#asktheassistantdarcy

@ask-the-assistant-darcy (Dariya)

Green eyes opened with a start, dry lips parted by a cough rattling lungs and leaving her throat sore. She went as long as she could without sleep, but still she was human somehow and prone to human, mortal needs. Rest. So she gave, when she had to and where she could. Random places, sometimes even standing up in a dark corner, but as always she woke with a start no more than an hour in. The dream was the same. A replay of her death, her choice. She would do it again, Natasha knew that deep in her bones. She’d know it in her soul too, if she still had it. She paid the price and the Soul Stone didn’t do refunds. But then why was she alive again and had been for over a year now. One of many questions the Widow did and didn’t want answered.

Sitting up fully, slender pale fingers felt about for the glass of water she had placed nearby, touching the smooth surface, she gripped it tightly and with a slight tremor brought it to her lips. It was cold at least, but she had tasted better, she had also tasted worse. There was light out the broken window before her, the eastern sky turning purple, then fading into pink, to yellows and the blue was slowly starting to bleed in. Early morning, first light. She only knew time by that, the day ending and beginning. Time had never quite worked the same for her as others, a minute felt like a second, a year like a minute. Another price paid, but this one not of her own choosing.

Pushing back haphazardly cut hair, the redhead stood and took in the meager surroundings of the old building she had decided to use. For being abandoned it wasn’t half bad. Not too drafty yet, but in time more and more of it would crumble until it would be mostly bones and little else. What Natasha should have been, would have been by now on the dismal cold world of Vormir. But she wasn’t there, she was here. Alive. On Earth.

“I got start drinking coffee again… more of it,” she muttered to herself and decided to get on with her day. She was in this city for a reason, hunting her prey. Since her return from the dead, Natasha Romanoff has been seeking out those who came back from the Snap who the world would be better off without. Across the globe she’s traveled, into the darkest and most dangerous of places and doing her best not to leave anything recognizable behind.

But even in the back of her mind she knows sooner or later someone is going to find her. Who or how or when remained the elusive questions, she did have her suspects for the who, which was all the more reason to be careful and not do anything signature to her.

@ask-the-assistant-darcy

When Darcy hadn’t been by that evening, Tony had tried calling her mom, of course he had, but there hadn’t been an answer. Of course, he just figured she was avoiding his calls, again, and hadn’t thought too much about it. He had, however, ended up swinging by the woman’s house to go fetch his daughter himself only to see all the lights out and the place dark. Suffice to say that it was frustrating, but not exactly a shocking development.

He figured that eventually, she would have tried to break one of his visits just to show she could, but he hadn’t figured it would take her so long to do it. In fact, he’d thought they were getting back to good footing. Even footing. For Darcy.

But something was off about the whole situation, because she should have at least called, and he called into work, asking his current secretary if he had any messages, of which there were none, and god this woman needed to be replaced. But that was for later. Priority one was finding out what the hell was going on. 

Which meant the next call to go around was to the parents of Darcy’s friends, none of who had heard from her that day, which, fine if she was with her mom made sense. In the end, he had resigned himself to wait, and instead called the school the next morning to check about making sure that someone could tell Darcy that he was coming to get her that day. Which led to a whole other mess, because she apparently wasn’t there, and there had been social workers in...

By the time he found out where his daughter was just after noon that day he could have cried in relief that he’d pressured the girl’s mom into making sure he had signed legal rights to his girl, because it meant he could just go get her once he found her, and by god there would be words with whoever dropped the ball and got her lost in the shuffle.

So, the quiz is here, Standard repost, dont reblog rules apply.

Tagged by @ask-the-assistant-darcy

Tagging @takinghertime, @darcylewisinaction, @nxtsoordinary, @prodxgaliron, @ironheiress @godsperfectidiiot

For Peter:

your archetype is the chosen one.

traits: authentic, brave, bold, intuitive, natural, passionate, stubborn

the chosen one is most commonly used to symbolize the light side, and the heart of the story. unlike the warrior, they barely ever choose to fight on the front lines of a battle. although they will stand up for what they believe in, they do it in a way that is diplomatic, so that they don't create more conflict than there already is. they do not feel the need to be credited in their achievements and victories, and would rather have their confidantes and comrades have the eternal glory and spotlight. they are content with the happiness of those they care about, and place friendship over all else. the chosen one is always picked for the role, hence the name. their fate was placed upon them from birth, and due to their hero complex, and need to help the meek, they follow instructions, and do what needs to be done.

fictional characters that are chosen ones: harry potter (you saw that coming from a mile away), frodo baggins, percy jackson, katniss everdeen, jon snow, daenerys targaryen, elizabeth bennet, patroclus, buffy summers

other personality types that go with this: gryffindor, slytherin, thunderbird

For the Mun:

your archetype is the realist.

traits: practical, understanding, honest, brutal, logical, creator, intelligent, sensible, down-to-earth, reasonable

the realist is most commonly used to symbolize the highest possible outcome in a dire situation. they are the ones who have everything planned, and hand out reality checks as if they were pamphlets to those who need them--which, quite honestly, is everyone who isn't a realist. although they can be harsh (brutal truth over merciful), they are nurturers and care more than they let on. realists tend to do things that will lead to the best outcome, and use their knowledge of reading people to manipulate situations and problems in order to get out of a rock and a hard place.

fictional characters that are realists: hermione granger, dana scully, thorin oakenshield, lestrade (from sherlock), leia organa, willow rosenberg

@ask-the-assistant-darcy

Everything itched. Was on fire. Just pain. And nothing to could be done about it. She rubbed her arms until they turned red beneath the jacket she had on, the hood of it pulled up over the haphazard haircut she had given herself to get rid of the remaining blonde. When had she gone blonde?

Oh.

Right.

The memories would come in spurts. Sometimes they were muddled, mixed wrong or out of sequence. But she remembered. Everything. But the thing she remembered most?

Dying.

Over and over it played in her head if she even closed her eyes for a second. She couldn’t think of the last time she had slept, probably before she died. But now at least she knew it had worked. They had succeeded and her sacrifice was not in vain.

First thing she had done upon getting back (and how she had still was lost on her, though she remembered a conversation with Red Skull) was get her hands on every news she could about what happened after Thanos. She had cried over it all, tears of joy and of sadness that Tony was lost. Why her and not him? Why had she gotten this second chance?

And the pain… nothing lessened it, she had tried. She had turned to old habits, drinking vodka like water but even when the buzz hit her after about six bottles it did nothing. A reminder of what she had lost, given up, sacrificed.

Her soul.

How could she live without it? How was she living without it? It made no sense and she felt as though she was going crazy. Or crazier…

After a few weeks of wandering, she had grown tired of being alone, of watching others from a distance. What would they say? Her friends, her family if she showed up at their doorstep? She moved from place to place, the memories she knew, watching on and feeling joy despite the endless pain in seeing everyone thriving, surviving. The monuments made touched her heart, she cried easier now it seemed as she moved like a living ghost wondering what she would do now. She needed something, making contact with those who had once provided her means, outlets for her skill set came to mind, but did she still want to do that? Be that? She didn’t know, but the loneliness, she needed a cure for that, to make contact with someone again.

@ask-the-assistant-darcy @mynameisanakin

It was a way in and a way out.

Was it ideal? Absolutely not, but it could be in time. Natalia was not completely on board with it, but she understood the importance. What they would be doing and what they could do all in good time. They just had to be patient, well Dariya had to be. If only she was more like her Mother in that way, but she was not. The child had more the temperament of her Father and Natalia supposed that was fair, that she would have to put up with that as penance for what happened to Dariya's Father and her lover. She tried very hard not to think about seeing him there frozen in time inside that warehouse, but every time she closed her eyes it was all she could see.

Usually mail order brides did not come with a child already, but this had been a specific request and the two of them fit the bill. It was well known since the end of World War II and the beginning of the Cold War that many women were looking to leave their homelands in Eastern Europe and find safety and comfort in the United States. New lives, more chances to do things that women weren't usually allowed to do and freedom, even in the bonds of holy matrimony.

But this wasn't about freedom or chances to start a new life. This was about gathering information on the enemy. This was doing the job they were made for. That they had been given the skills to do. Or well that's what they were supposed to be doing. However it wasn't Natalia's intentions exactly, not in full. She just had to bide her time and play the game and hopefully keep Dariya playing it as well.

"You look very nice." She commented to dark haired eight year old as they exited the plane. It ached to look at her, she resembled Yasha so very much, which sometimes Natalia was grateful for. "It's nice to dress up like this, don't you think?"

It wasn't something either of them is used to, they wore things to train in, and that was about it. Only when she was going out on a mission did Natalia wear other things, but now they had a small collection of clothing packed into a suitcase each and they would add to their collection here in the States.

They had arrived on time to the newly opened Washington Dulles International Airport after a stop in Paris, from Moscow. It was a stark difference between where they had come from to where they were now. It was brighter, alive with people moving about and friendlier.

Even the flight across the Atlantic had been different than the one to Paris. On this flight the stewardesses had fawned over Dariya or Darcy rather as she would be called now and Natalia had to remember that she was now Natasha too. It would be difficult, but they would manage.

Keeping a firm hold of the child's hand she moved forward looking around for their assignment. Her soon to be new husband and Darcy's new Father, provided the adjustment period went well. It had to go well, they could not fail and she hoped to whomever that her strange little daughter would remember that fact.

Natasha did not want to go back, they would not be going back.

She adjusted the sleeves of her smart gray travel skirt suit and looked down at Darcy again, moving her free hand to fix the collar of the girl's cute little blue dress. They weren't fancy, but practical and nice all the same, it was clear that they came from nothing, but made the best of it.

"Do you remember our story?" She asked quietly as they easily weaved in and around people, making their way to baggage claim and hopefully a one Captain Anakin Skywalker.