush.

“You brought everyone home,” you said, repeating the words you spoke to her before she left. “I knew you could do it,” you said, as you both tried to hold back tears in the middle of the med bay. 

Lost in the moment, Tony's voice brought you back to reality. "Aww! Look at the lovebirds," he exclaimed. You saw Stark walking towards you, holding Pepper’s and Morgan’s hands. He looked a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, with a limp, butterfly stitches above his eyebrow, and a cut on his cheek.

You hugged all three of them. "Mmmm, what do we have here?" Tony asked. "Very nice! I don't remember you making brownies for me when I came home from a mission,” turning to his wife.

Pepper shot back, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a little busy running your entire company. If you want brownies, make them yourself."

Natasha appeared next, being pushed in a wheelchair by Maria, followed by Yelena and Kate. Natasha's lower right leg was heavily bandaged, "Oh, Nat, are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine," she said, reassuringly smiling as you leaned down to embrace her. "This is all just precautionary."

Maria chimed in, "Right, that’s why Dr. Cho also gave us precautionary antibiotics," doing air quotes, and you couldn't help but laugh at her comment.

"My sister has always been stubborn," Yelena said as she and Kate joined the group. The blonde adjusted the brace on her wrist before hugging you and grabbing two brownies.

"Yeah, you should have seen her down there," Kate added. "It was like the Black Widow on steroids," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around you.

"What was that, Bishop?" Nat asked, giving Kate a suspicious look.

"Nothing," Kate responded nervously. "Would you like a brownie?"

"Mmhm, that's what I thought you said," Nat smirked as she took the brownie.

*^~^*

You joined the team for dinner but retired early to your room, wanting to give the group some space to decompress after a traumatic mission. While resting on your bed, a knock on your door caught your attention, and Wanda poked her head inside. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Were you sleeping?” she asked.

“No, just resting my eyes,” you replied as you sat up with a yawn. 

Wanda joined you on the bed, giggling. “Yeah, that's how I usually feel at the end of the day with the boys, too.”

You wrapped your arms around her and kissed her cheek. “The boys were great. It was nice to spend more time with them.”

“They feel the same way, love. To quote them, Y/N is super cool,” Wanda smirked.

“Super cool. I should put that on my business card,” you joked.

“Seriously, Y/N. Thank you. I know two 11-year-old boys are a handful, and I put you in a challenging position, but it means so much to me that I can trust you.”

As soon as the word "trust" was uttered, memories of your parents' dubious actions over the remains of Sokovia and your conversation with Tony flooded your mind. The weight of the past seemed to take its toll on you, and your anxiety was on full display, which the redhead must have picked up on.

Wanda glanced at you with concern etched on her face. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice laced with tenderness and care.

You tried your best to put on a reassuring smile and push the nagging thoughts out of your mind. "I am now that you're home," you replied softly.

Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @bibliophilicbi @darkstar225

[on-twd-writing]

Failed to protect you

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warning: death! angst, the pike scene (S9E15)

Readers pronuns: She/Her

Description: instead of Henry Alpha took the reader and Daryls worst nightmare becomes reality.

Italics is for the flashback. It may not be the correct order of the heads.

Failed to protect you

The wind was strong and cold.

Siddiq words still echoed in Daryl's head, Alphas words as well, and he had a strange feeling in his gut. Something was wrong – something was terribly wrong—and for the first time in years, he felt something like fear. Terrible fear. He couldn’t really grasp it, and Daryl hated it. Not knowing what was going to happen.

The calm before the storm.

Soon the top of the hill came into view, and the further the small group walked, the clearer the picture got. Trees? Stones? No, it was something else – sticks with something secured on top of them. Still, he couldn’t make out what it was exactly.

This place was scary… uncertain… unholy…rotten…

Finally, the picture and the horror got clearer. Especially the horror in front of them. There was no other word to describe the scenario. A line of sticks with heads on top, one after another – ten in total. Daryl could hear Yumiko's cries; he could hear the distraught sounds of Michonne and Siddiq arching in pain. Carol, who was next to him, gasping for air.

Daryl's eyes went along the different heads… Tammy Rose… Rodney, he took a deep breath…

Tara.

Strong Tara, witty Tara – the one who understood him. They had some similarities and a strange understanding of each other. He had liked her; she had been powerful and determined and didn’t take the shit from others. She has endured so much.

As yet she always has followed her heart. "No…" came it from Carol next to him, as she laid eyes their dear, dead friend. The pain in Daryls chest grew with every person he recognized. Every life that has been taken. Erased as if it were nothing. And as if this wasn’t enough, they had secured the head on the sticks to mark the line of territory. A cruel act of violence and power. The archer recognized the young Addy and Enid, who had their lives in front of them. Who still had so many things to experience. They never hurt anyone; they were good people. They were all good people.

And… "No, Daryl, stop!" And now he knew why he had this odd feeling in his gut the whole time. Yet Carol's words didn’t stop him from letting his eyes wander further the line of piked heads. It was too late any way. Next to Enid's cut-off head was another stick. The hair was softly blowing in the cold wind. It was you.

No doubt.

He remembered how he had hugged you before leaving the kingdom earlier that day. He had buried his nose in your hair, which was now softer than while they were on the road. He recalled your words. "Are you sure I shouldn’t come with you?"

You had smiled at him, caressing his cheek. Moments like this were rare, you two weren’t much into PDA, but the situation was different. It felt bizarre to be here, but it felt safe. You were happy and wanted to believe in a good future for the two of you. Despite the horror that was awaiting outside. "Yeah,..ya should enjoy this…little thing here." He was waving his hand around, looking over your shoulder. It felt surreal to have something like a fair after everything that was happening. He didn’t even go to one when he was a child. Merle had called them bullshit, and his parents had other things to do than take care of their children. "This little thing here has been hard work." He chuckled and pressed a kiss on your forehead for a few seconds. His fingers were gently combing your hair, and he could feel the softness at his fingertips.

If he knew he could have saved you by taking you with him… Carol was trying her best to pull Daryl away, who was still staring at your head. Your mouth was slowly opening and closing. There was blood on your face, your eyes pale and stared into nothing. Your head… your head was all that he got… "Let me know when you’re back." He nodded while you smiled. Your lovely smile, the way your eyes would light up when you looked at him. No one ever did this, people used to look at him with disgust, anger, or fear. Gradually, this has changed to friendliness and hope, but you? You always looked at him with bright eyes, like he was someone who was worth something. And now he hasn’t been able to protect you at all. The woman who meant the world for him – who didn’t just mean something to him but everything. He stared at your head, unable to move at all. Suddenly, the world around him went numb. He couldn’t even feel pain anymore, there was…nothing. Nothing at all. You were dead, and he hasn’t been able to protect you like he had promised you a thousand times. He wasn’t with you when you died. He couldn’t be there for you. In his mind the wildest and cruelest scenarios started – how did you die? Did they make you suffer? Has it been fast? Did you scream for him for help, but he never came? Were you alone? Scared?

"She…Y/N…" "It’s …Daryl, don’t…"

Yumiko also appeared in his gaze, and that was when his legs slowly gave in. He sank on the cold floor, and his view got blurry. He didn’t notice the tears in his eyes. He didn’t feel anything at all.

Not a word left his lips—not a single one.

You strolled next to him, closer to the gate. Daryl pushed the bike along beside him. "I miss riding the bike with you." He huffed. "Gonna take ya on a ride soon." You stopped at the gate. "I won’t forget that, Daryl." "It’s a promise, Y/N." He leaned toward you and kissed you again. You couldn't help but grin against his lips, feeling the stubbles of his beard against your skin. It was a lovely kiss. And for this brief moment only the two of you existed.

You took a step back, letting him sit on his bike. You enjoyed the view, and Daryl seemed much more confident on his bike. You remember the countless rides between the different communities. Through the woods. His hair, which was grazing your face now and then… being close to him. You knew you didn’t have to hold on to him that close while riding the bike but you wanted to enjoy those moments. And the archer never complained.

You remember the stops by the lake during the summer. Taking off the boots, walking through the water, splashing each other with water. Like the two of you were getting back the missed time.

The time you have spent in prison. At the sanctuary. The fight against Negan. Losing too many people - Carl, Rick, Sasha, Glenn, Abraham...

Daryl and you missed so much of these blissful moments, together you fought so much and endured so much pain. Maybe this was a happy ending the two of you truly deserved. You've got everything back for this brief moment. You weren't killers. You weren’t the person the world have made you. You were just Daryl Dixon and Y/N Y/L/N and it was alright. Even Daryl allowed himself a moment of freedom. And the freedom was taken. By the whisperer. By your death. He felt trapped in this moment. Now and then Carol's or Yumiko's face would show up in his vision talking to him, yet his eyes were focused on your chopped off head. He died with you in this moment.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

At Your Back

Family is More than Blood

Note: Just a little story that will come together in Matryoshk. The friendship between Wanda and the reader is going to be important so I wanted to write to show where they are.

Summary: When you got out of bed, late at night for a sugary snack, crying stopped you in your tracks. Wanda needed a gently reminder that she was not alone.

Warning: angst with fluff, mention of killing, guilt, grief,

Relationships: Wanda x Reader (plationic), Carol x reader

Word Count: 1.8 k

For some reason, you were craving something sweet and chocolaty at 2:30 in the morning. It was the benefit of living at the compound and being free from the Red Room, if you were craving something you could go and find it. You walked into the kitchen, ready to devour some brownies that Wanda made when you heard soft crying. The sound stopped you and you saw the Sokovian curled up by the window with a blanket over her shoulders and a mug in her hands. “Wanda,” you softly spoke not wanting to startle her. But she didn’t respond, lost in whatever world her mind was creating. “Hey,” you whispered, kneeling at her level. She jumped, her fingers that were wrapped around the mug glowed a dark red but you were too quick to grab onto her hands. “You’re okay,” you smiled. “You’re safe. It’s just you and me.” The glow went away and you caught the mug when she could no longer hold onto it. Quickly, you placed it on the floor and brought her into your arms.

Wanda hugged you tight. Her hands gripped onto your shirt like a lifeline. But you held her as she cried against you. You saw a lot of Yelena in Wanda, two girls subjected to darkness at a young age. It wasn’t fair to either of them. You didn’t mean to look into her past but when you researched the Accords she came up. Wanda Maximoff, whose parents were killed by a STARK Bomb in a war-torn country. She and her brother signed up to be a part of HYDRA where she came in contact with one of the infinity stones. Then the Maximoff twins aligned themselves with Ultron which ended up in her brother’s death. The latest article was the Avenger’s involvement in Lagos, killing numerous citizens and 11 Wakandan relief workers. It was a lot of guilt and grief for one person to carry.

“I’m sorry,” she said, ending the hug and wiping away her tears. “I don’t know what came over me.” You smiled and tapped your hand on her thigh.

“Come on, split a brownie with me,” you stood up, ignoring the ache in your knees. You were getting too old for this. You knew Wanda followed you into the kitchen and she sat down on the empty bar stool. “Ice cream or no ice cream?”

“Ice cream.”

“Great choice,” you grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and the vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Once you cut up the brownie, place the ice cream on top. “Ice cream makes everything better,” you said, handing her a bowl. “I’d get in so much trouble with Alexei and Melina because I would get Yelena and Nat ice cream after a nightmare.” Wanda gave you a small smile.

“You and Pietro would have gotten along,” she cut up the brownie and took a bite. “He would get in trouble for stealing food for me or other kids.”

“Did you have a dream about him?” You asked. “Is that why you are down here crying?” She wouldn’t look at you, fixated on the bowl in front of her. So you continued, “You aren’t alone. If you need anything I’m here.” She chuckled and used the sleeve of her shirt to whip her eyes.

“Yelena and Natasha are very lucky to have you as their sister.” Wanda brought up her knee to rest her chin on.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you smiled. “They gave me a purpose, a reason to keep fighting,” she slowly ate another bite. “Wands, tell me what’s going on.” Her lip began to tremble but no tears fell.

“Sometimes it becomes too much, you know?” You did. It was like a weight resting on your chest. No passing time would make it go away. “I miss my brother and I wish he was here.”

“Tell me about him.” She did. In your opinion, Pietro was a wild child who cared more about making others smile than the consequences of his actions. He was the class down but stood up for those who were being picked on. You could have loved to have known him. “I’ve learned that those we love,” you said once she was done. “Are never truly gone. They are with us even when we don’t see them.”

“It’s not the same,” she whispered, taking the last spoonful of her dessert. You agreed with her. “Who did you lose?” That was a long list of people.

“A lot of people,” you whispered, taking your and her empty bowl to the sink. Your back was to her as you cleaned them. “But to be more specific. Her name was Nina and she was the closest thing to a best friend you could have in the Red Room.”

“What happened to her?” You dropped the spoon in the sink, the sound echoed on the quiet floor. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s fine,” you turned to face her, leaning back on the counter. You hadn’t that about Nina in a very long time. It was like a scab that wouldn’t heal, sometimes you forgot about it but if you scratched it or bumped into it, the pain was 10 times worse. “I could tell you or,” you walked over to her. “You could look for yourself.”

“What?” She whispered. You took her hand and placed her fingers on your temples. “You trust me?” She questioned.

“With my life.” You saw her eyes flash red and you were brought into a memory. It was weird. The only other time you allowed Wanda to access your mind was to stop the thoughts that got too loud. There were times when you could feel her, like a pressure at the base of your skull but she would pull back before she saw anything. Now it was like watching a movie with Wanda lingering next to you.

It was before you and Natasha shared a room, that you bunked with Nina. Nina was a quiet girl, reserved, and kept to herself. Even though she was quiet, she was an excellent fighter. It was as if she knew the next move her appointment would make. You and her worked as a well-oiled machine and because of that, you became close. Best friends and you shared everything. However deep connections were seen as weaknesses in the eyes of the instructors of the Red Room. Another reason why all Black Widows were subjected to an involuntary hysterectomy. They wanted all loyalty to the cause.

So one night Red Room guards busted through the door and dragged you and Nina to the training room. Still wearing your PJs, the instructors ordered you to fight to the death. Nina was good but you were better. You’ve watched her fight, knew her signature moves, and easily outmaneuvered her. Before you killed her, her eyes locked onto yours and they looked relieved, like she was happy to be free.

When Wanda pulled out of the memory, you were a little disorientated but you knew you were crying. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks. “Sometimes I like to think I saved her from a worst fate,” you whispered. “At least someone that loved her was the one to do it.” Wanda had tears in her eyes. You cleared your throat. “I miss her, every day.”

“Life hasn’t been kind to you,” she said, mirroring your actions and wiping away your tears. You chuckled.

“I could see the same to you,” she smiled. “But you aren’t alone in your pain, okay? I’m here whenever you need someone.”

“Why?” You have enough going on as is.” Your heart ached for how little she thought of herself.

“I’ve always wanted another younger sister,” you smiled, tapping her nose. “Blood doesn’t mean family. You are family and I will remind you every single day.”

  *      

As Carol woke up, she was surprised to find your side of the bed empty and cold. Stretching, she got out of bed to find you. Her journey didn’t take her far as she found you lying on the couch near the window. It was your favorite spot as it had a perfect view of the wooded area in the compound. You were reading, that wasn’t a new sight but Carol was surprised to see you running your free hand through Wanda’s hair. The Sokovian was fast asleep in your lap. It was a sight Carol had seen before but with Yelena asleep. You closed your book as Carol got closer. “Hi,” you whispered. She saw how tired you were.

“Hi baby,” Carol said, kissing your head. “Everything okay?” You hummed, looking down at the sleeping girl.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Someone just needed a little extra reminder that they weren’t alone.” Carol was so in love with you. The words were so close to tumbling out of her mouth every time she saw you. But she held it back. It wasn’t that she didn’t doubt you felt the same but you needed time. The whole ordeal with Natasha’s kidnapping and you interrogating Daniel, was taking a toll on you. Some nights Carol would wake up to you whimpering about whatever nightmare plagued your mind, and she would hold you tighter. You needed to heal and Carol didn’t want to add more things to your plate. She smiled.

“I’ll go make us coffee and breakfast. Does that sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reached up to silently ask for a kiss and Carol wouldn’t deny you that. She kissed you softly, savoring the way your lips felt against hers. She pulled away, letting her forehead rest against yours.

“You are amazing,” she didn’t give you time to dispute the compliment as she went to make breakfast.

*   

You watched your girlfriend walk away, your body felt warm at her sudden compliment. “She’s right,” Wanda mumbled as she turned to look up at you.

“Is that so?” She nodded, smiling. “How did you sleep, malen’kaya ved’ma (little witch)?” Her cheeks turned a slight pink at the nickname.

“Good, thank you,” she sat up, stretching her arms about her head. “Did I hear that Carol was cooking breakfast?” You nodded. “Great, I’m starving,” you laughed as she stood up, taking the blanket with her. Amazing. They both called you amazing. Hell, Wanda said Yelena and Natasha were lucky to have you as their sister. But right now, you weren’t feeling amazing or a good sister. You felt horrible and a danger to those around you, all because one man got into your head. ‘You and I are very similar. We have the same level of darkness.’ 

“Y/n,” Wanda said. You looked at her. She was smiling but her green eyes showed worry and concern. Did she know what he said to you? “Come on. Food makes everything better.” You chuckled and stood up, joining them in the small kitchen. She bumped her hip against yours causing you to laugh.

“Thank you, little witch.” You said.

“Family, right?” Yeah..family.

_

taglist: engenelxver

[topguncortez]

Father's Day | Dragon & Rooster

Dragon & Rooster masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist

synopsis: Dragon made a vow to make Father's Day a special day for Bradley

word count: 750

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, parent death, bleeding, mentions of child death

Father’s day had always been a tough day for Bradley. When he was younger, he would be the only child sitting and watching as other children made cards and gifts for their dads. He was thankful that his childhood friend, Ben Stone, always invited him to sit at the same table as him and his dad. And it even got worse when his mother started dating. Bradley could remember a time, when he was about 15, that his mother suggested getting a father’s day card for her then long-time boyfriend, Paul. Bradley had gone ballistic, and to this day, the words that were shared between him and Carole, haunted him. 

Even as Bradley got older, and got married to the love of his life, Father’s Day had been a tough day. It was Father’s Day three years ago, that Dragon had woken up in immense pain, blood coating her thighs. Bradley sat by her side through it all, holding her hand, whispering sweet nothings to her. He even sat in the bathroom with her for hours as she withered in pain and waited for the miscarriage to be over. Dragon had promised him that day, while he was brushing her hair ever so gently, that he would get a good father’s day. That he would have a day to be celebrated, and be cherished with his children right there next to him. 

And true to her word, she kept up on her promise. 

Dragon moved around as quietly as she could, hoping to not disturb her sleeping husband. She smiled as she took in the soft features of his face. His soft pink lips were slightly parted as soft snores left his mouth. His cheeks, which now supported a light stubble from having a few weeks off, were pink from the warm morning sun. Bradley was never a heavy sleeper, and since having a baby, he had become such a light sleeper that even the slightest move had him waking up. So waking up before him was no small task, and Dragon cheered quietly as she walked down the hallway towards the nursery. 

“Good morning, baby,” Dragon cooed softly, noticing the very alert and awake three-month old, looking up at the mobile that hung above their crib. The mobile once belonged to Bradley when he was an infant, and Maverick had it restored and gifted to them. Dragon gently reached in and pulled her child from the crib, kissing their temple, “You didn’t even cry to someone’s attention, my independent duplin’. Let’s go get daddy up.”  

Dragon changed and dressed the baby, singing softly to them. She kissed the baby’s temple as she picked them back up in her arms, rubbing their back soothingly as they walked down the hallway. Dragon shook her head, seeing as Bradley was still fast asleep, now laying on his back, sprawled out in the middle of the bed. 

“That dad of yours… he’s something else,” Dragon whispered, “Here, tell Daddy to wake up.” 

Dragon gently kneeled on the bed, just enough to reach the center of Bradley’s bare chest, and gently placed the baby down. Bradley didn’t even wake up, putting his hand instinctively to his child’s back, holding him to his chest. Dragon chuckled and Bradley stirred, slowly waking up and blinking, looking around the room. His brown eyes opened and looked down at his chest, seeing very identical brown eyes looking back up at him. 

“Hey buddy, how did you get here?” Bradley said, his voice groggy. 

“Someone wanted to come to say ‘Happy Father’s Day’,” Dragon said, coming to sit by Bradley. Bradley smiled and looked up at her, tilting his head up. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “Happy Father’s Day.” 

“Thank you, love,” Bradley said. 

“You know Ida wishes you a Happy Father’s Day too.” 

Bradley sighed and nodded, running his hand over his child’s brown hair, “I know she does. I wish she was here too. She’d be two now.” 

“Yeah…” Dragon swallowed, taking a deep breath, “Two years old and full of attitude, I just know it,” She chuckled, “But she would be the best big sister to you, sunshine.” 

“One hundred percent,” Bradley smiled and lifted his child up in the air. The baby smiled widely and Bradley brought them back down, placing kisses all over their face, before lifting them back up, “My smiling baby! You’re always just so happy, my happy baby. My rainbow baby.”

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @munsonswhore86 @happypopcornprincess @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @genius2050 @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida

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[enigmaincrimson]

@shangtusianheroes

"You know... I hoped there would be more time..." Spoke a hooded figure sitting on a crumbling stone, her voice eerily soft and soothing... in this strange domain where there was neither light nor dark and time and space came to die.

The figure seemed like she was about to say more... before a strange sensation accompanied by a powerful stinging pain would shoot through Neera's body as she was dragged back to the land of the living... as Evelyn was hard at work doing what she could, the process used as potent as it was effective with her wishing she didn't have to bring more suffering to heal.

Sinue and bone, blood and organ alike... the injuries of the fight sewing themselves back together as if seeming to run in reverse... She hoped that Carol would get there by the time she was done... as there was always the risk of shock as the aftereffects tended to linger for a time after.

For an onlooker, it might seem stranger still... Evelyn just sitting there, holding her hands over Neera's body... watching carefully as a miracle would happen before their eyes.

"Neera... It's going to be alright. I'm here..." She would try to sooth, her voice much like the figure in the dream from before, almost like that of a parent and a child. It was almost uncanny in a way, but it could have just been her speaking just before.

She will have to apologize to Neera for how much this was going to hurt later... but at least she was there on time... and she'll also have to repair the possible structural damage she might have caused rushing over.

Questions as to what happened will have to come later... for the palace seemed to have already been in a state before she arrived.

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season two, part four

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetz1919 @moonmark98 @sarahbaker2010 @ririi-3 @ryoujoking @hayley1998 @crazyunsexycool @gabriella-aesthetic @dixons-sunshine @strqwbrina @beardedstudentsuit (if you've requested a tag and aren't here, I sadly can't tag you)

Masterlist

Morning came quickly, despite your mostly sleepless night. You’d been in and out on the rocking chair on the porch, every small sound shaking you awake. When a few of the others had gone off to collect stones for Otis’ funeral, you’d wasted no time in joining them. It wasn’t long before you spotted Daryl and the others arriving. You all met up at the front of the farmhouse.

Dale approached Rick. “How is he?”

Lori smiled beside her husband. “He’ll pull through. Thanks to Hershel and his people.”

“And Shane.” Rick added. “We’d have lost Carl if not for him.”

You kicked lightly at the grass beneath your feet. As much as Rick was right, you hated standing by while he praised a traitor. Having known Shane most of your life, you felt beyond betrayed by what he had done and you couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt Rick. They were never just best friends; more like brothers. Hell, Shane was like your brother too, until recently.

“Thank god,” Carol said, hugging Lori. “We were so worried.”

“How did it happen?” Dale asked.

“A hunting accident. That’s all– just a stupid accident.”

Moments later you would all gather around an old tree, where Patricia had decided to keep a memorial for Otis. Everyone began stacking rocks in the spot as Hershel spoke of God, Otis and the legacy he left behind.

You had come to know what happened in the woods, Otis accidentally shooting Carl. As angry as you were, you had to admire that the man had risked his life to try and save your nephew.

“Shane, will you speak for Otis?” Hershel asked.

You looked to Shane, who was pale as a ghost.

“I’m not good at it.” Shane responded. “I’m sorry.”

“You were the last one with him.” Patricia spoke up. “You shared his final moments. Please. I need to know his death had meaning.”

“Okay.” Shane whispered, his eyes shifting to the ground for a moment. “We were about done, almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping real bad. Ankle all swollen up. ‘We’ve got to save the boy’, see, that’s what he said. He gave me his backpack and shoved me ahead. Said to run and that he’d cover me. When I looked back…” Shane took a deep breath. “If not for Otis, I’d have never made it out alive and that goes for Carl too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If any death ever had meaning, it was his.”

Patricia smiled, nodding as tears fell down her cheeks. Shane turned to the pile of rocks, placing another one on top. You watched him closely, noticing his hands shaking ever so slightly. Daryl had been watching him too, your eyes connecting with a shared confusion. Whatever had happened with Otis, Shane was not himself.

…

“How long has this girl been lost?” Hershel asked.

“This’ll be day there.” Rick responded.

Maggie hurried over with a map, laying it across the hood of the car you were gathered around. “County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations.”

“This is perfect. We can finally get this thing organized.” Rick spoke. “We’ll grid the whole area and start searching in teams.”

“Not you. Not today.” Hershel said. “You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out.” He then turned to Shane. “And your ankle… Push it now, you’ll be laid up for a month, no good to anybody.”

“Guess it’s just me.” Daryl sighed. “I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there.”

“I’ll join you.” You spoke, earning a nod from him.

“I can still be useful. I’ll drive up the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back.” Shane suggested.

“Alright, tomorrow then.” Rick responded. “We’ll start doing this right.”

“That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives. They need the gun training we’ve promised them.”

Hershel shook his head. “I’d prefer you not carrying guns on my property. We’ve managed so far without turning this into an armed camp.”

“All due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here…” Shane trailed off.

“Look, we’re guests here.” Rick spoke. “This is your property and we will respect that.”

Rick took his gun out of the holster, placing it on the hood of the car. Shane reluctantly followed suit.

“I’m heading out so I’ll be keeping mine.” You spoke, folding your arms across your chest.

Rick nodded. “First things first: Set camp, find Sophia.”

“I hate to be the one to ask, but somebody’s got to. What happens if we find her and she’s bit?” Shane asked. “I think we should all be clear on how we handle that.”

“You do what has to be done.”

“And her mother? What do you tell her?” Maggie asked.

“The truth.” Andrea spoke up. 

“It won’t be easy, but she’ll understand.” You agreed.

“I’ll gather and secure all the weapons. Make sure no one’s carrying till we’re at a practice range off site.” Shane nodded. “I do request one rifle man on lookout. Dale’s got experience.”

“Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun.” Rick agreed, and Hershel nodded. “Thank you.”

Everyone slowly parted ways, heading off to prepare for whatever job they were given. You found your backpack in the back of one of the cars, rummaging through it to make sure you had everything you needed. Luckily, you had enough water and a few granola bars to tie you over until you got back.

You headed back towards the farmhouse, watching as Rick came out and began approaching Daryl.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back before dark.” Daryl mumbled, waving him off.

“Hey,” Rick spoke. “We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now.”

“You got a point or we just chatting?” Daryl asked.

“My point is it lets you off the hook.” Rick spoke, glancing over Daryl’s shoulder at you for a moment. “You don’t owe us anything.”

Daryl turned around, noticing you just a few steps away. He left out a small huff, beginning to walk past you and towards the farm’s main road. “My other plans fell through.”

…

“I hope Shane and Andrea are having better luck than we are.” You huffed, pushing your way through some bushes.

It had been a few hours since you’d left the farm and any trail you’d found belonged to a walker or animals. Luckily, Daryl had started teaching you a few things about tracking. It was still mostly lost on you, but you appreciated it.

“Doubt she made it back to the highway after all this time.” Daryl responded.

“Well, she’s got to be somewhere.” You spoke. “Surely she couldn’t have wandered off that far, dead or alive.”

Daryl paused, eyeing you for a moment. “You think she’s gone?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. It’s hard to keep holding out hope after everything that’s happened in the last few days.”

“Carl’s a tough kid. He’ll bounce back before you know it.” 

You nodded in agreement, spotting a house through the trees. “Do you think Sophia might’ve hidden in there?”

“Only one way to find out.” Daryl replied, pushing his way through the brush.

It was an open area, a run down house sitting in the middle. Some wilting flowers and many weeds were scattered around the place. It looked long abandoned, but you prayed you’d find her alive inside.

Daryl approached the door with his crossbow in hand, looking back at you. You held your knife up and nodded, prompting him to open the door.

You followed Daryl’s lead as the two of you made your way through the house. It was silent besides the sound of your footsteps across the creaking floor. 

As you arrived in the kitchen, there was a small panty with the door cracked open ever so slightly.

You exchanged a glance with Daryl before pulling open the door, revealing a small set up of blankets and a pillow on the floor.

“She’s small enough, she could’ve been hiding out in here.” You spoke, lowering your knife to your side.

“Then where the hell’d she go?” Daryl huffed, turning around and peering out the kitchen window.

“It’s wishful thinking, but maybe she went off to find some water.” You picked up an empty bottle from the ground. “It looks like whoever was here ran out.”

You headed towards the kitchen cupboards, opening them up and grabbing whatever you could from the higher shelves.

Daryl looked back at you and you shrugged, placing it all on the table. “If it’s her and she comes back, at least she’ll be able to reach the food now.” 

“It’s getting dark,” Daryl mumbled. “We should head back.”

“I’ll come back here tomorrow, see if any of this food has been eaten.”

With that, the two of you left the house and began your journey back to the farm. Even though you were hopeful you’d found where Sophia had been living, you hoped someone else had actually managed to find her.

Before you reached the forest again, Daryl veered off towards a section of flowers that were still somehow blooming among the dead ones. He eyed them for a moment before picking one out and heading back towards you.

“A flower?” You asked..

He nodded. “Figured Carol could use something nice.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

…

By the time you arrived back at the farm, the sun was nearly gone for the day. Rick noticed the two of you on the path, rushing over as Daryl headed off to find Carol.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“We found an old house, but that’s it. Did anyone else have any luck?”

Rick shook his head.

“How is Carl?”

“He’s doing better.” Rick smiled slightly. “He’s up, talking Lori’s ear off.”

You laughed. “That’s my nephew.”

“How did things go with Daryl?” Rick asked.

“It went fine.” You responded. “I mean, he taught me a bit about tracking. Had my back when we ran into walkers.” 

Rick nodded. “You think he can be trusted?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“It’s not like we got off on the best foot.” Rick spoke. “He’s an asset, there’s no disputing that, I just worry.”

“I trust him more than I trust Shane.” You mumbled.

“Shane?” Rick questioned. “What happened with Shane?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing, really. He’s just been a completely different person for a while now. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“It’s a different world. Are any of the same people we were?” 

You bit your tongue, knowing it wasn’t your place to tell him about what happened with Lori. It wasn’t your place to tell him about the affair, either.

“You’re right.” You spoke. “You’re right, it’s just a hard adjustment I guess.”

Rick smiled at you. “Now that we have this place, maybe we can all start getting back to normal. Somewhat, at least.”

“I hope so.”

----

AN: Hi, here is the next chapter! I'm sorry it's been so long since an update, it's been a weird week. I hope you all enjoy this one! I'm going to try to get started on the next chapter tomorrow so it's not as long as a wait for the next one. Please remember to like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hi! Hope you're well. I had an idea for you: what about a Charles Dickens "Christmas Carol" AU? With maybe Astarion as Scrooge and Evie as Cratchitt? Or a caroling orphan?

Okay, this is tricky because there are so many different ways you can go with this. I'm just gonna break down the two that came to mind. One being more in keeping with Dickens and one playing more fast and loose, simply holding onto the whole past, present and future thing.

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

Ghost of Past, Present and Future with Ascending Astarion

Cazador is defeated and Astarion is able to convince Evie/Tav to help him Ascend; he is holding the staff in his hand, but before he can begin the ritual he is surrounded by three spirits of the past, present and future

All of the vision happen within a fraction of a second before he starts to ritual

The spirit of the past shows the pain of his past, the faces of all those he doomed and who he will now destroy for his own gain, possibly even show him Cazador's past on how he became a vampire and the torture his master inflicted on him

It doesn't excuse Cazador's actions, emphasizing the cycle of abuse and Astarion's part in it if he goes forward with this

The spirit of the present shows him Evie/Tav, how afraid she truly is and how helping him wasn't out of love, but fear, fear he too is acting upon

Emphasizes Evie/Tav's POV on the whole situation and how afraid they are of losing him and how much they love him for who his is now

The spirit of the future then shows him his Ascended form a full century in the future

He has everything, wealth, power, a command over armies and a city that fears him

He can walk in the sun and transform into mist, he can see himself in a mirror and feast to his heart's content

But then he realizes, he can't find Evie/Tav any where

The spirit leads him through the palace, he can smell blood and sees how the servants cower even when alone

He's led up a tower he doesn't recognize, higher than any in the palace and enforced with impenetrable stone

A single door greets him, one the spirit gestures him to pass through

It opens to a room, ornate in decoration and illuminated in candle light; all the windows are shuttered closed and locked so not a hint of sunlight can get through

In the center of the room he finds Evie/Tav sitting on the edge of a large four poster bed

They're dressed in the finest silks and jewelry, their skin a pale, but flawless, and they sit as still as a statue

His stomach twists at the sight, there is no life behind their eyes just a blank stare forever forward

He reaches out to touch her, but his hands passes through her like air

It's then the door unlocks and Astarion gets to see himself fully for the first time

Ascended Astarion greets Evie/Tav and Evie/Tav slips on a smile that Astarion can see doesn't meet her eyes

Astarion watches himself speak with Evie/Tav and feels the need to tear his reflect's hand away from her

It's not so much what he says, as how he says it; there is an ownership to his tone and touch Astarion recognizes, he knows his future self doesn't really love Evie/Tav, how could he love somebody he sees as an object

And then there's Evie/Tav; they're afraid, they're so clearly afraid, but they're too broken to leave

They barely speak, their voice hoarse from disuse, a far cry from the smooth tones that brought him so much joy and comfort

He never considered himself the hero type, he wasn't the one to rescue the princess in the tower, but seeing this, he thinks he might

He wants to deny it, he would never treat his love this way, he just wanted to keep them safe, both of them, but isn't that what his reflection is doing?

Locks on the windows to keep the sunlight from accidentally burning them, a high tower as opposed to a basement so when the night comes they can see the sky, no threat from enemies coming to take them away or kill them in revenge, no lecherous eyes to pluck out while still providing them luxury and comfort

His stomach turns as he realizes just how easily he could let this happen

He's brought back into his body and at the last second throws the staff away

Cazador mocks him for being too weak to take the power when it was right in the palm of his hand

Astarion counters that he is more than what Cazador made him and kills the man, ending the ritual before it could really begin

Evie/Tav is by his side the next moment and he weeps

He later tells them of his vision, of what he saw their future being

Evie/Tav confesses that they acted out of fear as well and they don't want their future to be dictated by it either

They're both looking ahead assured and braver than before

A Christmas Carol AU

This one is more in keeping with Dickens so no Cazador, Astarion is just a standard lazy magistrate who got the position through nepotism and is just relaxing in a relatively cushy government potion

Evie/Tav is still a bard and one day brought in to whatever the Baldur's Gate equivalent is to small claims court over some petty thievery

Astarion finds her guilty without really looking at the case, causing her to have to pay a fine she does not have the money for

Later Astarion sees her again and, feeling a rare moment of remorse, offers for Evie/Tav to play for him and some of the other elites of Baldur's Gate at a holiday party the next day

Evie/Tav cannot believe the audacity of this man "offering" her a job to pay off the debt he inflicted on her

She then throws it all back in his face telling him she's not going to be his little side project to temporarily sooth his guilty conscious only to undoubtedly throw her away the second he gets bored, so fuck off

They part ways and Astarion is effected by her words more than he cares to admit

Then, that night, he's visited by the spirits of past, present and future

His past would obviously contain a lot less torture in this version, but I maintain my head-canon that his parents aren't alive at this point, or at least so distant from him he doesn't have much of a relationship with them

His childhood would consist of a lot of lonely days that taught him that money and influence was the only way to maintain love and affection

I'd also include Sebastian as the Belle in this backstory; he and Astarion were in love, but Astarion's pettiness and ambition in maintaining his position eventually drove them apart

The present would show the next day where the holiday celebrations are under way

Astarion gets good look at his own party and sees it for the hollow thing that it is; a bunch of lazy bureaucrats and their minor petty rivalries

We still gotta give him a Bob Cratchitt, so we get a loot an his secretary and how their life is affected by Astarion's banal cruelties

Maybe Rolan? I don't think any of the party members would fit this very well

Either way, keeping those same lessons

He then gets unexpectedly taken to the lower city where Evie/Tav is playing at a local tavern

She's good, very good if he's being honest surrounded by a comradery he can't say he's ever felt before

Evie/Tav talks about the verdict to a friend and is unsure how she's going to get the money

Her friends assure her she doesn't have to worry about that now, something will come up, it always does, besides it's the holidays, extra performance and extra cash, they'll be loaded in no time

The future is a little trickier since being and elf he can't die, so ending up dead and utterly alone I don't think would work

I think he would have to find himself stuck in the same place, still alone, still with nothing truly his own and surrounded by people who would be just as happy to see him leave as to see him stay

I think then he'd have to be taken a tour of all the lives he did effect, the people not in his circle yet he still dictated the lives of and see what petty misery he spread for no good reason before finally landing on Evie/Tav

They're in debt, having had to go to the thieves guild for the money in the end

Instead of being the great musician Astarion saw they clearly could be, they're just as stuck as he is just older and working themselves to the bone just to keep their head above water

As tempting as it is to put the blame on Evie/Tav for not taking him up on his offer, he knows it's a poor excuse, he would have done exactly as they said and toss them aside and he had done so many other times

He then wakes up the next day with a new perspective and goes about making things right and trying to be a kinder, more empathetic person

[growingnerves]

I saw the teaser and it got me thinking…

It’s not some mysterious happenstance that lead to Melissa McBride appearing on our screens again. She’s still around in TWDU because she is responsible for so many of the most iconic, rewatchable and deeply engaging moments and that isn’t easily forgotten among fans. We will always want her here so we can continue the story with Caryl as a united pair. And much as I share in the enthusiasm over how powerful her presence is, that alone isn’t enough! The quality of their story together still matters to us. The generic “thrills” aren’t working. I’m sure Melissa wants quality material to dive into as much as the fans do. She considers us in a way that others working on this spin-off will not. However, the fans will always be an objectively important aspect to the show’s ongoing success or failure. After all, who’s going to be watching?

It can be hard to believe our voices are being heard after countless disappointments, cruel shipbaity manipulations and needless retconning; it has often felt like we haven’t been valued. But the more we speak up about our expectations, the greater chance we have of getting them met. I don’t want past missteps to discourage us to the point of accepting something merely “inoffensive.” Let’s think of what this spin-off could be!

Nothing in those promos is engaging me on a meaningful level and this far along into a story, that shouldn’t be a difficult task. We need to see major changes going forward, especially with the writing. The title alone is unacceptable, and even if I could accept it (which I can’t!), “acceptable” isn’t enough. Once whatever future we get for Carol and Daryl is on our screens, it can’t be undone. Once it’s been decided, we will have to live with it forever. So now is the time to have the highest of expectations and demands. Nothing is set in stone yet! Now is a better time than any to pour our energy into advocating for what we want to see. I’d rather be criticizing the show now rather than once it’s been irreversibly ruined by the current showrunner (Zabel). We know we are going to see Caryl together again, that is our only guarantee atp. Which version of the spin-off we get, could still change, especially going into S3! We don’t have to settle for a lesser version of what should be OUR show.

Our dedication should be rewarded with something to look forward to, not something that causes dread. The dread of further disappointment is what drove viewers away. It burned me out to the point I never finished watching S11 of TWD. I didn’t tune in for the initial season of the spin-off because omitting Carol was the most nonsense decision imaginable. The only thing that would make me consider returning is a storyline worth my time. Because boy do I get invested when I give a damn. Imagine getting a story with actual stakes and payoff. Something a little more captivating than watching two friends suffering through seasons more of the apocalypse.

The purpose of reuniting these two is to profit on their unmatched bond and chemistry. They are capable of anything when they are together and taking their relationship to the next level would open up so many new possibilities storywise. Give us something fresh tonally. Let the relationship develop naturally into something romantic as it always should have been. That’s what’s going to get people talking and clamoring for more. That’s what’s going to get word to reach those who left. Seeing a middle aged couple headlining a series is groundbreaking tv and that representation alone could bring in loads of new eyes and reinvigorate online discussion.

What show are they trying to sell me based on the brief window into S2 with tonight’s promos? Caryl’s relationship isn’t the centerpiece here. What I saw was an attempt to catch my attention with repetitive action sequences. There’s nothing original about shootouts and car crashes and distractingly bad looking CGI blood and verbal cliches. Carol interacted with Daryl’s props? That’s the best you can give me? The unique draw this show has, that makes the appeal one of a kind, is Carol and Daryl played by Melissa and Norman. That’s an absolute narrative goldmine and something no other show on tv can claim. I’m echoing so many other fans when I say this. We are able to see the potential for greatness. An emotionally intimate slow burn relationship built over many years will always have within it a vast, complex narrative to explore that new characters cannot bring to the table. AMC has a rare gift in their hands. Continued success of the franchise hinges on the network making the right call when it comes to this duo. That’s where the attention should go. That’s the tease I was looking for tonight. That’s the upcoming payoff that would win back my trust and viewership. I want to see something I can feel passionate about again. We understand these characters aren’t learning to navigate the world without each other. They are fighting to stay alive so that they can be together again and realize their relationship in a way that is new. Caryl’s history runs deep and they couldn’t give us a single emotional beat to grasp onto in the promo- that’s how I’m feeling right now.

Side note cause I can’t help myself but I know I’m not the only one who noticed that Melissa McBride is a total smokeshow in that teaser. It’s not an obscure observation by any means haha. She looked goddamn amazing and badass and well, fucking hot 🥵 It is an undeniable privilege to see this woman on our screens again.

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of march

miki schumacher de / re / formation

craig arnold pitahaya

brian turner here, bullet: “what every soldier should know”

eileen myles not me: “peanut butter”

noor hindi breaking [news]

jane hirshfield my species

annesha mitha you are a tyrannosaurus rex

mary ruefle among the musk ox people: poems: “blood soup”

alice notley mysteries of small houses: “as good as anything”

nomi stone on world-making

k. silem mohammad poems about trees

franz wright the break

fred marchant the looking house: “night heron maybe”

carl phillips cortège: “domestic”

alexa luborsky connotations

bruce smith the other lover: “to the executive director of the actual”

nikky finney head off & split: “the aureole”

alice fulton personally engraved

amy beeder because our waiters are hopeless romantics

chiagoziem jideofor self-preservation

carol muske-dukes skylight: “the invention of cuisine”

joyce peseroff a dog in the lifeboat: “april to may”

rigoberto gonzalez other fugitives and other strangers: “other fugitives and other strangers”

toi derricotte the undertaker’s daughter: “my dad & sardines”

tarfia faizullah yr not exotic, but once ya wanted to be

jenny george the artist

jack spicer a second train song for gary

victor hernandez cruz maraca: new and selected poems 1966-2000: “red beans”

xi chuan power failure

jean valentine door in the mountain: new and collected poems, 1965-2003: “sanctuary”

duane niatum drawings of the song animals: new and collected poems: “consulting an elder poet on an anti-war poem”

kofi