#because agatha can be so very charming

[thymejot]

You have Death, personification of the cycle of life, has been wooed by multitudes not for who she is but the power she has, is so very good at what she does, stumbling across Agatha

Watching her manipulate and antagonise a bunch of witches while being such a smug asshole about it

Unable to help but laugh at her underhanded tactics

And being like, whelp I guess I'm in love now

[florencebirdsong]

More Than Duty

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Agatha All Along Week 2024 - Day 6

summary: you were given leave to choose your own bride until Agatha Harkness came along. Charmed and lured in by her promises of power, your King Father declared you were to be wed. Now, it's your wedding night and certain duties must be upheld.

Set in a world where one can get pregnant from a cum strap

tags: arranged marriage au, virgin reader, strap-on, breeding kink, fingering (r receiving), marking, pet names - princess & good girl, strap referred to as cock once, doggy style 

authors note: you're getting the largely unedited version for a little because if I have to read this one more time I'm going to despise it forever

Also don’t question the time I’m posting this I once again thought I only needed to write 100-200 more but it was actually OVER A THOUSAND. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS. Ahem. Anyway, here’s day six which is almost three times as long as the others.

Reader is referred to as princess multiple times, mentioned royal wedding dress, specified looking for a bride, described as wearing a plain night shift.

ao3 | masterlist

“I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, dear. But there’s no reason not to enjoy ourselves tonight.”

Your hands twist nervously in your simple shift. Your wedding dress had been elaborate. It needed more than one person to get you out of it. Which is not ideal for a wedding night.

You hadn’t had this in mind, exactly. You’d thought you had convinced your father to let you choose your own bride, as long as she met a few of his somewhat reasonable specifications. But then Lady Agatha Harkness had walked into his court. You don’t know whether it was her disarming charm, the power she holds, the boon to the kingdom the exchange would have or his own personal gain but he decided Lady Harkness would be the perfect match for you. He also decided you needed to get married the moment the decision was made. 

Thankfully, a royal wedding took months to prepare and you would have some time to get to know your future bride. Not that you had spent much time with her in the end. Only a few dinners here and there. She’s a busy woman, running her own region which she needed to organise another taking over. She can’t look after it and a whole kingdom, after all. Something she insisted despite your father’s good health. She also spent a lot of time with the court. Learning what her new duties will be and charming her way into their good graces.

It would be unnerving if you weren’t so relieved. One of the suitors your father had originally brought forward had no interest in what her royal duties would have been as Queen. Running a kingdom on your own would have been nothing short of hell.

So, small mercies. 

“Darling,” she says and you try not to startle.

She’s so much closer than before. She cautiously raises a hand to cup your cheek, like you’re a scared animal. You lean into it, eager to soak up any affection she gives you, and her thumb gently brushes over your skin.

“I know you’re nervous but we both have royal duties to attend to.”

You swallow harshly and look down. This is more than duty for you. You’re ashamed to admit you’ve been looking forward to this night. To having Agatha’s sole attention on you. You’ve dreamed about what could happen, what she’ll be like. 

You’ve only been told the very basics. That your wife will enter you with a specially designed device. That it may hurt for a moment but you will feel ‘a pleasure-like feeling’ afterwards. No one would explain exactly what that means. It makes you both more nervous and more excited. The only thing you know about the device is its shape and its intended use. Continuing the royal line.

“I know. It’s just,” you hesitate although Agatha has likely guessed already, “I’ve never done this before.”

“I’m aware,” she says and you flick your eyes up in time to see something flash in her eyes. “I promise to be gentle,” she says softly, a voice you haven’t heard from her before. You gently grasp the wrist of the hand cupping your cheek and nuzzle the hand. “The royal line must continue and it must be of your blood.”

You nod and leave the safety of her caress to cautiously lean closer. She waits for you to come to her and she waits for the first brush of your lips to move. She presses closer and her hands grab your waist and pull you against her. You make a surprised sound and cling to her shoulders for balance. Which you immediately lose as she begins to walk you backwards. The back of your knees hit the bed and she guides you to lay down in the middle of it. It’s hard to notice any of it with the feel of her lips against yours. The way her hands slide along your exposed skin as she leads you doesn’t help. She can’t keep her lips on you the entire time but you don’t mind so much until she pulls away properly. You chase her lips but she stops you with a hand dangerously low on your chest. 

Whatever look you’re giving her makes her eyes darken. One hand travels to the hem of your shift. You grab her wrist without thinking, anxiety rearing its head again. No one has seen you naked like this before. With the intention to- to touch. To feel.

“Let me see you,” she says, her voice firm.

You slowly relax your grip. This is your wife and someone who has shown how eager she is to see you undressed. She isn’t going to laugh or mock you. Your fingers slip from her wrist and she pulls your shift the rest of the way off.

It feels exposing in a way you haven’t felt before. You try to cover yourself instinctively but her hands grab your wrists and holds them down as she has her fill. You squirm but she doesn’t release you. Instead, she leans down and begins to suck deep, purple marks along the curve of your breast. It feels better than you were expecting it to (how can something feel so good when it isn’t down there?) but it doesn’t come close to the feeling of her lips wrapping around the stiff peak of your nipple. You gasp and arch into her. She flicks her tongue and your hand tangles in the thick curls of her hair. She does it again and a small whimper escapes you. You can feel her smile. She begins to trail kisses again and you think she’s going to repeat the same delicious thing until you realise she’s heading down instead of across.

“Wait,” you say, moving your hand to land on her shoulder. She lazily raises her head to look at you.

“Yes, princess?” she says in a tone you don’t have a name for.

It makes something spark between your legs and you determinedly ignore it to be able to speak.

“I want to see you too,” you try to speak as confidently as she did but there’s the tiniest waver to your voice.

She quirks an eyebrow before sitting up, taking her warmth with her. She pulls her own shift off and you think you understand her reaction. She’s beautiful. Your eyes devour every detail from her dark eyes to her pebbled nipples to-

Oh. You stare at it with wide eyes. It had looked so much smaller on the page. 

“Don’t worry, dear. Your body knows what to do.”

She leans back over you and the thing hanging between her thighs nudges your most sensitive spot. She muffles your whimper with a kiss. You cling to her. Excitement and anxiety swirling into a heady mix as she slowly, slowly begins to push inside of you.

“A-Agatha,” you say, your voice high and needy.

Agatha shushes you quietly and continues to slowly push inside of you. Your legs open wider instinctively. It doesn’t help with the stretching feeling. Nor the building tingling sensation. She continues to steadily push inside of you and the slight pain is overshadowed by the feel of her. Her hands tight on your hips, breath hot against your neck, her hips slowly getting closer and closer to yours.

“That’s it. Take it.”

You spread your legs wider, trying to do what she says. You don’t know why she felt the need to say it. You feel so full you can’t do anything but take it.

“Agatha,” you gasp as she bottoms out, nails digging in as you try to ground yourself.

She groans again and her next thrust is harsher than her last one. It forces a whining moan from you as it hits something inside of you that feels so good.

“Knew I had to have this sweet cunt the moment I saw you,” she grunts and settles into a slower, rougher pace. You can’t help the little noise you make every time she bottoms out. “When I found out about this little ritual of yours, I knew I had to fill this sweet cunt.”

Every word builds an unfamiliar fire inside of you. You don’t know what’s happening to you, what she’s doing to you,  but you can feel how big it’s going to be big. The feeling of your pleasure growing as it builds drowns out any worry you may have had. 

You wrap your legs around her waist and pull her tight against you, moaning at how full you feel. It forces Agatha to still.

“Princess,” she says warningly but you don’t care because that thread snaps inside of you.

Pure, unadulterated pleasure flows through you and you’re aware of nothing else.

You come back down to Agatha’s face hovering over yours, eyes devouring your every twitch.

“I- what?” you say, completely at a loss for words.

“You just came dear. And I just came in you,” the look on her face mirrors one of a cat that got the cream.

“You…” you stare up at her with wide eyes as you pulse at those words. “But you didn’t…?” you ask after a moment.

“No,” she confirms and your face drops. Her hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch. “It’s the best time to do it to get the results we want.”

“R-Right,” you stutter and look away, somehow embarrassed by that while she’s still inside of you.

“But you can make it up to me,” she says and you nod eagerly, missing the darker edge to her pleased smile. She pulls out and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. Her hands grip your hips again and you squeak as she manhandles you onto your stomach and then onto your knees. You automatically put your hands under you but a hand on the back of your head pushes your front back down. A pillow finds it way under your hips. This is a position you weren’t taught about.

Agatha’s hands run down your sides, over your hips, down your ass and stop at your thighs. Her thumbs gently hook around your inner lips and you whimper quietly at the feeling, especially since it feels like you’re dripping.

“You look so good full of my cum,” she says in a rough voice.

You feel that clenching feeling again and she chuckles lowly. Fingers brush your sensitive entrance and your hips jerk in surprise before needily pressing back against them. They start low and move up before gently pushing into you. Embarrassment flares through you when you realise that dripping feeling wasn’t just a feeling. She doesn’t comment though. Instead, she languidly pumps her fingers in and out of you, seeming content to enjoy the way you squeeze around her.

“Too bad I can’t feel this when filling you,” she sighs. You want to protest, you feel plenty full right now, but you know what she means. The idea of her pushing her strap back into you has you pressing back on her fingers again. “Probably a good thing. I’d never let you leave this bed.”

You whimper and try to open you legs wider, begging her to understand what you need. She must because she removes her fingers and a moment later the tip of her strap is dragging teasingly through your folds. You arch more, trying to get her inside of you again and unconsciously presenting for her. She groans and fills you with one thrust. She starts slow but hard, making you feel every inch of her. It doesn’t take you long to become a moaning mess again. Sinking into a hazy place you have’t been before. Filled with Agatha grunting above you, her cock filling you, her nails digging into your delicate skin. It’s all you could want.

Agatha gets louder, and slightly higher, and you realise the same thing that happened to you is happening to her. She’s coming. And you don’t get to watch her. 

A strange warmth fills you, one you didn’t notice last time. Agatha leans her forehead against the back of your neck, breathing heavy. 

“Good girl,” she says in such a deep voice that your toes curl.

You stay there for a long moment. Agatha buried deep inside of you, catching her breath as you try to even your own, fire still licking up your insides. It’s an awful sort of tease when she pulls out.

She removes the pillow and pushes you onto your side. Instead of getting up like you’re expecting, she curls around your back. Her fingers trail a light path down from your hip and your muscles jump at the feeling. They stop just above the sensitive button she’s so far neglected.

“Agatha? What’re you- “ you cut yourself off with a gasp as her finger begins to gently circle your clit.

“We have to make sure it sticks, don’t we?” she says.

You were so close to the edge before that it only takes a few firm circles and a swipe to fall over it again. It’s a lot gentler this time but it still has your body locking up in pleasure. Agatha leisurely strokes you through your high, her nose lightly nuzzling the back of your neck.

Her hand moves back to your hip and you bask in the warm afterglow.

Some time later, when both of your breathing has calmed and you’ve slipped into that soft space between awake and sleep, you decide that your mouth is dry enough to drag yourself out of bed for a drink. You don’t get far.

Agatha grabs you arm and rolls you onto your back. You give her a confused look as she climbs back on top of you.

“You are not leaving this bed until there’s no possible way I haven’t put a baby in you.”

Day 7: Royalty AU

[ennn]

Agatha x Rio Fic Recs

We're a couple of weeks out post-finale and I've read enough fics to recommend a new bunch! You can find my first pre-finale recs here – usual YMMV disclaimer applies. In no order:

— real hot ghoul shit – by @tadpoleeater

WIP. Rio's finally done pursuing. Agatha's been introduced to reality TV. It's hilarious with emotional gut punches – just like the show!

— one good honest kiss (and i'll be alright) – by @tadpoleeater

5 times they kissed. Messy, beautifully angsty, but hopeful at the end.

— now I understand, and it’s time to leave the woods – by @paddingtonfan69

Romantic, moving, absolutely heartbreaking, while also silly at times. This second chapter has perhaps my favourite backstory scenes.

— you’re here, there’s nothing I fear – by @paddingtonfan69

Titanic fic. Rio and Agatha chance upon each other on Rio's work trip. That iceberg is really inconvenient.

— you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you – by @alilbitgaywrites

WIP. A fix-it fic but it's going to hurt a lot before it gets better. Also some of my favourite backstory scenes. The banter, the tragedy, the beauty, the heartbreak.

— you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me – by @alilbitgaywrites

For more fluff and less angst (there's still angst, it's these two of course there is). Rio wants a vacation but Agatha can't stop summoning her to her crime scenes.

— primal night – by Palmarion

AU. Rio is death, Agatha is human and they meet one Halloween night at Rio's bar. Nicky happens unexpectedly. A comforting romantic story.

— coven of chaos – by @trickofthelights

WIP. Crack but taken so seriously and written fantastically well. Rio/Agatha/Wanda and their very weird found family. Everyone lives!

— death is no parenthesis – by @littledata

WIP. This time it's Rio who's stuck in a spell and Agatha is the one doing the nudging. Too bad about the creepy dreams of death.

— A Wretched Soul – by @motherconfessors

WIP. Porn with plot... with a side of food? Agatha makes a new deal with Rio so she can get her purple back. What Rio's asking for is surprising.

— how the dead walk – by obsetress

Ghost!porn with plot. Agatha and Rio have a messy reconciliation. Ghost sex is really tricky, especially when feelings are involved.

— because i could not stop for death (she kindly stopped for me) – by shy_one

WIP. Their many meetings over the centuries, over numerous misdeeds and murders. A dark, beautiful, epic journey.

— the path ahead – by @a-couple-of-notes

A happier canon-divergent ending. Jen opens a school for witches, her remaining coven members return to help. Charming and hopeful and healing.

— Rabbit Heart – by @sapphoshands

Post-finale scenes featuring our favourite Señor Scratchy.

[gallifreyan85]

If I Had A Box Just For Wishes

pairing: Agatha x reader

summary: being agatha's only student has its sacrifices. you navigate around her tough exterior, but she's not the easiest to talk to.

Warnings: cutting your had for a spell? slight mentions of blood. agatha trying not to be soft

A/n: read warnings. I wanted to finish this for days but I'm not sure how I feel about it now. anyway. this is part 2 of I Want No More Than This but can be read as standalone. enjoy!! <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

You knew from the moment you agreed to listen to her, that having Agatha Harkness as something akin to a mentor would be no easy feat. It wasn’t that obvious at first, not much, just her being demanding as always and wanting you to be thorough in whatever magic you did. She was not soft, or reassuring, or a warm teacher. But still it all seemed normal enough. Well. As normal as learning magic could be for a witch. You found yourself enjoying it even. Rarely, yes, but as much as she was downright scary sometimes, Agatha was good with words. She’d tell you about things in the world of witchcraft that you’d never hear from other witches, and she made it all sound like some adventure-filled story, complete with a demonstration of said spell at the end, plus a few dramatic gestures, the constant addition of her snarky charm.

You listened. Went along with it. Of course you wished for more, more attention, not that you’d ever admit it, but she kept calling you sweet things- names like honey and darling and pet, allthewhile somehow making it all sound like an insult. And you took it anyway. You’d begged your way into this mess you called a mentorship, you would endure it no matter what. And you were safe. From what, you weren’t sure yet, but one of the perks of being in Agatha’s good circle, and it was a very small circle, was that no one would dare hurt you.

Well.

No one but her, of course.

And she always made a point of reiterating it, no onebut her. It worried you a little at first, swirling silently inside your head before you drifted off at night, trying to imagine the way her words would one day come true, you promised her your loyalty, begged her to take you in and teach you, so where was your fee? And then after a little while, slowly but surely that thought faded away into the backround with all your other worries about life, and you didn’t really give it much thought.

It wasn’t late exactly but you felt exhausted, just about making it down to the basement after she called your name, and you wished that whatever it was she wanted wouldn’t take long, because the four long hours you spent training and learning were starting to take their toll, starting with general exhaustion which had then slowly started to bleed into outright tiredness. You couldn’t wait to take a shower and go to bed. Her words were still echoing faintly in your head, progress is slow darling, you have to concentrate.

When you descended the stairs she was standing in the middle of the room, in a halo of pale light that always fell in odd circles in her basement, you weren’t even sure where from as there were no windows, but… When you approached her she gave you an odd smile, a sort of cold, almost self-satisfied smirk. As if she knew something you did not. That was of course true, she knew lots of things you didn’t, but as you came closer to her, your steps slow and a little unsure, you couldn’t help but feel a slight shiver wash over your back at the way her eyes were following you. When you stopped in front of her she met your eyes, her own blue ones willed with a sense of… what was that, amusement? Curiosity?

No, anticipation. She was waiting for something, but for what?

“You needed something?” you looked up at her, feeling oddly small in the chill of the room.

“Yes, dear.” she said, gaze falling back down onto the large book laid open in front of her, darkened pages filled with symbols you didn’t understand.

“I’m working on a spell of sorts. Very advanced, and certainly too much for your little head to turn over.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. “So then why did you call me?”

“Oh, I need your help with something. Just a little, tiny thing really. And then you’ll be free to go.”

You tilted her head.

Something about her tone made you want to back away while you still could, but no. Whatever it was you could take it. You were going to prove to her that she made the right choice by letting you stay.

“What do you need me to do?”

She chuckled lowly.

Then, with one smooth and swift move, she slid something onto the table towards you. A small, pristine ceramic bowl, with a few scattered herbs and leaves inside. You looked at it for a moment, confused, then glanced back at her. She chuckled again.

“Come over here, darling.” she said, beckoning you closer.

You walked over to her side, feeling very much like a gazelle walking into a lion’s den.

When you stopped beside her, the table and bowl still in front of you, she reached for something else behind her back, saying casually,

“You see the spell I’m working on requires a few special items, some extra ingredients. And it seems you’re the perfect candidate for one of those.”

You frowned.

You were about to ask her to explain when she set something else on the table in front of you, and your mouth went a little dry.

It was a knife.

Small, silver, oriental and decorated with some sort of old-loooking swirly symbols, black handle pointing towards you.

“Bleed.” she said.

You blinked.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t say anything else.

“What?” you looked up at her.

She nudged the bowl towards you, a smile now curling her lips.

“I said bleed. I don’t need much but it’s important. For the spell.”

You didn’t move.

“You need-- blood?”

She sighed, an edge of frustration seeping into her tone.

“Do I need to make everything crystal clear for you hun? The spell requires blood, and who better to offer some but you? Come on.”

She pushed the knife towards you.

“W-why can’t you do it?” you made out, feeling slightly shaky.

She laughed. A genuine laugh.

“Oh, I’d be happy to, if you weren’t such a scaredy cat, but what I need here is blood of the innocent. And trust me dear I’m not innocent. In any of the ways. Seriously.” she shot you a sly smile and winked as if that explained you needed to know.

You hesitated.

“Ugh, come on,” she sighed, huffing with a hint of annoyance. “this was part of our deal, or did you forget? You listen to me, and I’m asking you to help out.”

She didn’t sound like she was asking.

You swallowed. Picked up the knife.

She nodded, the barest hint of a nod. It made you feel a little better.

You raised the knife to your hand.

“That’s it. Come on dear.” she murmured, eyes watching you like a hawk.

“How much do you need?” you asked, stalling for just a moment.

She thought it through for a bit, then shook her head. “Not much. Just enough for it to work. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

You looked at her, then back down. The knife felt slippery in your grasp. You didn’t move. But she was watching you with those eyes, that icy blue scrutinizing stare that made you feel jittery and filled you with a need to please her. Everyone else had left you. You couldn’t be alone again, you wouldn’t. Agatha had just started towards you, seemingly ready to do it for you, when you slid the tip along your hand, feeling that smooth, warm trickle that slid down your palm and into the ceramic bowl.

You didn’t see her expression, but she stopped a few feet away, watching you. Her head tilted slightly, as if in consideration.

“Hm.” she murmured. “So you do have some guts in you after all.”

You tried to smile. All you did was wince. You kept your hand above the bowl, stayed still for a moment, waiting for her to say it’s enough, but she was watching you with a new kind of intensity in her gaze. You didn’t know what to make of it. Your hand was starting to hurt, a tingly burning feeling, and you tried to pull away but she gripped your wrist and forced it straight.

“Just a moment longer.”

You gave her a look.

She didn’t say anything else.

When she was finally satisfied she pulled the bowl away, back towards her, and did some sort of swirling gesture with her palm. You watched as the contents glowed bright purple, such a beautiful color that you came to associate with her and this dark basement. It glowed for a while more until the light died down, leaving a small shimmery residue that reminded you of tea leaves. You waited. She didn’t say anything, just picked up the bowl and put it away in some dark corner, then rolled up her sleeves a little better and went back to the big book. You tried to push down the growing feeling of frustration inside you. Your eyes felt tired, drooping on their own accord, and while you knew you didn’t exactly lose a lot of blood your head still felt slightly woozy, maybe from the training-packed day, maybe not. You looked down, pressing the sleeve of your shirt into your palm. It hurt a little, but the pain that was really bothering you wasn’t in hand but in your heart. Was this what it was going to be like? Just you going along with her whims, never complaining, never getting anything in return? You got knowledge, yes, but…

It didn’t feel right.

It didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe you were selfish. You felt a burning in your eyes and tried to blink it away. When Agatha turned next she paused, as if forgetting you were still there, and tilted her head a little to one side.

“Why are you still here?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

You were starting to feel more desperate, and for what you didn’t know.

Agatha raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

You shook your head, feeling your voice quiver just slightly.

“Is this all you want from me?”

She frowned, genuinely confused. You would’ve laughed if you didn’t feel so close to crying.

“What are you talking about?” she asked flatly.

“This-- I mean-- is that why I’m here? To just-- bleed when you need it and- and do everything you say and never-”

She looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Never what?” she asked, and you were surprised to hear that she wasn’t angry, just slightly curious.

“Never do anything more?” you sniffled.

She gave you a deadpan look. “More? What more do you want, kid? I’m already teaching you magic. Are the endless everyday lessons not enough for you?”

“No-- no, I meant-”

“Yes?”

“Like-- outside of that.”

She paused. Looked at you like you just said something dreadfully nonsensical.

“You-- you could be- just- just a little… you could talk to me.”

“I do talk to you.”

“Not like that.” you murmured. “Just- normal things, y’know? Like, what you’re doing, or ask what I’m doing, or… or what we’re having for dinner.”

She straightened. For a moment you thought she was going to laugh in your face, but she just stared at you, scrutinizing your face as if she could read your thoughts from your expression or your teary eyes. Then she sighed.

“Fine. I’m not in the mood for this touchy nonsense, and I am not about to deal with you crying—”

“I’m not crying-”

“Ah, ah, ah. Zip it.” she shook her head, pointing a finger into your face, “I know you better than you think kid, and those teary eyes aren’t fooling anyone.”

You didn’t say anything.

She stared at you for a second more.

“Give me your hand.” she said.

You looked up, hesitant. “W-what?”

“You’re making a mess on my floor- if you get blood on the upholstery you’re cleaning it up yourself, this is eighteenth-century wood.”

She yanked your hand forward in an oddly gentle way that surprised you, and murmured something under her breath.

A wave of warmth shot through your hand, and your looked down hesitantly as seemingly nothing happened. You frowned.

“Was that-”

“Disinfectant spell.” she muttered. “I’m no potions witch but I’ve been in enough battles to know what to do when you’re—” she gestured vaguely as if you’d know what she meant. You watched quietly as she stepped away and then came back with a--

A bandaid?

Really?

She peeled the paper away and stuck one across your palm, right over the length of the cut, ignoring your slight wince.

“Don’t be such a crybaby.” she muttered, but her hands never faltered as she pressed everything over your palm, making sure it was secure.

You let her.

There wasn’t much you could read from her expression but there was a warmth in her blue eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. Never directed at you. Never until now. Maybe you were imagining it. Probably.

The feeling of her hands over your own felt welcomingly warm, and you let yourself relax for a moment. When was the last time someone had fussed over you? Helped you, like this? You just about closed your eyes and sighed softly, feeling the tension in your shoulders unwind when her hand left yours, and suddenly you felt cold at the loss.

You opened your eyes to see her studying you, eyes narrowed, an odd mix of emotions on her face.

“There.” she said, patting your hand once, “Now you won’t bleed to death.”

She waved a hand the rest of the mess on the table cleaned itself up in an instant.

Then she glanced towards the ceramic bowl she set aside and nodded to herself, seeing something you clearly could not.

“You did-- a decent job.” she said.

You were about to ask how it was possible to do an indecent job when all you had to do was bleed but her hands were back on your shoulders, and you relaxed again despite yourself, letting her steer you towards the stairs.

“Tomorrow after lessons if you stick around a bit longer I might show you what I’m working on.” she said, surprising you. You looked up but she kept walking, pushing you forwards until you were both out of the basement and back in the living room.

“You will?” you murmured quietly, hating the way your voice gave away more than your words.

She sighed, and nodded, albeit begrudgingly.

“You did help a little, I suppose it’s only fair you at least get to see what it is.”

You smiled faintly. She noticed, and paused a little, then shrugged it off like seeing you smile was something she was unprepared to deal with at the moment.

When you were both at the door of your room she stopped, letting her hands fall away from your back, and turned, meeting your eyes.

“There’s things I need to finish up downstairs.” she said, voice even and low. Then as you kept looking at her, waiting for more, she added, in a very questioningly sort of normal tone,

“And we’re having pizza for dinner.”

You nodded.

She looked you up and down, spared another quick glance at your hand, and turned.

She paused just slightly, and then, surprising even herself, set a hand on your arm, her touch barely there but unbating.

“Get some rest.” she said, a little awkwardly. “You… Well, I suppose you earned it.”

“You suppose?” You murmured, fighting a small smile. It only grew when she bristled, huffing and waving a hand around the air, seemingly embarrassed.

“Yes, I suppose,” she said quickly, already stepping away, “and that’s all you’re getting. Be thankful.”

She turned fully at that and left back down the hall, you watching her in silence and stifling a quiet chuckle when she almost tripped over Senor Scratchy, who was innocently hopping around the floor, not even pausing to look at her.

She grumbled about him some more, and you thought you caught her mumbling about him being ‘just as bad as she is’, which made you feel a little better. You watched her leave and then knelt down to pet the rabbit, its fluffy fur like a soft haven under your fingers.

You scratched behind his ears and over his back, then straightened up and went into your room, grateful to change into something more soft before dinner. Your hand still hurt a little, but you kept replaying the look on her face when she fixed up your hand, that gentle foreign something in her pale eyes that seemed to surprise even her. Maybe it was care. You knew she’d deny it until the end of time itself but the way her fingers hovered gently, careful not to hurt you, that quiet tender expression she held as she steered you away into your room…

It wasn’t exactly what you kept hoping for but it was something.

It was something. More than before. A step in the right direction.

Progress was slow.

You sat on your bed, trying to imagine what sort of thing she’d tell you about tomorrow. Maybe she would sit beside you and talk. Maybe she’d let you lean in close while her hands brought up violet strands of light from nothing, weaving it between her fingers like a delicate ribbon dancing in the wind.

Maybe.

You’d have to wait and see.

A/n: I have the next part of this planned out and it's a bit more sweet (we're finally getting to it) Also don't do this irl, don't bleed for Agatha, don't bleed for anyone. This is not proofread, sorry for any mistakes. Title is from Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce. Love y'all, thank you for reading <3

Taglist 💜 @milflovers4, @senhorita-girassol (you said before you'd like to read more of this series so i thought i'd tag you, if you don't want a tag just let me know <3)

[lilithschosen]

the way that i have Agatha and Rio in my brain is so different? i think than i see everyone else. i always see Agatha as a more shut off, reserved, burnt too many times by others type of person. she protects herself above all else and would rather not take on a new friend or lover just in case she gets hurt again. if you do somehow manage to get into her good graces, she's fiercely loyal. she'll do anything and everything in her power to make sure you're taken care of. mama bear instincts through and through.

Rio is very open and honest, blunt. she tells you how she feels and smirks when she does (either good or bad). she doesn't necessarily make friends, but she doesn't make enemies. she's charismatic and charming to an unsettling degree, even as Death or as a human in a non-magical AU. she can't sit in silence, opting to just speak her mind until someone else offers something. also she fuckin loves her garden but i feel like that's just a mutual understanding for her and everyone else in the fandom lmao.

Agatha and Rio together at first starts rough. Agatha doesn't want to open herself up again, she knows Rio hurt her and doesn't let the woman forget it. Rio knows, god does she know. she wants a chance to change that perspective, to work and fix what she's done. she doesn't want to overstep with Agatha and holds back until Agatha pushes her too far. they'll fight and argue, screaming matches until the topic they both want to bring up, comes up.

once they reconcile, Agatha melts into Rio as she did forever ago. it's warm and comforting, rekindling their love in every way they can.

also generally speaking Agatha is a top and Rio is my favourite bratty bottom but sometimes Agatha needs to be touched and treated and adored because who doesn't? and Rio doesn't hesitate. they work in tandem, in sync, perfectly and i love them!!!

[sunsets12]

I absolutely love your fic 'The Shark in Your Water'! It's amazing!

I’ve also really enjoyed the fic recommendations you’ve been sharing. I’d love it if you could recommend more fics, maybe from other fandoms like The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Naruto, or something else!"

My fandom history is a bit all over the place, so I'll just rec some of my favorite fics of all time:

First fandom: The School for Good and Evil

(which if you've never read, has a phenomenal first book and an okay second and third. There is also a second and third trilogy I haven't even touched. + a Netflix movie, which admittedly isn't the best, but I love it anyway. Very much so a guilty pleasure for me. I would genuinely recommend watching the movie/reading the first book and then reading the following fics.)

Scott Street by astardanced (Agatha/Tedros):

Agatha and Sophie realise quickly that ‘going home’, and ‘living in Gavaldon for the rest of your miserable existence’, aren’t quite the same thing. With the barrier between Gavaldon and the Endless Woods permanently damaged, they’re offered a chance to return to the School, for what the Deans promise to be a ‘new and improved!’ and ‘much more serene!’ second year. Agatha doesn’t exactly believe them; but there are reasons why they might consider going back. A few… Well, anyway. Don’t be a stranger.

Remember how I said I didn't like the second book? This fic pretends the second book doesn't exist---it's a complete rewrite of it, and I love it a lot.

Simmer: Or, A True History of the Second Life of One Callis Wardwell, Witch, Who Cheated Death (And More Besides) by astardanced:

Making it out of two Gavaldon witch burnings alive takes a special kind of audacity. Thankfully, Callis has plenty of it. But chasing Agatha back into the Endless Woods, leads her directly into a web of lies, intrigue and backstabbing that points all the way back to Rafal, and her time at Evil. It’s lucky, then, that Callis’s infamous mother is so good at all of those things, because in order to survive this brutal extension of their tale, Agatha, Sophie and Tedros are going to need all the help they can get. But everyone knows parents are peripheral, in fairy tales. And being peripheral is much harder than it seems. They’ll do what they can. or, callis survives into the camelot years.

This follows the main character's (Agatha) mom, who is a single mother + a witch + has a cat companion who talks. I genuinely cannot think of a fic that was written more for my specific interests than this

Technically this is a sequel to another fic, but I didn't know that the first time I read it and I understood everything fine. I love this fic a lot.

Second fandom: Harry Potter

The Heir to the House of Prince by elph13 (need an ao3 account to read this) (Harry Potter/Theodore Nott):

"So you're adopted? "Supposedly." "So your Dad ... he's not ...?" "Seems like it." "Huh." Theo stares at Harry with those grey eyes that look silver in the cauldron smoke between them. "But you're the heir to this ... House of Prince, so he's probably -" "Yes. Probably." Harry looks at Theo sharply. "You don't know who he is, do you?" "No." Theo looks back just as sharply. "If I did, I would tell you. You know I would." "I do." Something loosens inside Harry's chest. Something that has been tightening ever since Cedric died. He may not have his friends, or Sirius, or even know who he fucking is anymore, but he has this. At least he has Theo. Summer of 4th year and Harry's all alone, dealing with his grief and the sudden revelation that James Potter is not his father. Support comes in a strange form. The form of Theo Nott, son of a death Eater. A strange friend who says he'll help him find his true father, whoever this Lord Prince might be.

This deviates drastically from canon, so if that's not your thing steer clear. With that being said, I remember this fic being very charming when I read it. Also major trigger warnings for suicide, torture, and child abuse (plus some other things I might be forgetting, it's been a hot minute since I last read this)

Too old to be this young by Nadia_Castillo (Harry Potter/Tom Riddle):

He was smiling. At Tom Riddle. He was going to get murdered before the year ends, he just knows. Alternate universe/Post-Hogwarts. warnings: mature themes, drinking, swearing. An adult Harry Potter with all his knowledge and experience is transported to his 23yo body in a universe with no war.

Crack, stupidly overpowered Harry, and simping Mister for Magic Tom Riddle. Still updating

Third fandom: DC (Batman/Superman specifically)

Batnesia by Qui (Superbat):

In which Bruce forgets a few key facts, and Clark has to go along with it. Or, the Bruce-Has-Amnesia Fic we've all been wishing for.

Every ship needs an amnesia trope fic

ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat (Superbat)

"Clark. What the hell is this," Lois asks, staring at Clark's Bruceman WIP folder. Clark's first instinct is to fly away, but that would still leave his fic on display for her to see. His second instinct is to blast a hole straight through his laptop screen with his heat vision, which isn't much better. Clark, in an attempt to make some spare cash, unintentionally stumbles into the world of superhero fanfiction, becomes a prolific writer for Gotham's OTP, and tries his best to fend off rival fans who want him to convert to superbat instead.

Identity porn, crack, characters-are-involved-in-fandom trope

scramble by IHadHimOnTheRopes and rory_gone_mattie (Superbat):

The words on his skin were his everything. After everything he'd seen, done and been through, they were a reminder that Bruce Wayne still existed. That somewhere there was a person who would love him despite the coldness in his chest and the scars that roped their way across his skin. A reminder that he wasn't alone - that he wasn't destined to live forever in the shadows, silent and isolated. That somewhere out there was the other half of his soul. He just wasn't expecting the other half of his soul to be an alien.

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? by poisonivory (Damian/Jon) (NSFW):

After years in the future with the Legion of Super-Heroes, Jon is finally back in Damian's life, and Damian's determined to keep him in this century. If that means a little fooling around between friends, so be it. It doesn't have to mean anything. (It just might mean everything.)

I love nineteen year olds being dumb

Forth fandom: Star Wars

The Emperor Skywalker Conspiracy by loosingletters:

The Emperor is dead and so is Darth Vader. So. Uh. Who exactly inherits the Galactic throne? Or, the Holonet discovers the existence of one Luke Skywalker and promptly makes it a meme. I present you the one long rant of a lone blogger trying to disentangle the mystery behind Luke Skywalker and his maybe inheritance of the Empire.

A blogger talks about the end of Return of the Jedi. Originally it had embedded memes, but they seem to be broken now, which is really sad. One-shot.

Fifth fandom: Danny Phantom

I Panicked, Okay? by newdog14:

“Danny, we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s going on,” his mother said, clearly picking up on his panic and gentling her tone, as if he were a skittish animal. “Whatever that ghost is doing to you, you can tell us. It’s not your fault, Sweetheart.” “No, Mom, he’s not…it’s not like that,” Danny said. Her reassurances were setting off all kinds of alarm bells, but they also gave him an idea. It wasn’t a good idea, not by any means, but he couldn’t think of anything better, and he needed to say something. “Then what is it like Danno?” his dad asked, giving Danny a worried look. He had the Fenton Xtractor in hand, and Danny spared it a wary glance before looking between his parents. Tucker was never going to let him live this down. “We’re dating!” "WHAT?!"

Don't you hate when you have to pretend to be dating your secret identity so you're parents don't accidentally destroy you with their ghost hunting weapons?

The Trouble with Ghosts by Lynse:

Lancer hadn’t realized how closely young Mr. Fenton’s school troubles-–and the secrets he surely wasn’t telling his parents–-were tied to ghosts until after that encounter with Phantom.

Okay, I last read this fic in 2020ish, so I don't remember it that well, but I really like outsider POVs and bookmarked this as one of my favorites, so!

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

Hi all! It’s still Wednesday in my neck of the woods so I’m going to go ahead and share before retiring to bed.

I have the week off from work and have finally had a concentrated bit of time to devote to my @carryon-reverse-bang fic. After picking at this idea for weeks and not getting very far I decided to start over again (3rd times the charm, right?) and shift the tone, length and move it to 3rd person POV. I feel like I’m getting some traction, so hopefully this is the version I stick with 🤪

It’s not as if Baz has never found one of the grooms he’s worked with attractive. He is human after all. (And oh so very gay.) But he’s always been able to remain perfectly professional.

Baz does not feel the least bit professional when he enters the dance studio. It is not professional to find your eyes wandering, unbidden, over every inch of your beautiful client’s body. It shows an utter lack of control when the sight of his crooked smile turns Baz’s stomach into jelly. In fact, Baz is quite sure all of the will power he has won’t be enough to get him through this dance lesson unscathed. He still isn’t sure why he’s even here. Aren’t there other people the Wellbeloves know who could fill in for Agatha? Doesn’t the dance studio have someone they could procure? Wouldn’t it even make sense to reschedule this lesson to a day that the actual bride could make it? If Baz didn’t know any better, he’d think he was the victim of some elaborate prank. His eyes scan the corners of the room for evidence of hidden cameras because that would make far more sense than enlisting your wedding planner to partner with your soon to be husband while he learns the steps to your bride and groom dance.

Ten million pound wedding. Ten million pound wedding. Don’t fuck this up, Basil.

Send me good vibes so I can take this sucker to the finish line!

Tags/hellos/etc

@whatevertheweather @cutestkilla @bookish-bogwitch @rimeswithpurple @artsyunderstudy

@facewithoutheart @thewholelemon @emeryhall @shrekgogurt @run-for-chamo-miles

@that-disabled-princess @monbons @orange-peony @wellbelesbian @aristocratic-otter

@harrie-leithillustration @iamamythologicalcreature @pato-roldnart @talentpiper11 @forabeatofadrum

@prettygoododds @blackberrysummerblog @fiend-for-culture @drowninginships @larkral

@theimpossibledemon @mooncello @noblecorgi @roomwithanopenfire

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Helpful, in a Heterodyne Kind of Way

inspired by this post, Saturnus Heterodyne, doting grandfather, attempting to find Agatha a PROPER boyfriend

AO3 Link

“No.”

Saturnus blinked.

“Did you say something, dear?”

Teodora approached like a tidal wave and hit about as hard. Saturnus went stumbling back, clutching at his jaw, but Teodora kept coming, punctuating her words with hard jabs to his chest.

“You will not kill my sons. You will abdicate to Bill. You will let him rule Mechanicsburg, his way, and you will like it, or so help me, Saturnus Heterodyne, I will break you.”

Saturnus stared at his wife, who seemed to tower over him like the god queens of old.

“…yes, dear.”

“I don’t like him.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but did it fondly.

“You never like any of them.”

“And I definitely don’t like this one. Sturmvoraus, pah! And a Valois! Weaselly little devils, with their poisons and their smoke knights and their secret assassinations…”

“I’m sorry, you don’t like them because they kill people?” Agatha asked, raising her eyebrows.

“They don’t kill people properly!” Saturnus bellowed, thumping his fist down on the arm of his chair. “The only reason a man needs to poison a knife is because he’s not good enough to kill you without it!”

“Well, I thought he was very charming.”

“That sister of his had promise,” Saturnus said, perking up a little. “There’s a girl who understands leadership.”  

“She wanted to flense the servants because they didn’t hem her dress correctly.”

“So she’s a bit of a project,” Saturnus said, dismissively. “You always liked a challenge.”

“I think I’ll give this particular one a miss, thanks,” Agatha said, with deep amusement.

Saturnus’ expression grew serious, and he gripped her hand tightly.

“I know you’re all grown up, and you don’t need looking after anymore—especially not by some miserable old codger,” he said, earnestly, “but when I’m gone—”

“Grandfather, please,” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not that old—”

“When I’m gone,” Saturnus continued, insistent, “I want to go knowing you’ve got a partner in life who will make you happy. Someone who can keep up with you, support you, love you properly. Someone who deserves you.”  

“Someone who would be willing to help me burn Europa to the ground if I suddenly decide to take up the family traditions?” Agatha asked, with a quirk of a smile.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

Agatha’s smile spread, becoming soft and genuine. She leaned down and kissed the top of her grandfather’s head.  

“You are a terrible old man,” she said, “and I love you very much.”

She slipped out of the room. When her footsteps faded into the distance, Saturnus sighed and maneuvered his chair—a fantastic device Agatha had built him, with dozens of little legs that could navigate the castle's many stairs and even the steep road down to Mechanicsburg—over to the window.

After a few minutes, he saw his granddaughter emerge from the castle, followed at a respectable distance by two Jӓger guards.

“She’s the Lady of Mechanicsburg,” he said aloud. “She deserves an equal. She deserves the best. Certainly deserves better than her father got.”

Oh yes, Lucrezia Mongfish. Saturnus had approved, quite profusely, even encouraged Bill to see her. And how had that ended?

With a war that nearly leveled Europa, Bill and Barry vanished, a grave smaller than its headstone, and a little girl named Lady of Mechanicsburg before she was twelve.  

Perhaps he should know better than to meddle, after all that.

‘I did overhear a very interesting conversation between Master Tarvek and his sister.’

“Hmm?” Saturnus said, only half-listening.

‘Do you recall Master Bill and Barry’s friend, Klaus Wulfenbach?’

Saturnus screwed up his face.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, he’s far too old for her!”

‘I was actually thinking of his son. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, heir to the Wulfenbach Empire?’

Saturnus rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. The Wulfenbach Empire was impressive, and Klaus was ruling with a proper, iron fist—while remaining respectful of Mechanicsburg’s continued autonomy, which Saturnus could only assume was Klaus being smart enough not to start a war he couldn’t win.

“Mmm,” he said, reluctantly. “But Klaus did have his hero phase, running around Europa with the boys, fixing all kinds of problems. That sort of thing can be heritable, you know.”

Just look at Agatha! Nature over nurture his left foot.

‘Not a concern,’ the castle said, smoothly. ‘The boy is adopted.’

“Really?” Saturnus said, now more interested. “Do we know his background, then?”

‘Do you remember Petrus Teuful?’

Saturnus froze. Slowly he raised his head to look at the ceiling.

“Petrus Teuful?”

‘Oh yes.’

“The Black Mist Raiders, that Petrus Teuful?”

‘The very same.’ The castle was very smug.

Saturnus’s astonished expression slowly spread into a wide, devious grin.

“Well…perhaps we shall have Master Gilgamesh over…for dinner. Heh. Aheheh. Hahaha. Ha. Hahaha! Haahahaha!”

Thunder crashed overhead as Saturnus’ laughter echoed over Mechanicsburg. Agatha put her hands on her hips and tutted, glaring up at the castle.

“Oh, now he knows he’s not supposed to do that. It agitates his sciatica.”

[hotvintagepoll]

I am adoring all of these polls and gif sets and just being fed so many hot vintage people. As someone who really hasn’t watched very many classics, are there any movies you’d recommend for someone just starting to dip their toes in older media but unsure where to start?

Sure! I don't want to sway any voting, but I'll put an incomplete list of favorites that involve hot men not still in the bracket below the cut.

Something to note that applies to most of these old movies—older movies have different pacing than modern movies, so some of these might seem really slow or weird to start. There are also different ways of framing gender and agency, for better and for worse. I've italicized the ones that I think are the best for starting with, but go with whatever genre/aesthetic sounds best.

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Basil Rathbone)—a circus performer working for a quasi-Robin Hood infiltrates the royal court. Fun comedy that's incredibly accessible and still so light on its feet. Swordfighting, glamorous medieval costumes, court intrigues, and silly accents.

Singin' in the Rain (Gene Kelly)—fun polyamorous musical comedy. The dancing is incredible, but so is the sense of joy and camaraderie between Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. Genuinely captures the feeling of hanging out with your best friends. 1920s Hollywood, big movie studios, backstage drama, goofy hijinks.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (Errol Flynn, Basil Rathbone)—classic swashbuckler/romance. It could read a little slow to modern tastes but the action scenes are absolutely killer, as is the sentiment of seeing little guys pull down big capitalists evil monarchs. Swashbuckling, labor activists merry men hanging out in the woods, hot men in tights, social commentary swords, a Maid Marian who really holds her own and falls in love with the socialist

Charade (Cary Grant)—thriller/romantic comedy. Audrey Hepburn's husband dies and leaves her a hidden inheritance, and she's racing some skeevy characters to find it. A little bit scary but mostly charming and gorgeous, and you can find it high quality virtually anywhere because they fucked up the copyright trademark in the opening credits. Romance, murders, Paris, 1960s fashion, chases in the night.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Dick Van Dyke)—this movie is divisive for some reason—I personally like peace, love, and joy, so it makes the list. This is a James Bond movie if James Bond had two kids, lived in a windmill in the south of England, and was into cottagecore inventions more than martinis and racism. This is very much a kids' movie so go in with that expectation, but enjoy the gorgeous production design, the wonderfully silly performances, and Lionel Jeffries pulling out every stop as an insane old man. Dick Van Dyke has excellent DILF energy. Magical cars, big musical vibes, fun inventions, and romantic fantasy.

To Be Or Not To Be (Jack Benny)—comedy/drama. A ragtag Warsaw theatre troupe stands off against the Gestapo after the invasion of Poland. TW for Nazis, obviously, but overall this is a comedy with some heft, and kind of shocking to be this ballsy about fucking hating Hitler's guts in the 1940s. Hambone actors, Shakespeare, spies, 1930s gowns. It's been a minute since I watched it so I don't think there are any TWs here, but go forth with caution.

Witness for the Prosecution (Tyrone Power)—mystery/legal drama based off an Agatha Christie story. The performances are campy fun and the twist would be at home in something like Knives Out. Big dramatics, hambones, lots of talking, a bit of a mindbender.

The Lady Vanishes (Michael Redgrave)—mystery/suspense/romantic comedy. It's a little slow to start but roll with it—once the action moves to the train the pacing really picks up. This gets slotted as a thriller sometimes but it's much funnier and gentler than that. There's some period-typical snarkiness directed at anyone Foreign™ by some of the British characters; the British characters are also made fun of. Trains, British people, international shenanigans, mystery, and humor.

All About Eve (absolutely none of these hot men, lots of hot women though)—a legendary actress fights for her life against the rising star who supplants her. Big drama, big performances, lots of gasp! and dahling! and vicious little quips. New York, theatre pronounced theahhtah, drama queens and plotting.

The Philadelphia Story (James Stewart, Cary Grant)—talk-heavy comedy, lots of quick banter and period transatlantic accent fun. It's a bit shouty and conflict-heavy at times, but I don't think James or Cary have ever been hotter, and Katherine Hepburn is just wow. Very funny dialogue, relatable characters, incredibly hot across the board. There is one instance of a racial slur (not directed at anyone but still there) and one shove. Some people won't like the discussion of Hepburn's character's choices as a daughter and a wife. With all of these movies you'll see a a range of how female characters are presented and treated, and while some period movies fall hard for sexist tropes, I personally think the performances, direction, and subtext of many of these films actually prioritizes the experiences of the female characters and shows them as living, breathing people, even if they're not framed the way they would be today.

[faemytho]

Okay this is my part one of sending ships for your opinion on them but i was getting sleepy so i had to cut it short so the next text is from my notes:

Wedding Cake x Carrot Cookie my brain somehow came up with this because my favorite cake is carrot cake....... theyve been living in my brain rent free imagine a bride wants a carrot cake and so Wedding Cake Cookie meets Carrot and its like those flower shop aus where a fancy pretty person that walks into the shop of just some random person and then somehow it melts into romance....idk how to explain i just FEEL. THEM.

Clover and Burnt cheese cookie...... i have no reasoning for this one Clover is very very shipable but i didnt want to put like 10 clover ships so heres this one

Blackberry and Kouign Amann.....no reasoning again

Licorice and Cream Unicorn.... does this count as a rarepair??? Ill be honest the Last cookie standing got me into them theyre cutesy..

......Raisin and Clover.... i feel like it could be a very nice kind of ship??? Idk in my brain it has a soft kind of feeling it just makes sense somehow

SAPPHIRE AND BRULEE. Man i swear theyve been torturing me as they dont really have content im going crazy man they literally fit SO WELL. Like???? Performative kind of guy with his weird ass microphone and cameras and then theres another cookie that performs except he does it by playing the piano i just like characters with specializations that can be lowkey assimilated

Street urchin and Black lemonade this is purely on aesthetic i love them

LINZER AND RAISIN. I HAVE REASONING FOR THIS ONE.

For starters Black Raisin is associated woth crows due to obcious reasons right. And Linzer is based on Agatha Christie right??? Especially with the title you got in her release even being Agatha Crispy. Well while i do own some books of hers i didnt read them YET BUTTTTT i have watched a ton of episodes of Miss Marple!! And there was an episode related to blackbirds which i believe was based on A Pocket Full of Rye? Anyways blackbirds and crows are two whole different burds but you cant blame me for associating them a tiny iny bit...

Rockstar and Clover.....sing sing sing along ta nan na na naaa its 2 am as im writing this list i believe it quite shows im going crazy

ohhhmg so many good ships, u have also given me THOUGHTS

carrot/wedding cake, i DEF see what ur going for here. i can see Wedding Cake going above and beyond by arranging for only the Best Carrots to be used in the bride's wedding cake, so of course before she contacts any bakeries, she goes and finds out who the best carrot farmer in the world is. she meets Carrot, explains what she's going for, and Carrot is so excited about this bride wanting a carrot cake for their wedding that she just hits it off instantly with Wedding Cake ughhh. they recognize each other's passion for what they do ❤️

burnt cheese/clover... idk why, but i was instantly struck with like, an image of Burnt Cheese laying his head on Clover's lap while Clover tells him a story. sleepy dogboy having his hair pet and played with while Clover talks about all these wonderful adventures and stories of places out in the world... i think his jackals would like Clover too, so just imagine two big ol puppies snuggled up on either side of Clover as well

blackberry/kouign-amann, holy shit. this is just me and my wife. pastel pink paladin princess and purple goth maid ghost medium. their aesthetics are so cute together??? i have NO idea how they'd meet, but i am so on board for opposites attract and i think Kouign-Amann could be a big ol lesbian about how pretty and stern Blackberry is... i think she could get Blackberry to smile and maybe even laugh by trying to impress her with her paladin duties, like... she's just so charming, Blackberry can't help but be amused

cream unicorn/licorice, ill be honest i didnt finish last cookie standing and i dont remember much of it, but from what i know of these two, Cream Unicorn sees the good in everybody and Licorice has a lot of secrets and an inferiority complex. i think if anybody could get Licorice to open up and start feeling better about himself as a person, it'd probably be Cream Unicorn - i think they'd be able to encourage him to try his hand at pursuing magic academically, the way he wanted to originally. they'd be his biggest supporter... i think they'd be good for him

black raisin/clover, ohhh this could be cute as hell. they both love birds, and like, have you seen the way Clover attracts and interacts with the blueberry birds in his little decor? im imagining Clover finding a lost little raisin crow one day and helping it back to Black Raisin, and she's so thankful that her crow is okay... the crow telling her also how nice Clover was to it, so she just instantly trusts that Clover is a good guy and gets along with him... another thing to consider maybe is if you headcanon that they can both speak to birds maybe. they could def bond over that

black sapphire/crème brûlée, sounds SO interesting. i know Black Sapphire is a radio host, but i can 100% see him as a singer too. he takes very good care of his voice! i could see him needing a pianist to accompany him for a performance of some kind and meeting Crème Brûlée that way. they both take their performances VERY seriously, and while i could see some early tension between them (mostly from Crème Brûlée, who isn't quite sure what to make of this flamboyant performer and thinks he's probably some big-talking amateur who doesn't know what real musicality is), i think ultimately they end up really admiring the skill each other has.

black lemonade/street urchin, yes. Street Urchin definitely listens to SparkL and i think she really resonates with a lot of Black Lemonade's songs. i also kind of think it'd just be really funny if she had no idea what Black Lemonade looked like or what her name is, so she ends up meeting her favorite singer and becoming friends/flirting with her without even knowing that's who she is. i think Black Lemonade would see Street Urchin's bike and think that it's one of the coolest fucking things ever, holy shit, and they'd meet from that. they like each other's styles and think the other is really. really. really hot. (and when Street Urchin does find out who Black Lemonade is, she doesn't let it get in the way at all. punk girlfriends aughhhh).

black raisin/linzer, interesting! i'll admit i haven't read much agatha christie and i'm unfamiliar with miss marple, so im gonna say that Black Raisin probably has a lot of stories to tell, and Linzer loves a good source to use for inspiration. i think they'd meet when Linzer is probably poking around someplace she's not supposed to be in search of her next book inspiration, and Black Raisin happens to be on guard for whatever it is. Linzer thinks her crows are fascinating, and that's all it takes to get Black Raisin talking lmao. i think Linzer convinces her to meet up the next day for drinks or something so they can talk properly, and Black Raisin's so intrigued by this strange woman that she agrees.

clover/rockstar, another musician duo!!! their styles of music are so VASTLY different, but i think they'd have impromptu jam sessions that end up sounding surprisingly nice? (and by jam sessions, i mean Clover starts plucking out a melody he was thinking of, and Rockstar instantly jumps in on soft harmony with his guitar or starts humming along, making up words as he goes). Rockstar just feels like the type of musician to be able to adapt to any style of music he wants. he admires Clover's free spirit as a bard, and Clover admires Rockstar's tenacity; he's almost like the heroes Clover sings about, and he's clearly seen a lot of the world on his world tours. maybe it's Clover's turn to be told some stories, you know?

[paddingtonfan69]

👀what is the latest fic you're working on about? the tags on the jen and agatha gifset are making me curious

wouldn’t you like to know weather boy??

jk jk it’s a very fun (to me) and convoluted (to everyone else) au that is basically plopping everyone from canon into a reality television series that we all (aka me) know and love!!! unfortch, there is a lot of plotting and various threads that need to be planted early and all line up, so it’s gonna be a minute before I can start posting even though i’m 15k deep and vibing hard rn

but due to the fact that you asked, anon, and that i’m itching to share some of it, here’s a lil snippet that has a touch of the jen and agatha dynamic I was talking about:

Day Five

Rio had forgotten how much she loves being out here. She forgot how fun this part of it was. Waking up with the sunrise, catching fish with her bare hands, digging through the sand fast and firm during the challenges while the other tribe panics. The joy of it had all gotten washed away with how it ended last time, all her fond memories replaced with a gaping hurt that cemented into searing bitterness.

Rio has always loved the wilderness, would force her family to go camping when she was a kid even though her brothers complained and her parents barely tolerated it. There’s just something about being away from the world, from the inane rituals of human life, that Rio has always cherished. Even here, even amongst money-hungry ego-driven survivalists with cameras on them 24/7, there is more peace than in the real world.

“Here’s your fucking bag of rice, you bitches.”

Well, maybe not that much peace.

Because here, out in Fiji, on an island so far removed from their real lives, is Agatha Harkness, being an asshole to her tribe even after they won a challenge, doing her best to piss off everyone in the vicinity all while wearing her bright purple buff as a shirt, exposing the soft curve of her stomach and the sharp line of her collarbone.

God, Rio missed her.

“Alright, Agatha,” Sam says. Sam has been the self-appointed leader of their tribe so far, a classic masculine and charming army vet who won’t see his end coming. “We won this reward together, as a tribe. There’s no need to be…”

He trails off, clearly aware that he can’t end that sentence with anything but an insult.

“…a huge bitch?” Jen supplies. She, on the other hand, is not afraid of insulting Agatha, even seems to get off on it a little bit, which makes Rio feel a twinge of annoyance. She should be the only person getting off on insulting Agatha. “That’s kind of her thing.”

“Thanks for your input, Jennifer,” Agatha sneers.

[ennn]

also, Agatha Harkness + 6, 7, 10, 11

Fandom ask replies:

6. ...the scene that I think shows just how awesome they really are.

The scene in episode 8 with Billy, getting him to find Tommy a body. It captured everything I wanted to see of Agatha as a mentor to a Maximoff. It was a flex of her experience and knowledge as well as her ability to guide and manipulate. She was relentless and ruthless and brilliant and she almost got herself killed — absolutely on brand!

7. ...the scene that I think adds depth to their character or the relationship this character has with someone.

Man, so many scenes in AAA are about adding further depth to Agatha. I was going to say the episode 4 scene with Agatha embracing Rio but I realise pretty much every scene with the two of them alone (and a couple of others with the group) adds further depth to both their characters.

If you think back: their scenes in episode 1 during the spell, the fight after the spell breaks, when they meet up again in episode 4, the confession and their private moment at the end of 4, the scene with Agatha's ghost mom in 5, their conversations in episode 8...You see a new dimension to them and their relationship each time.

10. ...if I liked them immediately or if took a while before I warmed up to their character. Alternatively, if I disliked them immediately or if they lost my trust as their story progressed.

Hah. Not a simple question when you're asking about Agatha Harkness, considering she spends most of (if not all of) Wandavision taking on different personas. But really who isn't charmed by Kathryn Hahn hamming it up?

11. ...how well I actually understand them. Do they feel like a very vivid character to me or are they kind of bland and hard to get invested in?

Of all the things Agatha Harkness can be accused of, being bland is certainly not it.

And Agatha's honestly not difficult to understand because her characterisation has been consistent I think, even from Wandavision. Schaeffer even spells out her two core attributes: She is very self-serving and she's obsessed with powerful witchcraft.

A lot of stuff about her character hangs off those two attributes: her ambition and curiosity, her ruthlessness, her will to survive, her desire for a coven of powerful witches. Even when she performs, she does it mostly for herself.

And being selfish doesn't mean you can't have compassion or affection, it just means you're focused on what's yours.

[brandoncarlo]

Well February happened and it sucked but I kept reading! And I actually enjoyed most of it. This month ruined my run of just hit after hit but I guess eventually I was gonna read some stinkers. If anything it's just made me excited for March though as I have a bunch of certified bangers lined up for me. Also yes I just stacked my february books on top of my january books. I want to see how tall it gets before I have to think of another way to store them.

As with last time, more thorough reviews under the cut, ranked from worst to best.

4. Everyone on This Train is a Suspect by Benjamin Stevenson 2.5 ★'s

I don't want to turn anyone off of this Author because the first ever book I read by him was amazing. It was suspenseful, thrilling, and hilarious. This was the sequel and it just fell flat. I finished it if only because I trusted the Author to write a satisfying ending. And you know what, it was okay, it was fine. It wasn't terrible. But it also was not worth my time reading. The first book in this series is called Everyone in my Family Has Killed Someone and it is amazing. Maybe I would have liked this book better if it wasn't in direct comparison to that one. It's about an author who gets invited to a crime authors convention on a train. Then someone dies. and all these crime authors do their best Poirot impression. It was genuinely funny it just lacked a lot of charm. One good thing I will say though is this encouraged me to pick up the next book.

3. Murder on The Orient Express by Agatha Christie 4 ★'s

Yes the rest of these books were much more enjoyable than the last one so I'm glad I got them all crammed in. I picked this one up on a whim, as I'm not one that usually really likes classics but this one was lot of fun. I already knew the twist going in, but I was interested to see how it would be set up. My favorite part of this book is how it respects your time. It does not linger on ANYTHING. It is straight up, it tells you what it means, and then it moves on. There are a few times where the narrator just goes "That's not possible," and you know that it isn't. No one lies to you for the purpose of the twist later. It always works. Now is it a bit goofy? Yes. Is it realistic? No. Is it definitely a book from the 1930's? Yes. But it is charming, entertaining, and worth the read. As a side note I watched the 2017 movie after I read this and while I see that they had to add some stuff to make it more exciting because honestly the book is a bit dry, some of the changes they made were ridiculous. I can understand a good gun fight, but one of the main pieces of evidence they change makes the ending literally not possible. So yeah not a good movie, but honestly, still fun.

2. These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever 5 ★'s

I struggle to suggest this book to anyone but I think Tumblr is the place to do it. This book left me feeling so incredibly uncomfortable I originally gave it 4 stars and then was hypnotized by the impact it left on me for days afterwards and it became a 5 star read. The two main characters in this book are some of the worst people I've read books about and STILL the ways I could relate to them shook me. I spent the entire book not trusting a word the love interest said, not believing him for one moment. Then got to the end and really realized that I was seeing everything through the narrators view and that he was just as capable of lying to me as the love interest was. This is a gay romance, but it is not cozy, it is not cute, it is not sweet. It is obsessive and repressive and violent. I loved it so much. I personally love books about unhinged messed up gays so it was right up my wheel house.

The Will of The Many by James Islington 5 ★'s

Umm this book is so good? What the fuck. This is a roman empire inspired fantasy (but the kind of fantasy where they use their magic to create technology so it also feels very sci-fi in parts). This book was just pure entertainment. I heard some say it was slow in the beginning and I guess so? But the world is just so fucking interesting I did not slow down at all. The core of it is kind of basic, but the magic system and the world is so good. Add in that every character whether good or bad has ulterior motives and how you can really feel just how isolated the main character is, just chef's kiss. Now is the message of it super deep? Is it pure art? No but god it's so fun and I'm obsessed with it. I just want the whole series injected directly into my veins and the second book isn't even out yet. I had so much fun with this book I added another one to my TBR just because I heard someone describe it as a mix of another book and this one. Like hell yeah I'll read any book like this. It has action, wholesome friendships, political intrigue, grief, trauma, hope, horror, violence, humor. Everything. Is it the best at all time at any of them? No but it's all there and they're all good. And I know everyone says this in every review of this book but that ending??? WHAT?

[expatesque]

Monthly Recap - Nov

Second round of this, under the cut

Read

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen - Do not recommend, was decent in the start but a slog by the end. Fanny is the most insipid protagonist I’ve come across in Jane by a mile, truly wishing her the worst.

Death in the Clouds, Agatha Christie - a top notch Poirot, very fun and twisty.

The absolute drama around Yellow Bittern has been so jokes, Vittles as ever had a great take

Ann Helen Peterson on how to show up for friends (meh, some interesting suggestions, very American oriented) and whether the kids are too soft (oriented towards journalism but a good question to be asking in any industry).

So much about the last 6 months of the economy (tuned out for my gardening leave, now have to catch up).

Watched

This month included Halloween so we had Practical Magic (an absolute must watch for the season for me), Beetlejuice (first time watching, more entertaining than I thought it would be), and I Married a Witch (the second you see Veronica Lake in this you understand why someone would risk their eternal soul and stay married to her)

A lot of West Wing - election season always gets me back to here, one of the best shows ever

Drop Dead Gorgeous - a fun one for a wine-filled night in with a friend

A hungover binge of Man on the Inside - sweet and cute and sad, especially if you know people who've had memory issues.

I am continuing to watch Charmed at night before bed, which is low stakes and amusing enough. Also watching Vampire Diaries, which is terrible but great fun mainly because I live text my reactions to my friend who’s already seen it while I watch, so it’s really half a friendship exercise.

Did

Attended: The ballet! Saw Encounters: Four Contemporary Ballets at the Royal Opera House which was largely eh but (1) the Royal Opera House is amazing, worth seeing anything there for the venue (and esp the bar), alone, and (2) the final piece, The Statement by Crystal Pite, was absolutely mind-blowing, one of the best things I’ve seen in a long time.

Went to three V&A Young Patrons things: Portrait Miniatures handling session (v cool), opening party for the Great Mughals (v fun), private viewing of the Great Mughals (v good, see below).

Learned to: Use hot rollers. Really recommend, they're a super easy way to look way more polished and genuinely take <10 min start to finish. I used this tutorial (and can confirm the volumizing spray she talks about is very good).

Made new friends!: Ana I think is going to be a good one, maybe Parker too. And Beatrix is a perfect tennis friend, not sure if we'll graduate beyond that.

Revarnished my outdoor furniture: trying to help it survive this winter better than last.

A lot of soaking in oxygen bleach of towels, tea towels, stained shirts, etc: getting things into shape for when I go back to work.

Went to a Thursday singles event and went on a date off the back of that: event was scary and kinda meh but I met someone so, worth it.

Found someone to play tennis with during the week (and played twice outside of drills): a big accomplishment, she’s lovely and a good player and available the same kinds of times that I am. Jackpot.

Last Month’s Goals

☑️Use all class pass classes: Actually had to buy more passes, did a lot of F45 and Qigong this month.

☑️Read a book: see Read section above.

☑️New Recipes x4: (1) Confit Chicken Legs - so good and how amazing that they keep for months, (2) Rick Bayless Slow cooker mole - a really good mole recipe (available on YouTube) with a huge amount of depth for (relatively) little work, (3) Brazilian Stroganoff - made this for the Brazilian GP (I try to make themed food for every GP) and it was decent but not my fav and I’m unlikely to make again, (4) Not proper recipes but did a lot of making my own condiments and syrups, e.g. rosemary simple syrup, pickled chillis, slow roasted cherry tomatoes.

☑️Go to a new museum: The Wallace Collection, can’t believe I haven’t been before, it’s free and lovely. The Swing is actually very cool in person, I hadn’t realized how small it is. And the recently completed conservation is wonderful, the colors are really stunning. There’s also a nice cafe. Recommend!

☑️☑️Go to an Exhibition (x2): The Great Mughals at the V&A (very interesting, lots of little details, was glad to go to private viewing with two of the curators as that added a lot), Silk Roads at the BM (incredibly good but also incredibly packed. Try to go first thing in the morning). Note: This one means a major exhibition at a museum I’ve been to before.

☑️Go to the theater: See above, Did section.

🟧Crochet: Making progress, still want to get better about doing this more regularly at night.

❌Write More: Total fail here, need to reconsider how to prioritize this and figure out what the main blockages are.

❌Lay morning foundation: Also total fail on this, probably should reconsider what's realistic for these colder months.

☑️Budget: Barely, was tougher this month. I'm ready to have income coming back in.

🟧Memorize a poem (x2): okay really this is a fail but I had to memorize a rap for Russian class so I'm counting that as a half tick.

☑️Russian flashcards: This is going better and my vocab is improving.

🟧Screen time: Better but still not good. May need to think about how to cycle this through the week / month vs blanket bans/reductions.

🟧Job prep: Unlikely to have any interviews until Jan so this has slowed down but is in progress.

Next Month’s

Carrying Over

Use all class pass passes (I expect to use less because I got home for Xmas midway through the period)

Four two new recipes (shrinking this as I will be doing less regular cooking and more holiday cooking)

Read a book

Visit a new musuem

Go to an exhibition

Go to a show (off for this month, busy start to the month and then I’ll be home)

Crochet

Write more

Morning foundation

Budget

Memorize a poem

Russian flashcards

Screentime

Job/interview prep

New

Quality time with people at home (grandmama, gran and pa, Jack, parents, Grace, Anna, M&M)

[o-uncle-newt]

I guess the only person who can really be trusted to describe the greatness of Agatha Christie is Dorothy L Sayers...?

A while back, the always-sharp @thesarahshay sent me an ask that caught me up on something that I'd carelessly written in some tags- I said that Agatha Christie was good at writing romance into her detective fiction, without really elaborating. I then spent multiple paragraphs attempting to elaborate, I'm not sure with how much success. Essentially, and you can click above to see for yourself, my thesis was that while Sayers was a much better literary stylist (and certainly better at writing romance) than Christie, when writing a detective novel, her seams show; Christie had a natural talent for knowing exactly what belongs in a detective story and creating and fitting all the right pieces together that create a seamless detective story, including motivations drawn by romance (though I think the actual romances are among the weaker elements- still MUCH better than those written by most of her peers, for the record).

I'd had trouble putting into words what I wanted to say (there was a convoluted metaphor about Barbies and Lego in there), and I'm not sure I was too convincing; but turns out that the person who said what I wanted to say the best was, in fact the great DLS herself.

There's a fabulous book that I 100% recommend called Taking Detective Stories Seriously, which is a compilation of about two years' worth of detective story reviews that Sayers wrote. I hadn't heard of most of the authors, and even when I had heard of the authors I'd rarely read the books, but it didn't matter, frankly. She's just such a great writer, so thoughtful and incisive and passionate about both the genre and good craftsmanship (not to mention good English), that everything she has to say including on novels that haven't been in print since the 30s is worth reading. She has generally great taste, though she has a much higher opinion of Margery Allingham than I do and doesn't like Ellery Queen's The Siamese Twin Mystery as much as I'd thought she might (though the fact that a character in it insulted Unnatural Death may not have helped lol); but she also likes, to pick two very different writers who I too enjoy, HC Bailey and Mignon G Eberhart, and so she clearly has a good eye. (It's also entertaining to see her slowly force herself to admit that she likes Perry Mason...)

BUT ANYWAY.

She has three reviews of Agatha Christie books in the volume: Murder on the Orient Express, Why Didn't They Ask Evans, and Three Act Tragedy. She reviews all of them very positively, but it's her review of Three Act Tragedy (in my opinion, funnily enough, the weakest of the three) that she really gets to the core of Christie's genius. And it's actually fitting that it's for a book of hers that's on the more meh end of the scale- because it just shows how even meh Christie has an element of genius that other authors have to work hard for even in their best works.

She says:

Some time ago this column contained the statement that Hercule Poirot was "one of the few real detectives." It was a well-sounding phrase, and I have no quarrel with it, except that I am not quite clear what it meant. What I meant to write and what I thought I had written and what I now propose to write clearly with no mistake about it was and is this: Hercule Poirot is one of the few detectives with real charm. Plenty of authors assure us that their detectives are charming, but that is quite another thing. I don't know that Mrs Christie has ever said a word about the matter. She merely puts Poirot there, with all his little oddities and weaknesses, and there he is- a really charming person. And it is true, too, that he is "real," in the sense that we never stop to enquire whether his words and actions are suited to his character; they are his character, and we accept them as we accept the words and actions of any living person because they are a part of himself. Le style c'est l'homme. Indeed, when Mrs Christie is writing at the top of her form, as she is in Three Act Tragedy, all her characters have this reality. She does not postulate a character- retired actor, West End mannequin, family retainer- and put into its mouth sentiments appropriate to its station in life. She shows us character and behavior all of a piece. However surprising or enigmatic the behavior, we believe that everything took place just as she says it did, because we believe in the reality of the people. Poirot is charming, not because anybody says so, but because is is, and all her other people exist for us in the same objective manner. This is the great gift that distinguishes the novelist from the manufacturer of plots. Mrs Christie has given us an excellent plot, a clever mystery, and an exciting story, but her chief strength lies in this power to compel belief in these characters. [emphasis mine]

Sayers then proceeds to compare another author (or rather authors, the husband and wife pair GDH and M Cole) to Christie in this regard, moving on to another review. But in these three paragraphs she has, I think, said it better than anyone- that Christie's skill is in her naturalness, and how that naturalness compels us to believe in and immerse ourselves in her world. She is effortless and seamless.

To be clear, Sayers praises a lot of people in this book, and a lot of people's writing; but mostly she is praising their skill and ability to create what they have created. Here, she isn't quite praising that- she's praising the fact that the final product is so good that you can't even see the craftsmanship behind it, and that's, I think, what separates Christie from her peers. It's a power, and not one that can be broken down by a critic. She just has it.

I've said before that I don't think Sayers had this as a mystery writer, and I think she'd probably be the first to agree with that assessment; she certainly had a seemingly effortless skill as a prose writer (as these reviews show), but as a novelist she took construction seriously and wanted us to know this. That said, another person who I don't think has this, who I mention because he's someone who a lot of people compare Christie to (often negatively), is John Dickson Carr.

I've seen plenty of people say that Carr is a more sophisticated version of Christie, not just in mystery construction but in writing style, and equally prolific, creative, and versatile. I don't agree with this on most counts, but I think, honestly, that Carr is fine- but you can see the seams easily. He might have been prolific but his formulae are visible and his writing required intentionality on his part. By which I mean- Carr when he's trying to be funny is generally hilarious. Carr when he's trying to be scary is generally spine-tingling. But Carr when he's just trying to get to the next good bit is dull and mechanical. He needs to be paying attention and making an effort in order to be good, and we notice him doing this. Christie never has this problem; even when the actual stuff she's writing isn't high quality, she's never dull. Everything feels purposeful and organic, somehow.

Obviously, all of this is fundamentally subjective, and if there's one redeeming element it's that an incredibly smart lady agrees with me (by my interpretation, at least) and says it extremely well. But I'll be holding on to this one, if nothing else.

[sapphoshands]

Happy Birthday! May I request a DVD commentary about Rio teaching Agatha how to fly with a broomstick, and possibly fundamentals of witchcraft on "you open always petal by petal myself"

again an extremely belated response! but thank you for this ask - it was fun to dig into you open always petal by petal myself a bit!

prepare to learn a LOT about the native foliage of connecticut in here, because boy, did i do a lot of googling :P 

Her mother’s coven always refused to teach her more than the very basics of her power. Any skill they thought she might misuse—anything that might make her more difficult to control—they hid from her. Agatha found ways around them, clawing knowledge from wherever it lurked, but the hexenbesen charm requires at least one other witch, if not a coven. She could not learn it on her own. And after she escaped the Salemites, her reputation preceded her. No witch would ever make themselves vulnerable enough to trust a broom made by Agatha Harkness, witch-killer—nor would anyone ever stoop to making a broom for her.

so, this story actually started with a somewhat less considered post i made after ep 5 that was just like, has agatha EVER flown with anyone other than rio? would anyone ever make a broom for her, or trust a broom made by her? i think it’s entirely possible she never has! which is heartbreaking, honestly. 

“The hexenbesen charm is about community, about selflessness. It is about thinking of the other, not of yourself.” Agatha must look nervous, because Rio smiles at her, a true smile, gentle and—Agatha barely dares think it—loving.

i wanted to give this line about selflessness to rio here so that it echoes forward to agatha saying it in ep 5.  there are so many ways the two of them have influenced each other *weeping emoji*

Next to the bush, a birch tree has splintered, one trunk lying fallen against its mates. It’s a decent size, and when Agatha lifts it, its heft is pleasant in her hands. The papery bark curls in stripes of dark and light, but the branch itself is smooth. [...] Several long thin boughs lie nearby, spongy and soft to the touch but still holding their shape thanks to moss and mushrooms. Agatha snags a creeper off a tree and secures them to the end of her branch. She remembers Rio’s vines with a pleasant shudder and wraps the rest of the creeper up around the branch, tying it off at the top. [...] On an older fallen log, one that’s nearly subsided back into the humus, a bright orange fungus sprawls towards the ground. Agatha lifts a few segments, carefully, and drapes them between the branches at the bottom of the broom.

okay, so, remember i said lots of googling about connecticut plants. everything i mention is native to the area. the broom agatha makes for rio uses a birch tree because birch is a symbol of rebirth and new beginnings - very green witch. i wanted the branches at the bottom to counterbalance that by being in the process of rotting and becoming another part of the life cycle.  the vines, well, that’s just a note about rio tying agatha up (see also Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight). and then the fungus is just another comment on life, death, rebirth, the ways death brings life, etc. i did all my early forest rambling and foraging in a very different environment, so i was thinking specifically of an orange fungus i was familiar with and then went googling for an east coast equivalent. and it turns out that connecticut is home to an edible orange fungus called witches’ butter. so clearly that had to go in here!

The broom Rio is holding couldn’t be more different to the one Agatha has assembled. Made from a dark, gnarled branch of knotty oak, it bursts into a riot of leaves and flowers at its end. Agatha can see honeysuckle twined amongst laurel, soft white petals peeking between sharp green edges. Dotted throughout, purple asters add a surprisingly whimsical touch.

rio’s broom for agatha is assembled much more deliberately. oak symbolises power and longevity: rio chose it because she wants agatha to have all the power her mother’s coven denied her, and also to live a very long, powerful, magical life (...careful what you wish for, rio).  honeysuckle is for happiness, sweetness, and love: it’s a little too nice for them, maybe, but this is early in their relationship and rio is perhaps a bit besotted.  it’s also balanced out by the sharpness of the laurel leaves, which of course symbolise victory, much as rio wants agatha to be victorious over the charm.  and purple aster is for enchantment - very on the nose, i know - and admiration - which rio won’t say out loud, because agatha will get flustered, but which she definitely feels.  all together, it’s basically about rio wanting to give agatha a gift of magic because she loooooves heeeeeerrrrr.

“Now, repeat after me,” Rio says. “Pro te, dilecta, aperio viam.” Agatha’s cheeks heat. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she says, trying to cover the thrill that ran through her. Rio rolls her eyes, but there’s a little colour high on her pale cheeks, too. “It’s how the charm goes.” She smirks. “Quick, say it back to me. And walk deosil.”

i cheated a bit on the latin by putting commas in, i know, i know. rio translates it later, but roughly, the charm goes ‘i open the way for you, beloved.’ i originally had agatha and rio getting a bit more flustered about that, but my beta convinced me to dial it back, and i think this sassy flirtiness is much better.  

on the other hand, my beta also pulled me up on ‘deosil,’ but it’s the proper witchy word! (deosil = clockwise, widdershins = counterclockwise)  I tried to make it a little clearer later, but i wanted rio to use the right term.

“Now.” She grips the broom’s neck with both hands and cackles. “Run like hell, jump… and fly!” She races ahead into the underbrush. Heart pounding, hands shaking, Agatha follows her and gives herself over to the magic.

lillia would hate that i’ve got rio cackling here. culturally offensive! but what can i say. sometimes, rio cackles. also i wanted to make it clear how much agatha trusts her.

Agatha tips her head back and laughs with delight, and hears its echo from Rio in front of her.

they love each other *weeping emoji*

The silver birch shines in the moonlight, and so does Rio’s skin, pale and enticing. Her hair flows back from her face and her green cloak billows behind her. Agatha leans forward on her broom, entranced by the vision almost more than by her own first flight. [...]Then Rio tips her head back again, baring the long pale column of her throat, and Agatha feels a pull in her gut as strong as the wind in her hair.

just… thinking about the way agatha looks at rio when they’re flying in ep 5.

It’s true—Agatha feels like she’s been flying all her life. The broom responds to her wishes almost faster than she can steer it physically. With Rio beside her, haloed in the glow of a galaxy of stars, Agatha never wants to come down.

in my brain, flight is half physically controlling the broom and half the broom just responding to its rider’s desire.

Rio props the broom against the front wall and looks up, and Agatha feels the distance between them like a wound. She drops forward, arrowing towards the ground, and pulls up just in front of Rio. Her momentum carries her, half-controlled, off the broom and into Rio’s arms, and Rio staggers back against the cottage, both of them laughing.

ugh i just wanted to write something that had a few moments of sweetness in it! also note the cottage, which makes its return briefly in Rabbit Heart.

re fundamentals of witchcraft, i didn’t put a ton of that in here, but here are a couple of things:

Rio summons both brooms as she follows Agatha, leaning them up against the wall next to the door. It’s a bit strange, Agatha thinks, but then again, maybe it just makes sense not to leave magical objects outside for anyone to stumble on. Especially ones that are so attuned to the two of them. The idea of someone else touching the broom Agatha so carefully put together for Rio brings a possessive surge of jealousy with it.

so MAYBE all of this was just an excuse for some magical dildos, but that DOESN’T mean i didn’t think about the mechanics. my thought was that the hexenbesen charm requires the witch to put some of themselves into the broom they made because it was so deliberate an exchange. agatha doesn’t know that yet here, but she senses it. probably a side effect of this would be that malicious forces could use a broom to hurt the witch who made it.

“There’s something else you should know about magically-imbued objects like these,” she says, and though she sounds matter-of-fact, her lips curve in a devilish grin. [...] Instead of a broomstick, Rio holds a wooden phallus, bone-white and with striations of black from the birchbark. Long and curved with bulbous knots on each end, it gleams like Rio’s skin, and when Agatha lifts one hand to touch it, it’s just as smooth. She can still feel the magical energy humming in it.

instead, of course, this is just about playing with toys :) basically, having put a little bit of herself in the broomstick, it becomes sort of like a voodoo doll, so that agatha feels some of the same sensations as the broomstick/dildo does. not quite a magic strap, but… similar. >:}

Agatha has never been able to put words to Rio’s taste. Sometimes she thinks of saltwater; sometimes raspberry leaf, or nettle tea.

okay, this is just me being self-indulgent, but: saltwater, because it can’t support human life; but raspberry leaf, because it’s good for pregnancy, and nettle tea because it’s good for nursing mothers. life! cycle!