#it’s like scraping the bottom of the barrel

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (3 - The Neighbor)

Chapter Summary: Agnes sees the perfect opportunity to stir up some trouble while Wanda deals with her jealousy toward your work assistant, Geraldine. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: I really have nothing to say except that I enjoyed writing Agatha in this chapter // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The team has been at a standstill, figuring out who’s behind this, or how to communicate with anyone trapped inside the town. Every drone they've sent in morphs into something entirely different, thwarting their efforts to gather any useful intel. The people sent underground to scout a safe route through have gone dark, their communication cut off. No one else volunteered to attempt approaching the perimeter after that.

The broadcasts they've been tracking are erratic, cutting out for hours with no warning, making it hard to keep a consistent eye on the town's odd behaviors. But it's during one of these quiet periods when something clicks in Darcy's mind.

“I think I have something,” Darcy blurts out to Jimmy. They’ve been scraping the bottom of the barrel, running out of faces to identify from the snippets of life in Westview they caught on screen. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy gives her a tired look, only half-listening. He can't remember the last time he managed more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Even if he could find the time to rest, the bizarre situation they're in won't let his mind relax. 

Darcy sighs and leads him outside the tent.

“So, you’ve seen that radio on Wanda’s kitchen counter, right?”

Jimmy only nods.

Darcy continues, “The next time she’s washing dishes, or whatever—which by my count—happens about once an episode, barf, we’ll shoot a signal to that little guy.” She leads him to a set of computers set up behind a pickup truck. Jimmy doesn’t understand what’s going on with these systems, but he’s hoping Darcy really is onto something.

“This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast,” she pauses to catch her breath in the cold and to give him time to catch up with her science. “And if my theory is right, it will allow us to speak to her.”

She cuts off any chance for Jimmy to comment and assures him, “This is definitely going to work.”

–

The annual Westview Harvest Festival is in full swing. The town square is packed with booths overflowing with baked goods and fresh fall produce. A small stage is set up for the local band playing tunes from the 70s, while kids dart around in all directions, their faces painted with fanciful designs. Billy and Tommy are with their preschool teachers, who are keeping them and other children their age occupied with arts and crafts that involve tumbleweeds—a material no one seems to think is entirely safe for five-year-olds to play with.

In hindsight, it’s the ideal setting for introductions and mingling. However, everyone here already knows each other—everyone, that is, except for Wanda. She makes an effort to blend in, but apart from a few interactions with the planning committee, which weren’t particularly fruitful, she often remains secluded at home. This makes you, the only one in the household who heads out daily for work, the more socially connected of the two. It’s both amusing and slightly anxiety-inducing to watch you interact with the townsfolk who are essentially strangers to you and to Wanda, if only you knew. You and Wanda never had the opportunity to live a normal life, to settle in a typical city, surrounded by neighbors who could have become integral to the life you might have built together. 

Seeing you interact with these people, she’s realizing it’s harder than she thought to share you with others. Or maybe she’s just as selfish as she’s always been, never really outgrowing it. When you were both part of the Avengers, it was like living in a bubble, surrounded by only a few familiar faces every day. Now, outside that controlled environment, it’s challenging her expectations and stirring up feelings she thought she had under control.

It becomes particularly tough when she sees Geraldine heading towards you, sporting that perpetual, dazzling smile full of perfect white teeth. Wanda's fingers curl into a fist, tiny wisps of red energy leaking from them. You quickly cover her hand with yours, and the effect is immediate—she relaxes slightly, letting you intertwine your fingers with hers, anchoring herself by your side where she feels secure.

“It's so nice to see you outside of the office, just being one of us for a change,” Geraldine says, though she seems to be wearing the same uniform as at work. Not that you're judging, but it does make you wonder why she hasn't changed.

“Definitely beats being stuck behind a desk,” you reply, your attention briefly wandering. Only then do you notice that Wanda has subtly withdrawn her hand from yours, now exploring a booth with homemade apple cider. You hadn't even noticed the exact moment she let go.

“Hello, Wanda!” Geraldine greets her warmly. 

Wanda musters a tight-lipped smile that’s convincing enough, as Geraldine appears quite taken with it. Just then, Geraldine spots Agnes standing a little away from the crowd, lingering behind Wanda with a look that borders on suspicion or disdain. 

Geraldine steps up to her while Wanda continues to busy herself with whatever else is being showcased in the booth. “Hi, I'm Geraldine. Isn’t this a wonderful evening?” She extends her hand to Agnes.

Agnes eyes the offered hand but doesn’t accept it. Instead, she sizes up Geraldine with a quick once-over and nods, foregoing any introductions. Geraldine's smile falters briefly, but she quickly shakes off the slight, tossing a brisk, “See you around, Y/N!” over her shoulder as she heads back to her table.

You wave back and let out a sigh, relieved that you’ve just sidestepped what could have been the most awkward moment of your life. Wanda’s jealousy towards Geraldine seems more serious than you’d realized. You know Wanda can be possessive; it's just been a long time since it's manifested this way. But then, it's also been a while since you've both been in a crowd of strangers like this. Since…

Since when, exactly?

“Y/N, honey?” Wanda’s voice snaps you out of your fog.

You blink. “Hm?”

“I’m thirsty.”

Just like that, you’ve forgotten about your lapse of memory, replaced by a desire to tend to your wife's needs.

“I’ll get us some refreshments. What would you like?” you ask.

“Just some water, please.”

“Water here, too,” Agnes calls out, unsolicited. 

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. It's great that Wanda's making friends in the neighborhood, but did it really have to be Agnes O’Connor? Ever since you and Wanda moved into this quiet suburb, Agnes has made it her personal mission to be involved in every aspect of your lives. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than the apparent nosiness of your neighbor.

As you head over to get the drinks, Agnes sidles up to Wanda, her eyes gleaming with an opportunity to stir some pot. 

“Geraldine seems quite taken with your wife.”

It’s not like Wanda doesn’t know what Agnes’s doing, but she finds herself nodding in agreement anyway. Your new assistant does appear smitten with you, and while Wanda gets the appeal—you are, undeniably, crush-worthy—she can't say she's thrilled about it.

“Y/N is her boss,” Wanda murmurs, more to herself than to Agnes.

“Oh, honey,” Agnes laughs condescendingly. “Do you even go to the movies? That's how the steamiest affairs start, you know.”

Wanda bristles at the sound of that endearment from someone other than you. But she keeps herself together—barely. 

“I trust her,” Wanda forces out.

As you're getting drinks, Geraldine joins you, picking up a soda herself. She lets out a light laugh at a joke from the bartender, and you find yourself chuckling too, oblivious to the piercing look your wife is drilling into your back.

Meanwhile, Agnes sees her opening and swoops in, linking her arm through Wanda's with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Of course, you trust her, dear,” she murmurs right by Wanda's ear. “But do you trust her?” She points subtly with her chin towards Geraldine, her lips pursed. “You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer…”

Wanda's shoulders tense, her entire frame stiffening. As you return with the drinks, Agnes steps away, leaving Wanda visibly shaken, like she’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“Everything okay?” you ask, handing her a drink. You've noticed before how Wanda's demeanor changes around Agnes; she’s clearly a source of stress for her. It’s going to be a difficult conversation, but it might be time to tell Wanda what you really think about the neighbor.

Wanda takes the water you offer, her fingers trembling slightly as she does. For a moment, she appears distant, disengaged, as if her mind is elsewhere. Then, with a sudden shift, she flashes you one of those smiles that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I'm fine,” she declares, a little too brightly. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she asks, “Is Geraldine here with someone?”

You stop short, realizing you really don't know much about Geraldine beyond work. “I didn’t see her with anyone,” you say.

Wanda nods thoughtfully. Her next suggestion catches you by surprise. 

“Maybe you should invite her over to our table.”

Did you hear that correctly? Had Wanda just done a complete 180 regarding your assistant and was now interested in getting to know her? You shoot a suspicious glance at Agnes. Had she said something to Wanda to change her mind?

“Are you sure?” you ask, puzzled by her abrupt change of heart.

“I am,” Wanda affirms. “It might be nice to make a new friend.”

–

Back at the response camp, Darcy and Jimmy are huddled around the small, grainy television, waiting for the moment Wanda’s in her kitchen so they can send a message through her radio device. However, the usual domestic scenes are conspicuously absent, replaced by static and sporadic cuts to the ongoing Harvest Festival.

“Come on, come on,” Darcy mutters under her breath, shoving her glasses back up her nose. They've been slipping a lot lately, probably because she's been hunching over her work more than usual these past few days.

“It's this festival,” Jimmy says, squinting at the screen. “I think the whole town's out there tonight. I don’t think we’re going to get the chance.”

Their attempts to contact anyone inside the Hex are dwindling, and Hayward's interest leans more towards studying the energy barrier encasing the town rather than resolving the anomaly itself. His latest directive to launch another drone into the barrier feels like a brute force attempt to crack the problem. Jimmy thinks it’s a waste of time—and resources.

“Yeah, and you know what’s worse?” Darcy grumbles. “I have a bad feeling about Agnes. Every time she's around, things just seem to... escalate.”

As they watch, the screen cuts to a shot of Agnes at the festival, linking arms with Wanda, whispering something that makes Wanda’s expression tighten. “See, what did I tell you?” Darcy exclaims, pointing at the screen. “Who’s this Agnes again in real life?” she asks.

Jimmy swivels in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the expansive pinboard filled with photos of Westview residents. Agnes’s face is not among them. 

“No idea,” he says flatly. He had already run a search in the database, but it came back empty.

“So, we've identified Y/N, Monica, and Agnes as outsiders in Westview,” Darcy explains, tallying them off on her fingers. 

“That’s correct,” Jimmy confirms.

“And then there’s Wanda’s sons. But again… we haven’t seen any other children in the show besides the twins.”

Jimmy thinks about it for a while. It had never really occurred to him before. “Maybe they’re bound to show up at some point?”

“Smells fishy to me,” Darcy huffs. Her thoughts circle back to Agnes. “How do you think Agnes ended up here?” she asks, their list of unanswered questions growing daily.

Jimmy shrugs. “She could’ve just been visiting.”

Darcy considers it. It's a possibility, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right—too simple, too convenient for someone as vibrant and prickly as the character Agnes portrays.

–

It's as if Wanda's animosity toward Geraldine just magically went away. 

They’ve been chatting for almost an hour. Initially, Wanda made sure to include you in the conversation, but as time passed, she and Geraldine started connecting over topics that didn’t involve you as much. Feeling somewhat left out but also at ease that the problem between your wife and your secretary has apparently resolved itself, you decide to check out the festival booths.

This is where Agnes finds the perfect opportunity to get you alone. She starts her approach—to your surprise and discomfort—by acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“I know you don’t like me very much,” she says with a knowing smile. “Maybe we can change that tonight?”

You eye her with suspicion, easily seeing through her blatant attempts to flirt her way into your good graces.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” you ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

Agnes simply laughs off the cool reception you’ve given her. If anything, she revels in it. 

“By getting to know each other, obviously,” she says.

“Right.”

She takes your elbow, and you swear she can feel you recoil at her closeness, yet she doesn’t seem to care. She urges you forward, dictating the pace. Her grip is unexpectedly firm, as if to say you have no choice but to listen—like leaving isn't an option.

With you literally in her grasp, Agnes sets her plans into motion. “So, how did you and Wanda meet?” she asks.

You deliver the narrative precisely as it plays out in your memory, exactly as Wanda implanted it in your mind. “We grew up next to each other. Best friends since we were kids.” 

“How cute,” she says, in that smooth, supercilious tone that usually makes your skin crawl. But this time, with the memories of Wanda filling your head, you hardly notice.

“Yeah, I remember when I first saw her,” you continue, gazing into the distance as if the scene you speak of is right there before your eyes. “It was almost Halloween, and my mom had baked a pumpkin pie to welcome them to the neighborhood. She sent me to deliver it. Wanda answered the door.”

“Love at first sight?”

“More like the opposite,” you say, throwing Agnes a good-natured smile, something you’ve never done before. “She couldn’t stand me, and I felt the same way.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Agnes drawls before accompanying it with a short chuckle. “Who knows? Maybe there’s hope for us yet. You might end up not hating me so much after all.”

“Maybe…” you say, the smile reaching your eyes this time.

“Good, good,” Agnes says. “I can’t think of anything more romantic than growing up with the person you’ll be with for the rest of your life. Almost like it’s… sketched out, no?”

You nod at her, not sure where she’s going with this, but you appreciate the sentiment. You consider yourself lucky to have known Wanda most of your life. 

“So, you've lived in Westview your whole life?” Agnes asks.

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation.

“And you've only ever been to Westview?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, ready to list off places you've been, but suddenly, you can't name any. The cities and trips that should come easily to your tongue just... don't materialize.

Not a single one.

Agnes watches you struggle with a blank expression. A second later, she begins throwing out suggestions, as if trying to help. 

“Canada?" 

You shake your head. 

“California?” 

Another shake.

“New York?”

No. This time, your eyes sting with the frustration of trying to pull something from the haze, realizing there’s nothing there. 

Have you really never been anywhere but Westview?

“Eastview, maybe?” she offers with a bit of sarcasm as she names the town next door.

“I—”

“How strange,” Agnes muses, driving home the final nail in the coffin of your crumbling peace.

You jerk your arm away from her grip and take a few instinctive steps back. “I need to pick up the twins,” you blurt out, seizing the first excuse that comes to mind. “We should be heading out soon.”

Without waiting for her reply, you start walking away, driven by a sudden, intense need to be with your boys, with Wanda. To hold them close, to find some stability. Because right now, you’re petrified by a fear you cannot name. 

“I heard Australia’s amazing this time of year!” Agnes calls after you.

The idea of not having been anywhere but Westview—it’s possible, right? Some people spend their entire lives in one place. But if this feeling—the one that's been gnawing at you lately—is real, if the world outside of Westview is truly non-existent, then what does that say about your life here?

What does it say about you?

[vinegar-rights]

Sorry

[ouellette]

i really do love that creepypasta has new fans now and that its gotten somewhat of a revival but only those of u that have been locked in since like 2014 will ever truly understand

[wuntrum]

the next pixar movie is gonna take place in numbers city where 7s are prejudiced (because 7 8 9)...but what if against all odds a (girl) 6 and a (boy) 7 discover that they have more in common than they thought 😳

[redjennies]

something something the Beau 🤝 Ashton comparison of the death drive masked as self-sacrifice kicking in due to finally achieving personal success and a growing sense of belonging but the contrast of how that presents along the class divide. Beau, raised in an upper middle class yet personally hostile home environment, wanting walk away from everything and retreat back into the warmth of being a failure who nobody cares about in one grand gesture to trade her life for another's, vs Ashton, abandoned by both family and society, wanting to transform themself into something that can do what they believe they can't because he believes he has real no future and this grand gesture is all he will ever be worth.

[melit0n]

Somewhat of a random thought, but I've always been interested in the slightly distorted voice in Decending.

We've had talks about how some songs are response to others, from Vessel to Sleep or Sleep to Vessel, such as Sugar being a response to The Offering, but I don't think it's been talked about much with the two responding to eachother in one song.

This leads me to Decending, particularly, the main chorus. It's the only part of that song which has some sort of vocal distortion: a reply of sorts.

The lyrics begin to take a bit of a different shape: "You come crawling back to me, but I'm already on the ground", sounds like someone's being brought down to their level. Vessel is just as close to being a forgotten corpse as Sleep is.

Then, we have more of a response in, "And we all know that talk is cheap." to "So come on and save me now". Obviously, this one can go both ways. Both are in need of saving, and the 'response' begins to sound a bit more desperate.

Next, we have, "And you wonder what I believe." to "But you don't wanna be around". This can be joined into one, but I like it better as a two part response.

Finally, "So, what would you do for me?" and "Yeah, what would you do for me?" It's a clear-cut deal. Both know what they have to lose and both are very ready to risk it.

When put into context, it feels like a somewhat desperate, forcefully playful back and forth. Depending on your viewpoint, you could swap who's speaking when quite easily too, and still arrive at a similar conclusion.

Either Vessel is feeling somewhat confident and joking around with Sleep for the sake of a gain, or he's watching a dead and dying God of old tongues realising he's the perfect host.

Just a little thought.

P.S: I am very, very aware that this is half baked-thought and this could easily just be a production choice made for funsies. Hence why it is just 'a thought', lol.

[bombusbombus]

Trying to find superbat fic where they're both just huge fuckin nerds. Why are there so few of those.

[aiscapades]

what if ais's gang left because he chose to drink from the seaspring

his gang being absent + him forgetting who he is are both sensitive subjects when mc mentions them

what if he drank for power (or another reason), which his gang already disagreed with, and ais actually did forget who he is + what he was originally all about (morals, standards), so his gang abandoned him.

that's why he so damn lonely

[yippee-optimistically]

super random selection idk. I think im both in a weird art slump and in a post to tumblr mood so. here u go !! strange combination of old and new idk

[digital-roots]

Also can people writing request fics stop fucking tagging stuff that hasnt been written yet

This fic only had 3 short chapters and got orphaned

[bilbao-song]

i'm so close to being caught up w sending numbers but i'm like TERRIFIED of accidentally setting off the spam thing again

[prettyboykatsuki]

going insane. thinking of wyll and reader raising little lily together... it only takes him one glance at you playing with your daughter, the sound of your melodious laughter and the tiny ones happy little giggles makes his heart leap with joy.

he wonders what he's done to deserve this. such happiness in the form of a loving spouse and a beautiful daughter.

he wonders about giving lily a little sibling too... later that night, when she's tucked in for sleep and you're laying in bed with your husband, he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, trailing tender pecks of affection down your arm, up your shoulder and neck, smiling against your skin as you hum happily, comfortably at his affection.

when you ask what's gotten him like this he smiles, looks at you with a love so deep its difficult to hide - not that he wants to of course... he voices his thoughts, how he wants to father another child with you at his side, how he wishes to have some semblance of a normal life with you after everything you've been through, with two (or more, should you want to) wonderful children besides you.

you're silent for a bit and he's quick to reassure you its entirely up to you, he's already happy as it is, he doesn't want you to feel pressured...

he quiets down when you kiss him, hands cupping his face and he can taste saltiness on your lips. tears fall down your face but not of sadness or anything of the sort... it's happy tears, as you smile and whisper that you want this as well, you'd love to carry his child into this world one day...

you don't think you've ever seen wyll be this happy as when he kisses you back, one hand caressing the front of your stomach, where your future child will eventually be, like he's already anticipating it, desiring this as much as he did that first night you kissed under the stars.

im going to walk directly into the ocean

[honesttoglob]

I get the underworld classifying Flatwoods Monster and Mothman as menaces because Flatwoods had fumes which caused illness and nausea to whoever approaced them in the woods and the Mothman is linked to the collapse of the Silver Bridge, and even Steve because they know he's responsible for the Kellwasser extinction event (intentionally or no) but Bigfoot????? What did he ever do? He's literally just chilling in the woods and hiding from hikers, wtf!

[metalgear-f-15e-tfr]

Bought a used iPad cause I got a great price and it's insane to think appletards live like this, I can't even sideload

[nebulaad]

it's truly insane and I think the most annoying thing about people defending their use of AI is how quickly the notes will be filled with people like "I have [x fairly common neurodivergence] and so I'm obviously too stupid and lazy to do [x task people with said condition have been doing on their own forever]" like actually a huge percentage of my artists friends also have ADHD and they can do everything from writing their own essays to doing their own art.

People obviously and commonly struggle with some tasks but it's 1) not a monolith, and 2) has literally never required such a gormless and pathetic avoidance of any actual effort. If you wanna cheat on an essay pay someone like a normal person or do the work or set something up with your prof or reexamine whether you can keep up with the program. If you want to see oc art pay someone or try to develop a talent or create an aesthetic board that makes you think of them or a playlist that follows their emotional arc. Like it's insane how quickly people will be like "people with my condition are actually completely incapable of art, thought, eloquence, and anything that requires any thought or effort" like 1) fuck you, 2) improve yourself because you are an oil spill of a person.

[fenzs-strikes-again]