#Agatha Fair Trade

[littlealienproducts]

Recycled Cotton Heart Rug from NaturalCollection

The Ian Snow Agatha Pink & Red Heart Recycled Cotton Rug product is Fair Trade, Plastic Free, Vegan, Recycled and Made in India.

[cassiebones]

Character Analysis: Rio Vidal

(because Aubrey Plaza currently has a chokehold on my psyche)

It hasn't been confirmed on the show, but we all know that Rio is Death, correct? They're not even being subtle about it, so I'm gonna take it from that angle.

Okay, so Rio is ageless. She prefers to take the form of Aubrey Plaza because Aubrey is a hot motherfucker. Agreed? Okay.

I have no idea when she would have come into existence, only because I have no idea the nature of Death in this universe. Is she one of many deaths? She must be, because people die all over and she has enough free time to build this hate/love relationship with Agatha, whom she finds the second the Darkhold stops hiding her.

I think she may specifically be Death for witches. She ferries magical humans to the other side, and has done since magic was first invented.

She was never a child, never a newborn. She was fully grown and cognizant from her inception, born knowing what her job was for her entire life. She existed in ancient times, seen by many mortals as different gods/goddesses. She took the shapes they'd already imagined her to have. She was Anubis, Hades, Shinigami, Osiris, Hecate, Charon...whom were all different entities, but she took their forms to bring comfort to the recently departed.

I feel like Rio had a lot of empathy for the first thousand or so years of doing this job. She listened to life stories as she ferried magical beings to their next journeys. She learned about society, about expectations, about why one might choose not to stay on the mortal coil, or why one might be taken from it by force.

She comforted the ones reticent to leave their physical bodies. She held the hands of too many young witches, taken too soon because of the fear that surrounded them. That's who she had the most empathy for: young, misunderstood witches.

Her empathy fades as humanity progresses. Witches are still persecuted, but many of them get on her nerves. They think so highly of themselves. They think they Death owes them something, that they deserve a second chance at life.

Nobody gets a second chance at life.

And while it's her job, she starts to kind of resent it. The spirits that won't leave piss her off. They disturb the living as often as they can and Rio gets blamed for it. This is why she hates ghosts.

But there's nothing she can do.

And then she meets Agatha. Agatha who is young and powerful and so scared when they first meet. Agatha, who has just caused the deaths of her entire coven. Agatha, who didn't mean to cause so much destruction; she just needs to be properly taught.

So Rio teaches her. I think they would have this kind of relationship where Rio fosters Agatha's talents, where she takes Agatha to places where she can be as destructive with her magic as she wants and nobody will judge or demonize her. And every time Agatha masters a spell or gives Rio that super proud smile, Rio falls a little more in love with her.

She revitalizes Rio's love for her job. And it's not like it's Agatha's fault that other witches keep attacking her. And it's not like she can truly control that siphoning thing every time it happens. It just is what it is.

Agatha feels bad the first time it happens, too. But then she takes on Rio's logic of "well, they shouldn't have done that then," and all is well.

Agatha is alive and safe and Rio gets more bodies to ferry, more work. She actually really loves her work, especially because it means she gets to spend more time with Agatha, who just can't stop getting attacked for some reason...

There are rules to her job, of course.

First and most important rule: Death cannot kill. It is a conflict of interest. It wouldn't be very fair to give herself more bodies to ferry. Soon enough, there would be none left. In theory, at least. It's like insider trading, in a way.

Another one: Death cannot bring back life to one who has died. That is also not fair, and it's actually not even something she can do. She isn't Life; she's Death.

And: Death must ferry souls as soon as possible to the other life. Souls that linger too long become ghosts and it gets harder for them to cross over. It's considered a failure on her part when a Spirit becomes a Ghost.

She regrets ferrying Nicholas. That was her son, too. I will entertain no other theories. She loved that kid. She was just as much his mother as Agatha was. She knew how much it would hurt Agatha, but she also knew that she couldn't allow Nicky to become a ghost. It would be a torturous existence for them both. And if Agatha had her way and reanimated his body, forcing his soul to remain there, it would be so much worse.

It is her biggest regret and the only scar she has.

She doesn't have to lick wounds to heal them. That's just something she does for Agatha. Agatha either doesn't know this or doesn't fight it. I cannot even decide which one is funnier.

Rio is more than her job, though.

She is also a bottom.

Only for Agatha.

Moving on.

When Agatha uses the Darkhold to disappear, whatever beacon spell they'd had on each other since practically the beginning of their courtship is interrupted. She cannot find Agatha. She cannot even see Agatha, not even if she was two inches from her own face. Agatha makes it so they never run into each other, no matter whom she kills.

And then Wanda gets the Darkhold and it's like a fire alarm blaring in Rio's ear. She goes immediately to Agatha's side.

Yes, immediately. You know that was not a three-season delusion that Wanda put her under. "Agnes" had many, many different TV shows running through the spellbound mind. She just wasn't broken out of it until Teen got there.

Herb was so nonchalant about her little "true crime bug" that there had to have been several different medical series, soap operas, firefighter shows, other cop shows, comedies, home improvement shows, reality shows (The Real Housewives of West View?), and a mockumentary or two that came before it.

And Rio was a guest star in all of them, willing Agatha to just wake up. But Agatha didn't recognize her. She just knew that she hated her, in every single mind show. She just hated Rio Vidal.

And Rio was just in a hell of her own making, trying desperately to break Agatha out but not knowing how.

She loves this woman so much. All the threats to kill her and telling others where to find her? Foreplay. I can totally see them trolling each other as they ran around New England, pointing fingers at one another, calling out "Witch!" and snickering as the torches are lit.

Their sex breaks down houses. They have done it in a grave. Rio attempts to murder Agatha at least twice a day at their peak; it's called flirting, Jennifer.

Agatha, obviously knowing that Rio can't actually kill her (and she cannot kill Rio for obvious reasons), feels safest when she's around. Because Rio defends her. She knows the things that Agatha has done and she loves her (not in spite of them, but sort of because of them. Girl's a freak.) anyway.

And Rio hates her mother-in-law, Evanora, with a passion. She definitely has a list of people she hates from all the souls she's had to ferry. A lot of white Puritan men are on that list for their role in the Salem Witch trials. But Evanora is #1 on that list. It's on sight for that bitch.

And I think that makes Agatha soft for Rio. Because nobody has ever defended her against her mother, for her whole childhood. Nobody except Rio.

Which is why Agatha is definitely the one who proposed.

It was a mundane kind of day. Her powers had just killed another coven. Before they attacked, however, one of the witches called Agatha a "Witch-Killer" and said that her mother had always been right about her. She'd heard of how evil Agatha was as a child and this just proved it.

Rio's hands had glowed green and as she took the woman by the throat, slamming her against a tree, screaming at her, telling her about how the true evil was the woman who hated her own child so much as to plan a whole execution after abusing her for her entire childhood. How Agatha was a survivor and so much more powerful than her mother could ever hope to be. And that witches like her had to wake up to it and--then the witch blasted Agatha and it was all over.

Rio huffed as she dropped the empty husk of a body, glaring at the spirit as it floated above it.

"That was your own fault," she said. "If you had just listened to me, none of this would have happened."

The witch just glared and Rio rolled her eyes, collecting the souls of the other witches who had attacked Agatha along with this dumb with.

"I'll be right back," she promised Agatha, who was still thrumming with magic.

"Marry me!" Agatha said as Rio disappeared.

She was halfway through with the job when the words registered in her mind. She got them across in record time, returning to find Agatha on her knees, waiting for her, a purple ring of something she'd made from magic. She was smiling up at Rio, tears in her eyes.

"What did you say?" Rio asked, her heart pounding.

"Marry me," Agatha repeated, her voice tight. "Rio Vidal, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Rio dropped to her knees and tackled Agatha to the ground, raining kisses down on her while Agatha laughed.

And then they got married and lived happily for a century or two, until they had a son. I have no idea how Nicholas came to be. I have no idea why he is a Scratch rather than a Harkness or a Vidal. But I know he had two mommies who loved him more than anything. Rio probably never thought that she could be a wife to anybody, let alone a full mother, but she loved that boy. And she loves Agatha.

Rio has a big heart and she's a bit intense, but we love that for her.

11/10 character

[pruesgaultier]

lets talk: agatha all along finale

ahead: spoilers obvi, and my VERY annoyed thoughts read at your own risk. and remember something VERY important: these are MY thoughts, MY opinions on MY page.

before i get into the bad, which there was a lot of imo, lets talk about what i loved

☆ i loved that jen got away and got her powers back. i really love her character and i hope we see her again. still crazy how agatha is the one who bound her like omg ???? good for her love that diva

☆ i love the agatha and nicky scenes. and then creating the ballad together, soooo sweet. she was such a good mom im so sad

☆ i love the alice part as heartbreaking as it was

☆ the part where billy created the makeshift grave for alice, lilia, and sharon

☆ "MY LOVE" "YOU LOVE ME" "WHY DON'T YOU WANT ME" im sickkkk they're absolutely insane and i love them so so much

☆ rio planting the flowers over agatha's grave, im sickkkk

☆ AGATHARIO KISS !!! was so so beautiful and passionate i love them.

☆ ghost agatha is sexy, don't know how i feel about her hair tho. some angles i like it, some angles i dont

now what did i hate, just about everything else.

☆ i hate how the first time we get a lesbian kiss in marvel, one of them dies. the bury your gays trope is so fucking tired. wrap it up. i don't care about male gay rep because they already had it in the mcu with eternals, it's not fair that when lesbians finally get rep, we don't get to keep it.

☆ not only do i just not fucking like billy, i hate how so much of this show centered around him, like if this was supposed to get me excited and into billy, it failed drastically. FUCK BILLY ??? WHO CARES ??? the show is called agatha all along and i feel like it was billy all along in too many parts. we didnt even get to see too much of her because of HIM. ALSO her sacrificing herself just to end up basically being his ghost side kick is also stupid. because while i get agatha not being able to face her son again, then why kill her ? why not let her live, what because he's a maximoff that we're supposed to see in later projects ??? like who gives a shit.

✧ they put entirely too much of this show on wiccan / joe's popularity and it didnt work nor make sense.

☆ also, on the topic of billy, i don't get why agatha just didnt drain his power and kill him. i know she made the deal with rio and stuff but he could've reincarnated into another body and they could continue wiccan's journey like that but in a different body. it honestly just seems like marvel sacrificed agatha to keep joe locke and its like who fucking cares.

☆ i hate how im left with more questions than answers.

✧ how and why did rio and agatha get married? agatha has been killing witches for so long, and im assuming rio appeared everytime, when did they get together?

✧ rio referes to nicholas as nicky, why? from what we saw in those 6 years agatha and nicky were together, she wasn't there.

✧ why did they make it seem like we would see them raising nicky together?

✧ they described agathario's history as "long and complicated", yet we never saw that or the aftermath of their relationship after rio took nicky? did rio and nicky meet before? because he seemed to know her or at least not be scared enough to feel "stranger danger" like what happened.

✧ in episode 4, we get agathario almost kiss and hat seemed like a healing moment for them and in the end we get agatha never wanting to see rio again ? why ? what happened that we didn't see for this seemingly drastic change.

✧ in ep 5, rio very clearly hates agatha's mother and refuses to let agatha go with her, and obviously we as an audience can infer the reason why, agatha told her what happened but still.

✧ how did the agatha trading nicky for the darkhold rumor even start ? agatha gave birth alone in the woods and gave him a completely different name, who knew about her son ? how did they find out ? im sooo confused by all of this

i love this show, or at least the concept, but i don't love the execution. it was supposed to be about us learning and getting to know agatha and i honestly feel like i don't know her at all. i loved eps 1-4 and ep 7, everything else, eh.

thanks for coming to my ted talk !

[susspence]

Agatha All Along Theory

SPOILERS So from the funko pop it looks like Rio is Death incarnate which still leaves the question of why exactly does Agatha hate her so much even though they obviously at the minimum had a relationship...

Doesn't matter if you believe that Agatha traded her son for the DarkHold intentionally or not, Agatha clearly had a moment in the past (as shown by the hallucination she had) that she found the crib empty with the Darkhold in there instead. Now who do you think would have physically taken Nicholas to doors? None other that Rio fucking Vidal, Death herself. Imagine Agatha, being alone in the house just with the baby as Rio has been very busy as of late, going into her sons room to find the book there instead of Nicholas and FREAKING out. Immediately she would be summoning/calling her wife (lets be honest no lesbian relationship is that spicy without them being somewhat wives) for help only for Rio to appear in pain and probably extremely guilty. Agatha would plead to her as Death to bring back their son but since Rio probably has some bound to her making her follow the rules of creation, she can't. The one person tasked with making souls die, had to kill her own son and couldn't bring him back. Even though its fair and just that Rio can't do that, Agatha would be FURIOUS at Rio for taking their son away from them....

[halloweensqueen-supreme]

Why I think it was against the rules for Rio to kill Agatha at the beginning but not the end of AAA

I replied to some people already on this but I figured I’d just post it

I think that Rio couldn’t kill her unless she needed the body. She could kill Agatha at the end because the ultimatum was Agatha or Billy, Agatha saved Billy meaning she had to die because Rio was short a body (think like Pixar’s soul if you’ve seen that) Billy stole a body and unless he turned himself in, Rio would keep being a body short because he’d keep taking a new one, but as of now, he’s fine because Agatha gave Rio her body instead. But like there’s probably going to be an issue with Tommy cause that’s another body that Rio is now missing, meaning either Tommy or Billy is gonna have to turn themself in, or someone else who wasn’t necessarily supposed to die yet will have to go in their place. So most likely someone else will end up sacrificing themself (or at least “give up their body�� of sorts like Agatha did cause ngl that barely counts as a sacrifice) for Tommy. But I think that sort of trade really only works if it was Rio who killed the person or if like the reason that person died was solely for the trade, almost like a nexus event. That death was not supposed to happen, so the fact that it did meant that, at least for Rio, that’s cool, fair trade, and that person that wasn’t supposed to be alive, could stay alive.

[worldsokayestmagicalgirl]

*clears throat* *pulls out pitch pipe* why do I only wanna draw you when you CRY

I can’t believe I’ve never completed a full picture of Amoré & Agatha, since she’s another NPC I tend to yoink for AUs a lot.

Anyways, this is the first addition to the character scrapbook that I never got around to drawing when it happened in session.

Amoré has a really complicated relationship with her (great 10x??) Aunt. She didn’t even know she existed until her parents sent her off to get some magic items appraised by a reclusive relation that lives in the woods.

Within half a day of being there, she got hit with the knowledge that this woman now has full guardianship duties over her. Despite the fact that Amoré had only seen her parents as a convenient but minor annoyance for many years, it still completely blindsided her that they could make this decision at all. And without her finding out until she was already out of the Estate.

This woman she barely knows somehow holds all the authority to strip her of her family name & status. She declares that Amoré has failed to perform well on a task she set for her, bringing into question her worthiness as the next heir to the Bellridge Legacy. She suspects that Amoré has lost her connection to her Angelic Guide, & is forcing her to face the reality of it.

Also…she stole two highly trained Bellridge staff & gave her Sylphi as collateral, which Amoré did not hesitate to make it known she found it to be “not a fair trade.”

After their first night in Agatha’s home, Amoré’s old nightmares begin to resurface after a few months of deceptive peace. And now she is torn between shoving away this woman who pokes mercilessly at her most tender wounds, & leaning on her as a source of support as the only person who could probably guide her through her broken Guide connection.

Too bad Amoré is allergic to asking for help ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[quiescentdestiny]

Decidedly started wayward son now (finally). Now that I've finished both the AOUV books (that brain rot is gonna be there a WHILE though ngl. I'm gonna be thinking about those books forever too.) But I also (finally) have a physical copy of Wayward Son. And the third book, so I don't have to stop.

anyways. contemplating just putting my thoughts live-streamed once more, but I might have already read 20 chapters (RR why. why are there so many chapters in these books. it's too many.) (I live-streamed the first 20 chapters to a friend on discord lmao.

Spoilers under the cut I guess?

It's good to see that Agatha is one step away from trading one magickal cult for another less magickal one lmao poor girl 🤣

Me three pages later: well at least she knows 🤣 God, I love her.

fun fact! everyone on goodreads hates Agatha. I think they're wrong and am even more convinced that a bunch of people who like to review things on goodreads, cannot, in fact, read.

Oh boy Penny. Well that is certainly a decision. BF hangs up on you, show up in America to surprise him. what could go wrong.

oof. yeah that. that could go wrong.

No no, Baz is right I'd also be mad if I had to spend an entire day driving through Nebraska. Road trips suck. 😌

I agree with his entire fucking list. Illinois also sucks. And Kansas.

Poor man. At least he got cheese cake factory out of it I suppose. Does cheesecake factory really not exist in Europe?

Simon having all this idealistic wonder about fucking Iowa is hilarious 😂 man Baz is so real. the last road trip I went on was 16 hours to the coast of Texas. you know what's even better than Iowa being so similar to Illinois that they may as well not have separated them? driving ten hours in one day and still being in fucking Texas.

Glshdvdisbksa reading a British perspective of a Renn Faire is absolutely fucking thrilling. I love this book.

lmaooooo fighting vampires at the renn faire 10/10. as an American, who has in fact been to multiple Renaissance Faires I love this book.

dfghdjkfsgh man this poor kid is not dealing with being in a civilian after war very well at all, but man the moment something interesting happens he's like ✨😊 meanwhile I AM CRYING ABOUT IT. how is the trauma going there Simon?

"I was being poetic before, about America being endless. But Nebraska really is endless." my lord this man really just sums up road-trips.

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [25] chapter vi, part ii

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

-

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

-

chapter summary : astrid gathers her allies, and draws the attention of her enemies. loki pays a heavy price for a victory.

recommended listening : rebel soul, katharine appleton, maja norming

-

tag list: @femmealec, @mischief2sarawr

-

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

-

Astrid had told the truth, as always. Ophelia was not her only appointment.

Neither was she the first, however.

Hours earlier, wrapped in a fine, black woollen pea coat and comfortable trainers, Astrid had been walking through the fog and frigid, sea-soaked air of the Cornish coastal town of Looe.

The historical fishing village was sheltered within a deep valley, prefaced inland by thick, verdant forests and winding country roads. Ivory villas and weathered stone cottages were built into the slopes of the cliffs, bordered by a riot of meadow-flora and hardy coastal shrubs, the settlement split in half by the river that decanted into the small marina, and the open, pewter waters of the North Atlantic.

The place held a kind of quaint, antique seaside charm that was ubiquitous to Britain, in Astrid’s experience- a nostalgia that was just slightly foreign to her, evoking the same feeling as the second-hand copies of those interbellum novels by Enid Blyton and Agatha Christie that she used to read on rainy days at home.

She could feel Loki watching through her eyes, dozing gently, shamelessly indolent as he clung to sleep.

Exhaling a smile, Astrid consciously drank in as much as she could. She drew the mouldering, salt-stained tang of seaweed and ocean shallows deep into her lungs, face raised to the damp air, clear-eyed and refreshed.

It was one of the many reasons to be relieved to be out of SHIELD’s custody: wherever she went, and whatever she saw, Loki could experience it through their link. And she was one of the rare, fortunate few who could go anywhere, at any time, with little enough effort.

A flush of affection bloomed in her, like a kiss at the nape of her neck, Loki reading her intentions like braille.

Astrid giggled, the ache of want in her chest ebbing slightly, and glanced out across the harbour.

It was the off-season; the tourism trade withered into hibernation with the last days of August, and first weeks of September. Even so, the picturesque village obviously received a fair number of visitors in the summer months. Across the town, there was an abundance of cafés, bakeries, fishmongers, local crafts shops, ice cream parlours, wetsuit and board rental stores. A sprawling car park had been cut at the base of the hill, and a number of small commercial pleasure boats were moored against the harbour walls, anchored between algae-stained tangerine buoys, advertising sea safaris and recreational fishing trips on printed boards affixed to the weather-rusted harbour railing. A few places were shuttered, but other businesses remained open even into November, catering to the permanent residents of the town.

As she chased the slope upwards, approaching from the narrow, eastern flank of the harbour, towards the ageing arcade and stone bridge across the river, a thought occurred to her.

“Loki. Do you like seafood?”

She felt Loki stir. Astrid could almost imagine his head lifting from his cupped hand- or rolling across a pillow to look at her, black curls spilling, eyebrows steepled in mild askance.

I tend to eat more game, I suppose, he answered cautiously. Hunts are too popular on Asgard for it to be otherwise. But I do like shellfish. Although it is seen as peasant food on Asgard. Cheap fare, common as mud, to be eaten at the harbour by tradesfolk.

“It used to be the same here, for centuries,” Astrid replied, the corner of her mouth twisting up sardonically. “Oysters were still delicious when they were only good for the poor.”

Loki laughed softly. It is ridiculous, is it not? The arbitrary standards of high taste.

He hesitated for a long moment.

I do like oysters, he admitted, almost nervous.

A lilt kicked into Astrid’s step, her mood lifting.

“Oysters, then.” Widening her stride into a loping gait, forming rolling bounce on the balls of her feet, she lifted her face to the headwinds, letting it blow her hair back. “Maybe mussels or scallops, if I can’t find any? Oh- and cream tea.”

Cream tea?

“It’s, ah- like a dessert version of afternoon tea, I suppose? It’s sometimes called Cornish tea.” Astrid crossed the bridge at a brisk clip, shoulder bag tapping at her hip. “You’ll love it. Black tea, served with split scones, clotted cream, and jam. Strawberry is traditional, but I prefer raspberry.”

At the mention of something sweet, she felt Loki’s interest instantly perk.

Astrid’s victory dimmed as Loki swiftly crushed down on his eagerness, cooling into reflexive indifference.

Then you should have raspberry, my heart, he replied mildly, like fingers skimming her cheekbone.

“Mm.”

Astrid strummed her fingers against the cross-strap of her bag, tension furling.

She wondered if she could just scream I want to give you this, let me give you this, I want to give you everything, be selfish with me, just ask me and it’s yours, yours, yours, just say the word, put me to the test, let me prove it across the connection, or if that would be too blunt.

She opted for a subtler option. For now. “Seeing as we’re breaking tradition, we could change the tea out as well.”

Peppermint?

“I thought you might prefer rosehip. Or something floral.”

It’s your tongue, darling.

Astrid nipped her lower lip.

“I like sharing my tongue with you.”

She felt his train of thought stutter, before heating.

You’re playing a dangerous game, Astra, Loki warned, dark and edging into primal, shifting into a voice behind her left ear that seemed spoken through gritted teeth.

Astrid startled, almost tripping, as she felt the sensation of the pads of his fingers swiping at her inner thigh.

Her brain short-circuited for a moment.

Hm. Are you curious, darling?

She bit her lip, restraining the impulse to goad him further.

Following Loki revealing how he could twist his magic into her through their link, Astrid had begun asking about the possibilities. The conversation had been mostly practical- but the thought had occurred to her, even if she had quickly become distracted when it struck her exactly how ingenious the method was, how brilliant Loki was, how blithely oblivious he seemed to that fact.

But now- despite herself, folding her lip between her teeth in an effort to pin her unravelling thoughts in place- Astrid lingered over exactly how far and how intensely he could project sensation into her, how much sensory feedback he received back through their link, and whether-

No. Nope. Nope, nope, no. Work first, North. We’ll explore that another time.

Despite the curl of delighted, thoroughly distracted mischief from Loki, he let the matter drop.

Astrid exhaled quietly, grateful.

Today, she was visiting an old friend. It would be unwise to arrive disarmed of her wits.

Astrid swung off the bridge and into West Looe, swerving in a hairpin turn back down the hill, sinking into the warren of the town. There were only a few figures out in the midmorning light, walking dogs or tending to their boats, the quiet seeming to echo against the rush of the sea. The narrow streets were barely broad enough to accommodate a single car, the cobbles uneven and worn smooth underfoot, none of the structures more than two or three stories tall; most of them were at least a century or two old, patchworked with modern features, dating to the days of smugglers and portside inns and the great age of sail, their timbers ancient and their walls full of ghosts and memories.

She came to a halt outside a particular storefront.

The entire street was built into the incline of the hill, its rowhouses sitting a foot or so below the edge of the pavement, squatting low. The windows of the ground floor were almost level with Astrid’s crown, the sills above within reach if she cared to make the short jump, walls a washed white between dark Tudor beams.

Astrid tipped her head up a millimetre, the aperture of her senses opening to sweep the interior, as she read the sign affixed above the door.

Witches’ Brew, it read, white font upon a rich violet backing. On the left side of the sign was the outline of a cat, paws upon the rim of a bubbling cauldron to peer at the contents.

Bookshop, was added underneath, in smaller, blunter font. Tarot. Occult. Café.

You know, Loki commented, there is an infusion made from íviðia blossoms called witches’ brew.

Astrid tipped her head. “Really?” She asked softly.

Mother sent some blossoms to my cell recently- if you care to share my tongue later?

She winced into a grin, knowing that he wasn’t going to let that go any time soon. “Mm, in exchange for cream tea?” She teased.

Astrid felt a pair of arms slip and loop around her midriff, a mouth skimming her crown.

She felt the gentle billow of his sigh, the phantom of his chest against her back.

You drive quite a bargain.

With a faint smile, Astrid stepped down to the shop’s door, and turned the handle.

A classic shopkeeper’s bell chimed overhead, jostled into motion, before the door clicked shut behind her.

She was met with the fragrance of incense- a thicker, heavier curtain of agarwood, compared to the delicately floral smoke that lingered in the training halls where she grew up, and which her father preferred- blended with the earthiness of burned white sage, and coffee grounds.

The shop was quiet. Her steps were muffled by a dark patterned carpet, the space airy and inviting, despite the low ceilings and semi-subterranean position. At the right, the space folded into a geometric puzzle of tall bookshelves, walls paved with spines, the stacks labelled by genre with signs in blackboard and chalk, a few tables laid out with bricks of bestsellers and new arrivals. To her left was the register- unoccupied, with a bell to ring for service- and several tables and shelves, displaying various occult-themed wares. There were box-trays of tumbled, semi-precious gemstones, kitsch plastic goblets with dragons curled around their stems, dowsing crystals and decorative glass figurines, starter guides to palmistry and divining the stars.

Her eyes skipped past all of them, and up.

A large sign was placed at the bottom of a flight of narrow stairs. It advertised the café on the second floor, and tea leaf readings.

Astrid didn’t move to ring the bell on the counter, but the one at the door must have been enough.

“I’ll be right with you, dear!”

A woman’s voice called down from the upper floor. It was American-accented, almost neutral, but underscored with something in the region of Massachusetts.

Astrid smiled, folding her arms and turning away.

“That’s alright!” She replied, voice raised to carry as clear as struck crystal, twisting at the waist to speak over her shoulder. “Take your time! I’m here to see a friend.”

Movement upstairs stilled.

A beat passed, before Astrid felt the familiar crackle of magical wards being activated.

Loki reacted, his mana surging into her nerves with a precision that knocked the breath from her chest, pressing up to the surface of her skin, preparing to force his own counter-wards into her flesh.

Catching her breath, fingers fluttering at the foreign magic in her blood, Astrid sent him a gentle nudge of reassurance.

“Did you not hear the word friend, Agatha?” She yelled up, tone dry and hip cocking. “Your wards didn’t react when I walked in. Now would you please quit it?”

Before Loki tries to rip apart your spellwork and fracture your magical core in the backlash, she added internally.

Don’t tempt me, darling, Loki warned, poised like an adder to strike. Who is she?

The wards lingered, bristling like spines- before settling back.

A moment later, Astrid heard footsteps, and the creak of the ageing banister under new weight.

As I said. She’s a friend… of a sort.

Of a sort?

The subject of discussion halted, a few steps above ground floor.

Astrid remained with her back turned for several seconds, shoulder blades open and unguarded.

After deeming that her message had sufficient time to sink in- if it was going to at all- Astrid turned.

It had been about a century and a quarter, chronologically, since they had last seen each other- during the last of her father’s missions that Astrid had accompanied him on, before she had gone looking for answers.

The inciting incident that drove her to look for answers, in fact.

True to form, however, Agatha Harkness had adapted, and today was the very image of a modern, new-age witch.

Stocky, square-jawed, and casually confident, she possessed the mien and bone structure that would command the description of a handsome woman. Dressed in plimsoles, thick black leggings, and a cable-knit sweater the exact velvety depth of wolfsbane, she looked deceptively, cosily middle-class, her dark chestnut hair styled in a cloud of tight waves to her shoulders, framing her fair, round face and dark cobalt eyes.

“Well.” She draped an elbow across the rail, sleeves rolled back, sizing Astrid up with a wide, crooked smile and a gaze as hard as flint. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Astrid was simultaneously reminded of a salacious, bored housewife with a mind like a steel trap, and a large crocodile sunbathing by the water’s edge.

“It’s good to see you, Agatha,” Astrid said sincerely, light as air. “You look well. I’m glad.”

She tried to sacrifice my soul to Mephistopheles once, Astrid admitted to Loki, deciding that it would be better to get it out of the way now.

She did what? Loki snarled, alarmed.

Long story. Daddy stepped in. She came to regret it.

She could feel Loki glaring into her. Because you made her regret it, or because she decided to regret it? Because that’s quite a distinction, darling.

Astrid almost laughed. His mind was always so quick.

Alright, fine. A little of both.

Jaw and mouth pursed tightly, Agatha’s eyes flitted sharply across and behind Astrid’s form, darting as dragonflies.

Astrid softened her stance, loosening her limbs and opening her posture.

“It’s just us,” she said reassuringly.

Conveniently, Astrid did not mention that us included the sorcerer-prince whose mind was currently linked to her nervous system.

Astra.

His tone was grim, steeled, but quietly restrained.

Astrid sensed the unspoken undercurrent underneath- that he wanted her out of that shop, now.

Astrid reached for him, slotting herself into his edges, feeling him shift to accommodate her.

Please trust me, Loki. I have this.

She felt him hesitate, her calm focus an emollient.

Besides, she added. You might find that you like her.

I highly doubt that, dove, Loki replied haughtily, even as he relented.

She kept silent. Something told her that Loki would refuse to see the similarities, even if she informed him of exactly how her long story with Agatha had ended.

Agatha’s expression had stiffened slightly, eyes narrowing to a squint.

“Just so that we’re clear,” she drawled, gesturing vaguely across her with a jabbing index finger, “you’re not here to check in on me, or- drag me away to some kind of tribunal, are you?”

Astrid tipped her head consideringly. “Have you done anything to warrant it?”

Once again, Astrid opted not mention that she already had a fair idea of the answer. She had made it her responsibility to know; confidence in her decision didn’t negate the gamble, and Astrid wouldn’t ignore her culpability if things went sour.

As far as she could tell, however, Agatha had been smart. She had spent the years since they had last seen each other travelling and researching and collecting, restraining herself to a few petty grudges, mild curses, and mostly harmless, mostly necessary fraud. All in all, nothing that Astrid had found worth getting into a snit over.

Besides. That thing with the carnivorous rabbit had been pretty funny.

Astrid could feel Loki trying to pretend that he wasn’t intrigued.

Agatha snorted. “Not in my book, but we both know that doesn’t mean much. Even my best behaviour means being a little badsometimes.”

“Mm. Well, so long as they deserved it, I’m happy to remain ignorant.”

Brows raised, corners of her mouth tugging into a shrug, Agatha looked pleasantly surprised.

“Huh. Well, in that case- it’s good to see you too, Little Miss Dante,” she said wryly, dragging out the old nickname as though she were dusting off a spellbook, descending the last few steps. “Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, how have you been for the past- oh, hundred and thirty years or so?”

“Not quite so long on my side, Madame Virgil,” Astrid admitted, satin-smooth as sugar ribbons, “but I’ve- been busy.”

The Divine Comedy? Loki noticed.

Mm, good catch.

He paused, quietly assessing- before relaxing slightly in realisation.

Aha. I see.

Astrid held down her smile, but sent its warmth in his direction.

“And what about your dish of a father?” Agatha asked.

“Not interested, Agatha.”

And still hung up on whoever gave him that watch.

“Huh. Pity.” Agatha paused, appraising Astrid with long, slow sweeps. One forearm folded against her lower ribs, the opposite hand raised, fingertips rubbing together. “Any luck, then, dear, with that little- soul-searching identity quest of yours?”

Lifting one shoulder, Astrid let herself smile abstrusely.

“Some. Thank you for asking.”

“Well, you know. I like to know who and what I’ve made a deal with,” she said, head lowered into an unblinking stare, as though wondering how Astrid’s liver might taste, “as a rule.”

“It’s a good rule.” She said mildly.

Agatha looked at her for a long moment, one corner of her mouth and eye tensing- then straightened, clapping her palms together and spinning on her heel.

“Well, since you came all this way- fancy some tea? I could read your leaves for you! I must say, I’ve gotten pretty good- or, well, as good as you can get, with fortune-telling. It’s always a bit of a crapshoot, you know. Less mess than the animal guts, though.”

Astrid adjusted the strap of her bag against her shoulder as Agatha began to head up towards the café, not even waiting for her reply.

“Why not? We do have a lot to catch up on.” She began to follow her up the stairs, drawing a shallow breath as she went in for the kill. “And I think I have a way to get Karmar-Taj off your back so that you can come out of hiding, so I’m sure you’ll want to-”

Agatha turned back to her sharply. “What?”

Her eyes were slightly wild, incredulous, and treacherously hopeful.

Reflecting briefly, Astrid supposed that she should feel a little bad.

That was, if not for the memory of choking sulphur, of her face and throat scorching with brimstone-heat, and the sound of dimensions ripping apart like adipose from muscle tissue and Agatha laughing broad and wild- just before Mephistopheles betrayed her, just before Astrid regained the strength to yank the witch away from the consequences of her own actions.

Just because she had forgiven did not mean she was inclined to be nice.

Besides. Agatha would respect her less if she was.

Loki watched her work, ruthlessly, using honesty as a weapon and the truth like she she owned it, cautious and amused and a little proud.

Astrid arched her brows, both at him and the witch standing before her.

“You didn’t think I’d come without a gift, did you?”

-

Some time later, a platter of a dozen shucked oysters in front of her, seated with a sea view and décor of scrubbed wood and clean white walls, Astrid made the first entry on her shopping list.

Tea leaves.

-

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

jen doesnt react at all to rio saying "because her own mother tried to have her executed" which would suggest it's part of the legend of agatha harkness, right? it's common knowledge and collectively as witches it seems decided this is not a defense worth anything

which fair enough i guess, explanation not excuse, 'serial killer' is not an inaccurate description, but that does mean that people have considered it. and must have thought about why her mother tried to have her executed

i feel like this might be another thing where the known story has the chronology reversed; she didnt trade the darkhold for her son, she lost her son first. her mother didnt try to kill her because she had already done a murder spree, the dead coven was the consequence, not the crime

or maybe! maybe. maybe it's that a coven is like, the most precious thing for a witch. the ones without live kind of miserable pitiful lives, unable to be a good example of what a witch can be. cant fly. cant be good witches bc theyre just scraping by. so maybe if a coven is considered the most treasured thing to have, the consensus among witches is that you would and should always die for it. that if her mother tried to have her executed there was probably a good reason, but even if there wasnt she should have died rather than killing her coven

bc that was also the crime that agatha was being accused of wasnt it? for a human witch trial it would have been "youre a witch", but for this witch trial it was "you have betrayed your coven"

[fatefought]

where: the beach near district four's victor's village

when: three months after the seventieth hunger games

who: finnick odair & annie cresta ( @secretlics )

it's the beginning of october. the hot summer is beyond them. the shore once being filled with many has also dwindled. certain trades are back in season, children are back in school, and the breeze that surrounds the waters has a faint coolness to it. yet, that doesn't deter annie. before the arena, she would be busy at the market helping agatha. she'd begun picking up the slack that came with marcin's passing at around thirteen. it wasn't an expectation. but a few years after he was gone, annie just started to. she'd like to be back, distract herself with a list of tasks to do. agatha won't have her back yet. there's worry there. she's hired some to take annie's place. convincing her grandmother to let her pay for that was a battle ; annie had at least won that one. staying at her new home feels suffocating though, so she often wanders. she takes her time exploring the very places that a young annie cresta would spend hours at spellbound.

ever a creature of habit, she always finds herself back at the water. the change of seasons does not stop the brunette. all she has is time now ; though sometimes when sudden splashing is heard from the waters, eyes dart quickly prepared to see a former tribute. ( it never is, thankfully. ) she still mostly finds peace with the water except for that. slowly, annie has begun to pick away at her neighbors. getting to know them, probably being a bit overbearing. she's one to act like she's never met a stranger. finnick odair is one of them. she'd have a brief opportunity to get to know him in the days leading up to the arena, but it was fleeting. kind of senseless to try when you're going into the hunger games. after it all, finn had been endlessly around. sometimes, she wondered if he had wishes it had been percy. ( sometimes when annie lays in bed at night, she wishes it was. )

still, annie dragged him out to the water with a basket in hand. she keeps walking, enjoying the feeling of sand below her feet. even in the fall, the sand was still warm. the sun had been out most of the day, and the seashore had soaked it. agatha will be out late at the market today. it wouldn't do to try to wait up for her. however, she doesn't like being alone either. it's nice having someone around who understands, and who's close to her age. finn's good company. she turns her head slightly to look at him as they near a spot that would fair well for their meal. " did you grow up around here or did you move after ... everything ? " district four was large. she'd lived close enough, a few miles south from the other side of the local market.

[ladyohdeath]

SHE KNOWS IT'S THERE. it seems only fair for agatha harkness to have a permanent mark on her body, proof that she'd once loved her. death has to live the rest of eternity with this love and sorrow deep in her heart, so this seems to be a trade off that feels appropriate. the moment they're alone, finally ignored by those annoying witches, she's crowding agatha in, stopping her with the tree at her back as her hands scramble to expose the tattoo.

she doesn't know how to explain what she feels when she sees it. it's a melancholy mix of emotions, it sits in her mouth like a sour taste. visions of moments form the past try to rush over her, but she shakes it off as she drags her eyes away to meet agatha's.

she searches there, for what she does not know. she's surprised when she sees the flash of emotions in agatha's eyes, when she can practically see the vulnerability there. she used to crave that same vulnerably, hungering for it almost as much as she hungers for souls. there was a time where she would stand back and watch agatha, long after they parted ways, and yearn like a human. she hates how she knows firsthand how all these emotions feel. sometimes it's as though agatha ruined her, gave her humanity she had no tools to deal with.

she hates, more so, how her nonexistent heart seems to beat faster, how she feels warm in the back of her neck, all of these human emotions she'd unwillingly manifested in her own body. she feels out of control around agatha. she almost wishes for the distance again, but she pushes in closer instead, whispering into her ear.

you creature. it does nothing to erase the satisfaction she suddenly feels.

death lets out a short laugh as she stumbles back. "i knew you missed me," she purrs, but she doesn't push back in to crowd her once more. she points toward the tattoo, and states the obvious. "you kept it all these years, huh?" oh yes, i am going to remember this, she says with a smug smirk and a raise of her eyebrow's. she takes slow steps closer, giving agatha room to push her off again. "looks good on you."

@ladyohdeath: you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you. accepting.

DEATH IS A FORLORN PUPPY NIPPING AT HER HEELS. agatha seethes at this thought as she crosses the distance from the camp her coven has set up, and feels the presence of rio fall into step just behind her shoulder. a shadow once as familiar as her own. for decades she had finally escaped this oppressive, rogue chip of her heart she had broken off so many centuries ago ― and now it carves at her chest with a blade, trying to find its way back in. vulnerable, suddenly everything is piercing her skin with something ravenous, crowding in on her. and what is she to do if not lash out in return?

this game between them is well - played. agatha whirls, a tempest wrapped in a woman: rio stands her ground, as ancient and unbending as the earth itself. tempers flare, ignited by the desperate ache of love buried six feet under, the splintered grief, and something about it all is still so exciting. to get under death's skin. even without magic, agatha's mind has always been her weapon, her mouth the trigger. and suddenly her back is flat against the bark of one of the runt's conjured trees, the fire the others gather 'round shrouded behind several yards of shrub ( when had she stalked so far away? ), and cold hands scrabble at the hem of her blouse tucked into purple slacks. not quite fighting, certainly not embracing, but her body burns all the same. it remembers, even if she refuses to.

( i should have banished you when i had the chance. ) she says it with a sharp grin, waiting for rio to take the bait: watches that dark gaze flicker to hers, feels hands falter on her waist, before something blazes anew in the green witch's eyes. she expects a fight. instead, a hiss expels between her teeth as death's fingers finally find purchase on her flesh, bundling the fabric of her shirt higher to expose fair skin ― and all at once, it is like a bucket of cold water splashes over her, realizing what rio is searching for. a split second, her eyes follow her former lover's, catching on the monochrome petals of that cursed flower blooming just above her waistband. the game is no longer thrilling. agatha feels pinned, lungs shuddering around a breath of suffocating air ( rio's scent ). tears burn the corners of her eyes as rio's words brush over her ear, breath caressing the shell of it, too warm. ( she should have. she should have burned everything that had anything to do with lady death. )

her lips curl back, cornered prey, shoving her palms flat against rio's chest to force her back a few steps. shaky hand smoothes the rumbles from her shirt, opposite index extended accusingly. “ keep your hands to yourself, you creature. ” like they're still playing. like agatha hasn't been rattled to her core, sucking in desperate breaths of this false road, as long as it doesn't taste like her.

[stillmadaboutpetra]

Can you talk further about Simon's construction of masculinity???? Plz😊

ive so genuinely tried to answer this. im really bad at making the thoguhts in my head make sense and im also a lazy sack of shit this is 100% incomphrensible and i cant make it better. this is why i write fic cuz i can explain my thoughts my clearly thru story. 

ill try to explain in shorthand rip

simon - maleness in the hero's arc / traditional construction of the knight figure / forming masculine ideals without early tutelage / greek ideals / purposeful genre construction

primary male figures in his life r The Mage and Baz.

we see him wanting to imitate the mage. we know from simons own assistance he does NOT view the mage as a father figure. the mage is...part of simon's purpose. the mage is part of the questline. he's a waypoint, a guide, an image but not personal with simon. simon considers things (cleft chin, goatee) the same way he considers stuff like,,,james dean and making vroom vroom noises in the car. play-acting

but with Baz and Baz's masculinity

simon compares himself to baz nonstop. its a #wifegoals or #lifegoals situation. simon grows...yeah well baz grew more. simon felt posh in his blazer...baz was posher. simons the most powerful mage? Yeah well baz is a /better/ mage. graceful, ruthless. etc ad nauseum

BUT. baz's masculinity is queer. in fact, baz is a femme fatale.

again i want to explain that but wont be very good

baz's identity and appearance, again purposefully vampiric, perfectly vampiric is...femme fatale (aka vampire.) (not only his physical appearance/attributes but his....role. he “sways” simon AND agatha to the “dark” side. he fucks up simons destiny, in a way. if it weren’t for baz, simon would not have deviated. he lures the hero (and the hero’s chick) from the golden path. as simon says at the end of CO, giving up his magic for baz is a fair trade. baz is the catalyst the solution the end fucking goal. its BAZ. but also

baz is a little honey trap. with nico. with lamb. with anything and everything. which is also what mirrors agatha, keeping baz firmly in the femme fatale position. he’s foiling simon as much as he’s foiling agatha. its the classic uhm choice between the good girl and the bad girl 

hes a gay man ya exactly so what does that do to simon's mirroring? 

fuck the. does this make sense? listen

“proved himself as a man and a mage” is like the end all be all of it. also when simon talks about baz’s honor (a mage thing but...honor is....also about men and.....gender...and sex) anyway. 

to simon, baz is IT. the IT girl, the eveything. the peak form. simon has no issues with Baz’s vampirism detracting from his identity/masculinty/life (not like baz does.) in fact, simon’s into it (re: all the meta about monster4monster queer4queer). Alternatively, HIS monstrosity (dragon bits) isn’t good enough to match baz’s. is it a dick measuring contest? idunno maybe. im kidding 

so wait what okay. #lifegoals#wifegoals . 

wait so okay remember in WS in the truck and the lines like “(Baz) smiles prettily like a girl, but hes not a girl” or some shit idun WAIt okay i got my book

page 152 simon’s pov “I huddle close to Baz half in his lap, while the shock of still being alive passes. He holds me there, a little too tightly. usually i forget baz is so much stronger than me. he doesnt carry himself like hes that strong. he doesnt touch me that way. he never pulls or pushes me, no like that. not any harder than i can push back.”  

153 “Baz cast his eyes down and smiles - girlishly, i would have said, but on him its not girlish. its, i dont know. vulnerable.”

OKAY LETS JSUT stick with those 2 bits for now. the line on 153 stuck in my brain. im going to takl about monsters now.

baz in 152 evidence always mitigates his vampirism. he matches it to what simon can give. simon FOrgets that theres a difference in them. and that difference, strength (masculine) is from monstrosity (Other.) 

-- can i call back he’s not a monster hes a villain hes not a villain hes a boy?

what would that make simon? hes not a monster hes a hero hes not a hero hes a boy? 

lets metamorph all that - hes not a boy hes a villain/hero hes not a villain/hero hes a monster.

am i leading this to monsters? yes. Holy fuck im bad at meta how did i graduate. anyway. 

back to 152 ---- simon’s still constructing expressions and behaviors thru gender. and baz is...confounding. also like okay, regardless of what theories u want to apply or slice the series, and yes the mutually protect each other, but simons a rabid guard dog around baz (its mutual BUT) but - but by the end of awtwb, it’s explicit and id sayd, simon proves himself as a man? and a not-mage (monster/hero)(dragon.)

simons simonness - its like,....if u think about performative masculinity and gender roles, boy does simon get wedged in there. and then thru his queerness and thru baz and thru Monsterdom, he kind of....blossoms like a little flower. 

and i idunno man uhm like. how their most successful intimate moments, it has to involve fangs and wings and baz moving like a serpent (something not human and not gendered) and for simon to just....well act like a fucking dragon over his pearl of a partner yknow

and like awtwb pg 121 “i just want to be with you,” i say, “and this is where we are now. im a broken down mess and youre a rat drinking monster.”

theres something to me that finally simon just...accepts some shit. he looks at the worst of them, no more ideal man no more ideal mage, and is just like yup thats it. and its at this point where its about them and their vulnerabilities and specifically the monster bits of themselves, these amorphic traits they possess that leads them thru and to so much, that simon can diunno. be the man he wants to be but without articifual constructions because the framework no longer exists. and as he continues to compare himself with baz, theres no superior ground  no ideal because there’s nothing pre-existingly good to model. 

anway monsters as the Other. anway. 

[anncanta]

Parzival. Chapter 2

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing, Bloxham

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28​ @dragatha​

Chapter 1 is here.

Read on AO3

Or read below

Chapter 2. The raven

‘I didn’t know Jonathan much, but I’m sure he would never approve of what is happening here.’ Agatha reached for a cup of tea and took a long sip.

‘In this world, terrible things are often done in memory or in the name of those who would never approve of this,’ said Dracula. ‘Deal with it, Agatha.’ He stretched. ‘By the way, I figured out the surveillance cameras.’

Agatha nodded absently. Her thoughts slipped away, now circling around one and the same, jumping from one to another. Too many strange things. Too many unclear. Too many events, she thought.

Putting her cup down, Agatha shivered. It was pretty cool in her new ‘chambers’, as Dracula called them. ‘The center has enough money for donors and mercenaries, but not enough money to establish a heating system,’ Dracula chuckled when she complained about this to him. In fairness, Agatha should admit, however, that she had no need for anything else.

The rooms in which she was accommodated were comfortable and spacious, she was brought several changes of clothes, modern films, and books – paper, ordinary books: endless electronic scrolls in thin tablets annoyed her. Visitors were not allowed to Agatha – and there was no one to come. Only the doctor communicated with her, twice a week after lunch he came to examine her and ask how she was feeling, Bloxham, who spoke about the center and its research, – and Dracula.

About two months have passed since their first meeting in the center. On that day, Agatha was sure that she was finished. He somehow reached an agreement with the management of the foundation and is going to complete the conversion process. Agatha was not interested in what he promised them. Maybe he controlled them all. On Demeter he acted, convincing and seducing, but not that he was particularly successful. He had to take into account the mistakes. If the staff of the center is nothing more than his obedient servants...

Returning in her memory to what happened next, Agatha felt awkwardness begin to stir inside.

‘You once again amazed me,’ Dracula reassured her after. ‘To launch a metal chair at the enemy and threaten to pierce your throat with a blunt fork…’ He threw up his hands in silent admiration, smiling at the desperately reddened Agatha.

Her memories of what had happened were sketchy – Bloxham's frightened screams, the crashing of the door, black guards filling the room, and Dracula stepping forward and instantly separating them all from her.

‘You will be fine, Agatha. Nobody will touch you here,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her and looking her straight in the eyes. ‘Nobody, including me. I promise. Do you hear me?’

Agatha nodded and passed out.

Their next meeting took place in her new rooms.

‘How can I trust you?’ was the first thing she asked him, as soon as Dracula crossed the threshold. He did not answer, walked through the semblance of a hall into a large living room, and silently sat down on the sofa.

‘No way,’ he said, looking at Agatha who followed him and stopped at the sofa. ‘So let's get down to business. Why do you think you can believe them?’

After a moment's hesitation, Agatha sat down next to him.

‘I can't,’ she agreed. ‘Now,’ she wanted to add, but she said nothing. ‘However, they at least did not try to drink my blood.’

Dracula laughed, but his laugh was unusually sad.

‘That's right,’ he said. ‘I suppose they have more ambitious plans for you.’

In the next twenty minutes, Agatha learned that Mina Murray, whom she had saved from death, and Agatha's own brother, who had previously traded silk and spices in Amsterdam, set up the Jonathan Harker Foundation in 1898. For the first few years, the only purpose and content of the organization's work was the search for Dracula and creatures like him.

‘We must give them their due – they tracked the accounts and money, learned everything there was to know about the funds of Mr. Balaur and his shell companies. They found out what his plans were, and eventually went to Demeter. After that, the investigation slowed down,’ said Dracula. ‘Months passed, turning into years, the foundation required cash injections, effort and time, and as a result, your brother, leaving to manage his part of the assets of his eldest son, went to America. A year later, Mina died of severe influenza. The foundation remained in the hands of the Van Helsings – and they experienced enough financial difficulties and, as far as I understood, had little interest in vampires. The grandfather of your recently deceased grandniece Zoe Van Helsing, who was the last member of the family – the director of the foundation, Arnold Van Helsing, decided to turn it into a medical center. Of course, with some ‘peculiarities’ – otherwise, according to Mina's will, the Helsings lost their right of ownership. The foundation performed well during several large epidemics, but in general, didn't do any great scientific discoveries and existed on the basis of separate large donations. Until recently.’

Dracula fell silent. Agatha rubbed her forehead thoughtfully.

‘Did you learn all this from Bloxham?’ She asked doubtfully.

‘Of course not. From my lawyer Francis Renfield,’ Dracula replied.

‘You have a lawyer,’ Agatha said slowly.

‘Since one thousand eight hundred and ninety-six. Do not be distracted. Two weeks ago, he started a lawsuit to get us out of here. But that will take time. So I –’

‘To get us out?’

‘Agatha, focus,’ said Dracula. He looked very serious. ‘If you want to know my opinion, it’s completely pointless to act by legal means in the case of organizations like the Harker Foundation, but it’s fine as a distraction. In addition, lawyers have connections and access to secret databases. Information is worth more than gold in this century.’ He shook his head.

Now Agatha was listening intently.

‘Renfield was able to confirm,’ continued Dracula, ‘what I suspected without him as soon as I was here.’ He frowned, seeing that Agatha did not understand. ‘Mercenaries. You were led through corridors and rooms, you saw them,’ he said impatiently. ‘Large men in military uniform, with weapons. And they didn't show up here yesterday,’ he added, anticipating her objection. ‘Not because they need to guard us. Frank got out the documents – the center has been using the services of military units since two thousand and eighteenth, I saw contracts and bills.

Agatha was silent – obviously, he hadn't finished.

‘Agatha, I don’t need bills to recognize the mercenaries,’ Dracula said. ‘I am a four hundred year warlord. I can determine immediately what they can do, how they attack, and how to neutralize them. This is not the point. The point is that people who hire private armies are extremely rarely interested in medicine – and even vampires.’

‘What does it mean?’ Agatha whispered.

Dracula shrugged.

‘That someone is behind the renewed Harker's foundation. Someone powerful and with almost unlimited financial resources. Whose support is not advertised – which is possible for two reasons: either this person is outside the law, or does not want to reveal him- or herself.’

‘Or both,’ Agatha said, leaning forward and biting her lip with impatience. ‘But how do we know?’

Dracula smiled, and she immediately blushed: entirely absorbed in the story he told, she completely forgot about her own distrust of him. Leaning back on the couch, she gave Dracula a quick glance.

‘With blood,’ Dracula replied.

Agatha went cold.

‘You will not –’

‘I don’t need it,’ he snapped. ‘Agatha, please, temper your rescue habits for a while,’ he added irritably. ‘Have you seen Bloxham's hand?’

So Agatha learned that during the operation to remove the box with her and Dracula from under the water, Kate Bloxham lost her finger, and with it – the access codes to all the electronic systems of the center.

‘I didn’t disable the security cameras in your rooms and mine – that would be suspicious,’ Dracula said. ‘When I have a free minute, I will reconfigure them so that they transmit the picture we need to the security base. So far I got Bloxham to turn off the sound in cameras. I insisted that if we were not listened to, I would be able to create a more trusting relationship with you and convince you to cooperate,’ he smiled broadly.

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

‘Why do they need me?’ finally asked Agatha, already knowing the answer.

‘They need you for the same thing they need me for,’ said Dracula. ‘They want to study the transformation process – and repeat it, probably. Bloxham – like everyone else with whom I had to communicate in the center – was quite kind to me from the very beginning. She emphasizes in every possible way that they are interested in cooperation – I think, they believe that I know the secret of full conversion. Therefore, they try to manipulate me, hoping that I, in turn, will manipulate you for them, and in the end, I will make you like me. Should I list why it might be needed?’

Agatha just shook her head mutely.

‘Is that why you promised not to touch me?’ she got up and went to the table.

‘No, not only because of that,’ was heard behind her. ‘Agatha,’ he called softly after a second. ‘Agatha, look at me.’

She turned around.

Dracula stood opposite her, staring intently and a little uneasily.

‘I had time to think about what happened on the Demeter,’ he said after a pause. ‘In the beginning, I didn't have much to do,’ he smiled shortly. ‘They kept me in a room similar to the one where they kept you, didn’t really explain anything, and didn’t say what happened to you. I lay on the bed, looked at the ceiling, and remembered.’ He chuckled. ‘Oddly enough, not you, but Jonathan. I was thinking about what would have been if he had agreed to go with me.’

In the silence that followed, Agatha heard popcorn crunching from afar. Damn security chief, she thought.

‘I thought about what Jonathan would say if, like you, he found himself... halfway there,’ Dracula continued. ‘Amphibians are rare – in four hundred years I have seen only three of them. There is no easy way out of this situation,’ he said. ‘You can complete the process and keep your sanity, guaranteed to turn into a vampire. You can kill yourself and most likely wake up undead. So, most likely, it would have come to the same thing as it ended in the monastery.’

Agatha was silent.

‘I'm tired of being alone, Agatha,’ Dracula said, bowing his head. ‘But I'm also tired of being hated and cursed. It’s weary over hundreds of years, believe it or not.’ She smiled. ‘Therefore, I give you my word that I will not convert you.’ He held out his hand. ‘Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ Agatha said carefully, taking his big hand. She tried not to think about how long she would be able to live as an amphibian and what this would lead to. Now they had more urgent matters.

‘When can you find out who finances the foundation?’ She asked.

***

A few days after Dracula told Agatha about his suspicions about the source of funds for the center, she met Renfield. During a short Skype session, the somewhat shabby-looking, but quite confident lawyer announced to Dracula that the hearing in the case against the Harker Foundation would take place in three months, and the chances of winning were very high. Agatha doubted that Dracula would wait so long, and she herself was not ready to just sit back. She could not escape the glances that Bloxham, who still regularly appeared in her rooms, was throwing at her, and Agatha guessed from the ever-increasing impatience hanging in the air that whoever was behind all this did not like to wait either.

‘He hurries them, Dracula,’ when they once again sat in her rooms, Agatha with a paper book and a cup of tea, and Dracula – with a package of documents from Renfield and the archives of the foundation's library on a tablet, she said. ‘He needs results. I think at first they hoped,’ Agatha swallowed, ‘that everything would be resolved by itself. That yours… yours… well, whatever it is in my blood will be enough for me to become a vampire without your participation. So that I would just… I don’t know, just ripe.’

‘Like a butterfly in a cocoon?’ Dracula raised an eyebrow. ‘I always knew that you were a romantic at heart.’

‘Stop it,’ Agatha said angrily. ‘You know what I mean. However, time passes,’ she continued, ‘and I remain a human. In any case, today I am no closer to the essence of a vampire than I was two weeks ago.’

Dracula nodded, flipping through the files on the tablet screen.

‘So far, they haven’t put pressure on me,’ he said absently. ‘But they will probably start soon.’

Agatha took a sip of her tea. There was one thought that haunted her for a long time.

‘Who at this time may need to create with great difficulty and risk something that you can just buy?’ She said unexpectedly.

‘What do you mean?’ Dracula distracted from the close-fitting text on the tablet.

‘I mean,’ Agatha hesitated. ‘Well, imagine. You need a strong army – invincible, ideally. An army of powerful fighters obedient to you.’

‘Music for my ears,’ Dracula grinned.

Agatha shot him a displeased look.

‘Why waste time and effort, huge money – not only on the process itself, but also on bribery, and possibly on the elimination of unnecessary witnesses, if it is enough to collect several hundred formations similar to those that are already working here?’

Dracula tilted his head.

‘It makes sense,’ he said slowly.

‘So,’ Agatha continued, inspired by his answer, ‘it's not about strength and power. And not about quantity. The point is different.’

Turning away from her, Dracula gazed silently into space for a while.

‘I already thought about it. War – fair enough – has a reputation as a seizure wench, but military thought is primarily rationality. The winner is not the one with the larger army. The one who is smarter wins.’

Agatha remembered how she had read in some old book about Dracula's campaign with three or four loyal warriors to the Turkish camp.

‘They have machines now, Dracula. Big, complex machines,’ Agatha said. ‘Fighting is easier now than in the days of Vlad Tepes.’

Dracula shuddered.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said that fighting is easier now –’

‘No, before that. You mentioned the name of Vlad Tepes.’

Agatha shrugged.

‘Isn't that your nickname? That is what the Hungarians called you.’

‘Exactly. Hungarians. Or rather, no, not really.’ Dracula again lowered his eyes to the tablet and began to quickly turn the pages. ‘And I kept thinking, what am I missing... In order to want the army that you described, you need to be neither a military man nor a strategist,’ looking through documents and folders, he said, ‘this is not an effective army. In battle, it would be no better than the trained professional landsknechts – whatever they are called now. Such an army would be wanted only by –’

‘The crazy one,’ Agatha finished for him, and then Dracula stopped rummaging through his tablet and began to read.

After a couple of minutes, he leaned back on the couch and licked his lips.

‘This is it. I found it.’

‘What did you find?’ Agatha leaned over to him. Dracula looked alarmed and somehow feverishly agitated.

Without answering, he pointed to the screen.

‘What is there?’ Agatha asked cautiously.

‘Our answers.’

Agatha waited patiently.

Dracula turned to her.

‘Agatha, this is Matthias Hunyadi's archive.’

‘Hungarian king?’

He nodded.

‘Did Renfield send it to you? Or is it kept in the center's library? Why do they need Hunyadi's archive?’ Agatha was surprised. ‘Was he involved…’ She frowned. ‘He lived for three hundred years before the foundation was created.’

‘Four hundred,’ Dracula said. ‘He is my contemporary. You must remember him – the chronicles mention him very often. He is now a national hero.’

‘You, too, are now a national hero.’

Dracula waved it off.

‘Hunyadi was a cunning politician and a very successful traitor. His nickname, the Raven,’ he pointed to the screen, ‘more than suited him.’ Dracula leaned back on the sofa, squinting. ‘But Matthias was never interested in vampires or the supernatural in general. I don't think he believed in anything other than his wallet. In large alterations, he was always covered by others. In his style, it was to hide behind the cassock of the Pope or ask for help from…’ Frozen in mid-sentence, Dracula turned so pale that his face became milky white against the background of a gray wall. Without looking at the alarmed Agatha, he straightened and began to leaf through the document on the screen.

‘Dracula, what's going on?’ Agatha asked. ‘What did you find?’ Without knowing why she suddenly lowered her voice. ‘To whom could Hunyadi go?’

‘I'm not sure,’ Dracula replied evenly. He turned to Agatha and looked at her. ‘But if this is who I think, then may your God help us all.’

[steampoweredace]

I know I make jokes about trading my gender to the Fair Folk in exchange for art supplies, but I’m starting to think maybe I traded them my circadian rhythm too... Anyway, Volume Five

Ah, bridge monsters, just like the ones that live 5-10 minutes from my house (depends on how long it takes to get a walk signal and the weather)

Da Boyz!!! :D I love them

Moxana! Moxana and her sisters are awful neat

I enjoy seeing the members of the Circus interact with each other, there’s something about it that’s just really nice?

Moxana just looks so devastated in that one panel of the flashback

More coats to steal!

You could not pay me enough to live anywhere near where Aaronev is.

Me, seeing Tarvek for the first time: You! (mostly affectionate)

The dress they put Agatha in for that dinner? Pretty. Agatha’s fixation on death rays? Concerning but understandable so far. The look on Master Payne’s face? Amazing.

D: Poor Tinka!

That image of Gil with Abner? Gil looks miserable enough I want to offer him a hug and a cup of cocoa

...Oh, so that’s what that line is supposed to be

Ah. Lucrezia. Lovely. And it’s just so much worse seeing how she reacts to how that body looks DX

Can, uh, can we get Gil some friends? And therapy? And get Klaus some therapy?

“ I am Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, little man- and there is nothing I couldn’t do, had I cause!“ is an amazing line

[gardenofkore]

“Sicily’s women have always been shadowy figures, crouched quietly in doorways or gazing down the crowded streets from balustraded or shuttered windows. For most of the medieval period they have left no direct record of themselves, since, with a few exceptions, they could neither read nor write - and even the possession of literacy, for those few lucky enough to enjoy it, did not give one the right to act or speak independently. As a consequence, very few records survive to shed light on their activities, and virtually none of the records we have present the women in their own voices. In the intensely conservative society of Sicily, women lived their lives under tight constraints; the traditional roles that society gave them gravely limited their freedom to act and ours to behold. Local customs, in general, were designed to isolate and protect women from the outside world, to keep them safely ensconced in their fathers’ homes until they could be safely and just as absolutely ensconced in their husbands’ homes, or, for the devout and dowry-less, dedicated to God in a nunnery. Not until the Vespers era - an era inaugurated with a rebellion sparked by an Angevin outrage against a native woman - do Sicily’s women come into view with any meaningful detail of focus. Our view of them is still partial and imperfect, given the limitations of even this improved documentation. But the extant evidence holds a few surprises.The most visible figures belong of course to the aristocracy. After 1282, and as a result of it, Sicily’s queens played important roles in society. The Catalan dynasty placed the bulk of its claim to the throne on its marriage link with Constance, the last of the Hohenstaufens. Consequently, the right to inherit title and property through the female line was well established. Frederick’s and James’s father, although he had conquered the realm and had received the acclamation of the Communitas Sicilie, consistently emphasized his right to rule through his marriage to Constance; and Frederick too, as we saw earlier, asserted his inheritance of Constance’s patrimony, rather than his election by parliament, as the chief legitimation of his kingship. As queen, Constance began the practice of sitting in the MRC and taking her place in the king’s inner circle of advisers. Extant records show her working to reconcile the church to the new dynasty, to foster greater unity of action among Sicily’s contending factions and regions, and to educate the new ruling caste to Sicilian customs. When Peter left the island in order to tend to matters in Catalonia, Constance headed the lieutenancy council that governed the realm in his absence; and she continued to advise the throne during James’s reign. As late as 1296 her aid was still sought by those who wanted to influence decisions at court, although the extent of her influence by that time had clearly waned.Frederick’s wife Eleanor likewise was a member of the council and exerted a fair share of influence. As with Constance, this influence had more to do with economics than ideology. As independent ruler of the camera reginale, the queen controlled a large segment of the vital Val di Noto, the most important city in which was Siracusa, with a steady population of nearly 8,000 throughout the reign. Adding the other sites that made up the apanage, she ruled a population of some 20,000 individuals. Her camera was the site of two of the most important trade fairs - at Siracusa, beginning on the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin, and at Lentini, at the Feast of the Ascension - and represented as well a significant venue for wine, grain, and salt exports. Siracusa itself, in fact, held a monopoly on all exports from the confines of the city northward through all the coastal territory of the Gulf of Augusta. So important had the city become as a trading center, especially for the eastern and southern trade routes connecting Sicily with Greece, Egypt, and Malta, that the Siracusan salma was made the standard measure for all agricultural produce in the eastern half of the kingdom. In 1299 the government awarded the city a toll franchise that freed its produce of the inland duties levied upon other domestic trade; the franchise was to be lost, however, if the land under the city’s control was alienated or enfeoffed. This resulted in a rather static social structure, since land seldom changed hands. In later years, when the queen wanted to reward anyone or felt the need to make additional grants in order to purchase loyalty, she circumnavigated the prohibition of alienating the land by granting instead various rights (pasturage, herbage, water access, etc.) over the land, but not the land itself. The general strength of the commercial economy, however, made Siracusa, and the entire camera, for that matter, an attractive site for the thousands who fled the decay and poverty of the Val di Mazara. It was the sole region in the kingdom that experienced an increase in its population, in absolute numbers, during Frederick’s reign.Eleanor held full powers of criminal and civil jurisdiction over the district, and, through her hired agents, administered an independent machinery of tax collection. Few records survive from her administration. But what evidence we have indicates that she took her responsibilities seriously, even though she did not always choose well in appointing her officials. A personal favorite whom she introduced at court in 1307 and to whom she entrusted some minor diplomatic errands, Pere Ferrandis de Vergua, proved to be a flatterer and opportunist, a corrupt official who wooed and wedded a series of wealthy widows and young heiresses. On Eleanor’s recommendation, the MRC appointed Pere Ferrandis royal tax collector for Caltavuturo, where his flagrant abuse of his position led to vehement popular protests and ultimately to his impeachment; and when Pere later was found to have forged a number of documents - most notably his first wife’s will, arranging a bequest of 2,000.00.00 to himself - he was banished from the realm. Ultimately, he conspired to murder Frederick, whom he blamed for his failure to win the position in society that he felt he deserved.Eleanor was intensely pious. From the day of her arrival in Sicily - she married Frederick as a stipulation in the Caltabellotta treaty - she threw her considerable energy into rebuilding thekingdom's shattered churches and monasteries, and to raising new houses, hospitals, and evangelical schools. She funded the construction of Castrogiovanni's duomo in 1307, according totradition, by selling the entire collection of her royal jewels. She generously endowed any number of religious houses, within her camera and without. In the area around Paterno, for example, shegranted lands, curial rights, and cash to the monastery of S. Maria di Licodia, in return for the monks' prayers on behalf of the royal family. The gift was prescient, in its way, since Frederick died inPaterno while en route to Castrogiovanni. Her advocacy for religious houses continued well after their founding and endowment. Especially in the case of nunneries, Eleanor remained involved in their daily lives by observing elections to abbacies, the recruitment of nuns, the regularity of their worship, and their treatment of relics. She visited nunneries throughout the realm, often with her children in tow, and regularly participated in their worship, showing an early preference for Franciscan houses.Above everything else, she seems to have considered it her fundamental responsibility to promote religious observance and moral reform. Although overt, specific evidence about her relationship with the evangelical movement is lacking, a number of clues survive that show her to have been an enthusiast for the Spirituals. We have seen already that she took seriously Arnau deVilanova's injunction that she and her handmaidens should perform public rituals in every duomo and hospital in every city they visited, dressed as personifications of Faith and Hope, "so that inthis way the people may have a vision [like that] of the Mother of God entering a place of misery to comfort those who are there." It was probably in such garb that she led the procession of the relics of St. Agatha around the confines of Catania, during the eruption of Mount Etna. She not only held vernacular readings of the Scriptures on Sundays and feast days, but she further commissioned a vernacular translation of the Dialogues of Gregory the Great, for the edification of the royal children, one of the few substantial texts in Sicilian dialect that survives from Frederick's reign. Even in a mundane duty like appointing a new bailiff to preside over her territory at Paterno her concern for the spiritual life of the community dominated all other considerations. When she appointed Ruggero Gala to be bailiff, in 1311, at the height of Sicily's flirtation with Arnau's prophesies of the kingdom's apocalyptic role, she specified that his first and foremost duty was "that he should take diligent care, if he should find anyone blaspheming against God, the Blessed Virgin, or the saints, or anyone speaking ill of the Royal Majesty, that he should take no sureties [i.e. promises to appear in court as summoned] from them, but should immediately seize their persons and take them captive to the justiciar of the province." Under Sicilian law, most accused criminals had the right to post bail and remain free until their trial; but the passionate atmosphere of the evangelical realm would permit no such freedom to those who were even rumored to be guilty of blasphemy. In lock-step with Arnau's teachings and the Ordinationes generates, the queen directed her bailiffs also to arrest anyone caught playing at dice or cards. But Eleanor, for as much as she helped to establish a general atmosphere of family concern and reformist piety, was merely one woman, and hardly representative of the majority.”

 Clifford R. Backman, The Decline and Fall of Medieval Sicily. Politics, religion, and economy in the reign of Frederick III, 1296-1337, p. 285-290.

[worldspinsmadly]

OKAY! This is going to be an extreeeemely long post with my various WandaVision theories! SPOILERS ahead for episodes 1-5, so tread carefully if you haven’t seen them yet! Also, buckle in for a lot of reading haha...

- Agnes is Agatha Harkness

This theory is pretty widely accepted but in case you haven’t heard it yet/need a reminder of what the theory is: Agatha Harkness is a witch in the comic books. She is an agent of Mephisto (basically the devil in the MCU, a sorcerer who is super powerful & does trades/grants wishes but in a monkey’s paw kind of way) and also acts as Wanda’s mentor when she is training. She is there to help Wanda realize her full potential. Reasons for this theory being accepted are:

1. Agnes = AGatha HarkNESs

Pretty self explanatory, this one.

2. One piece of evidence everyone likes to point to is that Agnes is ALWAYS wearing a brooch, much like Agatha. 

In a similar vein, Agnes dresses up like a witch in the Halloween episode (which we get tonight!!). The third comic-y reason is that she says her anniversary with Ralph (whom we NEVER see) is June 2nd, which is the start of the Salem Witch Trials. Agatha Harkness was one of the witches at Salem.

3. She (especially in episode 5) keeps showing up at the exact right time to help Wanda however she needs it. Examples include her showing up to welcome Wanda to the neighborhood and plan the dinner with Vision, bringing her along to the neighborhood planning committee, helping Wanda with the boys (showing up when they’re crying, the doghouse). She is always there, basically acting as a guide for Wanda in the town.

3. She knows that this is a fake world and that Wanda has some control over what happens. This is most clearly evidenced in episode 5 when she says “Do you want me to run that again?” She also doesn’t notice/care that Wanda has magic, which anyone else in the town would. Also - anyone else notice how she overacts constantly? (In a good way - I love Kathryn Hahn)

Which brings me to theory two:

Agnes/Agatha Harkness is the one in control, not Wanda - or at the very least, is using her power to try to influence Wanda’s actions.

1. Agatha is an agent of Mephisto. I think that she is acting on his orders to make this town and Wanda’s life in it the way that it is. Multiple reasons for this, but the main one for me is episode 5 (On A Very Special Episode), she clearly has control over/intimate knowledge of what’s happening inside the WandaVis household. How else would she know to show up when the twins are crying, or when they bring in a new dog? Other sketch things:

2. The boys only ever age up (or attempt to age up) when Agnes is there. I think that she is the one who is making them do that. If she can control every single person in town’s actions and speech, who’s to say she can’t control and manipulate the magic twins’ powers as well?

3. She clearly* killed Sparky, likely in order to try to help Wanda realize how powerful she really is and bring in the idea that she can bring people back to life. It may even be possible that Agnes wants to bring back a specific person but can’t without Wanda’s powers. *To me, it’s clear, because when she walked into the kitchen, Sparky almost killed himself with the electricity but didn’t, and then of course she “found him” in her azaleas.

4. Norm never specifies who “she” is that’s in his head.

MOVING ON TO THEORY THREE:

SWORD and (Acting) Director Hayward are sketchy as fuck, and likely are doing some evil shit and trying to pin it on Wanda.

I don’t mean this to say that SWORD is the organization that put the town in the hex, or is the one that is controlling everything that's happening, but I think it's very clear that there's something going on behind the scenes that they don't want us to know. There are lots of different ways that you can see this, but some of the ones that are most important are as follows:

1. SWORD is clearly developing weapons which Monica highlights when she says, “it also says observation and response on that door not creation.” This is apparently against the mission of SWORD itself, which does not lead to a super trustworthy organization.

2. Director Hayward is clearly trying to place blame on Wanda for things she either didn’t do or didn’t control. The clearest example of this is when he is giving his speech in Episode 5 after Monica comes back, and Jimmy Woo was speaking. Hayward keeps interrupting to explain how Wanda is evil - she joined Hydra (as Jimmy says, it’s more complicated than that), she purposefully hurt people in Lagos (it was an accident), she fought against the Avengers (before gaining their trust and joining them). (Also, side note, I love Jimmy Woo and how kind he is. We need more Jimmy Woo in the MCU). 

3. The video that he shares of Wanda breaking into SWORD...not a single. person. in the SWORD lobby turns, notices, or reacts at all to Wanda walking in, violently throwing open doors, and basically stealing a corpse. I don’t know about you, but if I worked in a secure and secretive government facility, and a rogue Avenger that’s been gone for 5 years just suddenly appeared and was using her powers to break down doors and steal a secret project, I’d probably at LEAST turn and look. 

3a. I’m honestly not even sure that that’s Wanda vs. a body double, like, there’s a reason that the only power they showed was her opening a door, breaking glass, and gently coming down into the room - all things that can be easily faked. You’re telling me that SWORD, in all their advanced tech, space travel, science, money, you’re telling me that the best visuals they have are 1. barely in color 2. blurry and 3. don’t show close-ups of her face? I think that it wasn’t Wanda who took Vision’s body, and I think the footage was fabricated. 

4. CLEARLY - SWORD has been experimenting on Vision. Whether to revive him, recreate his technology, whatever, it is explicitly stated that that is against his living will and the Sokovia Accords. IF (and I think it’s a big if...) Wanda did violently break in to steal his body, it would likely be to protect him and make sure he is being honored, not make him into a weapon. 

NEXT THEORY!

VISION IS ALIVE - and no, Wanda is not just puppeteering his corpse (this is one of the worst theories I’ve heard about WandaVision and I hate it and if I never hear it again it’ll be too soon)

1. I have several reasons to think this. First, if he weren’t alive, why would we have so many scenes of just Vision, or scenes where Vision is figuring out that something is wrong?

2. In the trailers, we see Vision leaving the boundaries of the hex (to be fair, I haven’t watched any of the new trailers, because I don’t want any spoilers) - BUT - how could he do that if he weren’t his own being?

3. I genuinely do not think that Marvel is going to make us watch Vision die again. Not a third time.

How is he alive? I think that there’s obviously an extreme amount of Mind Stone energy within Wanda, and I’m sure that there’s a world in which she could transfer some of that energy to Vision and help bring him back. Not entirely sure of the methodology to be fair, but I just have a feeling in my heart.

OKAY ON TO RANDOM THEORIES THAT I BELIEVE BUT HAVE NO EVIDENCE FOR:

1. Monica came out of the Hex with powers - my only reasoning being that her brain scan and her blood draws were both inconclusive/blank.

2. Wanda isn’t lying when she says she doesn’t know how this started or what’s happening. I think she has more control than most people in town, but I think that’s more that she is a little tuned in to the frequencies of the town than that she started it all. But I really think that Agnes is in control.

3. OH PIETRO - He’s the Evan Peters Quicksilver instead of ATJ (rip) because Agnes had to search through the multiverse for him - she can’t bring people back to life (Wanda can though...ATJ i’m holding out hope...). So anyway, she just searched through the universes and found the closest thing to Pietro that she could.

4. Aerospace engineer that Monica knows might be Reed Richards aka Mr. Fantastic. (The Fantastic 4 and the X-Men have a long history with Agatha Harkness, so it would make sense to bring those characters in now that Disney is able to)

5. Dottie is also a witch - she’s not identified on the magnet board with the other townspeople, she’s in control of some things.

6. Hayward might be Mephisto in disguise, who knows.

7. Magneto is going to come back at the end of the series i have no real reason to believe this

8. I don’t trust the post man.

OKAY THAT’S ALL I have to go back to work and this is way too long please send me all your theories :)