#i will post another rio today

[dailyrioranger]

DAY 190

[cuddleslover1738]

happy 1 year, ge nazo

[wandanatsub]

Hugs and Body Heat

Agatha All Along Week - Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home after a grueling day at work and need comfort. Agatha is happy to provide. Honorable mentions to Rio who cooks dinner.

Tags: fluff, mentions of choking, pet names for reader, a lot of cuddling, they/them pronouns used for reader (once)

Words: 2k

First time posting on tumblr. Agatha and Rio might be my new favorite MCU characters! AAA week had perfect timing as I wrote this during election night but only posted it to AO3 a few days ago

Key in lock. Key in lock. It wasn’t that difficult.

You finally managed to jam your key into the door. The door pushed open, and you almost fell through it. Getting the key out should have been easier than getting it in, but nothing about this day had been easy.

You closed the door behind you. Your bag slipped off your arms to the ground and your keys should’ve landed on the little side table by the door but fell to the floor. Shoes came off on your way through the hall to the living room. You pulled off your jacket when you stepped through the door. The last bits of energy left you the instant being home sank into your consciousness. Agatha sitting on the couch registered in the back of your brain on the way down to the floor.

You sank onto the hardwood floors and let out a deep, deep sigh.

You weren’t necessarily looking for a reaction, you were waiting for the stress to leave your body. There should be a scientific correlation between stress reduction and lying on the ground.

It took you a few minutes to figure that today lying face down on the ground wasn’t going to cut it. Another deep sigh and you pressed yourself up from the floor. You used the last vestiges of your energy supply to crawl over to the couch. Your body felt heavier than usual, pulling you down to the floor, making every inch gain a battle against gravity.

You finally made it to the edge of the couch. Getting up on the couch seemed impossible. Getting Agatha away from her book even more so.

You pulled yourself along a bit further and then half fell over to sink against the couch, or more importantly, against Agatha’s legs. Your head settled against her knees, making sure that you wouldn’t fall over when all the tension left your body.

Breathing. You could do that easily. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe o–

Your breath faltered for a moment, feeling Agatha’s fingers slowly carding through your hair.

Breathe out. Breathe in. Repeat.

You could do this. Agatha was softly stroking your hair. A soft tingling spread over your head down to your shoulders and slowly helped settle the exhausted roar in your body.

Work had been a bitch today. Everyone expected you to help with their problems, not caring about the work you had to finish today. Working Saturdays was not worth the little extra pay it offered.

But you were home now. No more work. Only breathing. Feeling Agatha’s body heat warming your side and breathing. You tried to sync your breathing to Agatha’s hand. Stroking up from your neck and carding through your hair then softly caressing the edge of your forehead. The hand pulled back to your neck. Always moving slowly, stroking softly. Bit by bit lulling you to sleep without you even noticing it.

Suddenly you jerked awake. You couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds. Groaning you let your head fall back against the couch. No rest for the terminally exhausted apparently.

Agatha’s hand had wandered to the side of your face, coming around your throat to pull up your chin.

“Up, pet.”

The words found you, loud and clear, even though you felt they were said to her book rather than in your direction. Agatha’s hand left your throat, expecting you to follow her order without lending a heavy hand.

You turned your head to look up at her. She was still engrossed in her book.

The few minutes of calm had recharged you enough to push off the ground and pull yourself up onto the couch.

Her arms opened as soon as you were level with her, one hand still holding onto her book. Agatha’s concentration never broke but her invitation was clear.

Heat spread onto your cheeks, but you didn’t keep her waiting, knowing the invitation to be temporary when she was busy reading. You swung your leg over her lap and planted yourself down, feeling her arms come around you immediately.

This was definitely better than lying on the ground. Your legs encased Agatha’s, stomach and chest meeting their warm opposites, arms rounding her neck while your head came to rest on her shoulder.

You breathed in deeply, finding comfort in Agatha’s scent, letting your lips briefly wander over her neck, seeking intimacy without starting something you didn’t have the energy to finish.

You settled down when Agatha’s hand returned to your head and the calm returned.

Soft strokes of her fingertips, the sound of pages being turned and the rhythmic rise and fall of her warm body underneath you soothed you enough to fall asleep.

A door closed somewhere far away, and your ears picked up the sound without awakening you completely. Agatha’s hand had wandered down to your back at some point and was brushing up and down your spine at odd intervals, soothing you back into unconsciousness.

Unbeknownst to you, the person coming through the door into the living room was fixed with a glare from your human body pillow.

Rio was known for her silent existence, though her footsteps fell heavy, announcing her imminent arrival. A glare from Agatha made her stop in her tracks.

"That kind of day?" She asked and Agatha nodded while stroking your back. Her eyes moved back to her book, not interested in diverting her attention even more.

Rio walked over to the back of the couch, taking care to soften her walk. She bent down, pausing to listen for your steady breaths and pressed a kiss to the back of your head, before grasping her wife’s chin to pull her away from her book.

The kiss is soft but forceful at the same time, a very persistent quality for Rio’s kisses.

"You know we should do something about their shitty boss. What's the use of a pet if they’re always tired?"

Agatha, wanting to return to her book merely grunted her agreement and continued to stroke your back. She might seem cold and uninterested at times, but Rio knew better.

Agatha wasn’t the type of person to ask you what you needed. That didn’t mean she didn’t care. Agatha spent hours and hours watching the people around her, learning their habits, and figuring out how they ticked. Calculating and implementing what she could provide, comparing your reactions, and choosing the most effective outcome. Depending on your mood, the most effective outcome wasn’t always what you thought you needed, but you had learned to trust Agatha and her methods of calming you down. Or riling you up. Depending on her mood.

But she knew when you came home exhausted, barely getting past the door, you didn’t need words or big gestures. You needed calm, preferably paired with body heat. Agatha had sat down on the couch with her book only a few minutes before you had come home, awaiting your arrival.

It wasn’t the first time you had come home only to crash to the floor. Agatha had learned to let you go through your progress. The phases didn’t always take the same time. Once you had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor, only crawling over to her after more than an hour.

But you would always end up cuddled into Agatha. Your head in her lap, sitting next to her with your head on her chest, or her favorite, sitting in her lap, breathing syncing with hers.

Rio knew all that, trusted Agatha’s instinct, and felt ecstatic when you crawled into her lap if she sat down next to Agatha when she came home.

Another kiss was pressed to your hair. Then Rio went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

A while later Rio patted back into the living room, kneeling next to your still sleeping form. Her hand brushed her wife’s at the bottom of your spine and stroked up your back to card through the little hairs on your neck. You let out a deep sigh, not waking up fully but your body noticed the added touch.

Her hand ghosted down your neck to find purchase on your shoulder, kneading into the still-tensed muscles. A sigh turned into a deep groan, pulling you out of your dreamless nap.

"Hungry, mi amor?"

You unconsciously leaned into the pressure from Rio’s hands, your body immediately recognizing her touch.

"Mhmmm?" Your eyes still closed, your lips still in contact with Agatha’s neck, you slowly come to.

There was a hand softly stroking your lower back, right where your shirt had ridden up, and a different set of hands digging into your sore shoulder muscles. A great way to wake from a nap after a day in hell.

The only reaction the two women got from you was a drawn-out groan and an apparent lack of further movement.

"Hungry?"

This time the question was posed to both occupants of the couch, and Agatha nodded for the both of you, knowing food always improved your mood if only you were awake enough not to choke on it. Choking you was her job.

A kiss was pressed to your head and the hands on your shoulders left you.

"Want to get up, sweetheart?"

The words went against everything your brain was currently demanding, and you reacted in the most petulant way, strengthening your grip around Agatha and quietly whining into her skin.

"Rio cooked for us, pet, the least we could do is join her at the table."

"Can't we eat on the couch?" The first words you had spoken since you came home tickled Agatha’s neck.

Something in your voice made Agatha give in and she called out to Rio to bring the food to the living room.

There was still the problem of extracting yourself from the warm embrace you had burrowed yourself in, which seemed entirely too much for your still hazy brain.

Agatha’s hands went to your sides, trying to push you back a little, but your arms tightened their grip around her torso exponentially.

A chuckle could be heard. Rio was watching the drama unfold in real time and formed a plan to get your energy back enough to pull you out of your burrow.

She bent down, setting her hands on the back of the couch, purposely brushing your arm on the way there, and found her wife’s lips. A kiss that was definitely for your benefit, though also a way to get close to Agatha after having been apart the whole day.

It quickly progressed from a simple press of lips to something more intense. Agatha’s arm pulled up to grasp her wife’s neck, boxing you in in the progress.

Being pressed between Agatha and Rio was soothing on the worst day, overstimulating on the best.

You quickly grew uninterested in staying immobile and turned your head out of Agatha’s neck to watch your mistresses kiss. You managed to pull your arm out of your now more forced embrace and brushed Rio’s cheek.

They pulled apart and Rio turned her head to brush a kiss against your hand and gave you her signature smirk.

"You awake now, mi vida?"

Your eyes sparkling in her direction were answer enough and she leaned in again to press a kiss on your lips, peaking out her tongue to brush your lower lip, starting a spark in you that helped you wake up the rest of the way.

It had always been your problem, that if you had a taste of something intoxicating, you couldn't stop. You deepened the kiss, turning towards Rio and gaining some distance from the warm body below you.

"Our pet is definitely awake now. Save some of that hunger for dinner, little one." Agatha spoke, feeling life had finally returned to you.

Rio chuckled and ended the kiss, leaving you slightly breathless.

"Dinner on the couch means dessert in bed?"

That damned smirk had you hooked from the first time you saw it.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Present

One more Agatha/Rio fanfic, post-finale, angst and tragic romance.

Rio goes to visit Agatha, and brings her a present.

Rio watches Agatha sleep, all of her dignity lost, mouth open, limbs askew. She takes a few steps forward and waits. The year is 1803 and by now, she knows the steps to this dance. Somewhere in this peaceful room, there is a trap.

Agatha Harkness cannot kill Death. But she can wound her, bind her temporarily, inconvenience and humiliate her. She can certainly hurt her feelings and she delights in doing so.

And Rio, when hurt, retaliates. She uses magic, knives, but most of all taunting, callous words. She derives a sense of twisted satisfaction from watching her beloved crumple and beg for something they both know she cannot give.

Sometimes, later, she regrets. Today, she carries a present, folded in her green and black cloak, either a peace offering or a dagger to the heart.

She takes another step, sits on the bed, then stretches to lie next to Agatha, inches away from a few locks of dark hair. She wants to caress them, put them in her mouth, as she once would have done.

Before she can do either, the trap springs. Runes on each wall glow purple, and fine wires of magic snap around her, haul her up by the neck, wrists and ankles, suspended in midair.

“You trapped the bed?” she asks, incredulous, as Agatha jerks awake, sits up rubbing her eyes, wearing only a nightshirt, her hair a tangled mess.

She still takes Rio’s breath away.

“You are so utterly predictable,” Agatha says, smug even though her voice is laced with sleep. She motions to the walls, to the carved runes. “The six bindings runes are done in the Solomonic tradition, but I added an extra layer with the—"

She stops abruptly. Explaining the cleverness of her magic to Rio is an old habit, from better times. “The point being, it should hold for a couple of years, if I’ve done it right, and the doors and windows to this room are bespelled so that once I leave, everyone will forget its here.”

“Clever,” Rio praises and Agatha’s jaw tightens, though the praise is nothing but truthful. She has always been impressed by the sheer skill of Agatha's craft. “But I’ve brought you a gift.”

“Keep it,” Agatha says, packing her things from where they are scattered about the room, fishing out clothes from where they've somehow ended up under the bed. “I think we’re past the courting stage.”

“You’re going to want it. Trust me.” She sees the other woman pause. She can still provoke Agatha’s curiosity, always her strongest emotion.

But Agatha won't ruin her own work. “It can wait a couple of yea—“

Rio tires of this game. She reaches for power, not magic, but the simple truth of what she is. Wisps of black and green smoke escape her, pour from her mouth to settle on Agatha’s runes.

“You can't do that!" Agatha protests, watching with clenched teeth as the magic dies and Rio glides elegantly to the floor.

“You can’t bind Death, Ags.”

Agatha’s face contorts with fury, the realization of how many times Rio has chosen to let her think she had won, to indulge her pride, when she could have freed herself so easily. “I hate you,” she snarls.

Rio pulls out the portrait and offers it to her.

It’s a good one, a little boy with crooked teeth and long hair, as perfect a rendering as she could manage.

Agatha takes it and sinks to sit on the bed, trembling, stares at it, traces the image with a finger and whispers his name.

Rio shrugs, doesn't quite look at the other woman, allowing her a private moment of grief. “So you don’t forget what he looked like.”

After some immeasurable length of time, the longest either of them have gone without violence toward each other in decades, Agatha puts the painting carefully, almost worshipfully, on the table and stands, opens her arms to Rio.

Death steps into the embrace at once, clings tight and is aware that she is shaking as Agatha’s fingers smooth her hair. For one blissful moment, her world is whole.

“Pathetic,” Agatha says and the word is spoken so flatly that it delays the blow, takes Rio a second to even comprehend what was said. “Pitiful, desperate, like a dog with its tail between its legs, rolling over to show your belly for me, as though I will ever, ever care about you ag—"

“Incendem,” Rio says, the word spoken quiet and empty.

Agatha reacts too slowly, lunges as the portrait goes up in flames. She burns her hands, fumbles and drops it, uses a nearby shirt to stamp out the flames.

What is left is a ruined mess of canvas, blackened beyond recognition.

Death laughs and laughs and laughs. “Please,” Agatha whispers, sinking to her knees, clutching the painting as though she could protect it, as though she could protect anything. “Please, please, please.”

Rio crouches next to her, too close, absorbing the heat from her body as a mortal might sit near a fire for comfort. “Pathetic,” she murmurs, almost affectionate. “Pitiful. You can't help yourself, can you? It’s all right, Ags. Cruelty suits you.”

“Give it back,” Agatha whispers, her voice cracking like a skull. “Rio, please, give it back, give it back, give him back to me…”

Rio gathers her beloved in her arms, unprotesting for once, lets her sob like a broken-hearted child and feels a gentle contentment with the situation, murmuring sweet nothings in a handful of dead languages in her ear.

"Rio," Agatha whispers against her neck, and the way her breath brushes over Rio's skin is a reminder of so many better times.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Let me drop my barriers for you. Read my thoughts."

Rio hesitates, it must be a trap, but this time it is her curiosity that gets the better of her. Even when there was genuine affection between them, Agatha always guarded her thoughts so closely. She reaches tentatively for the mind she always wished to understand above all others.

Hatred, raw and pure, impales her, a spear shoved through her guts and out the other side, a sucking, fatal wound. She recoils from the agony, a sob building in her throat.

"No," she gasps. "You love me. You love me, you do, you love me, you're hurt, you're angry, I understand, but you do love me, Agatha!”

Agatha's turn to laugh now, her cackling, witchy laugh that Rio has always loved, a hint of insanity wound through it. "See for yourself. Look as deeply as you want, my heart." She presses her lips to Rio's cheek, untwines herself and comes to her feet to look down at Death, sitting on the floor, staring up at her with blank, empty eyes.

Rio looks. She does not wish to, it is an act of self-harm to stare into the abyss of Agatha's relentless hatred, but she lets it cut her, wound and scar her over and over, relentless in her search for any morsel of affection.

There is nothing. Agatha's hatred is an endless fall, a vast, dark pit of torment.

Rio wrenches her mind free and doubles over, a terrible shriek ripped from her, the sound of her heart being torn from her ribcage, her chest flayed open, entrails flopping out.

"There is only one thing I want from you now," Agatha says. "And it is never, ever to see your face again."

Rio winks out of existence.

Agatha sits and stares at the blackened portrait, then carefully releases the spell on her mind that withholds her true feelings, a complicated rush of true hatred, the aching memory of a world-devouring love, a desperate desire not to be abandoned, and the sudden yearning to be back in Rio's arms.

Feel free to comment/reblog if you like this sort of thing. If you want to read something written pre-finale and therefore less angsty, try the talk. The part where Rio says she’ll never leave hits different now.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 13

Hi, everybody. I hope you all had a pleasent Easter! Now, we continue our story. Threshing is just starting. It's a really short chapter, I'm sorry, guys. :( But I plan to post the next one on Saturday.

There is nothing quite as humbling, or as awe-inspiring, as witnessing Threshing…for those who live through it anyway.

—Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind

October first is always Threshing.

Monday, Wednesday, or Sunday, it doesn’t matter where it falls on any given year. On the first of October, the first-year cadets of the Riders Quadrant enter the bowl-shaped forested valley to the southwest of the citadel and pray they come out alive.

I will not die today.

I didn’t bother eating this morning, and I pity Ethan, who’s currently heaving up the contents of his stomach against a tree to my right.

A sword is strapped to my back, the hilt jostling against my spine as I bounce, stretching my arms across my chest one at a time.

“Remember to listen here,” Professor Kaori says from in front of the 147 of us here, tapping his chest. “If a dragon has already selected you, they’ll be calling.” He thumps his chest again. “So pay attention to not just your surroundings but your feelings, and go with them.” He grimaces. “And if your feelings are telling you to go in the other direction…listen to that, too.”

“Which one are you going for?” Liam asks quietly.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. At this point, Mira knew she wanted to seek out Teine.

“You memorized the cards, right?” He asks, lifting his brows. “So you know what’s out there?”

“Yes. I just don’t feel connected to any of them.” I shrug. “And what about you? Do you have this ‘feeling’?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He says. “I thought I felt something.”

“Which one was it?” I smile at him. He totally deserves to be chosen.

“One of the reds.” He grins. “I felt strange when you dated with the greens.”

“Hey! It wasn’t a date. I really thought that I’m done for good.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have called it a date. I don’t want to upset a certain wingleader.” He winks.

“Liam!” I hiss and elbow him in the ribs.

And he just laughs. God, he’s annoying. A little. But I like him.

We’ve only seen professors this morning, but I know the second- and third-year riders are scattered throughout this valley in order to observe.

„If you go in groups, you’re more likely to be incinerated than bonded,” Professor Kaori argues with someone near the center of the valley. “The scribes have run the statistics. You’re better off on your own.”

“And what if we aren’t chosen by dinner?” a man with a short beard to my left asks.

Looking past him, I catch Jack Barlowe running a finger across his neck at Violet. So original. Then Oren, Rio and Tynan flank his sides.

So much for squad loyalty. It’s everyone for themselves today.

I better watch them. They’re a nasty group.

“If you’re not chosen by nightfall, there’s a problem,” Professor Kaori responds, his thick mustache turned down at the ends. “You’ll be brought out by a professor or senior leadership, so don’t give up and think we’ve forgotten about you.” He checks his pocket watch. “Remember to spread out and use every foot of this valley to your advantage. It’s nine, which means they should be flying in any minute now. The only other words I have for you are ‘good luck.’” He nods, sweeping his gaze over the crowd of us with such intensity that I know he’ll be able to re-create this moment in a projection.

Then he leaves, marching up the hill to our right and disappearing into the trees.

My mind whirls. It’s time. I’ll either leave this forest as a rider…or likely never leave.

“Be careful.” Liam pulls me into a hug and he tightens his arms around me.

“You too.” I squeeze him back and am immediately swept into another pair of arms.

“Don’t die!” Ethan orders.

That’s our only goal as what’s left of our squad separates, each heading in our own direction like we’ve been flung apart by centrifugal motion, at the mercy of a spinning wheel.

***

Guessing by the position of the sun, it’s been at least a couple of hours since the dragons flew overhead, landing in the valley in a succession that sounded like thunder and making the earth shake.

I’ve come across two greens, a brown, four oranges, and—

My heart stumbles and my feet freeze to the forest floor as a red steps into my field of vision, its head just under the canopy of enormous trees.

This is not my dragon. I’m not sure how I know, but I do.

I hold my breath, trying not to make a sound as its head sweeps right, then left, and my gaze plummets to the ground as I bow my head.

For the last hour or so, I’ve seen dragons launch into the air with a cadet—now a rider—on their back, but I’ve also seen more than a couple of plumes of smoke, and I have no desire to be one of those.

The dragon huffs a breath, then continues along its path, its daggertail flicking upward and catching one of the lower-hanging branches. The limb falls to the ground with a monstrous crash, and only after the footsteps recede do I finally raise my head.

I’ve now come across every color of dragon, and none of them has spoken to me or given me the sense of connection we’re reportedly supposed to feel.

My stomach sinks. What if I’m one of the cadets who’s destined to never become a rider? One who’s thrown back time and again to restart first year until eventually something puts me on the death roll? Has this all been for nothing?

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be useless. I don’t want to be seperated from my friends.

I feel happy with them. For the first time in my life I feel important. And I don’t want to lose them. Liam. Violet. Ethan. Not even Xaden, despite our strange relationship.

The thought is too heavy to carry.

Maybe if I could just see the valley, then I’d get a feeling like Professor Kaori was talking about.

I spot the nearest climbable tree and get to work, scaling branch after branch. Pretty sure the higher branches aren’t going to support my weight, so I stop about three-quarters to the top and survey the immediate area.

There are a few greens in plain sight to my left, standing out against the fall foliage. Oddly enough, this is the one time of year when oranges, browns, and reds have the highest chance of blending in. I watch the trees for movement and spot a couple more directly south, but there’s no pull, no aching need to head in that direction, which probably means those aren’t mine, either.

Relief hits me embarrassingly hard when I count at least half a dozen first-years wandering aimlessly. I shouldn’t be so happy that they haven’t found their dragons, either, but at least I’m not the only one, which gives me hope.

There’s a clearing to the north, and my eyes narrow as a flash, like a mirror, catches the sun.

Or like a golden dragon.

Guess the little feathertail is still out here appeasing its curiosity.

There’s another movement. There’s a woman with wihitis hair. Violet.

Then I spot three man entering the clearing.

Shit. They must be Jack and his group.

I climb down and keep my footsteps silent and race across the forest floor as fast as I can.

I am thankful I grew up playing hide-and-seek with Violet in the woods. This is one area of expertise I can confidently claim.

The clearing is closer than I realized, so I kick up my speed, my gaze darting between the leaf-covered path I’ve chosen and where I think they are.

The meadow is big enough for ten dragons, ringed by several large trees, but the golden one stands alone in the center, in front of the dragon is Violet.

I was right. The group I saw was Jack’s. They surrounded Violet.

Four man against Violet, and a dragon. Probably a baby if based on it’s size.

I feel my anger rising. I will kill them.

I unsheathe my sword but before I can say anything or take a step, I hear a low threatening voice.

„I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his voice—demands from across the field.

My scalp prickles as each of our heads swivel in his direction.

Xaden is leaning against the tree, his arms folded across his chest, and behind him, watching with narrowed golden eyes, her fangs exposed, is Sgaeyl, his terrifyingly beautiful navy-blue daggertail.

[agentnico]

Agatha All Along - season 1 (2024) review

Down down, down the road, down the Witches Road…

Plot: A spell-bound Agatha Harkness regains freedom thanks to a teen's help. Intrigued by his plea, she embarks on the Witches' Road trials to reclaim her powers and discover the teen's motivations.

I’m not going to waffle about my complaints with the current state of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I’ve already rambled on a substantial amount in my previous reviews regarding this subject matter, so let’s leave it at the fact that my opinion and thoughts have not changed. That being said, WandaVision was one of the few enjoyable projects in the post-Endgame MCU era, as it had that original and unique flavour with messing with different television formats, and additionally was interesting in how that show explored the effects of trauma and grief. Naturally due to its success, Disney being Disney and Marvel being Marvel meant a sequel or a spin-off was inevitable. In this case it’s Agatha Harkness, who was played with a lot of funky energy by Kathryn Hahn in WandaVision. As enjoyable as she was, I never considered her to need her own show. I guess really anyone can get their own Disney+ series these days!

Kathryn Hahn is the primary reason to watch Agatha All Along. She’s as enjoyable as ever, cackling and wincing her way through each episode, and it was entertaining to constantly question her moral code, if she’s a villain or if she was turning to the good side. Hahn is great, and I am so glad she’s getting the recognition snd good roles now. As for other cast members, they are okay. Joe Locke as the teen came off a little pretentious, and Patti LuPone was the only witch I actually cared about. Aubrey Plaza as the mysterious Rio ends up being exactly what you expect her to be, and though Plaza nails the sarcasm, it’s nothing you haven’t seen her do before.

In regard to the series’ style, it’s really campy. The trailers in my opinion promised more horror aspects which were not present in the final product, but my main complaint is with the show’s look. It feels cheap. From the costumes to the sets, the whole thing is reminiscent of a CW or SyFy show, and you can tell Disney is probably tightening their budgets following the backlash of recent releases. But with something like Marvel you still expect to see something of visually interesting style, especially as they are sourcing a lot of narratives from comics and graphic novels, which one would assume would inspire more colourful and memorable set pieces. Unfortunately this show doesn’t offer any of that. The best you get is some rip-off witch costumes from other Disney projects, which I felt was more so for Disney to show-off how much Hollywood they own.

As for the narrative, for the most part this show is dull. It’s a very repetitive concept where in every episode our witches take on yet another trial, and though some trials do stand out more than others (episode 7 where a character time-jumps using tarot cards was particularly memorable) as a combined package it meant that catching up every week with a new episode was at times a chore. The other infuriating factor was the endless foreshadowing. This show consistently would bash you over the head with clues of what’s to come, but the clues were so predictable that when the reveals finally did pay-off they were not surprising even remotely. Reminded me a little of that Walk Hard segment where the kid says “ain’t nothing bad gonna happen today” only for him to get spliced in two 5 minutes later.

Superhero fatigue is real everyone! It’s happening! I’m kidding of course, I’m still holding out hope that Marvel and DC will get back to their former glory, but evidently there is still a long ways to go. Agatha All Along didn’t do it for me, however I do admit that Witches Road song is a banger and has been stuck in my head ever since!

Overall score: 4/10

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Meet the Parents Part 2

Okay, once again, I rambled for too long and needed to do a second part. Sorry that this post is also coming delayed, real life stuff comes first.

Part 1 to be up to speed!

You know? Maybe it was for the best that the post got cut short, I realized of a small detail that didn't notice yesterday.

The sequence where this four frames are from last around a 1 or 2, I am not really doing this in any professional fashion so I cannot say the exact time; but it is pretty quick, even at half speed.

But you can see how for a moment, Gwen either realizes this is not going well, or drops the enthusiastic persona for a second. Either way, I think it shows that this is not going how she expected.

While Gwen hasn't heard enough to know it was a bad idea using their first names, I don't doubt that Miles talks about them fondly.

She got along well with May and Ben (I notice later that there are some flashbacks including Ben.) And that probably meant a lot to her because you can see how prevalent was the relationship between those families, eating together, talking, etc. Almost like a family.

I don't think Gwen would like to replace Peter and his family, but Miles is not a replacement of Peter anyways. She probably wanted meeting them (Even if I am sure she didn't want to have this meeting today,) would run a lot more smoother.

Because she knows Miles loves his parents, and they do sound like good people; she didn't even seem to think this could actually turn so awkward.

This moment just last a couple of seconds at best, so this goes fairly quickly.

And again, I am not saying this because I want to paint Miles' parents in a bad light; even if they are not giving a fair shot to Gwen, all things consider they are been extremely patient with Miles.

(I really need to do a post about that.)

Now going back to where we left it.

Oh this scene is so hard for me to see.

(Sorry, but DAMN the representation here; this didn't exactly happen to me, but similar enough that is giving me the most embarrassing flashbacks. No I am not saying this is an universal experience, just very painfully real to me.)

Okay, Miles' parents are being over protective here? Oh for sure.

While I think their actions are very logical and understandable once you remember they have no idea what Miles is doing; this is really the part where Rio and Jeff shows us they also need to mature in this movie.

And I don't say it as an insult; a lot of parents have trouble with this transition, and Miles is their first and only child; with said child suddenly not acting as the same kid anymore.

(Sidenote; I am surprised Miles doesn't have any siblings, Jeff and Rio look so in love I am surprised it didn't happen.)

I love how Gwen just takes her hand back, like "well damn I didn't even get a date with him and his parents already are telling me to back off."

Also oof, poor Miles. Honestly forget three months this is probably worse than that already.

Rio making that joke is painfully realistic and let's move on to the other part of that dialogue.

I think Rio and Jeff aren't just trying to establish some rules with Miles (considering the amount he has broken today,) but they also need to reaffirm themselves of being able to dictate what's going on Miles's life.

Again, this is coming just after they grounded him, and then he dipped out. They are feeling they are losing him.

I love Rio, I do, but ma'am this is how you get your kid to keep even more secrets for you.

Not much else to say here, this is the lesson she and Jeff need to learn. Miles is (probably) still hating being alive right now; and Gwen is somehow able to keep that composed face despite everything which has to be one of her most impressive feats in this film.

I honestly have to feel it for Gwen right now.

She probably knows the alert her watch is giving her is bad news, so she really doesn't have another choice.

Forget not making a good impression with Jeff and Rio, now she just lost her chance to have a decent goodbye with Miles.

At this point I don't think she would had admitted to herself this couldn't happen again, I think even now she hoped for another chance later down the line. But there is no idea to know when.

I have no idea what she would had said if she had the chance to say goodbye on her own terms, to his face; but it was certainly not what she ended up doing.

Girl, 3 years being spiderwoman and you can't still come up with good lies for situations like this?

Ok I cannot blame her for not being able to come with up with something better; this entire conversation was already not going well and now she basically needs to flee, which doesn't help.

Oof, look at Miles's face, he really looks so heartbroken here.

For all the awkwardness Gwen has sported during this conversation, this is among her most natural expressions; while she is probably not stranger for dipping early, I do think this is not how she wanted to leave.

Gwen really didn't want to leave, at least not leave Miles. While she couldn't really explain what was going on, I think she wanted to let him no that this isn't about his parents or him, she wouldn't be going out if she didn't have any other choice really.

Jeff hasn't really said much during this conversation, mostly having judgy stares at most, but you can see his expression become a bit more open once he sees Gwen's behaviour change.

Rio I think is trying to maintain a mask because she probably also caught on this looking a bit off, but also because is around here that she starts to realizing how much Gwen means to Miles.

I think is also around this point that Rio seemed to want to say something else.

She could just be trying to say goodbye, but I think her expression and her hand point out more than she actually wanted to intervene here.

I am pretty sure that regardless of how Jeff and Rio felt about Gwen, they didn't want to make her run away like that.

Because again, they are missing context; Gwen is leaving because the Spot flee and she just got herself into a mess, Miles knows this is related to spidey issues.

But as far as Jeff and Rio are concerned, this girl tried to be friendly (way too friendly for their liking but friendly nonetheless,) and is now running away after Rio decided to play Mother Hen.

(Sorry, that joke may not be understandable in english. Mama Gallina/Mother Hen is an expression used a lot in my country for moms that are very protective of their kids.)

Oh, this shot.

This is an interesting comparison because when Miles heard that Gwen was leaving, he looked so crestfallen; she could see it so did his parents but he didn't register the fact that it was so pain this was for him.

Gwen maintained a somewhat composed face to them, but on this shot that she is giving everyone the back, she looks so sad.

This, is basically their relationship in a nutshell. Miles wears his heart in his sleeve and can't help himself on it, and Gwen tries her hardest to keep her emotions at bay, but everything so often they creep back.

This is awkward, and it looks awkward, and this is really more into speculation territory than analysis, but I think she did it because she wanted to go for a hug, or similar.

I had mentioned in other posts how I believe Gwen is an affectionate person, or at least, someone who likes and seeks physical affection to those important to her.

The way she went to hug her dad both at the beginning and end show how much she craves affection; and how she barely contained herself before hugging Miles tells me not just that she probably has even less people to hug nowadays, but how much important he is to her.

But she probably doesn't want to upset his parents more, and his mom told her just a minute ago to basically leave Miles alone; so this was the best she could think of.

Nobody is really happy. Even Rio and Jeff are realizing how uncomfortable is Gwen; thought again, they are probably thinking this is all their fault.

This is really the moment when Rio and Jeff are probably realizing that whatever the heck is going on with Gwen and Miles, is important to them, or at least Miles.

Again, Jeff and Rio are worried, and they have no idea what Gwen's situation is, Miles mentioned she left town but they didn't even believe she existed prior this so they probably doesn't think that's case. Or even if it was, well, keeping contact can't be that hard in this day and age right?

(Sadly, Miles really needed to fall in love with a girl who to get in contact with you need technology from another timeline.)

Miles is 15, and they just met this girl, they couldn't imagine how much she matters to him, specially with all the secrets.

And here, is when Rio finally can let her own feelings aside for a moment, and see her actual son, and not the idea she has of him.

Of course, he is just staring at where she is at, no idea when he would see her again.

A part of me wonders, if he would had tried to go and say something else if his parents wouldn't had been here.

I really, do think Gwen wanted to say something else.

Now with all the context, it makes me so sad to see Gwen leave, and still have trouble to actually do so.

Because she knows this meeting wasn't suppose to happen, and she has no idea if she could ever repeat it or when. She has been so focused on Miles she completely neglected the mission, heck, she even neglected to keep an eye on the guy, which wasn't even so much of a fix for this situation.

You know? Something I kept thinking while analyzing this scene, is how is not just Miles struggling to keep a civial life and a spider life, Gwen is going to the same thing, or similar enough at least.

At this point, she has embraced the Spidey life, she literally has no other choice because she cannot go back home. Her life as Gwen Stacy was gone; being able to just be a carefree teen is left by the times she can be crashing at Hobbie's dimension, and even then, you see that is not enough.

In this sequence, she tries to go back to those patterns, like the camaraderie she had with May, or the jokes she probably shared with her dad's buddies.

But it doesn't go well, and her last moments with Miles were extremely awkward, and them discussing about the organization.

This all feels just like a bitter reminder, she can't be just a teen anymore.

Is a shame, because on the Clock Tower we basically confirm, that Miles was the only person that could make her feel that someone was seeing her for all her. To combine those two worlds she belonged.

But she can't have that now, just like she believes, she can't have Miles.

[darkbutterflyart]

Today is my birthday!🙈🎉💜

I am now officially as old as Rio Busujima lol

Now 28 years old, I still feel like I'm 16 sometimes even though my 30's are getting closer!

It was time for another Jyuto post! I'm currently not as obsessed with Hypmic as I used to be, but that doesn't mean I don't love them anymore! MTC still owns a big part of my heart! And I've missed bunnyman, so here he is! I hope you guys like it 🐰💙

Thank you so much for your continued support and appreciation for my silly art! I hope I can continue to make you happy with my fanart!💜🩷💖💗💕

[studiesof-fandom]

The future of this blog

Hi, guys!

How is everyone? I hope everyone is doing great! Today, I came here to give some updates about my life and what it does mean for this blog!

The first one is that I've officially finished college! I graduated with a double major in English and Portuguese! I got A+ on my undergrad thesis! I don't know if you guys remember it, but I wrote an authoethnography about the process of writing fanfiction, exploring it using my own fanfiction. I'm translating it at the moment, so people can check my work if they're interested!

I graduated, but I didn't leave my university! Aside the fact I plan to apply again for the Master's program at the end of the year, now I'm part of the fanfiction research center we have there! At the end of last year, I was invited by the coordinators of the research center to become a coordinator myself! I started working with them last month and it has been incredible!

Just so you know a bit about the research center: It's called Fanfic Studies and Research Center, in Portuguese is called Núcleo de Estudos e Pesquisas de Fanfic (NEPF). This research center is part of Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ), one of the top universities of my country, so you know the work we do is pretty serious and legit. We have a page here @ Tumblr: @nepf-ufrj. We usually post everything in Portuguese and English, so check out the stuff we posted there! Anyways!!!

Some stuff I'll do this semester @ NEPF: a lecture about the reason we should study fans, based on Gray, Sandvoss and Harrington's introductory text of their book Fandom; an introductory class about Fan Studies for newbie researchers; a fanfic terms and expressions dictionary alongside another coordinator from the research center, Julia, and some collaborators.

As you can see, I'll get to dedicate my time for Fan Studies, so I'll try to keep this blog running too! I love the work I've being doing here, even if I'm terrible to update the blog, but this time I've my focus on being an acafan in a way I couldn't do before thanks to university!

I hope you guys will like this new era of this blog and I can actually do a better work now! I'll probably try to get moderators that are involved in fandom research, so they can help me out to run this! But that's all, my people!

I'll post more stuff soon!

[eventinelysplayground]

In a Garden of Roses

Kinktober day 26: Outdoors/Public | Breath Play

Pairing: Silvio x Emma.

Yes this fic is late but life happened, I did have enough down time right now so thought I'd get this one up and may try to get one more before posting today's fic but we'll see. This was one of the first ideas I had but last fics that I finished. Silvio and Emma are back in Rhodolite and enjoying some rare free time together. This fic is NSFW so minors do not interact. WC approx 1757.

“Will you stop runnin off!”

Emma stopped and turned around to smile at Silvio as she bounced on her heels.

“I'm sorry I'm just excited! Not only are we back in Rhodolite but we have the whole rest of the day to ourselves thanks to Leon.”

“I still say he's gonna regret it in the morning.”

“He has his own boys, I don't think adding ours on will be too big a problem.”

“Did you see the way they were all looking at him? This is gonna cost me a lot, I can feel it.”

Emma just let out a laugh as Silvio caught up to her.

“Well that's tomorrow's problem. For tonight let's just enjoy ourselves.”

Emma placed a chaste kiss on Silvio's cheek and he startled.

“Hey!”

“Oh come on it was just a little-”

Emma's words were cut off by Silvio's lips capturing hers in a deep kiss.

“Silvio, somebody could see us.”

“You started it, plus we're pretty far away from the palace.”

Silvio leaned in for another kiss but Emma turned her head at the last minute.

“You're right we are pretty far away….Oh!”

Emma's face lit up as she wiggled out of Silvio's arms and took off in a dash further into the roses.

“Didn't I tell you to stop runnin’ off!”

Emma's laughter carried over the breeze as Silvio gave chase after her again. Even with her head start she was no match for Silvio's long strides and he had almost caught up to her again when she saw it.

“I thought so, Silvio look.”

Emma had come to a stop and was pointing at an overgrown gate. Silvio came to a stop beside her, memories from years ago coming back to both of them.

“It doesn't look like anyone's been here since we were here last.”

“Nope.”

Emma walked up the gate and looked down at the lock.

“It's too bad I didn't think to ask Sariel for the key.”

Emma's smile faded for a moment and Silvio let out a sigh.

“Move.”

Silvio gently nudged Emma aside as he took something out of his pocket and then picked up the lock.

“You know how to pick locks?”

“Ya, figured it would come in handy.”

“I guess that makes sense. This way you could open any treasure chests or-”

“That ain't why I learned.”

“Then why?”

Silvio gave Emma an exasperated look and after a minute her eyes widened with recognition.

“Oh…When they locked their nanny in the closet.”

Emma let out a tiny giggle as Silvio shook his head and went back to picking the lock. It didn't take long and soon Emma was standing in the middle of the abandoned arbor. She stretched her arms out and gave a small twirl while breathing deeply the scent of roses. As her second twirl ended she smiled wide at Silvio who was leaning against a pillar.

“I think there are even more roses than last time.”

“Yeah.”

Emma walked around slowly running her fingers along some of the roses nearby, it was a beautiful and cozy spot even in its neglected state.

“Don't you think it's beautiful here, Silvio?”

Emma turned to face Silvio expecting an answer but instead she found him just staring at her with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Silvio?”

Emma watched as Silvio straightened up and gave his head a shake.

“I guess, It's definitely better than the time we came with the mutt.”

Emma shook her head and pouted.

“Was having Rio around back then really that bad?”

“Damn straight-”

Silvio reached out and caressed Emma's cheek before letting his fingers glide downwards and his thumb run over her lower lip.

“He almost spoiled the view with his yappin’.”

“Silv-”

There was no more talking as Silvio pressed his lips to Emma's, their tongues dancing together as his hands grabbed her waist. She pulled away, giving him a little shove as she did so.

“Wait.”

“Nope.”

Silvio brought his lips to her neck kissing a path along it that made her melt.

“But what if someone sees us?”

“Weren't you the one that told me one of the previous kings built this place so that he could have his trysts.”

“Yes but-”

“So you think he'd build it in a place people frequent? Besides, it doesn't look like anybody's been here since the last time we were.”

Silvio kept trailing kisses along Emma's skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck while at the same time he was hiking up her skirt. He moved in to kiss her but she moved her head just out of reach.

“Wait.”

Silvio groaned in frustration.

“Now what woman?”

“There isn't really anywhere….comfortable here.”

Emma was looking over Silvio's shoulder, sure there was a bench and it seemed sturdy but it was still pretty beat up from decades of neglect. Silvio looked behind him and he sighed, he let Emma go and walked over to the bench while removing his cloak. He laid it out making sure it was nice and smooth before he turned back around to Emma.

“How's that for ya your Majesty.”

There was a bit of snark to Silvio's words but he was smiling and Emma pouted at him. She walked over and ran her hand over his cloak smoothing out non existent creases before she looked up at him and smiled.

“I suppose it will do King Shameless.”

“Ha, I ain't ever denied it.”

“Eek!”

Silvio had reached out, picking Emma up before sitting on the bench and then settling her on his lap. His long fingers lifted up her chin and she leaned in to kiss him. Her kisses started off as soft little pecks but soon turned passionate and needy and she began to grind herself against his bulge. Silvio let out a chuckle against her lips as his hands caressed her thighs.

“Now who's bein’ shameless?”

“You didn't need to say it out loud.”

Emma was blushing now and it just made Silvio laugh even more and she pouted. Silvio's fingers moved up her back pulling at the laces on her dress and in no time at all he had the top of it pulled down to her waist.

His boney hands cupped her breasts and began to knead them, his thumbs trailing over her hardening nipples. Emma let out a soft moan before he captured her lips with his. Unlike her kisses his were rough and passionate and he prodded at her lips until they parted. His tongue explored her mouth before twining with hers in a familiar dance. Emma gripped at his shoulders as their kiss deepened and her hips moved faster. She wasn't quite sure when it happened but soon she found herself on her back and looking up at Silvio's heated gaze. His hands ran along her thighs where he looped his fingers into her underwear pulling them down and tossing them to the ground. He then undid his buckle and pulled his own pants down before spreading her legs wide open. He was half leaning over her when he stopped with a look on his face.

“Huh, that old king really thought this through.”

Emma looked at him puzzled but before she could ask what he was talking about his long fingers were stroking her sensitive nub making her thoughts scatter. With each pass his fingers would go lower coating themselves in her arousal before returning to tease her most sensitive spot. She bucked her hips against his hand looking for more stimulation but it wasn't what she really wanted.

“Silvio.”

“Ya?”

“I want more.”

A coy smile spread across his face.

“If ya want me to give ya somethin’ you're gonna have to ask for.”

Emma let out a huff followed by a whine as his fingers teased her entrance.

“I want your cock buried inside me and making me feel good.”

Emma knew she was blushing by the satisfied smile on Silvio's face.

“Whatever you want, Queen Shameless.”

Emma glared at Silvio feeling irritated but it was quickly replaced by pleasure as he slid his cock into her throbbing pussy and began to thrust. She snaked her arms around his shoulders as he brought his mouth to her bare chest and began to suck on her skin.

“Mmmm.”

Maybe it was because they were outside but Emma's sense seemed more alert and everything he did to her felt more intense than usual. With every long thrust she got closer to the peak and her moans grew louder. She wrapped her legs around him and drew her nails along the back of his shoulders through his shirt as he thrusted faster. His mouth was still on her chest and he took one of her nipples on his mouth sucking on it hard.

“Oh Silvio!”

As her body arched Silvio pulled almost fully out of her before slamming back into her hard and deep and she cried out. She gripped his shirt tightly as she rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through her. She knew her cries spurred him on as he thrusted even faster and deeper into her before his own wave of pleasure hit and he stilled while releasing himself inside her. He released her nipple moving his head so that their foreheads were resting against each other.

They said nothing for a long while just letting their breathing even out between quick kisses before Silvio moved himself off of Emma and leaned himself against the opposite armrest. He smiled and reached out his long arm towards her and she took his hand letting him pull her limp body up before bringing it to rest against his chest and pulling his cloak over her. She snuggled into him content as he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head. It was then she realized that she hadn't felt uncomfortable or cramped despite the setting and that her body wasn't sore anywhere, well no more so than normal afterwards anyways.

“That was surprisingly comfortable.”

“Probably because this bench is bigger than a standard one.”

“Really?”

“Ya, that old king had a pretty good idea.”

Emma had a sudden thought and her eyes lit up.

“You know…we could use a new bench at home.”

Silvio looked down at Emma at the same time as she looked up at him.

“Really?”

Emma nodded before she snuggled up to his chest again and let her eyes fall shut.

“I'll send Carlo out later to take some measurements.”

Tag list: @nightghoul381, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @nani-nani-nani, @floydsteeth

[so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed]

2024 writing self evaluation

1. List of works published this year:

In order of posting, these are the 10 fics I published:

January: and right from the start

April: and so I have to say (before I go)

July: I'd rather you (hold me)

August: home with you

September: something told me it was you, 'til I let go of this moment, and in those rare moments, circling the truth October: on the threshold of eternity

November: I've drowned and dreamt this moment

I've published 74,813 words this year, and I have written 66,768 words this year.

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

That has to be my @onedirectionbigbang that I worked on with @whatagreatproblemtohave [who is my artist again for next year, I am so excited!!]. I really struggled with this fic but I managed to get it done and published, and the art is incredible.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Somehow also the same fic, just because it was a struggle to write and I'm still remembering that struggle too well to really reread the fic and be proud of it. But I'm sure that moment will come!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

“I’m so sorry about your penis.”

Zayn regrets the words the moment they come out of his mouth and he makes a strangled noise, gulping down the one beer that he’s allowing himself to have, because they came in third for the team final and he’s supposed to celebrate. He’s told himself that he would approach Liam if he’d medaled, but even though the bronze is an amazing feat and he should be over the moon - nevermind that he will always nitpick and wonder why they hadn’t been able to clinch the gold instead - he just feels sad at the thought that Liam’s Olympic dream is over, just like that.

Liam raises an eyebrow, snorts into his own cup. “At least I made headlines,” he says, and Zayn lifts his head to look at him, because he sounds light but there’s pain in his eyes. “Pole vaulter’s Olympic dream shattered by his own penis.”

Zayn wants to giggle, not at the joke but because there’s something nervous bubbling up in his stomach that he can’t swallow down. He doesn’t think it will make Liam feel any better though. Might make him think he’s making fun of him, which is the last thing he wants. “It’s shit,” he offers, and Liam gives him a faint sort of smile.

“It is. I’m sure I’ll be able to laugh at it at some point, but-” he shrugs a shoulder, “it’s sort of humiliating, isn’t it? Aside from the fact that I literally cockblocked my chances of a medal, and it’s another four years until I can redeem myself, it’s also a pretty shitty feeling that everyone is talking about my penis.”

Zayn cringes. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t gonna like, say it like that. I just-” he thinks of the bronze, of the applause and the way he’d felt this afternoon. Of how on top of the world he’d been, full of confidence for his individual events. “I know how much it sucks, and I just wanted to offer like, I don’t know.”

“Your condolences?”

Zayn hums. “You know I tore my ACL in my first Olympics. I mean, maybe you don’t know, you weren’t there in Rio. I just mean, I know what it’s like to have your dream within reach, and then it’s just taken away, because your body betrays you.”

Liam’s face softens, a slight dusting of rose on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says quietly, “I shouldn’t have assumed that you meant to poke fun at me. No one even has, today. They’ve all been perfectly nice. So bloody nice that I can’t stand it, actually.”

“I could take you to see Louis,” Zayn suggests, and that prompts a laugh.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

After October, when everything was dark, a few people reread one of my all time favourite fics. This review was left on it, and it hit me so incredibly hard, but it also reminds me why I will keep writing:

And I know what happened in October is so not the same thing as this story, but it felt so eerily close that I couldn’t help but sit in that dream where someone DID do something, and the 2024 imagined here turned out to be a bit closer to reality. Man, I don’t even know. For a few hours I got to believe that what was permanently destroyed could be rebuilt again. 

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Honestly, this entire year. I've had months where I wasn't able to write, which barely happened last year. I wrote 50,000 words less than last year, and in June/July my personal life kicked me in the balls so hard that I was just done. I really wanted to give up on writing, but @lululawrence convinced me to give wordplay one more go. Thank you my darling, I am so grateful.

Then, of course, we all know what happened in October. I texted a friend of mine about it, saying I wasn't sure I'd be able to write. Their response was something along the lines of, we weren't able to help him in real life, but we are able to give him happier lives and endings in our stories. It's what I intend to do.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I don't actually remember, but I do remember that I left some comments on my own docs that were essentially just '????' and 'I didn't plan this'.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I think I mainly grew in my judgment of myself, in the sense that I didn't feel like I had to write when I truly wasn't able to. I put less pressure on myself this year, and though the amount of fics I published and the amount of hits/kudos/comments I received have definitely gotten less than last year (it's about 30% of last year), I've learned to care less about it. At the end of the day, I write for me, and I write for those few that take something from it, that might feel comforted by my words or that learn something from it about themselves.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

At this point, I just hope to keep writing and keep enjoying writing.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

In the past few weeks @evilovesyou has been invaluable, we've plotted out some fics together which has helped me a lot in being able to make the most of my limited writing time. @lululawrence, as I've said before, helped me to keep writing. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention my lovely @beardyboyzx who is the best sounding board ever.

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

I'm actually not entirely sure!

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

It's okay to take breaks. It's okay if writing is hard and it's not for you right now. While it can be a relaxing thing, something you do in your down time, it's still not the same as taking a break, and sometimes you just need time off from doing anything productive.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm currently working on my @zaynsalbumsficfest which is due far too soon. And I'm about 10k into my @onedirectionbigbang which I'm very excited about, because ya girl is back on her fantasy worlds kick!

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

I love everyone who wants to do this, so please feel free to say that I've tagged you even if I haven't. But I will tag @reminiscingintherain @beardyboyzx @voulezloux and @lululawrence

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

A Clean Slate

Chapter Twelve of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: After Bradley leaves you at the field, you feel adrift. Everything hurts, and in more ways than you'd ever thought possible. It seems like your life encounters disaster after disaster the more time you spend in Pigeon Creek. Is it any wonder that you jump for the chance at recovering the life you've got when Bradley shows up at your house again?

Themes: love, attraction, angst, sex, cheating, lying

Warnings: Carole being, Carole. She's a warning in and of herself!

Word Count: 4028

A/N: Here we see the aftermath of Bradley's time in Pigeon Creek. Linley's really not feeling great about Bradley anymore. This chapter is where we start to see it. I'm sorry this chapter is late!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Your heart feels like it’s shattered into a billion pieces as you find your dad and let him take you home. There’s no way you’re going back to New York today. You feel like you should stay away from the city and lick your wounds in peace a while longer. Carole will be all up in your face, and so will the press, you’re sure, the moment you set foot in your apartment. There’s so much you’ll have to do now. Apologize to Bradley and Carole, return the ring to him, and possibly draft a statement for the press. It makes your stomach roil and your head ache thinking about it.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m making a batch of that plum jam you love so much. Do you want a jar to take back home with you?” 

You don’t respond. You’re draped over the sofa with a wet rag over your face. A part of you is hoping it will fix all of your problems like it’s fixing your migraine. But they don’t go away. Right now, you have two problems you need to solve. The problem between your dad and Bradley, and the problems between you and Bradley.

“Yeah, I’ll take a jar.” You sit upright with a sigh, letting the rag fall into your arms. 

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened between you and the Bradshaws?” You start pacing back and forth in your living room, one, two, three, four steps, about turn, repeat.

“It’s not an easy story to hear. It’s not an easy story to tell. Before I say a word, I need you to know. I wanted to protect you from the man I was when I was in the Navy. I regret so many of my actions during that time. The only thing I don’t is having you.” He sounds exhausted, but you have to know.

You sob a little. “Please, daddy. I have to know. I love Bradley. I’m marrying him. I want him to be my family. I want him to be your family, too.”

For several moments, it is quiet between the two of you, only the sharp snick of your dad’s knife cutting through ripe plums punctuating the silence.

“This all happened in 1986, only a few months before I met your mom. Goose was my best friend in the whole world. I met him on my first rotation aboard ship when I joined the Navy. I’ve told you about my dad, right, kiddo? About how he was considered MIA in Vietnam?” You nod, because you are more than aware. “They used to haze me, beat me up, blame me for every problem. I learned pretty quickly after joining the Navy to never trust another soul. There’d be nobody who could look out for me like I could look out f0r myself. I went through RIO after RIO. Nobody wanted to work with a traitor’s kid. Until I met Goose. Goose protected me from those in my squadron who considered Duke Mitchell’s kid to be as traitorous as his father.”

Your dad sniffles and it’s all you can do to keep from sobbing in concert.

“He was my best friend, my family. We spent every leave together, took liberty together, caused mischief together. When he met Carole, I thought everything would change. But I hadn’t lost my brother. I’d gained a sister instead. I was the best man at their wedding. I wanted to scream from the rooftops when they told me they were expecting. I would have done anything for Goose and Carole. When they put Bradley in my arms at the hospital and told me I was his godfather, I would have done anything for him too.”

“When Bradley was two years old, Goose and I were called to Top Gun.” He hums gently, pulling another plum from the colossal stack and cutting into it. He doesn’t waste a single drop of the sweet juice.

“We were cocky. We thought we were the best of the best. But so did everyone else there. It was hard. We fought for our place in the rankings every day. Family day came and went, bringing Carole and Bradley to North Island.” He has a sad smile on his face as he methodically cuts up plum after plum. “Goose was so happy to see them. We took them out on the town, showed them around North Island. We did everything to make their visit the happiest. Then Hop 31 happened. I flew through your Uncle Ice’s jetwash, we went into a flat spin, and the engines failed. We had to eject. The canopy didn’t eject fully and since Goose pulled his ejector first, he hit the canopy. It severely compacted his spine.”

“The Navy had to discharge him honorably on medical grounds. There was an investigation afterward, one in which I was cleared. But after nearly losing Goose, I never wanted to fly again. So I left the Navy. I went to New York a few times after the accident to see Goose and Carole and Bradley. But it wasn’t the same. Goose and I were the same, but Carole? Carole looked at me with hatred in her eyes. By hurting Goose, I destroyed all of the hopes she had in expanding her family. She always wanted to give Bradley little brothers and sisters. My third or fourth time in New York, she told me never to come back again. She said it was hurting Goose too much to see me walking around when he’d never be able to again. So I never went back to New York. I never saw my brother again.”

You wrap your arms around your dad, relishing in the scent of his cologne, motor oil and fragrant plum juice.

“Thank you for telling me, Dad.” He grins, a crooked upturning of his lips.

That answers the question of the problems between your Dad and Bradley. You believe your dad. You also believe Bradley. His leaving New York and never coming back hurt them both - it probably hurt Goose too. You’re sure you can get the men to talk to each other in the coming months and years. But you know your romantic problems are not so easy to resolve. You did lie to your fiancé for months, hiding the most integral parts of yourself from him. Now he’s angry, and honestly, so are you. If only you hadn’t come back to Pigeon Creek. You could have told Bradley the truth in New York and taken his help to get Jake to sign the papers after all. Visions of Sheriff Garcia and officers from the Greeneville Police Department forcing Jake to sign the papers float through your imagination. But you didn’t tell Bradley earlier. Now you have to fix this problem and shove whatever it is you feel for Jake into the box where it’s been languishing for the past seven years.

“I know you’re thinkin’ that I spoiled things good this time, Dad.” Your voice is subdued, mind turning in circles at the thought of every relationship you’ve destroyed in your life - Jake, your dad, Penny, Amelia, and now Bradley.

“Oh, hon, don’t go accusin’ me of thinkin’.” His laugh rings out through the small kitchen. “I ain’t done anything of the sort.”

“Anyways, kiddo, spoiled’s in the eye of the beholder…” You stand at the counter so you can see the peace on his face as he carefully breaks down the plum in his hand. “Like these plums here. Some people might call them spoiled, but I think that these almost-ruined ones make the sweetest jam.”

It’s true. This jam is your favorite thing to have on toast, pancakes, or stirred into oatmeal. Hell, you’ve even made tea with a spoonful of the flavorful preserves and hot water.

“Do you need any help?” The grin that transforms your father’s face is enough to chase some of your thoughts away.

The quiet, methodical work settles something in your soul. You’ve always enjoyed working with your hands, and making jam seems to settle the frantic rush in your soul just as much as sewing does. You’re just bottling the jam up when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll go see who it is, kiddo. You keep bottling the jam.” You’re not expecting the silence when the door opens, though. Nor are you expecting the continuing silence as your unexpected visitor walks through the door.

“Hi.” Your shock must show on your face because Bradley’s quick to take your hands in his. You’re wearing an apron, and there’s a streak of sticky-sweet jam on your cheek, but he’s looking at you like he’s still in love with you. Should you be feeling hopeful now? Maybe not, but you are hopeful despite all indicators to the contrary.

“Hi. I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now.”

“So did I.”

“So why are you here, Bradley?” You need to know why he’s here. As much as you may hope that he’s here to reconcile, to tell you he forgives you, a part of you isn’t sure you can believe it until you hear it.

“I wanted to know if I’m still your fiancé, Lin, well… that is … if you’ll still have me. I really don’t care what happened down here.” He’s so clearly not looking at your dad as he says the words.

“So... you have a past. I mean, who doesn't? What I need to know is if there is a place for me in your future.” You’re frozen. There’s a part of you that isn’t sure if he’s genuine or not, but when he opens his arms to you, you melt into his embrace anyway. 

“Honey, you’ve got jam on your cheek!” His smile is sweet as he brushes it away with the pad of his thumb and licks it off. “It’s as sweet as you are.”

“So, we’re heading up to New York City, huh?” Your dad’s careful question pops the bubble you’re in, the one fueled by mad hope and love.

“Well, Mav, my mom’s the mayor, and she has her heart set on a New York wedding.” At least his tone is outwardly polite.

“I guess I can take off work for your wedding, kiddo.” You smile at your dad, grinning at him. But something about the big New York wedding Bradley had mentioned doesn’t feel right to you anymore.

“Bradley?” At his hum, you continue. “ I, um... actually, I was thinking, maybe we could have the wedding here?”

“Here?”

“In my hometown.”

“Look, Lin, if it’s the cost you’re worrying about, don’t.” It’s a little weird that money is what he’s worrying about. You may live a bit more frugally than Bradley does, but you have money. If you have to pay for a part of a New York wedding, you’re sure you can swing it.

“It’s not the money, Bradley. It’s never about the money down here.” It’s really not. There are bonds amongst the people - the community - in Pigeon Creek that you’ve never felt in New York. You have people you love in New York, sure. But you have so many people you love in Pigeon Creek, too. It doesn’t feel right celebrating without Dorothy, Mickey, Penny, Amelia, and all your old friends anymore.

There’s a smirk on his face as he grins down at you. “You know,” His town is secretive, brimming with barely concealed joy. “A lot of people are expecting us to get married in the city. But, I think a nice, quiet country wedding is just the ticket.”

“Mav, if  you could cover the rehearsal dinner, I’d really like to take care of the rest?” Your heart soars at hearing the obvious olive branch Bradley’s giving your dad.

“I think I can cover that. After all, how many times does your only daughter get married?” Your fledgling smile falls at those words from your dad’s mouth. “Other than before, kiddo.” 

New York City - Mayor’s Office

“What do you mean she’s Mav’s daughter, Bradley?” Of all of the information Bradley’s given his mother since he landed back in New York with Linley an hour ago, that’s the piece of information that she’s fixating on. He’s trailing behind her as she marches through her office like she’s on a warpath. “And then there’s the fact that she has a history with the police in Pigeon Creek?”

“She was never convicted, Mom.”

“Oh-ho! I don’t know which is worse: that she’s a child cat killer, that her dad’s a part of the sons of the Confederacy or that her dad is Maverick Fucking Mitchell.”

Bradley can’t tell which is worse either. As of now the fact that she's a Mitchell is trumping everything else. “What would you suggest I do, Mom? Dump her for being poor? Or hell, because her dad is who he is? Didn’t somebody say something about the sins of the father not applying to their children?”

Bradley walks towards the small lounge area where his mom likes to take interviews from her office. She always maintains that this particular location showcases all of her best sides. “You’re supposed to be a Democrat, remember?” He sits down on the sofa as he asks her that question.

“There is nothing wrong with being poor.” His mom’s eyes flash as she stares him down. “I get elected by poor people. And I’m a big enough person to commend her for making something of herself.”

She sits down next to him, and it’s been so long since Bradley’s seen her as a mother that he forgot how comforting her perfume smells. “What upsets me is that she lied to you.”

To her credit, the great Carole Bradshaw does indeed look like she’s worried. Worried about Bradley, for Bradley. Though Bradley would bet that her true worry is over the nosedive her polling numbers are going to take once they find out that Bradley’s marrying a nobody turned semi-successful fashion designer instead of a Southern heiress turned semi-successful fashion designer. 

His tone is deliberately nonchalant as he looks at his mom. “So what? She was ashamed of her background. Who hasn’t been embarrassed by their parents at one point?”

Bradley’s poking the bear. He has been embarrassed by both of his parents. When he was younger his embarrassment was in how they were always all over each other. Their love was disgusting in that wholly teenage way. Now, Bradley’s constantly embarrassed by the fact that his mom is so controlling over his life; because she insists that she knows best even though he’s thirty years old.

“I’m going to assume that was a rhetorical question.” Bradley’s quite content to let her think so.

“Assume away.” The fact that she’s still glaring as she walks away means that he’s hit a sensitive spot. But it has him rising as well, because he’s not going to let her intimidate him into doing something he doesn’t want to.

“No one is going to change my mind about this.” Bradley’s sure she’s going to try to dissuade him, again. “Not you, not the media, not anyone.”

“Fine, Brad. But admit it, I was right.” There’s victory in her gaze as she walks up to face him down.

“Yes, you were right. But she came clean. Now can we move on?” Please, can Carole Bradshaw’s one track mind be de-railed already?

“There is a wedding in your future, after all, whether you like it or not.” As if Bradley could forget - he’s just mentioning the wedding to get his mom off of the Linley and lying topic. It’s a decision he’s still not sure of. In truth he’d headed back to the Mitchell house in Pigeon Creek because he’d taken a look at his own polling numbers. People loved the fact that he was engaged. Then there’s Linley’s own chosen profession. It would be easy enough for her to stop fashion designing if his career demanded it. He could use a lovely leading lady on his arm after all for the endless rounds of fundraising galas and for swearing-in ceremonies.

“And how, exactly, does Little Miss Alabama plan to accommodate 500 people? I suppose she has connections at the jail?” 

Hah! Bradley would pay to see Mayor Carole Bradshaw living out of a jail cell for the wedding. “Well, there are several excellent choices.” There's definitely a grin on his face as he lists out the options, if only because his mom seems angrier the more low-brow they get. “There's also a Travelodge, a Days Inn, a Motel 6 …  oh, and the Golden Cherry Motel, where we will be.”

It’s obvious she’s less than amused. “Laugh now, but if this gets out, Bradley…”

“It won’t.” Bradley’s going to ensure it. As far as the press is concerned, Bradley Bradshaw is still marrying Linley Floyd of the Greeneville Floyds. It’s going to be a closed wedding, no press. The Bradshaws will be controlling the narrative every step of the way. “Anyways, mom, the press is expecting the Plaza in June. They’re not going to find out.”

New York City - Linley’s Apartment

It feels weird being back in New York City again. You’re the same person who left New York less than a week ago, but now you can feel it, how little you fit in. You’re lying on your bed flipping idly through one of the most recommended wedding magazines of the year. But it’s not keeping your attention - nothing about place settings or napkins or flower arrangements is. If you could kick your brain, you would. All you’re thinking about is Jake. Jake, Jake, Jake. The day you fell in love. The day your life changed. The day you left. But more than those days in the past, you’re eagerly thinking about the days you’ve experienced more recently with Jake - or well maybe you should say that you’re thinking about the one night you’ve spent with Jake recently. 

It’s surreal how one night with your ex, a man you haven’t seen in nearly a decade, was more of everything you've been yearning for than the past eight months with your fiancé. Now the wedding plans are underway. It doesn’t feel right, what Bradley and his mom are planning. They’re bringing the media into town, cherry-picking journalists and photographers to spin this wedding the way they want it to be spun. Isn’t this wedding supposed to be about you and Bradley? Apparently not. Instead you feel like this is all about Bradley and his polling numbers.

The worst part is how there isn’t a person you can talk to. If you talk to Nat, all she mentions is her excitement for the wedding and how lucky you are to have Bradley in your life. But the more you think about it, the more you’re sure you only want to talk to one person. You’ve been holding yourself back from calling him for seven years now. You definitely can’t call him now. But you feel like you know exactly what he’s doing.

It’s a Sunday night, so Jake’s probably home with his mom and Amelia watching the football game. You can picture the languid sprawl his limbs are arranged in on Penny’s worn plush sofa. He’s probably wearing a football jersey and worn jeans, feet bare with Bryant curled up against his hip. His green eyes are probably narrowed at the screen, every inch of his body tense as he tracks the oblong football across the screen. Everything else will have faded away for him. The only important thing in his sights is probably the football game. There had been a time where you’d been able to pull his attention away. When you were younger, he used to pull you into his arms as he lay there on the sofa, turning you until you were comfortably ensconced in his embrace as his hands traced absent minded patterns against your stomach. That had been how he’d felt the baby kick, in those weeks before happily ever after crashed down around your ears. But now, you’re simply alone, lying on your bed and flipping through magazines with words that barely make sense, in a city which never sleeps and where you feel like you have no friends.

Or well, maybe you have one? It’s Tash on the phone, “Hey Linley! I feel like I haven’t seen you at all since you got back from Alabama!”

“Hey Tash.” Your voice is subdued as you roll across your bed, mussing the pristine sheets and knocking your pillows out of place. “I’ve missed you, too. But since I got back, I’ve just been planning the wedding.”

“Now why does it sound like you said The Wedding in all-caps?” Her gasp is over dramatic and you can practically see the way her almond shaped eyes narrow as her brain goes into overdrive. People always forget that models have brains. Nat never wanted to be a model full time. She was originally studying Business Management, wanting to start her own fashion house. But starting fashion houses needs money and influence in addition to a good head for business. “Fuck, Lin. Is Carole Bradshaw being an absolute bitch about this wedding?” 

“She’s been more than a little annoying, yeah, Tash.” It makes your skin crawl just thinking about the meeting you’d had with Carole in her sprawling penthouse apartment the day after you came back to New York. You can still remember the hopelessness you’d felt at the sight of the fabric samples, cutlery, flower arrangements, invitations and more laid across the formal dining table. Carole had disregarded every decision you’d made and by the end of the neverending decisions about the wedding, your head was splitting. That was when she’d started talking about the venue. 

“This place is gorgeous and we can control the security.” You’re not sure when she had the time to do this because she had picture after picture of the Floyd Plantation house.

“The Floyd Plantation?” It rankled a little as Carole patted your hand condescendingly.

“It did inspire your identity, didn’t it?” Oh, if only she knew. You’d picked the name of your other best friend for a reason. You’d picked Floyd as more than a wish for affluence. You’d picked Floyd as a wish for success, for happiness. It hadn’t helped that you’d seen Beau Simpson’s fakely polite smile the entire time you were at the manor either. In fact, you’re pretty sure the pictures Carole has of Floyd Plantation are from his foray into Floyd Plantation without permission.

You’re still reeling as you recount the whirlwind that Carole Bradshaw had become when you were talking about the arrangements.

“God, Lin! Did the old witch let you make any choices on your own?” You have to laugh at that. It’s obvious the Tash is calling you in between photo shoots because you can hear so much noise in the background.

“It doesn’t feel like she’s letting me pick out much, Tash. But she is letting me pick my dress, of course.” Tash’s laughter makes you laugh just a little too, your existential dread lifting just a little at the sound. “Do you want to come with me?”

“You’re serious?!” She sounds like she’s jumping up and down in her makeup chair.

“You’re one of my best friends, Tash! Of course I want you there!”

The next four weeks are filled with conversations like that one - light and easy but not emotionally fulfilling. You’re surrounded by more people than you ever have been in New York but you feel lonelier than ever. The night after your first wedding dress fitting, you give in to the urge and dial the number you’ve had in your thoughts ever since you left Pigeon Creek. Each ring makes the nerves and sorrow rise in your chest as you struggle to find the joy in planning this wedding. The days turn to weeks as you call and call and call. But when the busy tone turns into the announcement that the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected, you know it’s time. You’ve made your bed, it’s time to lie in it.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @leahnicole1219 @djs8891 @midnightmagpiemama @itsdesiree86 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

[skyeward-otp]

Okay

Y’all!

I’ve have so many thoughts and feelings about the episodes (Spoilers under the cut)

Like…we finally got an Agathario kiss but at that cost?! Who called that it was gonna be a kiss of death? Who did it? Who spoke it into existence? Like damn the kiss itself was so good and like…was it just me or did anyone else think that Rio almost regretted that it happened? Like there was a part of her that didn’t want to actually do it. But the moment of her going into the ground was kinda beautiful, and loved her little moment of finally getting her purple back. She’s just so damn amazing I love her.

NICKY! That sweet little angel oh my goodness i love him (and it’s nice to have a little visual reference for him when writing fics now, lol) he’s the most precious human being in the world and oh gosh Agatha actually was a really good mom she was breaking the cycle she loved her kid so much when she lost him it almost broke me oh my goodness. (In regards to my post earlier today i hate that i was wrong about being certain that rio helped to raise Nicky, lol)

Also…NICKY CREATED THE WITHCES ROAD SONG?! That montage of them spending time together and singing together and actually crafting the song, oh my goodness. It was really WAS Agatha all along, the title has so many layers to it. But also…that montage of Agatha through the eras stealing powers…those outfits? Damn. She really was expecting Jen, Alice, and Lilia to blast her with magic because it happened every other time. Loved getting the little flashes back to the first episode to really zone in on what was probably going through Agatha’s mind during those moments.

EVERYTHING IS MAKING SENSE!

And then Billy connecting all the dots and realizing that he actually created the road himself and got the others killed because of it. Oh goodness i love joe locke so much he’s so brilliant.

Despite Agatha being dead (rip badass queen) I’m glad that she’s technically still around which means we’re likely going to see her in future live action projects which makes me very happy because i love Kathryn Hahn and Agatha Harkness deserves so much more screen time.

There’s definitely more that I’m not mentioning, but I’m still processing so i may make another post later? Probably not, honestly, lol. But feel free to reach out if you wanna chat, i love makng new friends and talking about shows i love.

(Side note: I’m definitely gonna be posting a new fic either tonight or tomorrow to make up for the fact that we didn’t actually get Agathario and Nicky family times.)

Anywho! I need to go cry inside for a bit because those episodes kinda wrecked me.

[galway-girlatwork]

Fandom: The Mentalist-AU

Rating: Mature-Angst. Smut. Enemies to lovers. One sentence mentions prostitution.    

Central Characters: Marcus Pike and Original Female Character

Central Relationship: Marcus and Daciana/Kira

Word Count: 2,080

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal the mood board, it was a gift. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

Music inspiration: Le Castle Vania-Shots Fired

Inspired by the beautiful mood board created and gifted by the amazingly talented Freya Thank You Board post. @almostfoxglove Freya I utterly adore you.

SUMMARY:

The relationship between Agent Marcus Pike and Daciana, is a game of cat and mouse, taking Marcus around the world—London, Tokyo, Rio, and now Paris. Daciana taunts him, leaving clues that lead him to her hideouts just a little too late, fueling his growing obsession.

Their relationship is more than just professional; there’s an undeniable chemistry between them, a tension that neither can ignore. Marcus, frustrated by his inability to catch her, is simultaneously drawn to her presence.

Marcus knows that catching Daciana may come at a cost—one that goes far beyond the law.

Shadow and Flame

Marcus Pike had spent his life chasing shadows, but none more elusive than Daciana. The assassin was a ghost, slipping through his fingers every time he thought he was close. For two years, their game of cat and mouse had taken him to every corner of the globe. London, Tokyo, Rio—each location held a piece of her, a trace of her existence, but never enough. She always stayed just out of reach, taunting him with her brilliant mind and unnerving calm. This time he was in Paris, a lead from Interpol, which required more red tape than any government agency back home. He had her this time, almost a little cocky in his thought process. Hotel St. Germain was non-descript, set back from all the tourist traps of Paris, and he knew that is why she choose it. Once room 1002 was cleared, they let him enter, gun drawn, finger nowhere near the trigger because something in the back of his head told him that she wasn’t here even before anyone uttered a word. He should have been surprised but he wasn’t. Daciana was always two, three, four steps ahead. Sitting at the small writing desk, he ran a finger over lacquered wood. He could almost imagine here sitting here, having coffee and breakfast, waiting for a call that would take her to another city.  He was frustrated and pissed. The intel was good but just a little too late, his fascination and obsession with her growing. Pulling the phone from his pants pocket, he called the number the informant had given them, expecting a recording that the mailbox had not been set up, jaw dropping when she actually picked up.   

“Agent Pike, running late today?” She was more than just an assassin. She was a product of her father, mother long since dead, left to be raised to become lethal simply because he had no son to carry on the “family legacy,” or Brigăzi as her father once put it. Her skills were used for cleanup and something told her, she should have done away with the informant in France but she was needed home. A liability that would never happen again, unless it was Agent Pike. There was something about the games she played with him that gave her a high like nothing else had. It was the thrill of deliberately leaving clues for him, breadcrumbs that kept him busy but never allowing him to close the gap, not until she wanted to. Each clue felt like a personal challenge, an invitation to try harder, to get closer. “To say I am disappointed would be an understatement. I am guessing at this time you are in room 1002, wondering where I am now.”

In a way, he admired her, her skills and her ability to outthink him, mostly but admiration only went so far. He couldn’t forget who she was or what she did. “Daciana, are you forgetting Brazil? Wasn’t late then, was I?”

“No. I will give you credit for that one. Perhaps a half point since you only missed me by ten minutes, an oversight on my part. But today…You’re late by two days. Tisk tisk, losing your touch?”

He told himself that this was just another assignment, but deep down, he couldn’t deny that there was more to it. He wanted to understand her, to know her, and that desire was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. “You know eventually the cat and mouse game has to end. Why not come back to Paris, I believe a French prison is more suited to your personality, don’t you agree?”

Her voice dropped an octave, throaty, sounding almost sultry, like silk against bare skin. “Marcus, your lack of faith in me is disturbing.” Did she just borrow a line from Star Wars? Oh yes, she did, knowing it was one of his favorite movies. She knew everything about him, because what he didn’t know was that as obsessive as he was about her, she was about him. “Don’t you think it’s time to head back to D.C?”

“You know I am not going back until I find you.”

“Marcus, you know that you will not find me unless I choose it. As much as you would like to think is all about you, it is about me as well. It is about us. The little game we play. Are you growing board of mouse and cat? Which one are you exactly Marcus?”

It was the way she said his name, the way she said the word us. Warm, syrupy sweet, almost as if she was purring on the other end of the line. Closing his eyes, he let it sink into his subconscious, where he could play the conversation over and over. “Daciana, I am not in the mood for the games. I do not have the energy for you right now.”

“Oh Marcus, you wound me. That little blade sinking between my ribs, it’s filling me up with more than just blood. I think I may actually shed a tear so I will respectfully disconnect the call. J'ai hâte de parler à nouveau avec vous. Au revoir Marcus."

The game took an unexpected turn in Greece. He had been tracking her movements through Europe for weeks now, and the trail led him to Mykonos. What the fuck was she doing here and how was it he got a lead? He knew she had always been careful, meticulous, but this time, there was something different. A mistake? Perhaps. Or maybe it was another one of her games. Either way, he knew he had to follow up. It was there that he met her—not Daciana, not the assassin, but Kira.

She had grown bored, if that was such a thing in her life. The emergency at home was nothing more than her father having a tantrum over something she could have taken care of without having to go all the way back to Romania. Damaged product, she explained, was nothing that couldn’t be replaced, flesh nothing but a commodity. Shaking her head as she laid out on the lounge chair, the heat of the sun warming bare skin. Greece was beautiful, not her favorite place in the world, but it came a close second to Bora Bora and Turks and Caicos. She loved heat, sun and water. She should be scared shitless, leaving clues for him, extradition was not a joke but she was such a curious creature, wanting to know more than what reports could tell a person. If anyone did become interested in the woman by the pool, the only name they would come up with was Kira, an Italian on holiday. That was how she introduced her self to him at the bar. He looked frustrated, defeated and for a split second she felt sorry for him. The offer of buying him another drink wasn’t met with resistance, as long as she joined him. When the music started, it almost took an act of god to get him off his chair. Arms loosely hung from his shoulders as hips swayed with each beat, the pulsating of the bass caused pelvic muscles to clench. Taking his hands, she placed them on her hips before giving him her back, pressing her ass against him, she could feel his erection. He wanted her. Just as much as she wanted him.

Kira was warm, funny, and easy to talk to, with a smile that lit up the room. He felt himself relax around her in a way he hadn’t in years. He wasn’t one to normally talk to strangers, but there was something in the way she moved, how she didn’t make the entire conversation about her, in fact it was the opposite, letting him talk about everything but his job, only telling her he was from the East coast. When she convinced him to dance with her, he blamed the Ouzo, body pressed against his, he forgot about the hunt, forgot about everything but the woman in his arms.

Within a tangled mess of sheets, she did make him forget everything but his need to consume her. It was what he was doing. Consuming her from the outside in as his tongue slid over her clit, fingers sliding in and out of her wetness. Tiny mewling’s and whimpers escaped labored lungs, hips meeting the stroke of those digits before she came up on an elbow, hand grabbing the back of his head as she violently came against his mouth. Collapsing on the bed as he kissed her pelvic bone, body stretched out, thighs still jerking with the aftershocks, muscled arms spread her legs and in one motion, he was buried deep inside, strokes slow, hard, steady, dragging out the pleasure until she thought she’d go mad.

Lips wrapped around a hard nipple, teeth dragging across the sensitive tip before tongue caressed it, watching her face, bottom lip clamped between teeth as he raised his head, nose nuzzling the spot below her earlobe, inhaling her scent. “Again. Come for me again,” was whispered in against her temple, a hand going under an ass cheek, pulling her closer, thrusts a little harder now, feeling the familiar tightening. Fuck he thought, he didn’t want it to end but the way she felt, wrapped around him, walls clenching as she came for a second time, felt like silk wrapped around steel. He was so fucking close and when he asked where, teeth nipped at his chin before letting him know inside. That one word trigged his own orgasm, head thrown back as hips jerked against flesh, finally stilling, head dropping to her shoulder. “Stay the night with me.”

To say the sex with Marcus was amazing would have been an understatement but as the sun began peaking through gauzy blue curtains, she knew it was time to leave him. Slowly rising from the bed, muscles sore from the hours they made love, protested the movement, wanting to lounge just a little longer but she knew she couldn’t. Actions were quiet, quick, heels in hand so as to not wake him. Standing at the edge of the bed, she stared at him and on impulse she pulled her phone from the clutch and took his picture. Laying on his back, head to one side, the beginnings of a beard, no evidence of stress, wondering if he would think of her when he woke up. Emotions began taking up residence in the vacant space of her chest cavity and she knew she’d gotten too close. Turning on her heel, she slipped out of the room.

When he woke up later that morning, she was gone. No note, no explanation, just an empty bed and the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. His heart sank as reality crashed back in. The woman had used him, something he’d never had happen, and left. Grabbing his phone, he called down to the front desk, asking if they had seen her, the answer of course being no. Fuck. Getting up, he showered, replaying the night in his head, the countless shots, the sex and wondered how he could find her. She was just like Daciana, evaporating into thin air.

Two days later he was heading back to Lyons, the lead for Daciana going cold within those forty-eight hours. Sitting at the desk he was given, was an envelope, his name scrawled across the front, the note inside, written in a language that wasn’t familiar to him except for the name at the bottom.

“Marcus. Noaptea trecută a fost uimitoare, dar urmărirea continuă. Poate într-o zi ne vom întâlni din nou.

Daciana”

“Fuck,” was yelled out in frustration after he got it translated. Kira had never existed. It had always been Daciana. She had played him, used him, and now she was gone, disappearing into the wind as she always did. The chase resumed, but Marcus knew the truth now—he would never catch her. Not because he wasn’t skilled enough, but because Daciana was never meant to be caught. She was a force of nature, always one step ahead, always just out of reach. And as much as he hated it, a part of him didn’t want the chase to end. For Marcus she was more than a target. She was his obsession, his challenge, his impossible dream. So, he would continue the chase, knowing that it would never truly end.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Bandits

It was perhaps inevitable that two women traveling on the road would eventually run into trouble. The trouble today came from a trio of scruffy bandits who had emerged from the woods holding crossbows pointed directly at Rio and her lover.

Rio greeted them with an overjoyed grin, her eyes too wide, her smile overstretched, showing teeth, excited for what was going to happen next.

But as always, her beloved had to draw these things out.

“Alas!” Agatha said at once, collapsing dramatically with her hand over her forehead. “We are doomed, two fair maidens caught out by ruffians!”

“I think you’re a little past being a maiden,” one of the bandits observed, and it was impressive how fast Agatha snapped to her feet, arms across her chest. Rio couldn’t suppress a giggle at her lover’s offended expression.

“Do they not make bandits with manners anymore?” she complained.

“Perhaps you should do something about it,” Rio said, impatient, restless, knowing Agatha would drag this out as long as possible for her own amusement. “I have a suggestion.”

“Mm, should I, though?” Agatha asked, a taunting smile curling the edges of her lips. “I’m tired, it’s been a long day, I just don’t know if I feel like—“

At that moment, another of the bandits, unnerved by how little attention was being paid to them, fired at Agatha.

Rio didn't move so much as she simply relocated so that suddenly she stood in front of her beloved. The bolt slammed into her neck and here was an unpleasant thing about bodies, pain and suffocation and the eventual space between, the small amount of time she lost while this body regenerated itself from what would have caused a mortal true death.

But before she toppled over, she got to see Agatha, rising in the air, power arcing from her fingertips, making men into corpses for her, and that made it all worth it.

She came back to herself with her head in Agatha’s lap, her lover’s fingers through her hair even as she chastised Death.

“—know full well I have protection spells, so there’s no need for melodramatic gestures—“

“Forgot,” Rio murmured sleepily, reaching up to take Agatha’s hand. “S’fine. Not like I can die.”

“But I know you can feel pain,” Agatha murmured, pressing her lips against Rio’s knuckles, her brows draw together with real concern, whatever her tone. “Did you get to see the show?”

“Mmhmm. I guess you weren’t that tired after all." She closed her eyes, still drowsy, but she could feel Agatha’s breath, warm on her skin.

"It turned out I wasn’t. …No more of that sort of thing, though. Unless I am actually in trouble, of course. In that case, feel free to get shot full of arrows, you are the one of us who can’t die.”

“Yes, beloved,” Rio agreed.

Agatha hesitated, then added softly, “And…thanks for….I do know you want me dead.”

Rio savored the thought for a moment, the far-future day when she would get to collect her prize. “You’ll die eventually,” she replied. “I can wait.”

“Good,” Agatha said, brusque, arrogant, even as she squeezed Rio's hand with surprising force. ”I’m worth waiting for.”

“Agatha Harkness, you are worth being shot with a hundred arrows.”

Agatha laughed, a pretty, cackling sound. “Of course I am.” Her fingers ran over Rio’s cheek, tender, adoring. “…But only if I need it. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“…This is really nice, though,” Rio admitted. “You fussing.”

Agatha hmmed, fingers stilling against her skin. “…Rio, my heart, did you actually forget?”

Death shrugged, a small smile playing across her lips. “Don’t stop," she instructed.

Agatha heaved a dramatic sigh and clicked her tongue in something like reproach, but she started petting her again, and after a moment, her voice rose in song.

Death, endless, inimitable, the final mystery, lay lax and content against the woman she loved. She would have been delighted to take a hundred more arrows, if it meant another moment like this one.

Masterpost or click this link to go to a random post on this blog, which will probably be a fic of some kind

[tewwor]

🍒 huntershowl and also harerazor >:3

send  me  🍒  +  a  url  and  i  will  write  some  positivity  for  them — @crowshoots @huntershowl @harerazor

now, you might wondering why i gathered yall here today ... it's highkey because a) rio asked like a lovely friend does b) i literally met Both of you through raine HWOIEGAHOWIGHAWG

i kid yall not. i saw raine write wonders with rio despite me not knowing a lick of soc and was like but maybe..... maybe i, too, will learn ( spoiler alert, i still haven't but maybe one day!!!! ) and be able to interact with a fantastic writer. boom. i did and rio, you're so chill to chat with and its sm fun to just yap in comments and posts. and to be soooo fr? your portrayal of jesper is THE one for me. i said it. hands down. case closed. and your ocs? YOUR OCS? THE CONCEPTS? HELLO? not to mention how fun your writing style is! there's so much flow and little juicy bits to take and pull from!!!!

then i recentlyish saw raine interact and get super excited when reuben rolled around. and yknow what? i get it!!! i GET the hype!!!!!! had me at the hare symbolism ( hello, i don't see it Enough in the world and Knew you had Taste ). now look at us. look at the disaster and constant fox screeching we do about exhausted depressed burnt out salarymen- anyways. reuben, i love alta deeply. half of my goons love alta deeply. your canon portrayals from world's worst farter ( father ) to an even worse shit brickhouse of a brother to another different existential am i human or curse crisis brother to everyone's favorite ray of sunshine and not depressed sunflower to the cooking mama but cannibal and apparently the lurking brainworm — it's incredible! all of them and how you conceptualize them is incredible!!!!!

and, now, raine. c'mere. remember my post about how i made dumpling soup and my roommate said it tastes like her boyfriend? yeah, well, you're like that broth but it's just a reminder of a really really nice friend and fantastic writer AND artist. i will never look at twilight the same again. i'll never look at writing slowburn the same again. anytime i see or hear or think about hellhounds, i will admit! seph comes to mind immediately! you're so incredibly imaginative and, quite frankly, amazing at both plotting things out and seeing what sticks. and your writing — SHOO WEE MAMA, your writing!!!!! fill my bookshelf with it PUHLEASE!

all in all, i think yall as a collective and individually are neat and outstanding!