#Agatha is easily distracted

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The wedding

“Agatha, look.”

“At what?”

“The wedding.”

In fact, it was hard to miss the wedding, a simple procession out of a nearby church, a woman in a hand-sewn dress clutching the hand of a man whose cheeks were apple-red.

“So?”

Rio looked over with an amused sidelong glance, a smile playing havoc across her lips. “It looks nice. Romantic.” She emphasized the last word, then giggled as Agatha pulled an overdramatic grimace, partially her normal reaction to talk of romance, partially to elicit that exact giggle.

“It isn’t. Mostly it’s an economic transaction, some man marrying a much younger wom—“

“Agatha Harkness, marry me.”

“What?! No!”

Rio’s shrill laugh echoed across the village square, and then she was standing in front of Agatha, her smile a challenge, sabers rattling at dawn, the first volley of cannonfire. Her hands settled, one on Agatha’s hip, one on her cheek. “Agatha Harkness, beloved of Death. Marry me.”

Agatha was going to spontaneously combust. She was rooted to the ground, transfixed by the woman in front of her. “Rio, stop,” she pleaded, face flushed, eyes averted, unable to look Death in the face.

“Say yes.”

She managed a more characteristic snort of contempt, slightly undermined by her continued inability to make eye contact. “What, we’re going to march over to the village priest and demand he wed us before the Lord?”

Rio took one of her hands, pressed her lips to Agatha’s knuckles. “Before the moon and the Goddess, as witches have done for centuries. Marry me.”

Agatha’s heart pounded double, triple time. It was going to explode in her chest and she was going to explode with it, and thank the Goddess for that, because exploding would get her out of this conversation. “I—"

A woman’s voice interrupted them. “Art thou Agatha Harkness?”

Agatha whirled, incredibly grateful for the interruption. “I am—“ she surveyed the other woman, and felt the power radiating off of her. Even better, another witch. Perhaps the other woman would try to kill her, that would be an excellent distraction, maybe long enough for Rio to get some kind of short-term amnesia . “Sister.”

She was very aware of Rio still watching her, looking very unimpressed.

“Our coven has a seer who speaks the future. She says only you may assist us.”

That, at least, prompted shrill giggles from Rio, along with a quirked eyebrow from Agatha. “Does she? Only Agatha? Really?”

“Well,” Agatha hurried to say. “If the sisterhood has need, then I will attend at once. I cannot neglect my duty to my fellow witches.”

“Coward,” Rio murmured close to her ear. “We are not done with this discussion.”

Agatha flashed her a bright, toothy smile that indicated if she had anything to say about it, they were very done with this discussion.

“And who is this?” The other witch asked.

Agatha reached for Rio’s hand, twined their fingers together. “My lover,” she said, and smiled to feel the other woman’s fingers tighten convulsively on hers. “Where I go, she goes.” She glanced at Rio, and was briefly swallowed by the whirlpool of adoration in the other woman’s eyes, sucking her down. She forced her gaze away, turned back to the other witch with a thin smile.

“Always and forever,” Rio told her, then turned to the other witch. “Soon, we will be wed before the Goddess and the moon," she announced.

The other woman brightened, even as Agatha choked. “Wonderful! Perhaps while you stay with us? My coven loves weddings.”

"Perhaps so," Rio murmured, squeezing Agatha's hand. "And perhaps my beloved will get me a gift, worthy of our union."

"You can have the gift," Agatha said softly, as they set off after the other witch. "I'll happily kill them all for you. As many bodies as you like."

"And the other thing, Ags. I want the other thing."

"Rio..."

"Do you love me?"

"You know the answer."

"Do you wish another?"

"No!"

"Then?"

"You know I don't like..."

"Romance. Sap," Rio rolled the words around on her tongue, and there was something edged in her tone, a bite to her words. Normally Rio was content to play along with Agatha, but sometimes she could be pushed too far. "I know. Do it anyway. Do it for me. Bind yourself to me for a day, for an eternity, beloved. Promise yourself to me and let me promise to stay forever with you."

Agatha swallowed, mouth gone dry. "Vows like that are dangerous."

"Agatha Harkness, suddenly afraid of danger?" Rio teased, though Agatha noted she didn't deny the danger.

"You're very pushy today."

"I am, aren't I?" Rio murmured, running her thumb over the back of Agatha's hand, stroking over knuckles. "You know I normally let you do whatever you want, right?" Agatha felt her cheeks heat further, volcanic levels of heat, alongside a squirming discomfort. "Push me around, drag me to and fro, assist in your slightly insane plan of the week—"

"Okay, you've made your point, where is this going?"

"I want this, Ags. I really, really want it."

"...I'm not getting out of this one, huh?"

Rio shook her head. "Doesn't seem like it."

"...Fine."

Agatha came to a halt, stood on a dusty road country behind a witch who hadn't yet noticed they had stopped. "Rio Vidal, beloved of Agatha Harkness," she said, dropping to one knee, Rio's hand clenched suddenly tight to the point of pain around hers. "Before the Goddess and the Moon, marry me. Pledge yourself to me and I to you."

Rio's breath caught, her hand flew over her mouth and for a moment, both Death and Time stood still.

"Yes," she squeaked.

"Good," Agatha said, popping to her feet, brushing dirt casually off her dress. "Come on, let's go see what this seer wants. And then we'll have a wedding to die for."

It took Rio a matter of minutes to say, "Agatha, that was terrible."

"I thought it was rather romantic."

"...The pun." Her hand squeezed tight on Agatha's. "...The proposal was very, very romantic."

"Feel free not to bring it up ever again."

Rio's smile slanted like the blade of a guillotine, crawling up one side of her mouth, but all she said was, "Yes, beloved."

****

The seer held Agatha's hand in hers, eyes closed, chanting softly, as Agatha rolled her eyes at Rio, who barely tried to suppress her giggles, still giddy from their earlier conversation.

The old woman's eyes snapped open, irises gone white. "Agatha Harkness," she intoned. "You will save the world."

"Oh," Agatha said. "Not really my area—"

"And in doing so, you will gain great wisdom and power."

Agatha's attention snapped to the old woman. "Tell me more, wise one."

"Agatha," Rio murmured.

"Ssh."

"We're still getting married, right?"

"Sure," Agatha agreed. "Right after I save the world."

Want to read one where they're exes and kind of feisty? Try Jealousy

Want to read one where they're exes and Agatha is an adorable pain-in-the-ass? Try the witch who cried wolf

[ariadnew]

CTJL MONACO

Today on risky entries:

(Dorothy Lawley & RDEC Gotica; 2015 KWPN m.)

[ebbpettier]

some mermay design notes from those, actually

simon's wearing a dead marine's rosary instead of his cross, and he's the only one wearing (see: stuck in) human garbage. the only seashell adornments he has (his connection to mermaid society) are his weapons. agatha is smothered by those pearls.

penny's glasses don't work underwater. i gave her multiple starfish and snail charms even though she is a practical sort because she is my favorite and she deserves many beautiful bivalves and echinoderms.

baz is wearing the only metal/engraved jewelry in the group because his family has access to volcanic vents to forge it in.

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Men at Work!

Just a note, I know I mix phonetic and Cyrillic spellings of Russian in this. Mostly it's so that people can easily translate the more complex words directly.

Content: Masturbation, very mild protective/possessive behavior

It’s becoming a problem.

You think this from the overstuffed daybed recently purchased for the explicit purpose of feeding into aforementioned problem. Not that the porch is the problem, heavens no. If so much as a nail came loose, there’s a trio of men across the street all too eager to lend their hammers and bulging, glistening muscles to fix it.

Which, conveniently, is the problem.

Their muscles, that is. And how magnanimous they are with them.

Your house is nice. New. It took them three days to fix all the issues you’d been putting off for a day you were non-reclusive enough to schedule a handyman.

Your house is too nice and too new.

You’re feeding a Vegas buffet’s worth of appetites raised on old world sensibilities with no outlet for them to be expressed. There aren’t enough squeaky hinges, crooked cabinets, stuck windows, or leaky faucets in your two-bedroom for all that… chivalry. (Or whatever Krueger has that passes for chivalry’s surly cousin.)

They’ve taken to invading earlier in the evening for busy work before dinner. Cutting vegetables, tenderizing meat, cleaning dishes, setting the goddamn table.

Like, sirs, you’re a single woman with three cats and a sham of a personal life – the last time you saw a centerpiece on a domestic dining table was Christmas at your nana’s.

Until Konig shuffled in with a fistful of sunflowers and zinnias, promising that he double-checked that they’re non-toxic to cats. You didn’t have a vase, so you had to make do with an empty mason jar you were keeping for ostensible aesthetic reasons.

Now you’ve got an ongoing bouquet, kitschy salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like lemons that no one ever uses (as if your seasoning decisions are as good as god) and are contemplating cloth napkins like some kind of… of…

“Socialite?” you muse aloud. You glance at Rasputin. He blinks slowly. “Hostess? Woman of the night?”

You’re pretty sure Agatha didn’t mean that as a compliment when you overheard her gossiping to Margot yesterday. (She should really remember that if she can eavesdrop on you from her backyard, the same is true the other way around.)

You’re toying with an idea for a new series with your last one wrapping up and your solo-novel due for release come fall. Something about a rich young woman with a wild streak and her fantastically wealthy gentlemen callers…

“Scarlet woman,” you murmur aloud, eyes on the reason for your recent porch décor purchase.

Krueger is on the roof, cloth around his head to stave off the summer heat. Doing… something with shingles and a nail gun. Your face flushes with each flex of hard muscle, jump of thick tendons. The grip he has on that thing…

As inspiring as your neighbors are, they are also a huge (in many, many ways) distraction. Hence, they are a Problem.

And not just for you. On your right, you catch the flutter of curtains from your peripheral. Lisa taking another peek – to be properly scandalized, probably. (You’re not really sure what the neighborhood biddies tell themselves when they decide something is Simply Not Proper.)

“We’ll have to start charging admission,” you muse, sipping a strawberry mojito.

Curled up far too close for the weather, Little Guy chuffs and stretches. You smooth a fingertip up his little nose, between his eyes, and over the crest of his empty head.

“Jezebel,” you mumble. He yawns, tongue curling and pearly fangs gleaming. “Trollop.”

An annoyed grunt pulls your eyes forward again. Nikto is standing halfway up the porch, one foot planted on the last step like a sexy Russian Captain Morgan. His thighs stretch his workpants oh-so-nicely. There’s a smear of white paste across the material – caulking, maybe?

(You could do with a caulking too.)

“Has someone called you these?” he asks. “Who?”

You laugh. What would he even do if someone had?

“No – well, not to my face, anyway.”

He snorts, shoots a withering scowl at Agatha’s property anyway. You spin your pen around your fingers and try not to bite your lip at the way his shirt is clinging from sweat.

“Aren’t you hot?” you fuss. “You’re going to pass out.”

“Nyet, we have been in worse,” he replies, finishing the short journey up the porch. He pauses in front of you, taking in the sight of you and your cats. What does he think, seeing you lounging about all day while he and his friends(?) are working so hard? If it’s something negative, he’s never let on.

“Still,” you insist, “have you been hydrating?”

“Da, the water runs.”

You blink, put together pieces to assume he and the others are chugging tap water (probably right from the faucet) when necessary. Well, that just won’t do now, will it?

“No, no. Hold on. Rasputin, hold him hostage.”

And like the little angel he is, Ras gets up, stretches out, and begins rubbing his face all over Nikto’s pants. With him distracted, you hop to your feet and scurry inside. The house is almost uncomfortably cool after most of your morning spent outside, but you’ll only be a moment.

There’s a large ruby pitcher waiting in the fridge from last night, complete with various berries floating at the top. You use two hands to heft it out, set it on the counter, then flit to your cabinets for the travel cups you invested in for on-the-go wine sipping. Nice and insulated.

You pour a cup for each of them, stow the pitcher away again, and carry all three in triangle-formation back outside. (Maybe you should get a tray? The antique store in town probably has something pretty and lemon-themed to match the salt and pepper shakers…)

Nikto hurries to help as soon as he sees you, plucking the extra cup from your hands.

“I saw this recipe and wanted to try it since it’s been getting hotter.”

He blinks at you, then the juice.

“You don’t have to try it now, I just thought—”

Your voice abandons you as Nikto tugs his filtration mask down. The skin beneath is warped and scarred, discolored in some places. When he raises the edge of the cup to his mouth, the skin of one cheek stretches distressingly thin. You can see the individual indents of his back molars pressing against the flesh as he drinks.

You understand why he’s been hesitant to show you; it’s not easy to look at. Which makes you all the more determined to flick your eyes back to his and ask, eagerly, “What do you think? Too sweet?”

As he swallows, throat clicking, you think you hear him grunt something.

“Hm?”

“Nyet. Not too sweet. Is good, пчела.”

You grin even though you’re not sure what it means. All three of them have some nickname in their mother tongue that you can only hope is complimentary and not because they forgot your actual name.

“Good, then I can bring some to K and K while you help me with lunch. That’s why you came by, right?”

He nods. “Nearly noon.”

“That late already!” you say. Wow, staring at hot, sweaty men really makes time fly. “Alright, I was going to make chicken wraps and latkes. Could you start peeling potatoes? You know where everything is, da?”

“Da.” He clicks his tongue, luring Rasputin in and stirring Guy awake. “Come, малышу, before we leave you out here for vultures.”

“Nikto!” you scold. “Don’t threaten him.”

“I do not threaten. It is what will happen.”

You swat at his arm, but at least Little Guy has been lured into Nikto’s reach – if by nothing else than a hand has been offered and cats are helpless to resist a good sniff. Nikto scoops him up while you turn to flounce down the stairs.

“Make sure Susan doesn’t get out!” you call over your shoulder.

She was roused by your quick turnaround to get the juice cups and will certainly be stalking the door now.

Sure enough, you faintly hear him cursing in Russian as you reach the end of the yard. Luckily, you see him closing the door with all three of your demons inside, so you continue across the street.

Krueger hasn’t noticed your approach, his back to you, so you stop at the edge of the property to watch for a moment. Yep, just as good this close, too.

“Krueger!” you call. He doesn’t turn. You huff and try again. Nothing. Christ, you’re starting to think he’s ignoring you on purpose. “Sebastian!”

His head whips around alarmingly fast and finds you right there on the ground. No need to look around at all – sometimes they remind you of their profession in the oddest ways.

“Ja, ja, no need to shout,” he replies.

You open your mouth to do just that, but he’s already scaling down from the roof. You’re stunned into silence as he slides down to the edge of the roof, catches the edge, and swings down to the ground. Lands with barely more noise than one of your footsteps. It’s quick yet so graceful.

You stare (gawk, more accurately) as he saunters up, pants sinfully low on his narrow hips.

“What did you need, bienchen?” he asks. “It is too early for lunch.”

You stutter for a second before your brain reboots.

“What was that?!” you demand, a little shriller than necessary. If you don’t shriek about this, you’re going to shriek about that gorgeous chest and the tattoos and the everything else, and you absolutely cannot do that. “That was so dangerous! You’re going to break a leg!”

“You worry,” he scoffs. He shakes his head, but there’s a wicked, knowing grin at the corners of his mouth and his eyes are far too bright. “That was a little jump.”

“It was not!”

“It only seemed big because you are so little, but it was nothing for me.”

“You’re not that much taller!”

“It is sweet to worry,” he coos, “but it is too hot for it, yes?”

You scrunch your nose at him, not sure if you’re annoyed or turned on or both. (Probably both. It’s annoying how hot he is. And how hot he knows he is.)

“If it’s so hot, then here.”

You all but shove the cup at him. He takes it with a flicker of genuine surprise, sniffs at the liquid, then takes a sip. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, raises the temperature another few degrees.

“My mother used to make something like this,” he muses, expression softening. You blink, lean in automatically for a peck to your cheek. “Danke schön.”

“Bitte,” you mumble, mouth drier than Reggie’s garden.

His eyes crinkle, mouth hidden by the edge of the cup as he proceeds to chug the rest of it. A droplet slips down his jaw and skips down to his collarbone. You force your eyes away before you’re driven to do something irreparable by thirst.

“Is Konig inside?” you ask. “I have a cup for him, too.”

He grunts confirmation, tongue curling around a blueberry to coax it into his mouth.

Yep, alright, that’s about as much as you can take.

“Scooch, before the punch goes warm.”

“Punch?” he repeats, arching an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what it’s called in English. Punch.”

“That seems like it would cause misunderstanding.” Except he’s grinning as he says it, like he cherishes the idea of someone confusing the two words and starting a fight. Considering how often you catch him and Konig smacking at each other, that’s probably not a stretch.

“Just please don’t swing on anyone, yeah?”

“Only because you ask so nicely,” he croons.

You click your tongue at him. “Wipe off before going in, I don’t want Shithead to stink after crawling on you.”

He barks out his usual sharp laugh and tugs the cloth – his own t-shirt ��� off his head to mop up his sweat. You make a mental note to tease him about sunburn later as you slip past him.

You can hear Konig singing off-key upstairs when you open the door. The house is sweltering, only mildly cooler than outside with none of the fresh air. You grimace as you pause at the bottom of the stairs; the boys have warned you that it’s dangerous up there and it’s best not to go wandering.

Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he’s using power tools at the moment.

“Konig!” you call.

“Is that you, biene?” he calls back.

You grin. “Who else would it be, huh?”

You hear his footsteps right over your head, track his gait until the first heavy boot on the stairs. He meets you at the bottom with his usual ventilator on, but he tugs it down when he sees the cup in your hand.

“Is this for me?” he asks eagerly.

“Yep! Tell me what you think!”

With none of Nikto or Kreuger’s hesitation, he knocks back a big mouthful. Licks his full lips as he lowers it, eyes bright as they land on yours.

“This is perfect,” he chirps, “so refreshing! Thank you, biene!”

You beam right back, flushed with pride that all three of them liked the recipe you “happened to find” when you saw the temperature projections for today.

“There’s more back home,” you offer, “come out of the heat.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I will wipe off first.”

You hum agreeably, watching him slip back upstairs with great enthusiasm. Konig in a tank top and those tight cargos… summer really is delivering this year.

That evening, you sigh as you recline across your huge bed, naked and cooling off with the night breeze rolling through your window. Ras and Shithead are happily distracted wrestling each other in your forgotten towel, and Little Guy is snoozing on his personal pillow.

You stretch out, feeling a bit decadent and indulgent with moonlight spilling over your body, and let your hands wander. It’s not the high-efficiency sleep-oriented wank you usually rush through, not this time.

You unspool memories of the day with each brush of your fingertips over moisturized skin. You hum as your skin tingles, imagining Konig’s calloused palms in place of yours. He’d be so surprisingly gentle, you’re sure. Big, strong hands but he’d play with you like a precious toy. Plucking your nipples and scratching his blunt nails over the plush of your hips.

As your breathing picks up, you see Krueger’s broad shoulders flexing behind your eyelids. Imagine them bullying between your thighs, hooking your knees over. That bright glint in his eye as he smirks against your cunt. Can practically feel the curl of his tongue around your clit, eating you out messy and mean.

You’re already halfway there when you curl two fingers into your pussy. You’re so wet that your fingers slip and slide, squelch lewdly as you rock your hips, trying to find just the right angle.

You imagine Nikto clicking his tongue at your struggle. Almost hear his low, hoarse voice chiding you for doing his job while he takes over. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, you have to press a third in just to maintain the fantasy.

You want to lean back against his broad chest while he strokes your walls, listen to him and Krueger and Konig talk about you like you’re not even there, debating if you should come. Ignore you as you beg and whimper, big hands pinning you down while they draw it out.

Please, please, please…

You clap a hand over your mouth just in time, hips jerking so hard that it makes your wrist ache.

Whoops.

Well, you doubt anyone heard. It’s pretty late, and you’re on the second story anyway.

Already sleepy, you’re too lazy to close the window after a pre-bed stop in the restroom. It’s such a nice night, after all.

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Masterlist

[ennn]

Very much enjoying your analysis. There seems to be a disconnect on whether Agatha kissed as a manipulative tactic or if there really as love there.

I’m in the middle on this. Agatha was crying when she kissed Rio. We know from interviews with Kathryn that Agatha hates herself for loving Rio. I’m just afraid that didn’t come across very strongly. However, I feel like my opinions are veering more negative because of all of the negativity 😂 your opinions are markedly more positive, so I’d like some positivity, please 😭

Thank you for enjoying! 💚💜 Always happy to throw some thoughts anyone’s way if it helps :]

So, the trick I think for Agatha in general and even for Rio – or really, any character that's complicated – is this:

A few things can be true at the same time

Let’s start from a meta (Doylist?) outside-the-text pov first:

Jac Schaeffer loves ambiguity and complex characters. She’s positioned Wanda and Agatha as both their show’s protagonist and antagonist. She doesn’t see characters as set heroes or villains. She seems to genuinely enjoy people having their own interpretations, and things not being black and white or having a single definite answer.

In interviews I think Kathryn Hahn has also been careful to talk about how Agatha and Rio have a long and complicated relationship. If she had to pick one word it would probably be that. If she had to pick three words I think it would be "love, respect, and hate" – which she used in her recent interview.

And to be honest, I think all the interviews with Schaeffer and the cast have been limited in really digging into this relationship because they've had to avoid spoilers for most of the season as Rio being Death feeds so critically into their dynamic.

I get that people tend to have confirmation bias and focus on bits that fit with their world view so while yes, Schaeffer does talk about how Agatha and Rio fall back into the muscle memory of that love and the love they have is true, there's also the other side of the coin to this complicated relationship which is the hate, resentment, anger, and manipulation (mainly from Agatha).

So back into the text: Was Agatha manipulating Rio by kissing her? Probably yes? But that's Agatha.

And importantly, Rio knows this and that's who Rio fell in love with.

You know the ol' fable about the scorpion and the frog? Rio knows she's in love with a scorpion. Rio sees through Agatha's more obvious lies. She even finds a lot of them amusing. She knows she's going get stung and it hurts like fuck but she's also Death. In one form or another, she can endure.

I'm reminded of that Doctor Who quote: Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?

Was there love there? I like to think yes, there was. There are enough glorious GIF sets going around for you to fully appreciate it in the performance.

Here I ask: what's Agatha manipulating Rio for, with the kiss? Is she distracting Rio so she can more easily become a ghost?

The whole ghost thing would annoy and piss Rio off yes, but if you think about it, that's actually a win for Rio because she was genuinely upset seeing Agatha dead.

Yes Rio will probably be mad – she grieved for you dammit – but I think she'd eventually find it amusing her clever witch got away again. Rio wants to keep coming after Agatha. That's their thing. That's why when Agatha sets the cost of taking Billy to be Rio not seeing her ever again, Rio is crushed.

Agatha becoming a ghost is kind of an overall win for all parties really: Agatha wins by having Rio let Billy go, and she can continue to go after power and knowledge, and Rio can continue to chase her and they can continue annoying the hell out of each other.

[sunflowerscottie]

Okay, I have some thoughts based on what I’ve been seeing people post.

The first thought is about Rio and Agatha’s kiss. I do not believe that any kiss with Rio would automatically kill Agatha. I do think that Agatha kissed Rio and used that as a way to siphon Rio’s powers (remember, it was established that this would kill Agatha). The visuals in the scene are very much like those they use when Agatha is draining another witch and you can see a brief moment of confusion on Rio’s face when it starts. Agatha’s death is not what Rio expected from the kiss. I think this is also supported by the episode four scene, because there’s no way that either one of them would have been so cavalier about that.

The second thought is about the reasoning behind Agatha killing all those witches. I have two theories on this that I feel very strongly about. It could be one, it could be the other, or it could be a combination of the two. I think that Agatha was killing witches to distract/placate Rio to prevent her from taking Nicky. It’s possible that Agatha thought the deaths could restore a balance and, in a way, pay for her son’s continued life. The other reason could be that Agatha was killing the witches in the hope of gaining enough power to stop Rio from taking Nicky when she did eventually come for him. Either or both could be true (or neither, I just think these are the most plausible reasons).

The third thought is about Agatha and Rio’s relationship as a whole. I see a lot of people posting that they were never in love, that Agatha was only using Rio to delay her own death, but I don’t think that’s the case. The scene at the end of episode four, the way Agatha takes such comfort in Rio, I don’t think that scene would have gone the same way if Agatha didn’t still love Rio, or if Agatha had never loved Rio at all. The way I see it, Agatha made her a promise, “If you do this, I will hate you forever,” and for once in her life, she’s following through. Hate and Love are both passionate emotions, and they turn so easily—but also not at all. If we see more of them, and I am praying to Jac Schaeffer that we do, I think we’ll see that between them. The hate that Agatha feels toward herself for failing Nicky (“The truth is too awful”, “I can’t face him!”) that she’s projected onto Rio for doing the one thing Rio had to do—her job as a keeper of the balance of life and death—and also the love that Agatha had and still has for Rio despite everything.

[Still on that topic, I do think that Rio’s giving Agatha more time was a mistake on her part. Rio thought she was giving Agatha what she wanted, but realistically, I think it ended up hurting Agatha more in the long run.]

The fourth thought is about the posts saying that because the Road wasn’t technically real, Alice’s, Lilia’s, and Sharon’s deaths didn’t mean anything. Just because the physical road they were on was Billy’s creation doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I’m so confused about why people are saying that. Nothing is real until it’s created. Billy created the Road, and the Road gave them the trials, and in the end they did achieve their goals. Billy’s involvement in the Road’s ‘reality’ doesn’t undo any of that, and I don’t understand why people are saying that it does. I mean, technically, Agatha created the Road and Billy just brought it into existence using his magic. It’s not any less real for that, and their experiences certainly aren’t any less real.

The fifth thought is that we were definitely left with a lot of questions about Agatha. It’s clear that they set some things up with the intention of having those questions answered in later projects (I, personally, am hoping for a prequel or something). How did Agatha get the Darkhold? How did Rio and Agatha meet? What’s the beef between Rio and Agatha’s mother (because there was such tension between them that reeked of history)? Why did Agatha’s mom think Agatha was evil from the moment she left the womb? That’s pretty extreme so there had to be a reason. There’s just so much that wasn’t fleshed out, so I’m hoping they left it in order to have some things to play with later.

If the show had been entirely about Agatha, I think these questions would’ve probably been answered, but it wasn’t and they weren’t. There was a whole coven of witches to go into (and honestly I would’ve loved to see more of them, too). The main point of the show was to introduce Agatha into her role per the comics: a mentor. While the show did that, I think it would’ve benefited from a longer season so that all of the things that got introduced could be fully explored.

[sunshinepanic]

Overbearing

Pairing: John B x LittleSister!Reader

Summary: Request is for John b: Reader is John b's little sister and she decides to surf the surge when there is a storm without telling John b. She gets a little injured while surfing and hides it from John b. John b finds out she is hurt and scolds her for going surfing in the storm and hiding her injury. I went ahead and made reader surf the storm from season 1 and just made it like John B and Pope never did it.

Warning: Angst, Fluff, reader gets hurt

Notes: I’ve never written for John B before so this is my first attempt.

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 1,370

John B Masterlist - OBX Masterlist

Your older brother had always been ridiculously overprotective of you, even more so now that your dad was missing at sea and DCS was threatening foster care. You needed a way to blow off some steam because John B’s helicopter mom routine was driving you insane. When Hurricane Agatha hit, you saw your opportunity for some fun, and you ran with it. Grabbing your surfboard, you snuck out of the chateau while everyone was storm-prepping and made your way to the beach.

 The swells were massive, but JJ had taught you everything he knew about surfing, and he was the best; even John B said so. As you raced out into the raging water, your excitement only grew. This is exactly what you needed. An adrenaline rush that nothing else could give you. Surfing the waves and getting tossed around in the storm, you were having the time of your life. You decided to go for one last run before you packed it in and made your way home. A massive wave headed your way, and you caught it easily, but the waves were unpredictable, especially in a storm, and you got rolled. When you went under the water, your leg hit something sharp, and the pain was immediate. You struggled to the surface, finding your board broken and having to fight your way back to shore. John B. was going to kill you if he found out.

 As you made your way back to the chateau, you hoped that the pogues would be asleep or at least distracted enough not to notice you limping into the house and bleeding everywhere. Luck seemed to be on your side when you found everyone asleep. You managed to make it to the bathroom past everyone’s sleeping forms and locked the door. The gash on your leg didn’t seem to be too deep, but it was definitely going to leave a nasty scar and hurt for a while. You patched yourself up as best as you could and managed to make it into your bedroom, where you collapsed and promptly passed out.

 You woke up to your brother smacking you over the head with a pillow. “Get up! We got a lot of shit to clean up, and we need all hands on deck!” Grumbling that he was an ass, you rolled over as he laughed while making his way outside. Slowly, you got up, but your leg was throbbing, and you had already started to bleed through the bandage you had put on last night. You hobbled into the bathroom to change out your bandage and take some pain killers. When you made it back to your room to get dressed, you realized you were going to have to wear long pants if you were going to have any chance of hiding what had happened.

 After getting dressed, you made your way outside to the rest of the pogues to start helping with the storm clean-up. You forced yourself not to limp, as you didn’t want to give any indication that something was wrong. As the day went on, your leg was getting worse, and it was getting harder to hide the fact that you were hurt. JJ and Kie had already started giving you weird looks, and you knew they were starting to suspect something was wrong. Everyone else was busy, so Pope asked for your help moving a particularly large branch that was blocking the twinkie. Begrudgingly, you sighed and made your way over to help, but as the two of you lifted the branch, your leg gave out, and you screamed as you fell to the ground. Pope panicked, managing to drop the branch away from you as the others came running over, hearing your scream.

 John B crouched next to you, frantically looking for any sign of injury but not seeing anything. “What’s wrong!?!? What happened? Are you hurt?” You tried to shrug him off, insisting that you were fine, but when you tried to stand up, your leg gave out again, causing you to fall. Your brother managed to catch you, stating that you are clearly not fine. He helped you over to the porch, setting you down. He glared down at you. “I swear to God, you need to tell me what is wrong, and don’t you dare say nothing because clearly you can’t walk.” You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to respond when JJ piped up. "Dude, her leg is bleeding.” John B’s eyes snapped down to your leg, where a clearly visible patch of blood had started to form on your gray sweatpants.

 He crouched down, gently grabbing your leg, and lifted your pants leg to get a better look at what was going on. He thought you had cut yourself on a branch when you fell, but he wasn’t expecting to find an already bandaged wound that was clearly not from today. His head snapped up, making eye contact with you that you were trying to avoid. “What in the hell is this? What happened?” You rolled your eyes at his overly protective behavior. “It’s nothing, B. I’m fine.” “You are bleeding, and you can barely walk! Clearly, you are not fine! Now tell me what in the hell happened!”

 Sighing, you looked away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I got hurt surfing yesterday.” A look of confusion passed over John B’s face. “When did you go surfing yesterday?” You looked up, accidentally making eye contact with JJ. A look of shock crossed JJ’s face, and before he could think, he shouted. “No way! You actually surfed the surge!?!?” Everyone’s heads snapped towards him, and he quickly held his hands up. “I’m just learning about this for the first time too.” John B quickly looked back at you, and you refused to look at him. “Is that true? Did you surf the surge? Do you know how dangerous that is? You could have seriously been hurt! You could have died!” He was going off on a rant, and you were already fed up. You finally looked at him and yelled. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are so overprotective, and I knew you wouldn’t let me go! I just wanted to have some fun, and guess what? It was amazing! It was so much fun, and yes, I got hurt, but it was a fluke accident, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you would freak out and act like this! I know things are different now that dad is gone, but you are not my father; you are my brother!” You got up and limped your way into the house, leaving John B. stunned.

 You made your way to your bedroom, collapsing backward onto the bed. You sighed when you heard a knock at the door, but before you could say anything, John B walked in with a first-aid kit. He sat on your bed, pulling your leg into his lap, so he could change out the bandage and clean the wound. He worked silently, and when he was done, he finally looked at you. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not dad, and I know I have been a little overbearing lately, but I just can’t lose you. You’re all I have left, and even though you’re my pain in the ass, little sister, I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.” Without saying anything, you sit up and wrap your arms around your brother. “I get it, B. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you either, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I got hurt.” Just then, your stomach started to grumble, causing John B to laugh. “Kie should be here any minute with some sandwiches. Let’s go eat.” As you made your way outside, everyone was already gathered on the front porch eating. You sat down next to Kie, who handed you your favorite sandwich. As you took your first bite, you heard JJ pipe up from where he was sitting in the hammock. “So for real, how bad ass was surfing the surge?” John B. smacked him across the chest as you laughed.

Tags: @mirellef2001

[holyblanchett]

i’m like that other anon and i don’t blame anyone who thinks agatha never loved rio and i hate that i can be one of them easy enough sorry!!! i don’t want to, of course i rather believe agatha loved/loves rio, but it was a choice, they wanted the idea that death loved agatha, that she was on her knees for her and they found the time (and somehow marvel ‘let’ them) to make it very clear. heart beats for her, my scar, spent centuries chasing her, lost her fucking mind in the end while asking why doesn’t she want her but agatha? even the almost kiss could be a manipulation to distract her from billy like she said she was doing, looking at rio longingly while flying, rio is hot and how good it is for her ego that death itself loves and wants her, that ‘my love’ without any kind of backstory can be easily a desperate manipulation to save her baby, the kiss their ‘breakup’ when they weren’t even together. even becoming a ghost, the show still made sure that we knew rio hated ghosts so that could be a fuck you to her ex. after everything, rio was devastated with her ‘death’ but wait she became what rio hated ha ha ha

the only thing that is telling me agatah genuine loved rio is jac schaeffer (and im only thinking loved, not even loved) but she said a lot, do I believe everything even when they make no sense and contradict themselves. i think kathryn hahn also said agatha loves rio but it could just be her headcanon who knows, she didn’t get any script saying that for sure. i still love the ship and the fics, and at least there i can believe they love each other

when i think about jac schaeffer saying that there will be other chapters for agathario when she knows it won’t be i just feel mad. maybe there will be a wiccan show, there’s probably even a decent chance but they couldn’t bother with their relationship in agatha’s show, to actually believe that they will give us those ‘chapters’ in a show where she’s billy’s sidekick full of new characters that are connected to billy and with aubrey plaza nowhere near is madness

This tea is piping hot oomfs. It's such a shame that people feel that way. The fact that Rio knew Agatha was manipulating her to distract her from Billy makes me want to to storm marvel HQ. I mentioned earlier that jac even said in an interview that Agatha often uses her body to get what she wants. So it can be hard for people that don't over analyze everything like we do to be kind of confused.

The writers made it very clear there is absolutely no chance of them getting back together. Which i understand but like damn you didn't have to destroy their relationship like that. I would have been more satisfied if they talked and then went their separate ways tbfh.

Everything about how this ship was handled makes me want to crash out as time goes by. But I refuse to let them take anything else from me 😭 back to ao3 I go.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

"She can't leave me" ... "Agatha can't abandon me"...

Consider this: Simon holding on to "me and Agatha are a sure thing" and the idea of marrying her to be part of a family not because he actually envisions himself as a married man and or a father (his true belief being that he will die in battle meaning he doesn't see himself growing up or actually marrying) but because he wants to feel like a son. The Wellbelove family is the first and only family who ever welcomes Simon, consistently giving Simon the only taste he ever had of a comfortable, perhaps even luxurious house, and welcoming adults who view him positively/"accept him"... so it is any wonder that Simon, an orphan child who desperately wants family, would unconsciously try to feel that void with them? That he would feel the only way to "secure a spot" there would be by becoming a son-in-law? That a break-up is all it takes to lose it all, even though Simon knows on some level that what he has here isn't right? (and he gives it all away in his thoughts – the dad calls him son, but not like "I think of you as a son"... the mom calls him handsome but that's all she ever says to him, etc)

Agatha breaking up is painful for many reasons that have nothing to do with Agatha herself ("the prettiest girl rejecting you means you are not aspirational and thus you have failed at proving yourself – you simply don't belong" it says, self-esteem-wise) (when it's about Agatha herself, and not what Simon has attached to her, what hurts is the possibility of losing a friendship). But what hurts the most is perhaps the feeling of abandonment. The reminder that, at the end of the day, you're still an orphan. "The happy ending is where my life will begin, it's all I've been working towards" except nothing has changed... You're nobody's son. (Except a lot has changed, and Simon is giving away that things have not been good for him thus far! even though he has been dating her for years! He has not been happy with her at any point in their relationship, which is worth highlighting because Simon is constantly happy when things are good with Baz... because he actually wants to be with him, instead of wanting thing he's attaching to him). "I have to fix this," "I'll say whatever she wants me to say," all say a lot: at no point is Simon ever wondering what he wants, he's just focusing on whatever he thinks other wants him to do so he can distract himself from the awful belief he'll die alone and lonely. That his days are numbered because he'll fight until he encounters something too big, too powerful to win against.. and that he doesn't actually want that... what he truly wants is to live to have a family. That's what the HEA represents to him.

Agatha leaving him is upsetting not because Agatha is abandoning him, but because the idea of family he could experience by attaching himself to her is abandoning him. The idea of being part of a family is abandoning him – that's what can't leave him. (Baz leaving him is upsetting, however, because Baz is leaving. A future without Baz is unthinkable because he wants to be with Baz. It's just completely different, the way he thinks about these things, and why he can easily think about "happy endings," which implies a future, while the thought of an actual future is so scary it makes him want to shit himself. It's not a contradiction because he didn't truly believe he was having a future until after he survived the events of CO, hence the breakdown that followed)

[imdoingsortagay]

Melina and Agatha Headcanons

warnings: NSFW and SFW headcanons are below so 18+

a/n: im on my Melina BS again might as well also with Agatha someone let me ramble about these milfs

sfw:

they love it when you're in the middle of them sleeping

Melina is an early bird while Agatha sleeps in

" Cmon honey you and me are gonna go get a workout in"

" Mel can I sleep in with Aggie 🥺🥺🥺"

Agatha can't deny your puppy eyes but Melina easily can't be convinced ( sometimes)

Learning Russian with her when Agatha is at work, with cute flashcards she claims she didn't make

You pretend to not know but her handwriting is definitely hers.

Agatha tries to teach you self-defense as a means to protect yourself when both of them aren't there with you.

Ended with one of Melina's vases almost being broken, a bad bruise on your leg and Agatha being lectured.

" Agatha! you could have hurt our sólnyshka "

" I wanted to show them some moves i learned from Wanda babe, I didn't expect y/n to not move"

Leads to Melina properly showing you some moves from back in the day ( lol )

Agatha loves teaching you witchy stuff whenever she has free time, Melina of course there to “ supervise “ even tho she’s not a fan of magic.

Both you and Melina getting distracted by Agatha’s fingers

Weekly date nights with each of of you rotating who plans it

Yours are always so chaotic

Melina’s are for the most part having to do with drinking 😭

Agatha’s are cute and soft ahhhhhh

Both are so touchy all the fucking time I stg

Girlies love language is touch

Melina loves to have you in her lap in the living room, wrap her arms around your waist and just feel you.

Agatha on the other hand loves having your head in her lap while she’s runs her fingers through your hair 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Agatha is the baker and Melina is the cook

Nsfw:

Both are switches

They’ve lived busy lives, of course they want to give up control every once in a while.

Also both are kinky mfs too soooooo the sex is always so gay and so hot and so nasty in a good way.

Melina calls you her little princess, darling or when she’s feeling mean whore, slut.

Agatha for the most part the same thing along with superstar and baby.

Melina loves going by mistress or miss

Agatha loves mommy 😩😩😩

If Melina is ever topping the both of you , she goes feral for having you eat out Agatha while she fucks your pussy.

“ look at you kitten , look so nice licking up your mommy. Cmon now, you don’t wanna be a bad girl and disappoint her huh ?”

Sex toy collection goes crazy

Especially since Melina can add so many gismos and gadgets.

Not to mention Agatha can enchant any toy with magic at any chance.

Firmly believe Melina is well kept down below while Agatha has a bush 😌 sue me

After care is the best with both of them especially after a busy night

Melina at first wasn’t used to it but Agatha slowly taught her wife 🥺🥺🥺

[orange-peony]

For the trope mash-up: I used a random number generator and got

8: Hospital AU

And

63: Everybody Knows/Mistaken for Couple

And I think those would make a great lil snowbaz AU!!

Thank you sooo much for your ask and sorry it took absolute ages!

“Baz, you’re needed in room three,” Niall says, looking like he hasn’t slept in two days (he probably hasn’t). “Your boyfriend managed to get another injury for the sole purpose of coming to snog you.”

“Snow is not my boyfriend!” I reply for the umpteenth time, but my legs are already moving faster than I thought my tiredness would allow.

What the fuck has he done this time?

“Baz, Simon has come to see you! What a lovely surprise,” Ebb proclaims with a smile as I walk past her. She also probably hasn’t slept (or showered) in ages, but she somehow never loses her lovely manners and sweetness. “You know, he always says he was a terrible boyfriend to Agatha, but it’s so nice to see how much he’s changed.”

“Oh, I can confirm he was a shit boyfriend,” Agatha comments drily while she makes a poor man wail in pain as she changes his dressing. 

“Still not my boyfriend,” I declare, deciding to ignore them.

Room three is just at the end of the corridor. I calm down when I hear him chatting cheerfully with the nurse on duty—it’d better not be Smith-Richards, that fucking flirt. 

“Oh, hello Baz!” Snow greets me with a grin, his cheek smudged with something that I hope is just dirt. My eyes go automatically for his arm, which is carefully being tended by Pippa (thank god it’s her). 

The cut looks pretty deep, but nothing life-threatening. I sigh in relief and tell Pippa she can go. 

“When are you going to stop being such a reckless idiot?” I ask as a greeting, and he produces his usual apologetic smile, not even batting an eyelid when I start cleaning the wound, trying to be as delicate as I can.

“Baz! Your boyfriend’s come to visit you!” Dev exclaims after popping his head in with a shit-eating grin. “Don’t forget—no hanky-panky at work.”

“I’m not a horny incubus like you and Niall,” I reply, my eyes fixed on Snow’s wound. I don’t want him to have a scar. Not another one. Those butchers who treated him before I met him made such a shit job at patching him up. But I’m going to make sure that no one else gets their hands on him. “And we’re not together.”

“No need to lie,” Dev says dismissively before he leaves us alone.  

“I was hoping you were going to be in,” he murmurs before I warn him that the anaesthetic is going to sting. He grimaces but makes no sound, a loud intake of breath is all I get for an injection in a spot that would make even the burliest men swear out loud. 

“How did it happen this time?” I ask, my tone probably harsher than I meant for it to come out. My eyes leave his wound to meet his gaze, and he smiles at me, licking his lips.

“It was actually Gareth’s fault,” he comments easily. “But I’ve got to admit I was a bit distracted. Someone was telling me about this concert. It’s the symphonic orchestra, and they’re doing this thing at Watford theatre on Saturday evening. I was thinking…would—shall I take you to see them? Hear them? I’ve never been to a concert before…”

My hands still, our eyes locking as I stare at him with my mouth open like a fish out of water.

This sounds like a date.

Is this meant to be a date?

“Baz, I’m going to lunch,” Niall calls from the corridor. “How long are you going to be with your boyfriend?”

“Very long!” I reply, and Snow’s uncertain expression slowly melts into a grin.

Is he actually my boyfriend?

“I mean, when we went to IKEA together,” he starts tentatively, “you said you play the violin. That you like classical music.”

“I did,” I confirm, still unsure if he’s asking me out.

“And the last time we went to the cinema, I picked the film,” he adds, “so it’s only fair that this time we do something you like. I mean, t-t-that is if you want to come—”

“Of course, I want,” I reply, so fast that I almost give myself whiplash. “Pick me up at seven. We can go to dinner first, if you want…”

His smile makes my heart melt like an icicle in the sun.

“It’s a date,” he says.   

Fuck, Snow is my boyfriend.

[labselkie]

news just dropped that my school’s closed from wednesday thru monday hashtag floridaaa

sorry in advance if my posts get exponentially more annoying especially because i won’t be able to distract myself as easily from the agatha episode this week

[neuroprincess]

Simili - The Executioner

Professor!Agatha Harkness/Student!Female Reader

Fanfic Chapter List

Summary: A series of murders start to scare the small town of Westview when young university students turn up dead on campus, soon Y/N seems to be connected to the victims somehow. Determined to find the author of these atrocities, she can trust no one, not her family, friends, and even less the local police, except the only person really willing to help her, the professor Agatha.

Warnings: Trauma in the subtext, sorry

Word count: +2500

"I watch attentively as the molten bronze falls through the mold, boiling, shining, filling every gap that will form a beautiful image, just as the fire fills and consumes me inside to one day become a person, for now I'm just a mold, even though bronze already runs through my veins, it's in my blood, it's who I am." 

As an omen of dark days and in response to recent events, the sky has darkened, turning the bright ones into a mist of mourning. Everything is gray, the animated conversations have become murmurs and, even if they hide it very well, fear pervades the corridors. The academic staff have told everyone that there is nothing to fear and no reason to, but how could they not fear a brutal murder on campus? The image of the man in their memories, haunting some dreams, meanwhile seems to be the entertainment of others who can't stop talking about it as if it were a kind of gossip. Young people are stupid, that's what Y/N thinks as she goes along her usual route, trying not to stare for too long at certain groups that gather on corners, enthusiastic whispers and cunning words, dozens of theories being born. No one really knew Jareth Redd apart from the fact that the name was on the staff and his visits, which could easily go unnoticed among the suited men who administer the university. She... she remembers the yellowed and pointed teeth showing in a smile not warm at all, almost sickly from how forced it was, the eyes that lingered too long and the soft speech that could engage anyone. And she doesn't like to talk or even think about him. That's why she's silent while friends chatter away, trying to keep her mind off other things like new classes or the fact that it hasn't stopped raining, two days and three nights in a row, the puddles are piling up at the exits, there's no umbrella to withstand the gale and at the same time there are a dozen reporters surrounding every gate. It's annoying how they insist on asking questions that no one has answers to and when don't get what they want, induce those answers, distorting phrases to make headlines in the local newspaper, main posts on websites and bloggers too. After days, they're still seen standing on the other side of buildings, trying to take photos or at least catch a glimpse, it's hard to have a big news story like this in hand in a considerably small town. A promising opportunity. 

"I heard he had a mistress and the wife ordered his death..." Wanda whispers to friends, there had been several rumors spreading in her previous classes "And the mistress is a university student, from here."

"He wasn't married." Y/N comments without thinking, immediately dismissing another created story, although she knows that if he were married it would probably be true "There was no ring on his finger." she tries to take some of the attention off herself when realizes that the group is staring with curiosity.  

"You're very observant, darling." Darcy compliments and smiles sweetly, approaching her who walks ahead faster than the others "Is everything all right?" she asks in a whisper, worried, since everything happened her friend has been quieter than normal, which isn't surprising considering how traumatizing seeing the scene had been.  

"Hum, yeah... yeah... I'm just a bit distracted today. I still have a couple of classes to finish the day." she shrugged and sighed, feeling tiredness along with the sleepless nights take over her body "And you?"  

"Just one more, how about we meet at the Planet later?"  

"I'll come along!" the redhead says, just behind them, listening attentively "But I'll be late, our practice has been postponed until late afternoon."  

"The debating club too." Monica says dejectedly, many classes have been canceled and events postponed "Maybe we won't go at all." she points at Jimmy, he agrees. 

They quickly get back to chatting about trivial things, like celebrity affairs or how much they hate a specific professor; to Y/N's relief, Redd is no longer mentioned. However, the walk is long, too much for her taste, feeling exhaustion in every part of body. From neurons synapsing a millisecond slower to feet that don't seem to obey the mind screaming that at this rate she'll be late. A bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the dim corridor and the noise makes all her hairs stand on end, like a dose of caffeine, it wakes her up almost immediately, senses heightened and eyes alert, suddenly there's a lot going on around. A bunch of architecture students, if she remembers correctly, walk past them, judgmental looks alongside curious stares, all pointed in one direction, Y/N. They don't even try to hide it. This irritates and embarrasses her at the same time, she has never particularly liked being the center of attention, since childhood preferred to be on the sidelines, just an observer and now, after letting instincts lead her to that scene, she has become the last thing wanted. She involuntarily stares back at them, until finally she loses sight, and swallows her saliva, realizing the consequences of that day. But she... needed to confirm what resembled one of the recurring nightmares she's had, the ones that still torment her in the middle of the night and make her feverish. All seems very surreal. The water running under feet, wet grass, red taking over green, white and gray, the statue she had never paid attention to appeared to express itself as it held him in arms, between pain and compassion for a loved one who was gone. Such irony, she thought to herself, smiling without noticing.  

"Hey!" Wanda calls as she approaches, increasing speed to keep up with them "I have to do something before class, I might be late, could you save a seat for me?" and without giving a chance for an answer, the other girl takes off down the corridors, everyone there knows what she went to do and with whom, no one comments anything.  

"Good luck with your new classes, I hope and pray I didn't scare you about SHE." the brunette whispers, feeling a bit guilty.  

"Nah, I'll be fine." Y/N shrugged and winked at her "By the way, I don't want to be late, so I'm going. See you later!"   

"See you..."   

Without even trying to hear what her friend wants to say, she heads towards the stairs to the second floor, where the classroom is located. It's not as if she can pay attention to any real words or advice, it just goes in one ear and out the other, through the fog that her mind has fallen into. She's thankful that the floor is practically empty compared to the first, so she doesn't have to face the people staring at her or fill herself with questions about what the hell they must be thinking, away from judgmental, malicious and biased speculation. For God's sake, they don't even know her name and that doesn't prevent invented rumors from circulating in every part of the campus. 

"I'm sorry, I was distracted..." she begins to explain immediately when feels herself hit another body, both almost fall to the ground due to the impact, but hold on to each other avoiding it, the younger raises face and, surprise, releases her, kept safe by the arms that continue to hold her by the waist firmly against herself, so close, face to face "You... I mean... Well, I, actually..." the words are jumble in the midst of so much nervousness, her throat dries up immediately and hands tremble. 

"Watch where you're going next time." the woman says slightly annoyed and lets her go after making sure she can stand. Then straightens the coat she's wearing, fixes the glasses that slipped down the nose during the collision "Are you hurt?"  

"No, I'm fine. And you?" she asks, nervousness evident in her voice. The woman, the same one who hugged and cried in her arms, is so different from how she remembers.  

The eyes, previously swollen and darkened by pain, are a clear, soft blue, expressive and gentle, capable of seeing through any soul, from the purest to the most bruised, contradicting the indifferent expression on her delicate features. Long eyelashes frame them, accompanied by well-defined eyebrows, outlined nose and perfectly drawn mouth, a mature beauty that makes Y/N melt immediately. The air is stolen from her lungs and a sudden need arises to look minimally presentable, internally regretting her modest clothing, slightly disheveled hair and the miserableness of her appearance in general. A little embarrassed, she runs fingers through locks in an attempt to straighten them. 

"More than fine." the brunette reacts indifferently and stares at her from head to toe, making the student even more tense "Now, if you don't mind." she mutters, checking the handbag before continuing to walk in the opposite direction, without a second glance.  

The stranger's phantom touch makes her skin burn, a weird sensation begins to consume her, an emptiness that hits her straight in the chest. Y/N sighs in defeat, feeling the world trying to create a small conspiracy so that nothing is forgotten or, as she prefers, buried seven feet under next to his corpse. Very dead, waiting to be consumed by the worms, who, even though they are worms, are about to taste the dirtiest thing they've eaten in a short lifetime. The poison intrinsic in the cold and sickly flesh, time destroying it, just as it should with all the secrets and deeds in life. In the end, all she wants is for this person to disappear from existence, to leave her alone. No matter how much she's being pulled into the small loose parts of a complex puzzle, by which she means people and anything related, begging to be seen, she prefers to blind herself. Repeating, for the hundredth time in the week, that everything ended the minute a heart stopped beating. 

"Right, right, everything's fine now." she murmurs, impatient for letting these thoughts, ideas and... some memories surface "Class! I have to be in class." quickly checks the room number on the timetable.  

It takes her a while to find the correct number in the long corridor, among the various identifications that scramble in her blurry vision, sometimes she forgets how big the campus can be. From the high walls raised in raw brick to the statues molded by the hands of the graduates themselves, every detail drawn on Westview's timeline, the pride of the small town. The Mythology professor's auditorium lives up to this, rows of chairs down wide staircases, at least fifty empty seats, the walls are filled with paintings probably worth more than her life, along with dozens of historical decorations, at the end there is a stage that seems untouchable, so clear and organized, a large table in the center, behind it two shelves full of old books and a blackboard already scribbled on. The cursive letter written in impeccable calligraphy.   

Heels tapping against the laminate floor attract attention and a figure emerges from the adjoining door, walking at a slow, glorious pace to the table, those thick-framed glasses stuck on the end of her nose as she seems to concentrate on reading the local paper.  

"Are you going to continue staring at me or find a seat for yourself? Class starts soon." the woman, the same one from the fountain and the corridor, says loud and clear, sitting down without even looking up "And keep quiet." 

Y/N just nods in shock and does as she's told, looking for one, having the privilege of choosing anyone since nobody but her has arrived yet, ending up somewhere in the middle. And not a single student shows up for the next ten minutes. She begins to wonder if there will be any more or if a second thing has happened in the week to bring everyone together, doubt makes the atmosphere tense, not only because of her concern, also for the indifference she feels coming from the other woman. It's almost as if she despises the girl without even knowing her, which only reinforces what Darcy warned about earlier and makes her believe that she is, in fact, an executioner. How will the next lessons be if this is just a taste of what's to come? Not to mention the visible connection between her and the late chancellor. As the clock ticks down, the hope of having a partner in the battle for the first class is fading and, like a heroine on a winged horse, Wanda finally appears. The loud banging of the double door draws the attention of the only people there, which earns her a disapproving look, she doesn't mind.  

"Honey, I'm home!" she jokes, taking a seat next to Y/N "Can you believe I couldn't find him anywhere? So I gave up wandering around campus like a silly cockroach. Did I miss anything?"  

"Class hasn't even started." 

 "At this pace it won't, will it always be empty like this?" she whispers noticing the older woman's deadly stare now directed at them, the newspaper forgotten on the wooden surface "I wouldn't be surprised at her fame."  

"I have very good hearing, Maximoff." the brunette says suddenly, standing up and showing off her elegant figure without a coat; no one noticed that she had taken it off, revealing a beautiful navy blue dress that clings to curves and accentuates all attributes "And you should know that my fame doesn't even come close to what it's really like being in my class."  

At this point, Y/N doesn't even care anymore about the reputation of an executioner or how the hell she's going to deal with it for the rest of an entire semester, her eyes are fixed on the lines that outline the impeccable body and she can't help but admire her beauty. If she didn't have the slightest bit of self-control, surely she'd be drooling with reason. But she's certain to be blushing deeply and is grateful that the attention is on her friend.  

"Well, you two are new, so I'll be kind enough to go over a few simple rules. First of all, time, anyone arriving after the agreed time won't be allowed in. I'm not going to waste my voice for nothing, so be quiet, pay attention and take notes. And, most importantly, no smartphones."  

"But..." Wanda tries to protest only to be interrupted immediately, with no chance to say anything or assimilate indignation. 

"That's all!" the professor takes two steps forward and stares at them for a moment, blue irises fixed on Y/N before returning to speak "Welcome to Cosmogonic Mythology! I am Miss Harkness, besides teaching I'm in charge of the history department..."  

The words become garbled and the younger can't concentrate on the introduction to the subject, even though she knows all the difficult words need to be written down and some knowledge absorbed, nothing seems to enter her head. She is paralyzed, without reaction. It's really happening, there's no escape. At the same time as being enchanted by the professor, she is also frightened, fearing that she might read her soul and pull out the deepest secrets, because, like a magnet, they can't take their eyes off each other. 

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[neon-nick]

Introducing Dangle, Agatha, and oodle

Lore Ideas

Dangle, the counterpart to Gangle. She does not express emotion too often. She will play along to whatever is happening. She will state the obvious in the given situation, she does not care too much about the other.

Agatha, the counterpart to Ragatha. The most capable and confident person in the festival. She is ready for any situation Caine might throw at them. She and Paul don't always get along Paul will cling to her for protection. Agatha does not like how Paul will cling to her and sees him as a hindrance. If Caine sees that she is not living up to her reputation she will be abstracted.

Oodle, the counterpart to Zooble. The most childlike person in the festival she is curious and very easily distracted. She will play along in the game but will get distracted and completely ignore the given situation.

[riggerbison]

4, 8, 26, 27, 41 for the ask!! 💛💛💛

hey jovannnnnaaaaa

4 - A set that flopped but deserved better

so i did give agatha this answer already but i decided to find one for you as well and i'd go with this top x mew set, while i don't love the middle gif because the typography bugs me, it still was a fire set (pun intended)

8- What gif trend do you hate

honestly i don't know what the trends are right now but i don't think i've ever hated a trend

26 - How many un posted sets are in your drafts right now

i actually cleaned out my drafts a while ago because there were things i knew i was never going to finish but i also now have sets in there i will never likely finish because my laptop died not too long ago and then my external hardrive also died so psds and gifs were lost...so there's about 15 in there and i'm only working on 4 of them as 2 of them are color meme requests and 2 are shows gone horror that i was going to post in october but well you see that didn't happen.

27 - Have you ever made a set, decided you hated it and deleted it? What was it?

No? i wouldn't say i deleted anything because I hated it just more was no longer interested or it was one of those things where it's like i'm never going to be able to match the coloring of these to make them look cohesive

41 - What is your least favorite part about your gif making process?

How easily distracted I get. You know I go to save a finished gif and have to wait for it to render or whatever it is, so I will go to look at something else and 20 minutes later it's like "oh yea I was working on a gifset."

gif maker asks

[donicosplay]

I get distracted so easily. One minute I’m about to watch Agatha All Along and work on art refs the next minute I’m scrolling through the free section on steam and now I’m making this post