#if i was agatha i’d lose my fucking mind about that too

[criticalbeauregard]

i know i desperately need to stfu but imagine being death’s only scar. the weight of rio admitting (albeit in a place that probably feels safe due to the group not knowing her true identity yet) that she loved someone is unimaginable. she is godlike, if not an actual god. a concept to most. the greatest fear of the majority. and she loved (loves) one human being.

[badassbuchanan]

After Hours - Part 2

Warnings: smut; swearing, handjob, pussy rubbing, unprotected sex, rough, dirty talk, choking, hair pulling, jealously, mentions of daddy kink, angst.

Word Count: 4522

Part 1

A/N: just want to say a big thank you to every single one of you for all the support and love - it honestly makes my day when I read your lovely comments about how much you enjoy reading these! x

I skipped down the classily decorated corridor in my 5 inch Jimmy Choos, hugging a stack of files close to my body.

I could see Ransom, sitting on his PA’s desk as the two of them flirted like no one was watching through the completely transparent wall made of glass.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder before grabbing the icy cold metal handle. Ransom immediately arose from his position after his head had turned to watch me walk through the door.

He stared for a moment too long, admiring the way my shorter-than-usual skirt sat on my hips. I would never in a million years have worn something this short to work, but Y/F/N had begged me to meet her at a bar straight after work and it was already quarter to 5.

I watched his hands dig into the pockets of his jeans before I turned my attention to his irritated looking personal assistant. Something about seeing him flirt with someone else after what we’d done last week in his office ignited a fire of jealously inside of me which I couldn’t explain.

“Miss Y/L/N.” Ransom fronted professionally, a slight smirk playing on his lips as his eyes travelled slowly up and down my body.

“Y/N, you don’t have an appointment booked and Mr Drysdale was just about to leave for the day.” Julie snapped, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek with annoyance. She was obviously upset that I’d interrupted their flirting.

“Well then I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.” I smiled sarcastically, feeling Ransom’s gaze continue to burn into me as I walked over to her desk.

“No need,” Ransom interrupted with a slight cough, his fingers absentmindedly tracing a pattern on the corner of the desk. “I’m free now.”

“Good,” I tried to stay professional, but my heart skipped a beat as I looked up into his piercing blue eyes. “Now works for me.”

Ransom spun on his heels to follow me as I silently made my way through the big wooden door of his office.

I heard the door shut after him as I immediately spread the files over his desk, organising them the best I could.

“It’s only Thursday, Y/N.” Ransom mumbled in a husky voice from behind me. I smiled shyly, moving my head slightly to the side as he came towards me. “I thought you said you wouldn’t have them finished until tomorrow.”

“No, Mr Drysdale-“

“Ransom.” He cut me off, reminding me of his preferred name.

“Ransom.” I corrected myself, tapping my fingers into the edge of the desk. “I said I’d have them done by Friday. But I like to impress, so I finished them a day early.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” Ransom’s hot breath against my ear made me jump slightly as his body pressed against my back. The feeling I’d missed so much. The feeling I’d touched myself at the thought of every night.

Since Ransom had fucked me in his office, something had switched inside of me. It was like he’d awoke some kind of need that wasn’t there before. A need that only he could satisfy.

“You haven’t even looked inside yet.” The playful remark left my lips as I made a show of leaning over his desk to reach for a pen, my ass grinding backward into his crotch testingly.

Ransom’s hands immediately flew up to squeeze my hips, a slight grunt escaping his mouth. I felt my pussy start to ache as his hardening cock rubbed against my ass.

“Why don’t you show me then.” Ransom breathed out shakily, unexpectedly walking around to stand more beside than behind me. His left hand rested on the table to steady him.

“Well, I used all of the original drafts you gave me to collate these more interesting plots.” I spoke professionally, picking up one of the manilla files I’d prepared to prove my point.

Ransom’s eyes scanned the documents after grabbing it from my hand, nodding interestedly as his brows furrowed with concentration.

“I think you’ll find these more interesting because-“ I gasped softly, feeling his right hand slide under my skirt from behind as he pushed between my legs and started to rub my pussy over my panties.

I bit my lip, closing my eyes as I tried to reclaim my balance. I immediately felt my pussy dripping in arousal at the hard massage his fingers were providing.

Ransom acted like nothing was happening, pushing his fingers harder against my pussy in circles as he watched me with a straight face. “Because what?”

“Well, because. I - Um.” I stumbled over my words, gasping in pleasure as the dampness of my panties started spreading down to his fingers. “Because I found a way to incorporate a fresh take on storytelling with the classic ‘whodunnit’ style of authors such as Agatha Christie.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow cockily, pushing his body against my side as he watched me lose control. “How so?”

“The - the um.” I breathed our shakily, letting the file drop on to the table as I steadied myself on my hands. Ransom pushed his fingers against my panties harder, the sound of my wetness filling the room as he moved his hand in circular motions. “the paragraphs I’ve highlited in pink apply the fundamental basics of a good mystery novel. If we incorporate those with the modern day and even futuristic elements highlighted in green, we get something unique that people can really get behind.” I finished the sentence seconds before a loud moan escapes my lips from the pleasure.

“Speaking of which,” Ransom smirked, turning his body to lean his ass against the desk before adjusting me so I was standing directly in front of him. He pulled me forward so that I straddled him, my front rubbing against his crotch as he continued massaging my pussy from behind. “Try not to be too loud, okay?”

I felt his warm breath against my skin, his lips millimetres away from mine as I reached my hand up to cup his face. “Ransom.” I whimpered his name, admiring him through hooded eyes.

“That’s it,” Ransom grunted out in encouragement, his throbbing cock nudging against my clit through his pants. “Cum all over my fingers, baby.”

The pet name drove me wild. Last time this happened, not a single word was exchanged. But now, Ransom was all mouth. and fingers. And it was making me horny.

I moaned his name again, my lips nudged against his as I bucked my hips. My fingers dug into the back of his head, clinging on to him desperately as I lost control, feeling my orgasm already taking over.

“Shhh, good girl.” He whispered as I rode his fingers, trying to recover from my euphoric high. “Did that make you feel good? My hand rubbing that little pussy of yours?”

His dirty mouth was only making me wetter and more desperate for him. “Yes, Oh. Yes.” I whimpered my response as he continued rubbing my sensitive pussy. My eyes closed in pleasure as I held onto his tightly, my head dropping forward weakly.

“Look at you,” Ransom chuckled deviously, amused as I withered against him at the overstimulation. “So responsive.”

I reached my hand that wasn’t in his hair down to press against his bulge, gasping at the wetness covering his crotch. Both of our eyes were drawn to where my hand was on him.

Ransom smirked, scoffing at the sight before leaning forward to gently nudge my lips with his. “You made a bit of a mess.”

“I’m sorry Ransom, you just made me so wet.” I whimpered submissively, finding myself wanting to give him everything before he even asked. I felt weak and small and reliant on Ransom to look after me.

“Don’t ever apologise for how horny you are, not to me.” Ransom lifted his hand that was on my panties up to trace my lips with his thumb.

I obediently parted my lips, Ransom’s eyes darkened with desire as he gently pressed the pad of his thumb against my tongue.

I kept my eyes focused on his, moving my hand up to hold his wrist as I suck on his thumb. I let my tongue swirl around his digit as though it was his cock, something that in the moment connected us in a way that neither of us understood.

Ransom’s jaw clenched as he watched me sloppily soak his thumb with my spit, some of it dripping out of my mouth on to my lips.

“Listen to me,” Ransom caught my attention with his words, causing me to loosen my suction on his thumb. He took it from my mouth, running it carelessly over my lower stomach before hooking it into my slightly exposed panties from where my skirt had ridden up. “I’m gunna shove my cock in you, okay? You took it so well for me last time.”

I nodded a response with a whimper before looking down at where his thumb was pressing circles against my throbbing clit, still sensitive from my orgasm. Ransom’s eyes fixated on it too, a smirk on his face as he watched me submitting to him.

I grabbed hold of his strong bicep with one hand to balance myself, feeling my legs begin to wobble as a dirty thought crossed my mind. “Bend me over your desk.”

Ransom smirked, both shocked and impressed by my request. “That how you like it, hm?” He licked his lips teasingly, running his spare hand down my bare thigh.

“I want you to fuck me really hard, Ransom.” I whispered innocently, looking up into his ocean blue eyes, unknowingly playing right into his deepest fantasies. He rubbed my clit so hard my body was moving with each circle of his thumb. “I want to feel your fingers around my throat.”

Ransom grunted in frustration, keeping eye contact with me as I spoke. Atta girl, tell me what you want.” He moved his hand from my thigh to his pants, skilfully undoing his the buckle of his leather belt.

Once he’d managed to unzip his trousers, Ransom shoved his hand down his pants, tugging his cock out to fuck it with his hand.

“I want to be naked when you fuck me.” I whispered against his lips seductively, moving my hands up to unbutton my blouse. “I want you to hurt me.”

Ransom groaned with his eyebrows furrowed, pumping his cock in his hand as his jaw went slack. Ransom’s hand stopped rubbing my clit and tugged on the soft material of my blouse, his eyes dropping to admire my boobs covered by a baby pink lacy bralette. 

“Fuck,” Ransom whispered huskily as I let my shirt pool around my elbows before dropping it to the ground. He suddenly grabbed my neck roughly, catching me by surprise as he tugged me toward his face. “You look so pretty for me, baby.” He groaned, resting his face in my neck as he leaves sloppy kisses on my skin.

I whimpered at the feeling of his hot lips on my body, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him closer as I straddled him. I tilted my neck to give him more access, his hand squeezing around my throat softly.

Frustrated with my pussy still not being fucked with his cock, I decided to slide my hands down his chest before moving them back up underneath the thick material of his knitted sweater. I looked down, a satisfied smile on my lips as I ran my hand over his toned chest. “You’re so muscly.” I hummed sweetly, tracing my fingers over his abs.

Ransom stopped kissing my neck and let go of his cock for a moment, leaning back to lift his sweater over his head. He looked back at me as he smiled. “Don’t stare for too long, I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

I giggled softly, somehow a sweet moment shared in the middle of us fucking. I looked up into his blue eyes, shining brightly in the low glow of the office. My heart skipped a beat as he smiled back at me.

Without giving it a second thought I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, Immediately retreating after realising what I’d just done. “Shit, I’m sorry. I just got c-“

“It’s fine.” Ransom chuckled and cupped my cheek, pulling me back in for another kiss.

His lips were somehow soft and rough at the same time. Ransom’s breathing slowed as we kissed, his hand moving to my lower back to pull my body closer.

I whimpered softly as our bodies met, my clit rubbing against his cock. I parted my lips slowly, which gave Ransom the opportunity to deepen the kiss as I wrapped my arms back around his neck.

My boobs rubbed against his exposed chest as he slid his hand under my ridden up skirt, squeezing my ass cheek in his palm.

“You still want me to bend you over the desk?” Ransom whispered against my lips as I rolled my hips to connect with his cock again, wetting his tip in my arousal. “Or we could go back to mine and-“

“No,” I quickly jumped in, cupping his sharp jaw with my small hand as I looked helplessly into his eyes. “I want you to fuck me now, Ransom. I need you right now. Please.”

My other hand wasted no time moving between us as I take his big cock in my hand, tracing his length with my fingers as he gasped softly. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here.” Ransom groaned, licking his lips as he hooked his fingers into my drenched panties. 

I started pumping his cock in my hand as my panties hit the floor, desperately clenching around nothing as I waited in agony for his dick to be inside me.

“Fuck.” Ransom grunted as his jaw clenched, losing himself in the feeling of my hand jerking him off.

“You’re so big.” I hummed sweetly, looking down to where my hand was on him. Ransom’s hands moved up my bare back and skilfully unhooked my bra.

“Can you take it, baby? Hm?” Ransom growled in frustration as I squeezed my hand around him. My other hand gripped the flesh of his shoulder for balance, not taking my eyes off of his throbbing member. “Can that sweet little pussy take my cock?”

“Mmh.” I nodded my response and licked my lips, taking my hands off of him to let my bra drop to the floor.

A split second was all Ransom needed to stand up, yank me forward between him and the desk and press himself against my back. His fingers expertly slid my skirt down my thighs until it hit the ground, leaving me completely naked apart from my heels.

“Is this what you imagined?” Ransom whispered in my ear as his exposed chest pressed against my bare back, causing a shiver to ripple through my body. His arm hooked around my tummy as his fingers started rubbing my sensitive clit. “When you touched yourself at night. Is this what was running through that pretty little mind of yours?”

“Yes.” I gasped out a response, pressing my ass against his cock as the front of my thighs pressed against his wooden desk.

“Me too.” He admitted as he pushed me down to bend over his desk, his body staying flush against my back as he started rubbing hard circles on my clit.

“Oh fuck.” I cried softly as my face screwed up in pleasure, bucking my hips at the feeling of his fingers on my sensitive nub. His cock pushed its way between my ass cheeks, desperate to find its way into my aching pussy.

Ransom’s breathing hitched as the tip of his cock came into contact with my pussy lips. “So soft.” He whispered breathlessly, removing his hand from my clit as he stood up straight behind me. “So warm.”

I spread my legs a little more, eager for his big cock to fuck me. “Please Ransom.” I whimpered like a slut for him, parting my lips as I turned to look over my shoulder at him. “I need to feel your cock stretching out my tight little pussy.”

Ransom took hold of his cock, looking deep into my eyes as he lined himself up with my entrance before pushing himself deep inside.

I let out a loud cry, arching my back to push my ass closer to him as my head fell to the desk.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” Ransom grunted, both hands on my hips as he pulls almost fully out before slamming back in to fill me. “You like the way it hurts when my cock stretches you out?”

With every thrust I started to get more desperate, already overstimulated by the attention his fingers. “Yes.” I whispered breathlessly.

Ransom’s hand suddenly grabbed at my hair, tugging my head back towards him roughly. I cried out, closing my eyes at the pleasure.

“Louder.” He growled, fucking into me quickly with sharp jolts of his hips. He wrapped my hair around his fist, pulling so hard that my torso rose from the table.

I moaned loudly as I rested my palms against the wood to try and balance myself as my pussy clenched around his thick cock. Sounds of us fucking filled the air as I felt myself coming to my high once more. 

“Fucking take it.” Ransom grunted aggressively, thrusting his hips with all his strength as he fucked me. “Take my cock like a good slut for me, baby.”

Daddy. Daddy was the one word that ran through my mind as he pounded into me. I’d heard people use the word before. I’d watched porn, I’d read smut where they used the word. But I’d never said it before, I’d never felt it before.

“Yes-“ I gasped softly to stop myself from saying it out loud, frightened of how Ransom would react. I didn’t want this to stop. It felt too good.

“Shit, I’m gunna cum.” Ransom moaned, taking his hand off of my hip as he tugged me up by my hair to rest my back against his chest.

“Ransom.” I moaned in response, his tip nudging against my g-spot with the new angle he was fucking me from. My legs started to shake as his fingers moved from my hair to wrap around my throat, squeezing with enough pressure to have me seeing stars.

“You gunna cum for me?” He growled from behind me, his balls slapping against my skin as he thrusted faster, chasing his high. “You gunna drench my cock with your cum?”

“Yes, Ransom, oh fu-“ I cried through choked breaths, wave after wave of orgasm hitting me as I frantically bucked my hips back against him.

Ransom grunted in my ear at the feeling of my pussy pulsing around him, his hand getting a little tighter around my throat to keep my head from falling forward.

“That’s it baby,” He soothes me through my orgasm, his voice a little sweeter than usual as I tried to recover. He continued thrusting mercilessly into me as his cock throbbed inside me. “That’s it.”

“Ransom,” I whimpered, turning my head to the side again as I felt my boobs bounce with every deep thrust of his cock. “I need your cum.”

“Yeah? You want my cum filling this sweet little pussy?” He moaned, clenching his jaw as tingles of pleasure rushed through his body. “You want to feel it flooding inside you?”

“Yes.” I cried out desperately, lifting my hand to hold onto his wrist as his fingers tightened around my throat, making it hard of me to breathe.

Ransom growled huskily as I felt his seed spilling into my wet hole. His fingers left marks on the side of my neck as he continued to thrust in and out, riding out his orgasm.

���Oh fuck.” He moaned euphorically, letting go of my throat before pushing my chest back down against the wooden desk.

I whimpered softly, feeling his cum filling my pussy as he rammed his cock deep inside me. His hands moved to my hips, pulling my ass back against him with more force as he stayed fully sheathed in my wetness.

“I’m still cumming.” He grunted, painting my walls with his cum as I started to fill it spilling out of me and running down the inside my thighs.

We both stayed there for a moment to steady our breathing before Ransom finally pulled out slowly. “Shit.” He whispered shakily as he admired the mix of our juices dripping out of my pussy.

Ransom took a step back, moving away to grab a few tissues from his coffee table. I stood up straight, turning around as he held one out to me as an offer.

Neither of us were in a rush to leave one another, but we didn’t know what else to do except get dressed.

We cleaned ourselves up and discarded the used tissues in the bin next to his desk. Ransom tucked his cock away as I shimmied my panties and skirt back up my weak legs.

We moved about in silence, the same silence as the first time we’d fucked. It was only once I’d finished buttoning my blouse back up and was trying to make my hair look presentable that he spoke.

“Come home with me, tonight.” Ransom’s eyes were focused on the back of my head as he re-buckled his belt.

I smoothed over my skirt, suddenly reminded of why I had it on in the first place. “I can’t.” I responded disappointedly, if it was any other night, I would’ve gone with him in a heartbeat. But I couldn’t cancel on Y/F/N with such little notice. She’d ask questions. Questions that I wouldn’t want to answer.

Ransom face dropped noticeably as I turned to face him. His eyebrow cocked in curiosity as he walked towards where I was, now leaning against his desk. “How come?”

“I- I’m..busy.” I managed to make the words escape my throat, intimidated as Ransom moved to stand right in front of me, pushing the sleeves of his cable knit jumper up to his elbows. I hated how turned on I felt at the sight.

“Busy?” He frowned curiously, eyes squinting as his fingers delicately traced over the exposed flesh of my thigh. I flinched at how he oozed dominance, trying to think of the right way to explain my evening plans but the silence seemed to tell all.

“Oh.” Ransom’s hand came to a sudden halt, leaving my leg feeling cold as his hand lifted off of my skin. His head dropped down to avoid my eyes, he now understood why I’d dressed different today. And his heart sunk as he realised it wasn’t for him.

“Come on Ransom,” I chuckled softly, trying to lighten the awkwardness and make him feel better as I adjusted myself to stand up straighter. Ransom coughed abruptly, turning his head to the side. “I’m sure one of your other girls would love to keep you company tonight.”

“Other girls?” Ransom’s head snapped back to me immediately with a deadly look on his face. His blue eyes stared deep into mine, making me nervous as I fidgeted slightly. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His hands came to rest on his hips, his lips slightly parted in shock.

“Nothing, I-“

“So that’s what you think of me?” Ransom scoffed with a shake of his head, physically stepping away from me. “Just think I’m some kind of self-consumed womaniser who can’t keep his cock in his pants? Fuck me, it’s all over the media so it must be true. The disappointing heir of Harlan Thrombey who likes to enjoy himself, he must be off the fucking rails, unfit to run the family business. Do you think I just have a list of girls saved in my phone that I rotate through like some kind of fucking roulette wheel? Doesn’t matter if they have plans, or a boyfriend, I’m Hugh fucking Drysdale! I know they’ll come running so I use them just to dump my fucking cum into. God forbid I actually have a heart or life aspirations that don’t involve getting drunk, snorting coke or having a different girl in my bed every fucking night!” He was screaming his words by the end.

“No. Ransom, I didn’t mean-“ I tried to make him stop for a moment to explain what I meant. But he was so worked up. So heated, fury coursing through his body as his blood boiled from my accusation. 

Ransom ran one of his hands through his hair, his eyebrows deeply furrowed as I noticed his stomach expand with his heavy breaths.

“Ransom, please. I-“

“Just go.” He stepped further away from me as his face dropped sternly, clearing the path between me and the door.

I stood there, heartbroken at the thought of upsetting him, terrified of the fact that he was my boss. I’d never seen him this angry before. He had a point though. I didn’t know much about him apart from what I saw in the media. It was hard to ignore when they were constantly posting photos of him in compromising situations. Ransom was still new to the company, most of the time he’d been here he’d been stuck in his office attending conference calls with business partners or reviewing drafts. None of us knew much about Ransom personally. So we’d filled in the blanks with what the press told us he was.

“I said get the fuck out!” Ransom yelled in frustration, his muscles flexing as he picked up a glass from his desk, sending it smashing against the wall.

I flinched, terrified at the sudden sound, jolting upright and bolting toward the door without a moments hesitation.

I heard another crash from inside the room as the heavy wooden door shut behind me. My heart raced as I hurried my way through the reception area, thanking my lucky stars that everyone had already gone home for the day.

I stood by the lift, still in shock as I waited impatiently for the doors to open. I grabbed my phone from my purse, rolling my eyes as I remembered the double date that was about to take place. At least it would take my mind off of Ransom and the fact that I was probably going to get fired tomorrow. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, I should never have let myself get involved with him. I knew I’d end up ruining it. It was too good to be true. 

Ransom sighed as he slumped down onto his leather office sofa after grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. He held his head in his hand, untwisting the cap off the bottle with his teeth before spitting it out carelessly. There was no need for a glass tonight, which was lucky for him, considering his favourite one was in a thousand pieces on the floor.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

@sexwithhiddlesbatch

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Like mother, like daughter

Word count: 1568

Genre: Angst but happy end

Pairing: Agatha x (adoptive) daughter!reader

Warnings: Cursing (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: I have a request for an Agatha Harkness x daughter!reader if that's okay? Basically Agatha is trying to help Reader with her magic, but something goes wrong and Agatha gets mad about it. Reader gets emotional and runs away. Agatha realizes her mistake, and how similar her actions had been to her own mothers, and goes to find Reader, maybe at the local park, possibly finding her asleep. Agatha then takes reader home and she swears not to be anything like her mother when it came to raising reader. As she fears it can lead her to possibly losing them.

Summary: Agatha loses her temper at you so you run off for alone time while she realizes how badly she messed up.

A/n: Thanks anon for this request, it was really cool! I wrote most of this late at night though so hopefully it doesn’t have too many mistakes and isn’t too bad. Okay I hope you all enjoy!

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?” Agatha screams at you, dragging you inside the house by your arm.

“It was an accident!” you tell her, trying not to cry.

“An accident that can not happen!” she yells. “What is wrong with you, I taught you better than this.”

A sob breaks free from your lips. “Please, Agatha, mum, please I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me that right now.” she says sharply.

“Mum?” you ask, softly, not sure that’s what she meant.

“Not right now, I can’t handle that.”

“I’m sorry, it will never happen again!” you promise, tears starting to run down your face.

“I don’t care about that,” she tells you, “you’ve already messed up and almost completely blew our cover here in Westview. Do you understand how big of a deal that is? You should be able to control your powers by now, you are not a child.”

“I know, I’m-”

“If I hear you say sorry one more time I’m going to make sure you can’t speak for the rest of the week.” she interrupts. “Go to your room, I need time to fix your mistake.”

“But-”

“Go to your room Y/n.”

You nod meekly and turn to leave the room. You’ve never seen her so angry before, never directed at you at least. You know you messed up and lost control of your magic but it was an accident, you thought she would be annoyed for sure but you assumed that she would try to help you, not yell. Evidently you were wrong though.

As soon as you get to your room you throw yourself on the bed and curl into a ball, wrapping your arms around your body as tightly as you can. Everything she said hurts but her not allowing you to call her mum is the one that hurts the most. Because you can sort of understand why she’s mad because you did mess up but you didn’t think that calling her mum was conditional. She had always been there for you, ever since your birth parents had died when you were barely old enough to remember and you consider her your mum, even if it isn’t anything official.

You sob at the thought of her hating you now. The entire house seems to suffocate you with her magic, unnoticeable to a regular human but unbearable to you. It reeks of disappointment and you watch from the widow as she swirls her magic around, cleaning up the mess you made and keeping the citizens of the town far away. You don’t understand why protecting this town is so important to her but she’s made it clear that whatever the reason it may be, it is more important to her than you.

You watch as the mess disappears, the fences fixed and the magic swirling in the air gone. Slowly the people unpause like nothing happened and things resume to normal. She comes back inside and you think about what to say if she comes to talk to you. You don’t know how to act, she’s never been this mad at you before, although you haven’t messed up your magic this much before so you have nothing to compare it to.

You don’t think you can stand to see her that angry and disappointed again and you don’t want to talk to her. As silently as you can you move across your room and open the window, cringing as it makes a loud squeaking noise. You slide one leg out and then the other so you’re sitting on the ledge awkwardly before looking to make sure no one is coming. Once you’re absolutely sure the coast is clear (you do not need to be in even more trouble for accidentally revealing magic to someone in the town) you slowly float down until you land softly one the lawn.

The park is only a few minutes walk away so it doesn’t take long to run there. In the back there is a group of trees that will help hide you from view so you immediately go there, leaning up against one of them, your knees pulled up to your chest, thinking about everything.

You don’t know what you would do without Agatha. She’s the only parental figure you know and it’s not like you have any friends to turn to. Being a witch isn’t exactly a great way to fit in and you move around far too much to get attached to anyone anyways. You can only hope that she continues teaching you magic and control and doesn’t decide that you’re not good enough for it anymore.

---

She waits a few seconds after she knocks on your door only to hear no response.

“Y/n?” she calls, waiting a few seconds again. There’s still no response. Slowly she pushes the door open, only to find you gone and the window wide open. She rushes to the edge but it’s no use, you aren’t within sight to her.

She thinks about why you would have done that and ashamedly realizes it’s entirely her fault. You have always been a great daughter who listens and tries hard. If she hadn’t yelled at you then you would be here and happy but instead she had to mess everything up. Your mistake wasn’t that bad, and even if it was she shouldn’t have yelled. Her silent promise to herself had always been to be a better mother than hers ever was and she had failed, badly.

“You have failed me once again.”

“I am sorry mother.”

“You apologies are worthless without change.”

“I will change mother, give me time.”

“You have one more chance. Disappoint me again and you will not like the consequences.”

Agatha remembers with great clarity the exact words said between her and her own mother, the moment she vowed to never do the same. Perhaps she has more in common with her mother than she once thought. She knows that although she probably has already acted like her mother a lot, the one thing she can do is try to right her wrongs and apologize. With that in mind, she floats out of the window, determined to find you as soon as possible.

It’s not hard. The town isn’t very big and you love nature, find it calming, so it was easy to narrow down her search to the park before spotting you by the trees. She approaches you slowly, feeling surprisingly nervous, less like a mother and more like a child who accidentally scribbled all over the walls.

“Y/n?” she asks softly and you spin to face her, your eyes wide and unsure. She feels her heart break a little, knowing her actions caused your slight distrust.

“Agatha.” you greet, trying to keep your voice level. Once again she feels a tug at her heart. You’ve almost only called her mum for years so using Agatha is a deliberate choice because she told you not to call her mum.

“Sweetheart, will you come home so we can talk?” she asks.

“I’d prefer to talk here if that’s okay.” you respond. At least in public she can’t yell at you.

“Of course,” she says, “whatever makes you comfortable.”

You give her a tiny smile. She doesn’t seem mad like before. You want to protect your heart but you can’t help but hope that she’s not mad at all anymore.

“I came here to apologize for the way I treated you. It wasn’t okay and I shouldn’t have yelled, it was a simple mistake, an accident and it wasn’t your fault.” she tells you and you smile a little bit more, still hesitant. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid of making mistakes around me, I know what it’s like from my own mother and I never want our relationship to be the same as mine was with her.”

“Can I still call you mum?” you ask and she nods. You still look so small and hesitant, like you can’t believe she’s being nice to you again so she moves closer and gently wraps her arms around you. Even during normal times she isn’t usually affectionate so at the feeling of her hug small tears slip out of your eyes until it builds and you’re sobbing in relief.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, so sorry.” she whispers into your ear. “I love you and even if I’m upset I will always be your mum and I will always do my best to protect you too.”

“I love you too mum.” you tell her. “And for the record I think that you are nothing like your mother.”

She feels a warm feeling in her chest, one of happiness. She may not be perfect but she was trying and you were here and you were her daughter. She knows that she’ll probably still have a lot to do to get you to fully trust her again, to feel one hundred percent safe, but for now it is enough to simply comfort you, and to comfort herself. Today was the closest she’d come to losing you and the scariest, she saw a part of herself she wishes didn’t exist and everything was nearly her fault. She hugs you tighter, making sure that it was real and you were here.

“Can we go home now?” you ask.

She smiles at your use of the word home. “Of course.”

---

Taglist: @fayhar@xxxtwilightaxelxxx@acertainredhead@madamevirgo@megaqueenmaeve@cherryblossomskye@aaron-despair@chickenhavewisdom@emril-osvigne@nyankitty987@agathaharkness-simp@midnight-lestrange@thewidowsghost@nyx-aira@stephanieromanoff@satxnsupreme@likefirenrain@wlwlovesreading@stop-drop-and-drumroll@peggycarter-steverogers@casperlikej@redswing@mochamoff@king-star@blackbat2020@natashadeservedbetter@

[post-modern-prometheus]

ok so @septicbro1005 sent me an ask about basically 'dear peter maximoff', so now i'm listening to the soundtrack all the way through with this in mind. here are my Thoughts™

(note: peter isn't trying to get with wanda cuz GROSS but he's still just. trying to be a part of the family. and it's cool cuz it kinda goes with wandavision as him replacing pietro-)

-mama maximoff and peter in anybody have a map takes place in the basement, obviously

- ...maybe his cast could be on his leg cuz uhh apocalypse references

-'you are not going to school high, pietro!' 'fine, then i just won't go! thanks charles!'

-pietro calls charles 'charles' and wanda calls him 'dad'... cuz pietro is emo and edgy and hasn't accepted that his dad (erik) remarried

-erik is mr murphy and he was never able to really connect with pietro, while charles is mrs murphy because he would pretend like everything is fine

-dammit i totally forgot the fact that like. evan tried to k*ll himself and imaging that for peter really fucking hurts

-i'm gonna say no powers au ya know

-really just imagining peter singing for forever is killing me ngl... holy shit

-AGATHA AS JARED

-ok but i actually have reasons for this and while it seems like a joke it'd actually work esp because she's like trying to give wanda a replacement brother ya know? but not out of the kindness of her heart

-i'm thinking about pietro saying the 'i rub my nipples and start moaning in delight' line and now i can not breathe

-'if i stop smoking drugs then everything might be alright' '...smoking drugs-' 'JUST FIX IT'

-IMAGINE AGATHA, PETER, AND PIETRO DOIN' THE LITTLE DANCE WITH THE KNEES

-i'm not gonna just quote every line in this song. but i might. agatha saying 'are we done yet?'

-no but seriously the dance

-also tell me agatha wouldn't put in the line 'my sister's hot' (peter: "what the hell", agatha: "my bad")

-wandasingingrequiemwandasingingrequiemwandasingingrequiem

-yeah having wanda and erik on the duet with charles singing that other line would be FIRE

-i know pietro is an ANGEL in the mcu. but imaging him being 'the monster' that wanda knew.......................... ho he hooooo hurts

-if i could tell her is kinda weird when you think about it with this au so skippity skip

-yeah imaging peter seeing and talking to pietro is Cool

-PIETRO GETTING THE WAVING THROUGH A WINDOW REPRISE IN DISAPPEAR >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

-i think the part of seeing the show that made me cry the hardest was you will be found. for a number of reasons. but mostly because mr murphy breaks down. center stage, falls to his knees, and finally cries for his son. i'm now imagining erik doing that and it's not pretty

-this is reminding me how emotionally draining this show was wow because i'm like. crying

-break in a glove with erik and peter. must i elaborate?

-('or you're just trying to do what's best for a kid who's lost control' ...)

-mcskipping only us. cuz yeah. but i mean i still want peter and wanda to bond just Not Like That so imagine them sorta talking and he talks about wanting a sibling and her hating the one she had and bonding idk

-good for you is my favorite song. and i'm picturing everyone yelling singing at peter and him doing the 'stop it stop it just let me gOOOOOOO'

-fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme PETER SINGING WORDS FAIL-

-i'm not elaborating because i physically cannot or i'd lose my marbles

-but please just imagine this so i don't have to suffer in solitude

-it's about the sobbing while belting

-'this MESS that i am' and the waving through a window reprise AGAIN... 'i never let them see the wOOOOOrst OOOOOf mEEEEEE... cuz what if everyone saw, what if everyone knew? would they like what they saw or would they hate it too?'

-because OW

-oh shit ow here comes so big/ so small... let's give mama maximoff some love here

-thinking about baby peter asking if 'there was another truck coming to our driveway, a truck that will take mommy away'

- 'and i knew there would be mOments that i'd miSS and i knew there would be space i couldn't fill and i knew i'd come up short a MILLIOOOn different ways'

-'your mom isn't going anywhere, your mama's staying here. no matter what'

-okok and another thing that i just have vivid memories of from seeing this show like some odd years ago was evan's mom's line 'i know you and i love you' after evan tells her he tried to k*ll himself which not only killed me then but is killing me now when i imagine that- and that hug- as mama maximoff and peter...

-speaking of this, and i forget where this was, but ik it's earlier in the show, pietro's ghost or whatever forcing peter to confront the fact that he tried to k*ll himself

-oh maybe peter and erik find out they're related in this after so big/ so small

-'dear peter maximoff. today is going to be a good day and here's why. because today at least you're you. and... that's enough.'

-i am crying

[pla-teau]

WANDAVISION SERIES FINALE THOUGHTS

WHOEVER’S CUTTING ONIONS NEEDS TO S T O P.

hayward | i was one of the many few who really wished death on the man cause he’s just the worst. this man emptied his clip at two children. i’m glad jimmy was able to pull a fast one on this dick and that darcy hit him with the ice cream truck and very happy to see the man being taken away in cuffs.

vision vs. vision | while i would’ve enjoyed seeing them fight it out until one completely lost, it wouldn’t be vision without some philosophic conversation. it’s true vision fashion. he doesn’t fight unless it’s a last resort. he’s logical and can assess other means in which to deter a foe. truly enjoyed the scene and now i’m just curious as to where tf white vision yeeted off to after regaining the memories from hex!vision? some have speculated possibly wakanda since that is the place where he died. twice. i would love to see him possibly interact with shuri since she would’ve appeared in the memory montage that hex!vision provided him with alongside other events from infinity war.

agatha (aka not mephisto) | overall, i loved agatha as a character and i’m glad she wasn’t killed off by the end of the series. i know she was more villainous in the show but i’m glad they somewhat neutralized her even if it was by cruel punishment brought upon by wanda to keep her trapped in westview as a nosy neighbor. it keeps the door open for us to see more interactions between her and wanda. i’m also glad that she was the foe wanda had to go against. i know many (like myself) speculated mephisto would appear and be revealed but i’m happy i was wrong about that. this is the first entry into phase four and to spill out a big bad right away? probably not the best move. i know ant-man 3 is planning on introducing kang the conqueror so i wouldn’t be shocked if mephisto is used as a red herring to distract us from the actual big bad of the phase, kang the conqueror (while still keeping mephisto around obviously for future battles and possibly use him as a big bad down the road).

family is forever | i was sobbing when seeing the hex start shrinking down in the distance outside the boys’ window. i love that wanda and vision made the move to put them to bed as a way of saying goodbye so they wouldn’t have to see them disappear. i hope to see these same boys come back cause i think no matter what your theory was on them, viewers fell in love with them. if planning for young avengers, i cannot wait to see them be a part of it. given that these boys weren’t real and not actually wanda’s children, i think they’ll go the route that they’ll find each other even if not as a blood related family but reincarnations that know that wanda was their mother in one instance and see her as a mother figure (alongside their actual mothers, of course). i just love them and i really wish they stuck around but i know this won’t be the last time we see them!

wanda’s outfit | i love it and i think pays homage to her comic book costume while still fitting the aesthetic of wanda and the mcu. love the attention to detail and the pattern on her headpiece. someone on here also pointed out in a post how it resembles magneto’s suit and it makes me love it more because of that. in conclusion, this is the scarlet witch and she’s hot.

wanda and vision’s farewell | if i was sobbing at billy and tommy’s fate, i was wailing by the time these two started saying goodbye. we learn that the main reason vision was able to be created the way he was by wanda was because of the mind stone. while she is the scarlet witch, she was exposed to and enhanced by the mind stone that ended up becoming vision. like she said, it’s a part of her. he lives on in her and overall, this scene just cemented that these two are meant to be together. they are going to be that power couple in the mcu moving forward, together or apart. we know these two are meant for each other and have so much love for each other and will find their way back always. while they may change, the one thing you can bet your ass on is that they fucking love each other.

ralph bohner | the twist that no one saw coming - peter is ralph. it’s clear that he was being controlled by agatha because the moment monica took off the necklace, he woke up from her spell. a lot of people are swirling around to say that he’s probably woo’s missing person. we don’t know that and it’s something that’s left unconfirmed. while i would’ve enjoyed the reveal to be peter actually being peter from the x-men universe, i’m also happy he isn’t. yes there was a lot of fanfare and hope for this series to introduce the multiverse but in retrospect, it would’ve been too much to throw at us at the beginning of phase four. throwing in the multiverse right away would’ve taken away from the series being about wanda (separate point i’ll get to at the end). do hope to see evan peters in a future mcu project, though!

wanda’s story moving forward | i hope wanda becomes a sort of anti-hero for the future. this does set up her appearance in doctor strange 2 and i can’t wait to see what she does. while agatha said she’s destined to destroy the world and her power exceeds the sorcerer supreme’s, i hope the writers don’t make wanda into this villain that loses her logic because of extreme power. wanda has proven agatha wrong already by acknowledging the error in her ways. when she realized she was hurting the people of westview, she let them go and stopped hurting them. she learned that yes, she is hurting them without knowing so what she has to do is let them go. wanda has learned throughout her years with the avengers the consequences her powers can have on people. we know she’s never been trained by a witch and yes, that makes her dangerous with her chaos magic. the second post credit scene shows us that she’s determined to teach herself even if it’s through the darkhold. in seeing what she’s done and the power she holds, i think wanda will be this gray moral character. she holds a great deal of power, the most powerful being on the planet at the moment, and that can cloud her judgement at times. despite being an avenger, this show has really shown us that wanda is alone. while she was with the avengers, what have they really done? they kept her in check and helped her utilize her powers for good but then when civil war happened, she was detained and treated like a weapon of mass destruction. the avengers are clearly nonexistent and those that are around, haven’t bothered with her. i also hope that this new phase of marvel kinda tears down the original avengers and their actions because while intentions were good, not everything or everyone was perfect and there’s consequences. and i hope those consequences are shown through the main characters of this phase like wanda.

the complaints | while i loved this show so so much, i did have some issues. while i enjoyed that this show fleshed out more of wanda’s past, i’m sad that they didn’t confirm or at least try to make wanda jewish since they completely erased her romani roots from the comics. this goes back to my whole thing with representation which i’ve mentioned before in response to an article. while i love elizabeth olsen’s portrayal and care she has for wanda, a romani actress still should’ve been cast from the beginning. the least they could’ve done was at least make her jewish even if ever so subtly because that is the other half of wanda’s identity, even if it’s been retconned often. if they are never going to confirm her as magneto’s daughter in the mcu, at least honor that aspect of her identity if you’ve erased one major one already. representation matters and i wish they tried to do right by the character since they clearly paid close attention to other aspects of her comic book history and took a deep dive into her mental health. come at me for these thoughts but i’ll stand by them. another is just directed at the press for the show (i’m looking at you paul bettany). while fans went ham on the theories and marvel will do anything to misdirect you, i think there should’ve been a clear up from marvel about bettany’s claims of a big cameo coming in the series when it was about himself. i get you don’t want to spoil the show and the big surprises it may hold for the audience but still. i think there should’ve been someone behind the scenes or bettany’s publicist could’ve kinda told him to stop hinting at a super duper big cameo. yes, fans got carried away but i think when you’re doing press for marvel, it should be somewhat common knowledge that fans are going to analyze and try to figure out wtf is gonna happen. it’s fun theorizing, don’t get me wrong but when it’s gone the way it has for this show, i think it leaves a lot of people unsatisfied. i’ll admit i was being a clown thinking i’d see patrick stewart as professor x again since he’s an actor paul’s never worked with before and would be a huge fan service for the audience like in the mandalorian season finale. tldr; crazy fan theories comes with the territory. my final grievance actually has to do with the set up for monica’s engineer. i was also hoping we’d someone big or someone that could be big in the future, possibly it was a skrull at the end but the tone and way monica talked about it, i think it was underwhelming to see a character that we came not to care too much about.

final thoughts | overall, i loved this show and it was refreshing to see marvel embrace the magical side of their universe as it continues to expand. the cast was amazing. everyone in the cast and crew deserve awards because this really gave us a show about wanda. i think a lot of people lost that (including myself) with all the theorizing; goes back to my complaint about press for the show. it gave us a show that dealt with trauma and grief in a way we haven’t seen before in marvel’s cinematic universe. i’ll admit i didn’t care much for wanda as i did with the others but this show made me care for her a lot more and made me a bigger fan of her and vision’s story. it grounded itself in dealing with wanda’s grief and trauma in a new way while also exploring her character more. so i’m happy that we didn’t get a super big cameo or that the multiverse wasn’t confirmed because then the tone and attention would’ve shifted away from this story being about her. i hope marvel can give us shows like this that make us care about a character’s emotions and feelings rather than just how cool and badass they look in a suit. it was clear that the cast and crew made this with such love and care that had good storytelling and kept us on edge every week. i hope that marvel can show us these types of stories and ranges from characters in future movies as well.

[witchofrvnswood]

awwp rant pt. 2: the characters!

oh boy we’re finally back with part 2! 

so in part 1, i discussed plot points that i found troubling and nonsensical. this time, i’m talking about the characters and how they each pissed me off <3

note: am only doing the ones i have beef with, everyone else is cool

let’s start with sophie:

sophie

i’ll be honest, i’ve been conflicted on her character in this book for quite some time. but i think i understand my opinion on her in book 2 much better now that i’ve really thought about it. 

so this is the book where she’s probably at her most vulnerable (book 3 could be a contender too). she just lost her mind, killed many people, and is trying so hard to prove that she is good and deny everything that she had done the previous year. we also see why she behaves the way she does, with losing her mother at a young age and blaming her father for neglecting them. we understand why she goes so far to obtain love and why she ranks true love above everything else.

but her methods with dealing with this is toxic. she sees agatha as a tool for a happy ending, and it seems to come more out of desperation to belong with someone, then wanting agatha herself, as she easily dropped her for rafal and then tedros in book three. she does whatever she can to ensure agatha chooses her and only her much like tedros does in this book.

she sneaks out and follows agatha, makes agatha believe tedros tried to hurt her, comforted her and claimed she had “warned agatha” but also acted super forgiving as if agatha was the one who was in the wrong for doubting her and when the truth comes out, pins it all on agatha for trying to choose someone besides. her. now, agatha is not completely in the right in this situation, but what sophie does is so manipulative and cunning. without knowing her backstory and sympathizing with her, she would easily be soon as a cruel and toxic person.

her time as filip was very humbling for her and she realized what she did was completely wrong and she begans to sympathize with tedros and realize maybe he isn’t the villain of the story like she painted him to be. of course, this goes a bit far and she finds herself attracted to him.... which..... did not need to happen considering how toxic their relationship was in book 1.

at the end, she chose rafal out of desperation to be loved, showing she still hasn’t changed and ended up staying with him as he supposedly was the only person in the world who still loved her. (wrong very wrong he’s awful but we’ll get to that later-)

tedros

bro. broooooo. when i tell you i wanted to throw the darn book when i read his scenes in the first half of the book-

when dovey was explaining tedros’ actions after sophie and agatha left, i could not believe it, i thought she had to be joking because no way does an individual overreact to THAT point.

he literally wanted to murder sophie as revenge for taking agatha away from him?? what?? is he mentally okay? i understand seeing her as a barrier between them because, yeah, he’s always been insecure cause his dad’s best friend stole his mom away from him so that must’ve hit a nerve, but agatha willingly went with sophie. why does he need to hurt sophie over this? it’s up to agatha who she chooses, not sophie. and she chose him! she told him right to his face that she chose him and he’s still like “no we have to kill sophie first-” sir-

not to mention how generally messed up this message is? tedros claims that you can’t be in a relationship and have friends at the same time. what?? why is this in the book? why is this even a theme? of course you should be able to have friends and have a relationship, when did that suddenly become impossible?

 “I let her live last time and she took you! I can’t make the same mistake, Agatha. I can’t lose you again!” (Chapter 12). this is basically tedros trying to cut off agatha’s friendship because he knows she’s close with sophie and is worried she’ll choose her over him and he sees his only solution to this to be killing sophie. honestly, if i were agatha, i would be fucking terrified of him, like when i was reading it i was thinking “run from this relationship please-”

which sucks because i’m a huge tagatha fan but they were undeniably toxic in this book for me.

in the second half though, that’s when i started feeling bad for him because he genuinely thought he got betrayed by agatha too and ugh that killed me bc after her, he had no hope for happiness left and that’s why he turned to revenge, but the moment he freed the teachers, he got locked up, starved, beaten, and tortured which is ??

i wouldn’t wish that on anyone (except aric lawl) and god he did not deserve that i felt so horrible for him. everyone turned against him, the entire school hated him, he fully believed his true love betrayed him, and he got beaten by aric every single night. as much as i despised him before this point, he did not deserve any of that and i’m so glad filip came when he? she? did because yeah it’s tophie all over again (yikes) but he REALLY needed a friend then and i’m so happy he got one.

ONLY TO GET BETRAYED BY HIM AGAIN RIP. sorry that was not needed but ahem

i was so so happy when he realized agatha never lied and ended up going home with her, as much as i hated the ending, i was happy for him and only him, boy’s been through too much.

but overall, i’d say i dislike him as a character in this book but i also felt super bad for him?? book 2 is so complicated y’all i have so many mixed feelings about everyone in this book.

agatha

okay. so. i keep going back and forth between being fucking annoyed at her and feeling bad for her which i feel is an understandable summary of how she is in this book.

her being scared of sophie - i completely understand that. i’d be surprised if she wasn’t. this is a girl who tried to kill her, tore her down, and went batshit crazy just nine months ago and is now suddenly calm but there’s still a bad vibe to her? and she chose her over someone who finally treated her well, finally saw her as an equal, and showed her that she doesn’t have to bear so much burden just to be loved back.

but i honestly felt kind of annoyed at how she automatically, no hesitation wanted to stay with tedros forever and never look back. um. honey. let’s break this down. we’re talking about a boy she has had no contact with for nine months, wasn’t even in a solid relationship with before she left, and said boy probably has beef with her for leaving him in the first place. and she feels completely fine with sneaking into his school and telling him she wants to be with him forever the SAME day she got back.

what??? is??? this???

this is the same agatha who berated sophie for trying to get with tedros the same day she met him without even knowing him well, right? the same agatha who you’d expect to be smart and think through emotional decisions like these, right? did they replace her personality what???

i get the coven pushed her to meet him immediately but this was just so poorly planned out and so tactless i can’t help but judge her sorry hun.

after that she makes herself believe sophie is good and perfect and maybe this is just her lying to herself because she’s mad at herself for choosing tedros but reading about her talking about how sophie is so amazing and perfect and loves her more than anything compared to being ready to bolt at the sight of her was just so fake. can we talk about how fake their friendship in this book? how fake it is in general? i think wbk.

at the end she finds out sophie lied despite the obvious clues (the scim suit (WHY WOULD BEATRIX USE IT), the spirick marks on sophie’s wrist yada yada yada) and she dumps her ass for tedros and decides they’re staying together forever despite barely knowing him as a person not to mention he just tried to kill her um-

(where is the logic in this book please help me i can’t seem to find it-)

the coven

i’ll be honest: they annoyed the HELL out of me in this book. well, specifically anadil and hester. they pressured agatha to choose tedros and go to him on the first day she got back (BAD PLAN) all so they could return to normal,,, which i guess isn’t out of character for them to do anything to get what they want but it really wasn’t their business? or at least they had no right to be as pushy as they were.

not to mention how HORRIBLE they were to dot. oh my god. the way they treated her in this book was disgusting and the lowest point in their friendship. at first i passed it off as them being hurt that dot replaced them and were lashing out because they had no better way to deal with their problems, which is true but also?? let’s not forget they BULLIED dot so bad in their first year and even kicked her out and replaced her with sophie and as far as we know, they never apologized for it. can we really blame dot for wanting new and kinder friends?

but even then they persisted to isolate her from others, shut down her book club which she used to make friends, and ended up forcing herself to gain weight if she wanted to keep their friendship. y’all i don’t even think anyone realizes how toxic the coven can be at times, the books spend a lot of time solidifying their frienship to the point that it ignores how awful it was at first. and not to mention dot is used to this treatment as she’s been physically and emotionally abused by her father, so as much as she dislikes their treatment of her, she still sees them as her friends and she will do anything to keep them.

i’m glad dot has learned to stand up for herself and gave it back to hester in tlea but god was her and anadil’s treatment of her sickiening.

professor dovey

i did not like her scene in the beginning of this book. she was awful to agatha and sophie and kept tossing blame for how the woods changed on them and yelling at agatha for not choosing tedros - um, she had a split second to decide and her friend literally died and came back to life a minute ago, how was she expected to leave her?

i dunno the way she berated them really got on my nerves because they’re just 15 year olds? they didn’t ask for their story to be told or for their personal relationships to affect the entire world? yes, if it had to be pointed towards anyone, it’s them, but instead of comforting them and trying to help them find a way to fix this, she goes all pointing fingers and straight up saying it would be easier if sophie was dead (not gonna lie i had a good giggle when i read this part but if you think about, that’s actually really sickening).

i’ll be honest, i love professor dovey as a character but she just seemed so cruel in book 2 i mean i get she was super frustrated but these children are confused and distraught enough already? she’s their teacher, she’s supposed to look after them but instead she just insulted them and stressed them out.

as for lady lesso, yes she did the same, but that was pretty in character for her. yes, it was wrong of her, but idk it’s something you would expect from her and she’s known to be the type to be tough on her students, while dovey is just not like that at all. and also, dovey was WAY more mean and short-tempered in this mean, i have to say.

evelyn sader

she was... an interesting villain. super cunning super devious i really admired her except for her doing all of this toxic feminism bullshit (which was honestly already bad enough!) for rafal,  A MAN. WHAT. how does that make ANY sense?

evelyn: #kam2020 make them boys your slaves we got this in the bag girls

also evelyn: omg rafal senpai notice me uwu i did all of this for you *gestures towards girls annihilating boys*

anyways her death was um... shocking. rip. or maybe not.

aric

do- do i have to go into this one? killing yara, torturing tedros, being misogynistic, honestly pick one, i just don’t have the energy to rip him apart for the thousandth time.

[flutteringphalanges]

             Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

Summary: It’s 1897 and the world as we know it has become overrun by zombies. An unlikely pair, a former nun by the name of Agatha Van Helsing, and a bloodthirsty vampire, Count Dracula, have formed an alliance in the hopes of surviving this debacle. Can the two learn to coexist or will they end up as just another mindless cog in life’s maniacal wheel?

Ship: Dragatha

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  An odd two part one shot that came to my mind. I wanted to do something Halloween-ish. I guess in a way this is a parody because it is Dracula and there are also zombies?! Anyway, hope you like hope it turned out! -Jen

                                                    Part One

Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken notice of the damn thing until her arrow nearly took him out. Dracula watched as the undead beast faltered briefly before falling still on the ground. Right in the center of the forehead. She was getting good. Perhaps too good. Nostrils flaring slightly, he rounded about to face her.

“That could’ve easily hit me.” He attempted to argue as Agatha strode forward to pluck her prized arrow from the corpse. “What if I had moved just a bit? That weapon of yours could’ve struck my heart.” 

“And then I would have one less problem on my hands.” She replied simply, not so much as giving him the benefit of a look. “I knew what I was doing. If it hadn’t been for me, it would’ve gotten you and Lord knows what would happen if you were to get bit. There aren’t exactly many vampires about that we’ve seen cases of.”

“Must you bring God into this?” Dracula sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Agatha? Thank you?”

“That would be rather nice.” She sighed, cleaning off the grimy arrow. “But I have a feeling that I’m not going to get such a response from you. You are, as one might claim, a bit pig-head.”

“Pig headed?!” The vampire let out a humorless laugh. “Pig headed?! Why how your insults have grown since our first encounter, Agatha. If anyone is pig headed, it’s you for insisting we go to Brasov--which, I’ll inform you, was very overrun!” 

“Everywhere is overrun, Dracula.” The former nun sighed, finally turning to look at the man. “Romania, Holland...it’s like a cesspit of flesh eating monsters that, well…” She paused for a moment. “Make you seem like a mere mosquito.” 

The vampire’s eyes narrowed as the woman tossed her bow over her shoulder. Sometimes a small part of him felt the urge to end her right there. It would be so easy. But the bigger part refrained from that. Perhaps if he could read her mind at this very moment, she too felt the same way. Bickering was always better than dead. It was a good reminder to them both. 

“Come on.” Agatha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “It’ll be daylight soon and the last thing I need is for you to burn into a crisp.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn you said  you’d have one less problem without me.” Dracula countered with a smirk. 

“The idea is becoming more tempting.” The woman replied with a huff. “Now come on, there is no telling what awaits us.” She gave a nod with her head. “This way then.” 

The memory was still very vivid in his mind as he was sure it was in Agatha’s. The night he slaughtered every nun in St. Mary’s Convent but her. How the woman gave up her freedom, her life without a second thought in order to save meek, little Mina Murray. He’d had plans for Agatha. Devilish desires involving her blood. And in a way, perhaps she thought that somehow she could take advantage of him. Oh how the fates change when Death knocks at your door. A new side of unrest that he hadn’t seen in his several centuries of life. 

“I don’t know about you, but I am quite parched.” Dracula said, breaking the long silence. “I haven’t had a human since...well...does tasting you count?” “You’ve survived years without drinking, I’m sure you can continue on just fine.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been drinking river water and consuming squirrels and you don’t see me complaining. You don’t have to worry about dysentery.” 

“I suppose having you become ill and me carrying for you would put a damper on our little excursion.” He smiled when he saw the glare on Agatha’s face. “What do you suppose would happen if I were bit? If I were to become “undead” undead? Would it reverse the process? Would I be human again? Or would I be a raging animal the likes of which this world has never seen?”

“I’d prefer not to think about either of us getting bit.” The former nun expressed. “We’ve seen what happens. How they turn. It isn’t pleasant.” There was a brief pause before she added. “...If I were to be bitten, I would highly appreciate if you would kill--”

Dracula stopped in his tracks and turned to face his partner. “Your death--at least in the way you are proposing it, isn’t at the top of my list.” No, losing her in that matter was not certain. “You will remain alive, Agatha...at least until I deem it otherwise.” 

“Your version of being undead is only slightly less repulsive.” Agatha exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now hurry along, we’re losing nighttime.” 

“Always so eager and demanding.” The vampire tutted with a smirk. “I have yet to decide exactly how I feel about that with you.” 

The former nun merely rolled her eyes once more, a small smile gracing her features. “My complexity is one of my more charming qualities.” Her gaze flashed up to the full moon. “Perhaps there will come a day where you decide. Or not.” Agatha’s attention turned to the vampire, a look of amusement crossing her face. “And maybe, if you are lucky, I’ll look forward to your answer.” 

“Perhaps.” The Count agreed. “Until then, it seems we are left to put up with each other.” 

A low growl came from within the bushes nearby. Agatha and Dracula turned to see a creature stumbling out from the brush. His skin, just like his clothing, dangled in rags as he hobbled over to the two. Without so much as a second thought, the vampire produced his treasure saber and brought it swiftly through the zombie’s head. Even after centuries of going untouched. Years of battle it’d been in. The Count’s weapon of choice was rather practical--even if it wasn’t as secretly impressive as Agatha’s bow.

“A clean hit.” The former nun noted. “You’re improving.”

Dracula let out a laugh. “As if you know anything about true combat.”

“I was raised by Abraham Van Helsing.” She countered, folding her arms. “And I know you well enough to know that my grandfather was quite skilled.”

“He was no warlord.” Dracula commented, cocking one of his brows. “Now, while I’d love to have a friendly duel with you, I’d rather not run into any more of our acquaintance’s friends. As you were saying, we are losing time. Best keep moving.” 

And Agatha was not one to argue with that. 

                                                       XXX

Cold. Dark. Musky. The dilapidated hunting shed they’d come across at least didn’t stream a single beam of light in. Agatha didn’t know why she agreed to this. Her clothes being used as a means to cover the floor. Protect her from splinters. As Dracula’s pale, naked body moved against her’s, the only warmth she felt was from his cape underneath her bottom. Fucking the vampire was hot in the word sense, but icy from his touch.

“Just a nibble…” He purred into her ear, teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. “It won’t hurt.”

“I said...no to biting…” Agatha panted, her back arching as the pad to one of his thumbs ran across her hard nipple. “Rules.” “Rules are for sheep and conformists.” Dracula growled, his hand sliding down to just barely rest on her groin. He smiled as she stiffened knowing she was throbbing deep inside. Aching for him. “Last time I checked you were far from that, Agatha.” 

“If you can’t control yourself, then I am more than happy to stop.” She offered, earning her a dark glare. She knew he was already hard. Cock pressed against her inner thigh. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate during sex and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m not your bottle of wine, Count Dracula. No biting or no sex.” 

“You are a temptress.” He grumbled, his mouth set in a look of displeasure. “A tease.”

“I am merely the apple on the tree in The Garden of Eden and you are both Eve and the snake. You are your worst enemy.” She chuckled at her own analogy knowing well enough that her comparison to religion was not looked kindly upon by the vampire. “Isn’t my touch enough?”

She let her fingers travel down to where his cock rested against her. Dracula had been the first and only man she’d ever been with. Every sexual experience had been with him. And despite what she at first thought it’d be like, she loved it. Craved it. Especially when she whittled him down to his last nerve. Agatha gingerly touched his head, feeling the droplets weep from their prison. Over four centuries old and with just a few decades herself, she could still make him squirm. 

“With you, nothing is ever enough.” He said through a breathy whisper. “Never. Never. Ever.” And without a warning, he pushed a finger deep inside Agatha causing her to yelp with surprise. So wet. Two could play at that game. “There is a vein that runs down the length of your inner thigh that is particularly delightful.” Dracula explained, kissing the former nun hard. “It would be nice for the both of us.” 

“You’re a pig.” Agatha gasped as the vampire touched her sensitive spot. There were stars and her vision blurred. Dracula seemed to realize this too and probed the area thoughtfully. She struggled to speak. “Stop it!” Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster. “I...I could...scream…”

“Worried about the undead in a time like this?” Dracula snorted. “My dearest Agatha, I believe you could shout as loudly as you desired and no one would hear. And I quite like that idea.” He could feel her hand grip tighter around his cock as if in response. It took everything in him to hold it together. “If you won’t give me your blood, at least let me hear you cry out my name. You owe me that much.” 

Agatha gazed up at him with fury, but lustful blue eyes. He was winning this one. She hated when that happened. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, the former nun could still make out the glint of his smile as her hand released him and he positioned himself at her entrance. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Not because she anticipated the pain. No. She anticipated the pleasure and what was to come. 

Dracula was rather unpredictable when it came to his part in sex. He could be soft, almost caring and considerate. Loving. Or he could fuck so hard that Agatha’s head was left spinning and she had bruises the next day. And if she were to be quite frank, she didn’t have a favorite. The vampire was always so good. So damn fantastic that with every thrust Agatha felt herself shaking deep from within her very core. Part of her wondered if there was a possibility she could become pregnant. It hadn’t happened yet, and they’d had quite a lot of sex. Still, it was always on the forefront of her mind when his seed spilled inside her. 

“Say my name.”

The commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts and Agatha was dragged from the whimsical land of euphoria and to the wooden, shed floor. Dracula leaned over her, his lips curved into a smile. The former nun reached out and wound an arm around his neck to steady herself. She knew that he had her. He always did. But it helped. 

“Say mine first.” 

The words escaped out as a moan which did not help Agatha’s case. She was growing close to her climax, and Dracula could tell. His thrusts began to quicken, deepen as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Then without thinking, she bit down on the vampire’s skin. That immediately stopped the man in his tracks. 

“Did you just...bite me?” He asked breathlessly, grinning widely. “Oh, Agatha…”

There were no marks. Of course there wouldn’t be. But she was so caught up in the moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her as they lay there still in the throes of passion. A silly little thought that made her smile too. 

“You.” She gasped out. “You said my name.”

“What?” Dracula interjected. “But I...that doesn’t count…”

“Still said it…” Agatha smirked, chest rising and following. “I win.” 

“Oh, we will see about that.” The vampire chuckled darkly. “I’m just getting started.” 

                                                   XXX

Though he’d said her name, Agatha had finished first. Twice even before Dracula met his limit. They fell back on their makeshift bed of clothing that they’d be putting on later. Her head resting on his chest, the woman watched the door quietly. Though she felt sleepy as the adrenaline rush began to fade, a part of her wanted to stay awake. But she knew how important it was to remain diligent. Especially at night. 

“Romania has fallen to whatever caused this plague.” Dracula said softly. “And we don’t know where else it has stretched. Perhaps there's a chance it’s only here.”

“And Holland.” Agatha reminded solemnly. “We’ve been roaming around aimlessly. Seen less and less humans.” She was silent for a moment before she craned her head up to meet his stare. “I do realize how it affects you.”

His fingers ran down the base of her skull and followed the path of her spine. She closed her eyes as he stroked her back. It was soothing, though the conversation at hand was not. If humans were going to become like an endangered species, then what of Dracula? After everything she was taught. Everything she’d seen. Agatha knew deep down her feelings for the vampire weren’t right. But even deeper down she didn’t care. Not in the least bit. 

“I have a proposition.” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “And I have thought about this quite a bit. Much longer than this disease has been going on and much, much longer than my meeting you.” 

Agatha sat up from where she lay. “What might that be?”

“England.” Dracula said simply, sitting up as well. “Where we’d go in England, it’d be more advanced than the villages we’ve gone to. Perhaps the virus isn’t there or even better, they have a cure. It is better than nothing.” 

“England.” Agatha repeated as if she heard him right. “But we don’t even have a ship. That’s at least a few weeks' sail from the coast to the bay. How do you expect us to get there?” The expression on his face said it all. “...Is there no other way?” Not telling him no. Not forbidding him. It was as if in desperation she was accepting of the terms. “Is it the only way to be done?”

“Blood is lives, Agatha.” Dracula said, expression still. “Information. If we want to get across then I’m going to need the blood of someone who understands sailing among other things. Someone healthy--or at least not riddled with disease.” He touched her hand, surprised she didn’t pull away. “I’ll take only what I need.” The Count promised. 

“And what if there are no survivors at the port?” The former nun whispered. “What if they’ve all turned?”

“Then we keep going.” The vampire sighed, leaning back. “You should get some rest. It’ll be a long journey to the port if memory serves correct. I’ll take watch.”

“You took the first watch last time.” Agatha countered, sitting up straighter. “And if you know where we are going, then you should be the one with the clear mind.” Dracula opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Besides, I am considerably more accurate with killing the creatures than you are with that ridiculous saber. You needn’t be so close with a bow.”

“Ah, you say that now but wait until those flimsy things split in two and your string breaks. Then you’ll be wishing you were brandishing reliable steel.” Dracula chortled. “Honestly, of all the weapons to choose from…”

“Go to sleep you warmonger.” Agatha snorted, resting a hand on his head as he lowered himself down. “There will be other times to debate weapons. Get some rest.” 

“Wake me if anything happens.” The vampire said with sudden alertness. “I am not playing, Agatha. At any immediate threat of danger, you must wake me up. Even if the sun has yet to set.” 

“You have my word.” The woman promised as the Count’s body relaxed. “Sleep.”

                                                    XXX

Agatha didn’t wake Dracula up after a few hours. Instead, when she was sure the sun was setting just enough as to not be so bright, she covered the vampire’s body as not to expose it and slipped outside. She inhaled deeply, enjoying what little light was left. She missed the day--though she kept that knowledge from Dracula. It was harder at night. Finding food. Water. But the few times she could escape. Sneak out without him worrying--those were good times. 

Thunk!

The partridge didn’t even see the arrow before it pierced straight through its body. It was an instant kill, one Agatha wished for every living thing she killed--maybe, if she thought hard about it, she’d feel the same about the undead. Picking up the decent sized fowl, she couldn’t help but admire it. After a good plucking and cooking, this would last her a few days. Especially if she could come across some salt and preserve it. Now that would be true luck. 

As Agatha walked over to what had perhaps once been a sort of fire pit, she took a seat down in the ground. Yank off handfuls of feathers, her mind kept wandering back to Dracula. His own need for food. Something he hadn’t been as fortunate to get. And maybe he deserved it. After all of the evil he caused, maybe this was fate’s punishment. But Agatha’s judgement, though questionable, began to consider something that maybe was pushing the bounds of her sanity even more.

Abandoning the bird for the time being, she made her way back into their temporary housing. Dracula was still fast asleep--he was odd like that, how deeply or not his slumbering was. Retrieving one of the jars she used for water, she returned outside. There truly was no means to prepare her hand for what she planned. Nothing to clean it with--she was out of water. But taking her arrow, the blood from the bird now smeared down her pant’s leg, she sliced her palm wide open and held it over the jar. 

It burned. Ached. Maybe she’d gone too far. Too deep. And as her blood flowed, she half expected Dracula to be roused from his sleep and attack her simply because he was in such dire need of the crimson fluid. But instead, everything was still silent. She bit her lip, her eyes pricked with tears as the bleeding thankfully began to stop on its own. A good sign that maybe she had injured herself too horribly. Careful not to spill a drop, she tore off a piece of her sleeve and bound her cut hand.

If there was to be a good deed done, this would certainly qualify for Agatha. That was, at least for today. 

                                                     XXX

“Well out of all outcomes, I certainly didn’t expect this!”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as Dracula, though his eyes burned that frightening shade of black with hunger, did not take the jar immediately from her. Instead, he stared at her hand looking equally as upset. When he reached out to take it, she yanked it back almost tempted to spill the blood all over the floor. 

“Well out of all the outcomes, Agatha, I can’t say I expected you to slice your hand open for me!” He tried to grab for it again, this time managing to catch her wrist. “Let me see it. Did you even try to clean it?” 

“Why can’t you just drink the blood?” Agatha sighed as he studied the wound. “I was trying to be nice. You talk about being oh so thirsty all of the time and craving me during sex. Well, this is what you want, yes? A true taste of me?”

“Not when it involves you injuring yourself!” The Count let out a dramatic huff. “You’re lucky this isn’t too terribly deep. As I recall, you need both hands for your weapon. We’ll have to watch it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The vampire shook his head. “And you went behind my back and took my sleep shift.” 

“I was enjoying the daylight!” Agatha hissed, now getting annoyed. “And I caught myself something to eat! I didn’t have to rely on someone else! Not to mention be appreciative of it!” She slid the jar over, watching Dracula’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed the liquid whishing within. 

Then, without another word, Dracula lifted up the cup and gulped down the contents in less than a second. When he set it down, his eyes fixed on Agatha and a chill ran down her spine. Cold. Hungry. Lack of recognition. She could hear the vampire’s breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer. Was this it then? Had she given him a wine tasting that led to the draining of the whole bottle. 

“D...Dracula?”

Her voice was soft, shaking as she scooted backwards. She looked around the room for any sort of weapon in arm’s reach. Conveniently, his saber was on the opposite wall to her and the bow and arrows were out of sight. Agatha swallowed and tried to remain calm. If this was truly the end, she’d rather it’d be by his doing than that of one of those creatures. Instinctively her eyes closed as he loomed over her, the former nun waiting for his attack when a pair of arms pulled her in. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, breathing more labored than intense. “I’m okay…” 

Agatha looked up only to come face to face with Dracula. She could see her own blood smeared across his lips, smelled it's strange rusty scent. How that was appetizing to the vampire, she did not know. 

“I thought…” She began, quite unsure what to say. “After you drank my blood, I thought that you would…” 

“Given our current circumstances, my ability to remain in control might be a little rustier than I thought.” He gave her a small smirk. “I suppose it was a good thing that I didn’t bite you during sex. Could’ve led to a less than pleasurable end.” He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. For your blood. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Agatha said simply. “I wanted to.”

“And I must say, you are quite gifted with your weapon abilities.” The vampire said with a small smile. “Abraham, though we had our...differences...trained you well. Though, I have to admit you were pretty talented with that Pattern 1853 Enfield of his. Where did it come across a rifle-musket like that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially due to the legality of it.”

“I think we should make a new rule now that you’ve consumed by blood.” Agatha said, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t bring up any details you’ve received from my blood--unless, of course, I offer them up in conversation.”

“Pity.” Dracula said, letting out a fake, long sigh. “I have so many.” 

“You should have thought about that beforehand.” The former nun exclaimed. “Questions that go unanswered can be such a bother.”

“Like an ex nun wielding a gun better than the average soldier.” The vampire replied, with a small, lopsided grin. 

“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I might’ve not had practice in a few years, but I am rather sure that if I were to pick up a said rifle of my choice, my aim would be fairly decent.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “You should finish dressing. The sun has set enough for us to leave.”

Though she knew that their decision was the right one, part of Agatha didn’t want to leave the shack. Despite how messy and unkempt it was, it had proven to be safe. But staying anywhere too long, they had learned, didn’t always end up so. The former nun exhaled and glanced towards the rotting door and tried to push past what horrors awaited them. 

                                                     XXX

“La naiba!” Dracula cursed in his native tongue as he peered over the hill. “Trebuie să glumești…” 

“Maybe speak in English?” Agatha said from his side. “Ik spreek een klein beetje Nederland.” She hoped that her attempt at light humor would cause him to smile, but the serious expression did not leave his face. “What is it?” 

“A horde.” He hissed under his breath. “By the main entrance into the shipyard.” 

“Can you tell how many?” She replied, straining her eyes. Agatha could see movement from down below, but not much else. “...Do you think there is anyone even alive?” 

“At least ten.” Dracula answered, trying to hide the defeat in his tone. “And I don’t know. Not with a group like that lurking about. And who knows how many are separated from the main herd? We could try to kill them and then look around.��� He turned to meet Agatha’s stare. “I am far as one can be from a man of prayer and I know you are unique in your beliefs, but we could really use one of your mystique rituals...without a cross would be appreciated.” His attempt at a failed joke. 

“We’ve come all this way.” Agatha said, moving to grab her bow. “We might as well try.” A small grin flickered across her features. “I should’ve taken the gun from my grandfather. My brother never learned to shoot anyway.” 

Together, as quietly as they could, Dracula and Agatha slid down the hill. As they moved towards the horde, other zombies began to amble out from abandoned buildings. Their moves were quick, swift in killing the creatures before they could alert the others. When they drew nearer, the vampire grabbed the former nun by the forearm and pulled her in close. 

“Fall back a little and find higher ground. That way you can aim better. I’ll be fine down here.” She didn’t seem so keen on the idea as he placed a kiss on her lips. “Go. Now.” 

Agatha’s footfalls were soft against the dirt ground. When she stopped in her tracks, she glanced around at the sight before her. How could anyone be left alive after this? It was then she saw a pile of rubble against a collapsed building. Perfect. But just as Agatha approached her access point, she was caught off guard by a zombie. The creature made a grab for her and knocked her flat on her back. The former nun struggled, gritting her teeth as she shoved it off. With a powerful smack, she struck it with an arrow through the head. The thing fell limp and the woman scrambled to her feet. 

Heart still pounding, Agatha shook her head and looked towards the direction of the horde. Dracula hadn’t seen what had just occurred and for that she was thankful. Refocusing on the house, she made her way to the debris and scrambled up. It was then she realized that while the vampire had a point about her having a higher shooting range, making him out in the midst of the ravage was too risky. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he damn well needed her if he didn’t want to end up...something other than his usual “undead”. 

“Agatha!” Dracula snapped in surprise as a zombie’s head collided with his shoe. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Saving you!” The woman declared, aiming her bow towards one of the creatures. “Clearly you need it.” 

“I told you to go up somewhere high!” He insisted, lobbing off another head. “For once can you listen to me?!”

“You forget I don’t have night vision!” Agatha hissed, hitting a zombie straight between the eyes. “I don’t know why you worry so much about me. I--”

She didn’t realize the thing was behind her until it sunk its rotten teeth deep into her forearm. Agatha cried out in a mixture of shock and horror as blood spurted from the wound. Almost instantly the creature’s head lay at her feet, the horde now completely destroyed. A look of horror was etched across Dracula’s face. One she had never seen before. The former nun grabbed her injury tightly, her heart banging so hard that her chest ache.

Christ, she’d really screwed up.

I hope you enjoyed part one (of two)! I know it is a different kind of story! Dracula was saying in Romanian: “Dammit” and “You must be kidding” while Agatha said in Dutch: “I speak a little bit of the Netherlands (or Dutch).” Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Motivation helps so much! Until the next part! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

[devourer--of--books]

Some time ago (and by “some time” I mean a long ass time, oops) Kate (@pumpkinpaperweight) posted an analysis of gold rush by Taylor Swift tracing parallels to Agatha, which this post is clearly inspired by. 

(Go check that one out after you finish reading this post, it’s really good.)

Ever since, I’ve had an entire tagatha x taylor playlist/unfinished post that I don’t think will ever see the light because I’m too lazy to actually finish it. But now I have some spare time and I noticed that,,,, invisible string wasn’t on it.

And that's cause, well, despite the obvious gold fingerglow motif which is very tagatha … you already read the title of the post. It’s more like my own version of of what I would have had happen post-otk (will my epilogue version ever see the light, I wonder) than anything else, but this is my account, in which I am correct all the time and accept no criticism so,,,,

Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Basically, these first two lines are about how Sophie’s egocentrism isolated her and kept her from making genuine connections with people from very early on, until she becomes friends with Agatha and even after that.

Okay, so have you guys ever seen those tiktoks that are like ‘13-year-old me, in black jeans and sneakers, at the beach, reading a book mYstERioUsLy so that when Harry Styles showed up he’d know I’m dIfFeRenT'?

This is the energy I get here. 

Like, Sophie in the start of book one doing all those ‘good deeds’ so set herself apart in the eyes of the school master hoping that he’d bring her to the school where she would meet *drumroll* The One. 

Most of us have, at some point (I hope, otherwise it was just me and that would be so embarassing), tried and failed to channel that main-character-energy to manifest ourselves into a story much more interesting than whatever is going on in your life at the moment. I feel like at the very core, that’s sort of what Sophie was trying to do? It’s a very juvenile feeling and shows just how little Sophie knew about love overall. Love as it is in fairytale books, as opposed to as it actually is.

She thought herself as above everyone else and thought she was entitled to true, unconditional love, which ended up holding her back and isolating her from everyone in the town, save for Agatha, give or take. 

This mindset is what really keeps her from seeing Tedros (and Agatha, and everyone else) as people, rather than characters in her story, and actually connecting with them on a non-superficial level. 

Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

I don’t think this part needs much explaining? 

On surface level, Nicola canonically started working at her father’s pub at a very young age to help with family expenses.

If you think about it a little more and contrast it with the previous line, though, it highlights the differences between Sophie and Nicola:

Nic works to help her family, learning responsibility and duty, while Sophie barely ever did anything for her father, both out of vanity (and a superiority complex) and out of spite (which is honestly undeserved all the way up to book 3, when Stefan let Callis die and fucking tried to blame Agatha for returning without Sophie and then guilt-tripped her into going to save her, after which he was dead to me lol). Sophie grew with a princess-like mindset, despite being just slightly better off than Nic, given all the villagers save from Callis and Agatha (due to them being outcasts) seem to have a similar income (with the exception of the beggar which I don’t understand and am probably overthinking about, but honestly, it’s a impossible to leave town and people die on the mill all the time, there's no college or whatever, did none of these assholes offer the beggar a job- I’m getting carried away), while Nicola has to shoulder most of the responsibilities due to her dad being sick.

Also, given the *misogyny* I’d be surprised if Nic didn’t have to do all the housework, as the only girl in her house.  

I doubt that the uniform of the pub was teal and given the book timeline she wouldn’t have been 16 in any instances in which Sophie and her met in Gavaldon, but I digress.

Time

Curious time

Gave me no compasses

Gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

Also kinda self-explanatory in a way?

On one interpretation, it takes Sophie an awful long time to mature and grow into an okay person. She lashed out after Tedros’ rejection because her desire was, when you get down to it, to be loved, even though she didn't understand what love was or how to go about it. She was already loved both by Agatha and by her father but she couldn't see it because the idea of love (romantic, loud, grand-gesture) was so embedded into her, but the clues to it were there all along.

On another, you could argue that Nicola also did not see this coming at all, specially if you consider canon!Nicola rather than fanon!Nicola (why would you, but okay, ignore my Hunter post, go on, stomp on my feelings). Nicola, whose purpose in TCY was to be the new hort-love-interest no one asked for, ending up with her *gag* love-rival? Unexpected, iconic, never done before (never actually done in canon), amazing, mind-blowin-

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

Bad Blood was a smash hit on Taylor’s career, playing on the radio  non-stop during the 1989 era, arguably her peak in terms of mainstream pop and radio plays.

The Tale of Sophie and Agatha was the equivalent in this context, as it was all the rage in Gavaldon after book 3; Sophie’s persona as the Dean Of Evil is solidified and everyone in The Woods knows who she is and read her tale, including Nicola (who already knew who she was, but now had a another version of her to compare to the version she already knew, which hm, did not favour Sophie either way).

I think it’s kind of fascinating how parasocial relationships work in the context of SGE because like, the storian is there as an omniscient narrator, but it doesn’t write everything. Like, does it just expose what the people in the tale feel and think only if it suits the plot or do the tales look just like the SGE books, in some sort of fourth wall break or is it like an actual children’s fairytale, where you just get told actions and have to sort of assume motivations? How does that affect public opinion? I don’t think most people would be too keen on stanning Sophie after reading The Tale Of Sophie and Agatha (cause damn, Sophie does a lot of questionable shit there) but canonically, they do, despite her being the villain, which is something I have opinions on (do I ever not have opinions on things?).

Like, sure there would be Nevers stanning her, but honestly, if they read the tale, wouldn't they be more likely to stan Hester or even Agatha? Cause Sophie almost got both Evers and Nevers killed, doomed everyone in The Woods for a guy, and was overall a horrible person with no regard for actual Good or Evil as balanced things? Isn’t this why The Coven sided with Agatha, like, I don’t get it- Is it stanning out of fear? Cause that’s the only sort of explanation I have, specially for people in Gavaldon, but that’s something I’ll go deeper into in another time.

Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nic’s first class at SGE was about The Tale Of Sophie and Agatha, given she was originally placed in Evil, due to Dovey and Sophie’s bet, and Evil’s school curriculum was under Sophie’s control, so if you think those classes were anything other than the Sophie-Show, you are wrong.

Now, on to headcanon territory, wouldn’t it be poetic if during her first lunch Nic sat at that tree in the middle of the clearing where Agatha and Sophie used to sit? Not only for ship reasons, but the tree is right in the center, which could relate to how Nic was supposed to be half/half?

Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip getting lunch down by the Lakes

She said I looked like an American singer

It’s a real shame that I don’t remember most of TCY. (But is it really?)

This is kinda of my own personal interpretation of what the OTK epilogue should have been like (and so, it's kind of a spoiler for my ever unfinished rewrite sksnsksn).

Imagine if, instead of that horrid school wedding (kill me now, please), they actually held the respective funerals for all the people lost in the Camelot power-struggle (I’ll take a school funeral, but don’t come at me with school weddings or I’ll lose my shit).

Tedros and Agatha, poor traumatized children, are on their way back to Camelot to try and get stuff back under control and do royal things. Sophie is pretty much on her own, with the remaining faculty of the school, as well as the new kids (yeah, Hort’s staying dead, boo hoo, I’m not sorry sbfhbsdb). Nicola will be returning home to Gavaldon soon, since the school schedule is already messed up beyond repair and everyone is taking some time off anyway. She was only staying there until christmas originally, so might as well.

Public opinion on the main trio is kinda weird at the moment:

Tagatha suffered a coup, then a while laterTedros killed the brother of his usurper, whom had been more popular than him, and well, they do tell people that Japeth killed Rhian, but it’s not like they have receipts? Like, there’s no way to fact check that. They could very well have killed Rhian, we, as bystanders, wouldn’t know? You can bet rumors like these don’t just go away.

And Sophie?

Well, I think public opinion on Sophie was already fear-based rather than coming from a place of admiration for her acts. People aren’t sure of her alliances anymore, and don’t really know how to behave around her so they mainly avoid her. Now that Dovey and Hort are dead and everyone else is resuming their quests, she’ll be pretty much on her own to deal with the aftermatch, which is not only sad, but also probably not healthy. She considers staying with Agatha, but she doesn’t want to add more scandal to the Camelot situation.

So she decides to go back to Gavaldon. Not permanently tho. Just to visit her father and take some time off to decide who could balance her well enough to be appointed as Dean Of Good. 

She'd choose Agatha, but you know, Agatha is kinda busy. Plus, it'd be good to see her father. Watching most of your parental figures drop like flies really puts things into perspective and maybe (just maybe) there's still something to salvage there.

Not many people know she's at Gavaldon, and that's on purpose. For once, Sophie just wants to be left the fuck alone, so she just tries to lay low and not bring unnecessary attention to heself. It's so unlike her to do so that when she walks in to have lunch at Nicola's pub, no one but Nicola even recognizes her.

And if Nicola keeps her company and accompany her on walks, well, it’s no one’s business. Bonding time? Bonding time.

Time

Mystical time

Cutting me open, then healing me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

You know what these kids need after this Camelot shitstorm? Therapy, that’s what.

There’s no therapy in The Woods, so friendship will simply have to do. Please sir, let these kids heal.

Nicola was dragged to SGE while her father was sick and knew no one there personally, then got dragged again, now into a power struggle where she almost died multiple times, dated a guy, broke up with a guy and I can’t even remember what else but that sounds like a stressful time considering how close together the events from TCY are compared to TSY. What does she want to do now? Will she become a knight? Will she remain in Gavaldon? Does she have to finish school? How have Hunter and her dad been? Whatever went down with her brothers? Why was she important in the first place? Lots to reflect and self-search.

And Sophie. Oh Sophie.

Sophie fell once again for a ‘get-love-’quick’ scheme, not once, but twice! That is not something easy to look in the face and forgive yourself for.

With Rhian, it backfired by hurting everyone she loved, and after the shit Rafal pulled on her, she should have known better. But can you blame her? It’s not like the Rafal thing left her unscratched: you try being in an abusive relationship with a predator, see if you don’t get some trauma. And instead of doing the hard thing and keeping up the work she had been doing on herself she threw her progress out the window the moment Rhian said what she wanted to hear!

After that went belly-up, she at least managed to help her friends, but then later that backfired and she got brain-washed (are we gonna talk about this? disturbing much?). Then, she got fragile enough for her to attempt to find purpose in her life within Hort’s feelings for her, even if she didn’t actually reciprocate those feelings, simply because she was sure of them and they were familiar.

And later, even Hort was taken away from her. 

(Probably for the best, given their attachment had been… precarious, to say the least.)

Therapy, I’m telling you.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons

Wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

These two would be so good for one another.

I think that being alone when you’re going through something is literally the worst you can do, but when you have someone who just…. gets it, you know? They were there too. They understand. It forms a connection.

After OTK, both of them (Sophie mostly) have enough on their plates for them to go down a dark path to a horrible place. But they don’t. Cause they are here for each other and have their support system to help them.

Does that translate into late nights drinking together after the pub shuts down? Maybe.  Keeping tabs on each other to make sure they’re sleeping and eating right? Yes. Keeping secrets and confessions? You got it.

And then my friends, begins the pining.

Cause, you know, they’re just gals being pals, gals being gay- wait what.

Nicola probably comes to terms with it first, but thinks Sophie is not interested in her like that (she also suspects that Sophie only sees her as Agatha’s stand-in and will drop her eventually once Agatha is no longer in such high demand.) Sophie is, in classic Sophie-fashion, neck-deep in denial, she’s not a lesbian right? she’s boy crazy, she’s not a lesbian-

Except she never felt like this with any of those boys. The only comparison she has is what she feels for Agatha, this feeling of being heard and seen and understood, but-

But Sophie doesn’t want to kiss Agatha.

And in retrospect, she never wanted to kiss anyone like this either.  Tedros who, Rafal who, Rhian who, Hort who, these bitches could never.

Eventually they attend the official tagatha wedding, HELD AT THE CASTLE, as each other’s plus-ones, and well, maybe consider checking my eventual OTK-epilogue for more on this, once it eventually comes out.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart

Now I send their babies presents

Very self-explanatory, Tedros may be Sophie’s favorite ex, but he’s still an ex and they will be killing each other if left unchecked for two long unsupervised.

Nicphie as the tagatha baby godparents. Please, YES.

I’m not gonna go into detail because children make me uncomfortable,  I wish this was a joke, haha, but yes, Sophie and Nic pic the presents together and they attend the baby shower together. Are they dating, are they just married but don’t know it yet? I wonder. They're just together and no one really knows what's going on.

Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park

Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

You know what’s funny? I didn’t tell you anything between the wedding and the baby shower. Remember how there was an opening for Dean of Good?

Yeah, too late to send in your resumes, position is already filled.

Sophie shows Nic the ropes of being Dean, or at least that’s how she’ll present it, but they’re still sort of figuring it out together. And that's okay.

They spend summers traveling around, christmas in Gavaldon, new years in Camelot and all is well. Their fingerglow colors now match. But it’s, unfortunately not gold.

Time

Wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool

Baby, with me

Yeah, it’s fucking purple.

I can’t remember if Nic has a canon fingerglow color, but I don’t really care much for canon, do I? I just really like the imagery of it, so it’s blue and pink mixed together. Because, you know I’m a symbolic bitch.

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Anyway, I am correct, this is the post.

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.16

“So, why jiu jitsu?” asked Agatha, handing Nairi the last of the flatware they’d used for dinner and leaning her hip against the counter. It felt like she was watching her clean the dishes, disconcerting.

Nairi hummed, giving the plate an extra scrub just in case before she finished. “I wasn’t very good at it before,” she said, trying to think how to phrase it. “Which was why my teacher tried me out on judo instead. BJJ is sort of on the same spectrum as judo, just the other side, if that makes sense.”

Agatha looked like it didn’t, actually, but she nodded anyway. “I see. So, you’re trying it again?”

“No, it’s a different style,” said Nairi, draining the sink.

The furrow in Agatha’s brow deepened momentarily, then smoothed over again as she schooled her face. She nodded and made her way over to the couch in front of Nairi’s TV, seemingly satisfied with Nairi’s work on the dishes. “Okay then. Are you going to look at this one with an eye for teaching or just for fun?”

“Mostly to learn it,” said Nairi, staring blankly at the kitchen sink. “I’m already teaching as much as I can, really.”

“Well, it’ll probably inform your teaching in your other classes anyway, it’s always good to see how other people in your field are doing things, and the variety is useful and interesting on its own,” said Agatha nodding and making herself comfortable. “All done in the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, giving up and walking over to settle next to her. “Thanks for cooking. I haven’t really eaten many mushrooms before.”

Agatha smiled at her, but didn’t scoot closer the way she normally did. That probably meant it was Nairi’s turn to be affectionate, right? “It was a tasty recipe; I might have to try it with chicken at home.”

“It’ll probably taste good. Chicken goes well with mushroom, right?” She shifted closer and wrapped an arm low around Agatha’s waist, leaning in against her.

Agatha relaxed against her and tucked her feet alongside Nairi’s, kissing her temple. “Usually, yes. When was the last time you ate meat?”

“When I was about, um, nineteen, I think,” said Nairi, not quite able to stop her fingers from twitching where they were resting on Agatha’s shirt. “I don’t really like the texture.”

Agatha laughed softly, bringing her hand up and running it through the hair of Nairi’s fringe, carefully separating it with her fingers. “Alright, that’s a new one—”

Nairi caught her hand and pushed it away, sitting up straight again. “Don’t.”

Agatha frowned, but let go of her hair. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” said Nairi, tugging her elastic the rest of the way out of her hair and pulling it all up to tie it back again.

Agatha looked… well, troubled. “Actually, can I ask you about that?”

“About what?” said Nairi, glancing at her and trying to keep her face calm, or at least neutral. “The vegetarianism? There’s not much more to it, really.”

“No, I mean about your hair,” said Agatha, her eyes lingering on Nairi’s fingers as they dropped from her head.

“Oh.”

Agatha looked at her expectantly. Nairi let her own eyes slide away again and settled on the couch uncomfortably, tucking her foot behind her knee as the silence drew out. Eventually she leaned forward to pick up the remote for the TV and Agatha sighed. “Nairi.”

Nairi left the remote on its coffee table and turned to face her, tension settling in between her shoulders again. “I just don’t like having my hair touched, okay?”

“Does it hurt?” asked Agatha, looking at her with, with somethingin her expression that Nairi couldn’t read. “Are you worried about it being greasy or dirty? Do you think I’m going to pull on it?”

Nairi sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know, I just don’t like when people touch it.”

“Is it like your tattoos?” asked Agatha, still pressing the damn point. “Would you be more comfortable if it was covered up? Or cut short?”

Nairi’s hand flew to her head and her frown deepened. “No. And my tattoos don’t have anything to do with it.”

“Well, what do they have to do with then?” said Agatha, her frustration visibly mounting.

“Nothing, they’re just tattoos,” said Nairi flatly. “I just—don’t like them anymore, okay? It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter if they upset you,” said Agatha, reaching for Nairi’s hand. “You don’t have to keep them if you don’t like them, laser takes a while and is a bit pricey but—”

Nairi pulled her hand away. “I don’t want to get rid of them. It’s fine, they don’t upset me, it’s just, it’s complicated. That’s all.”

Agatha caught her hand again, just her hand, and looked Nairi dead in the eye. “Try me. I want to understand. You are upset, and I can handle complicated, I even have the PhD to prove it.”

Agatha’s hand was too hot where it was holding Nairi’s, and she scanned Agatha’s face carefully, searching for something to say. Her mind was blank, stalling, and she kept returning to Agatha’s eyes, over and over again. She couldn’t—she couldn’t tell. She wanted to leave it behind, that was the point, she wasn’t going to just sit here on this damn couch in this new place with this nice woman and tell her all of the fucked-up things that weren’t part of her anymore.

“Nairi, please,” said Agatha, the lines around her eyes tightening. “I care about you. I want to support you—I want to be a good girlfriend here, but you have to want that too.”

Nairi stared at her blankly, unsure how to even start responding to that, but judging by the way Agatha’s face started to shift, no response was the wrong response.

“Nairi, do you even want to be in this relationship?” she said, sounding both hurt and exasperated.

“Yes,” lied Nairi immediately, in case hesitating was the wrong response to that as well. She knew she didn’t want Agatha to go, and she knew that if Agatha left now then she probably wouldn’t come back and that was worse. She didn’t—she didn’t have any other options.

“Good!” said Agatha, gripping Nairi’s hand too tightly, anxiety writ in her brow. “I’m glad! But I’m not feeling it or seeing it or hearing from you! Every time I’m with you it feels like there’s only half of you with me—like you wish you were literally anywhere else.”

“That’s not, I don’t wish that,” said Nairi, stumbling over her own tongue. “If I did then I wouldn’t, I’d just leave, I’m sorry, Agatha, I’m not good at this stuff.”

“Neither am I, but I’m trying,” said Agatha, shuffling her knees on the couch to face Nairi straight on. “It’s only in the last two years or so that I’ve even started dating women, and I didn’t exactly have a lot of relationship experience before that, much less good ones, can you—can you please just tell me what I’m doing wrong here?”

“Um, nothing?” Nairi felt strangely static, like she should be hugging Agatha, or reassuring her, or doing something other than sitting there like a piece of wood. She didn’t know how to fix it. “You’re not doing anything wrong, I’m just—”

“You’re just what?” said Agatha, patience bleeding out of her tone into something more accusatory. “I know I’m doing something wrong because you’re fine with Linden.”

What?

“…What do you mean?” said Nairi, suddenly even less sure of her conversational footing than she had been.

“I mean that you spend more time with her than you do me so you’re clearly not having issues there,” snapped Agatha. “You’re more comfortable with her, hell, you’d rather spend time with her in a crowded club that’s filled with shitheads when you don’t even want to be there, over going home with your actual girlfriend and making sure she’s okay!”

So that had definitely been a mistake. Nairi shifted on the couch, feeling uncomfortably pinned by Agatha’s gaze. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t figure out which way you’d gone, and I didn’t want to lose both of you and ruin it more—”

“You didn’t want to ruin it for Linden,” corrected Agatha. “It’s two thousand and nine, Nairi, we both have cell phones. AndI waited outside for you.”

“Right,” said Nairi, finally glancing away from her. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“I know,” said Agatha, her tone tight, audibly reigning herself in. “It’s just—even a check-in text, or a phone call would have been good. I didn’t even hear from you until the next day. You were more concerned about Linden having fun than you were with seeing if I was okay, or even safe.”

Nairi’s hand was too hot in Agatha’s, and she shifted it, only for Agatha’s grip to tighten, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling like everything else out of her mouth had been the wrong thing to say, just wanting the conversation to end.

“Please stop saying that,” said Agatha, and great, now that was the wrong thing to say as well. “Please. I just want to know what you want, just one indication of what you’re feeling, or thinking, or that you even want me to be here! Please! Just one sign that you even like me or want to be dating me and not Linden!”

“I don’t want to date Linden, I’m dating you,” said Nairi with a firmness she didn’t feel.

“Nairi, that’s not reassuring,” said Agatha, finally letting go of her hand.

“Well, what do you mean then?” said Nairi, starting to lose her grip on her patience along with the thread of the conversation. “I am sorry, I don’t want to date Linden, I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“I believe you,” said Agatha, sounding entirely like she didn’t, actually. “I just want to know what you’re actually thinking or feeling. I don’t know how to read you, and when I ask, you keep deflecting, I just—please. What are you feeling? Right now.”

Honesty probably wouldn’t help her here, but fuck, she didn’t have much else. “Right now? Frustrated,” she said bluntly.

Agatha gestured, her expression expectant, like she wanted more.

Nairi puffed out a sigh. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what to tell you, or how I would tell you if I knew, or what answers you’re looking for when you ask me. I’m trying to give you what you want, and I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’m already upset,” said Agatha, her voice rising. “I can’t read your mind, Nairi, you say you want to be here and to be with me, but you act like I’m pulling your teeth when I ask, I can’t even tell what’s different when you’re happy and you’re pissed off.”

“I’m not pissed off,” said Nairi. She was frustrated. And tired.

“And you’re not happy!”

“Not right now, no!” said Nairi, feeling her aforementioned frustration rise.

“Are you ever?” snapped Agatha. “Because the only time you even look like you are is when you’re with Linden!”

“She’s my friend!” said Nairi, not entirely sure why she felt so defensive about it. “And I don’t know why you’re bringing her into this!”

“Because you like her more than me!” said Agatha, her eyes tight and furious. “You’re my girlfriend, and you hate spending time with me, but you’ll drop everything to go run around with her, even when it hurts me!”

“I’m not doing that deliberately,” said Nairi, staring at her blankly. “I’m not choosing her over you, and I’m sure as shit not spending time with her to hurt you!”

“But you wouldn’t choose me over her,” said Agatha snidely, glaring back at her.

“No!” said Nairi hotly, and as soon as it left her mouth she knew it was the wrong damn thing.

Agatha recoiled, her mouth twisting, and too late Nairi realised the tightness around her eyes was because of tears. She looked away from Nairi, braid slipping back over her shoulder as she stared down at her hands.

“I don’t—that’s not—” Nairi stumbled over her words, feeling something cold and slimy swelling in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t,” said Agatha quietly, a bitter note in her voice. “If you meant it, you should say it.”

“That’s not—I don’t mean—” Nairi took a deep breath and tried again. “She’s my friend. You’re my girlfriend.” She tried not to think about how much that word stuck in her throat as she said it. “I don’t want to—I’m not looking to pick between you, I want to be around both of you.”

“Right,” said Agatha thickly, dropping her glasses into her lap and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “It’s not about picking.”

Nairi didn’t own any boxes of tissues, which seemed like an oversight right about now. She got up and pulled a fresh roll of toilet paper from her cupboard, pouring a glass of water before she went back over and sat down, a little closer to Agatha than before.

Agatha took the paper and swiped at her eyes viciously, still not looking directly at her, even as she drank the water.

Nairi waited for Agatha to set the glass down on the table, and then shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her back and shoulder. Agatha was stiff against her, her mouth in a mulish set as she looked up. She looked like she was going to say something else, but Nairi kissed her cheek and tugged her back against her, and she sniffled again, leaning back into Nairi as the muscles in her face finally loosened.

“I’m sorry,” said Nairi softly, running her fingers over the hair near the crown of Agatha’s head. “I’m a fuck up. I want this to work out, I don’t want to lose you, and I especially don’t want to hurt you.”

Agatha turned her head a little and kissed Nairi’s shoulder through the cotton of her shirt. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she said in a small voice.

“Good,” said Nairi, chewing on her lip as she stared at the ceiling, trying to relax at the feeling of Agatha pressed up against her. “You’re not going to, I promise.”

[honeypiehotchner]

EPISODE EIGHT big ol’ yikes of a beginning

I know where this goes and I’m not ready

Matthew’s growl??? Good fucking GOD

Juliette...if you know what’s good for you, you should probably put Diana down. Like right now

The way Matthew kisses her oh god

Juliette is so annoying

Oh GOD Matthew is gonna die for fuck’s sake

Never make Diana Bishop mad. This is the lesson Juliette will learn

You’re not dying Matthew it’s fine

Everything’s fine you’re not gonna die

He’s not dying Marcus shut up he’s fine

DAMMIT DIANA even though I knew she was going to save him that way

Marcus is so gentle :(

Diana is out of it obviously but he still said the whole “you’re going to feel a sharp scratch” 🥺

He’s deadass never letting her out of his sight ever again look at the way he’s holding her hand

“What if we hide somewhere in time?” HELL YEAH SOUNDS GREAT TO ME

“What is this house trying to tell us?” That y’all have been bound together for far longer than either of you have been alive, that’s what.

“Honey, you need to think about Matthew.” Even in the book this got me. These two are so in love.

THE HUG!!!!! THAT WAS SUCH A TIGHT HUG IM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 HE’S SO PROUD

More mum n dad energy 🥺

Matthew’s face when he says he lost that queen in a wager

I love them

I love seeing the vampires, daemons, and witches all together 🥺🥺🥺

“You’re among witches now. We’re going to do everything we possibly can.” Yes we are!!!!!! Damn right

Marcus’s little hiss that was so cute I can’t take it he’s so adorable

Oh my GOD I forgot they timewalk to the night they danced 🥺

Oh my gosh 🥺

Oh oof back to this semi-awkward family dinner

Ugh that was so cute seeing Matthew and Ysabeau dancing together 🥺

Awh okay small thing but in the book there were these two lines:

“Be careful. You hadn’t decided you loved me yet.”

“Oh I’d decided. I just hadn’t told you.”

And I miss them 🥺 But anyway

Lord this is killing me

Sophie is so cute I love her so much

Uh oh Satu just ratted Baldwin the fuck out

Whoops and now Gerbert just said “The Knights of Lazarus” in The Congregation yikes yikes yikes

Agatha is a badass and a half damn sister

Baldwin better not die here I will riot

God this goodbye is way too much like when Sarah and Em said goodbye to Rebecca and Stephen and it’s making me so SAD

Seven minutes left I am not ready for this to end just yet

DOMINICO FUCKING SIDED WITH BALDWIN OH MY GOD

MY JAW JUST FUCKING DROPPED

I wasn’t expecting that

Ah he was bribed I figured

But still. Holy fucking hell.

Agatha Wilson. A badass.

Oh no here comes The Argument™

“My son.” IM CRYING AGAIN

I’m having to pause because I’m crying so hard again oh god

At this point it’s just fucking rude how good he looks

She looks so proud that she can light the pumpkins 🥺

Oh I’m gonna love the next season just by the clothes

Holy fuck the witches are ALREADY HERE

Y’all better get the fuck out of dodge RIGHT NOW

STOP READING MARLOWE AND FUCKING GO

To 1590. Let’s fucking go.

THAT WAS ONE RUDE FUCKING ENDING IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF

Season 2 better get here as fast as it can before I lose my mind

[vimesbootstheory]

Another bunch of books, this time for episodes 81-90 of Overdue (the podcast about the books you’ve been meaning to read). Beware book spoilers.

Today is all about documentation of reading, I am also putting up all my book reviews on StoryGraph, it’s fun so far.

1. The Color Purple by Alice Walker 2. Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne 3. The Passage by Justin Cronin 4. Orange is the New Black by Piper Kerman 5. You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers 6. The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

7. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn -- This book had an uphill slope to climb, but it still managed to impress me. Gone Girl has received a lot of hype and praise, for one, and I’ll admit that sometimes I get resentful of writers who get a lot of praise because I compare myself against them, to absolutely zero effect. I was also pretty spoiled for this book, though less spoiled than I feared. I knew (MAJOR SPOILERS INCOMING) that Amy was not dead, and had been framing Nick. This was, at first, a source of bitterness, because I did not know going in that this was a spoiler at all. Everyone had been so free about making comments like “Oh man, fuck that guy, you should Gone Girl him” that I assumed it must be baked into the premise. It isn’t, but it’s revealed half-way in, so the book is not as spoiled as I feared it might be. The format really worked for me, the idea that the first half of Amy’s perspective was intentionally unreliable narrator followed by a peak at a sociopath’s psyche. I liked that they didn’t make Nick completely unlikeable, though as the author and Nick himself anticipates, the adultery did lose him a lot of points. I was dazzled by how unexpected the ultimate resolution was. I guess it could have been unsatisfying for some, but I loved it. I loved even though I had been actively, vocally rooting for the much more obvious, action packed, emotional-closure-infused ending. I think it says a lot that Flynn changed my mind so thoroughly. Her prose really worked for me, too. I’d read more work of hers.

8. The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury 9. The Crucible by Arthur Miller 10. All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque 11. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 12. Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell 13. Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons 14. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie 15. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides 16. Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

17. Animal Farm by George Orwell -- I can’t claim to know a lot about the historical events which inspired Animal Farm. I’ve seen the historical figure analogues all written out, but they don’t mean much to me. Nevertheless, I found this fascinating. Would it have worked better or worse if it hadn’t been such a direct adaptation of historical events? I’m not sure. I do know, however, that it keyed into very specific, dark-childhood-noir nostalgia, such a formative fiction aesthetic that I don’t know how to discuss it without revealing too much of 8yo me. No, you know what, I’m going to say definitively, I think it’s stronger for having been such a close adaptation. I found it really fun imagining the nature of the analogies, mostly because I didn’t know enough to fill in the blanks myself. I enjoyed paralleling current events to these imagined historical ones. It was really fun.

18. The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

19. The Mummy, or Ramses the Damned by Anne Rice -- I almost feel like I should apologize to this book, because when I started reading this I thought it was going to be more in the vein of Rice’s erotica (which I have flipped through but never read any cover-to-cover) and was expecting paranormal smut. I bragged about the wackiness of my reading material choices to coworkers, haha I’m still reading the mummy romance lol. But this ended up being pretty fun, not gonna lie? It wasn’t really anything to write home about, I’ll give you, but the conquering of my expectations was exciting to experience. I will say, right off the bat, Rice is a coward for writing a mummy romance where the mummy never really looks like an actual mummy once he’s woken up, he’s just some sexy guy. The monsterfuckers out there are howling in outrage. But of course, the intended plotline would not have been possible with him wrapped in bandages the whole time. I am always down for a fish-out-of-water story, even if Ramses does learn a little bit too fast to be a satisfying iteration of that trope. Where this story really gets fun is when (SPOILERS) Ramses discovers Cleopatra’s bog mummy and wakes her up, and she turns out to be far and away the most fun character. She’s evil, but oh it’s because she didn’t come back right, but is she or isn’t she Really Cleopatra or just a ghoulish imitation, and oh can she feel love or not? Her end was simultaneously very Hollywood yet anticlimactic, at least on an emotional level. Anyway, I was expecting unintentionally hilarious Egyptian mummy smut and I got a paranormal action adventure that felt a little Agatha Christie in parts? To be honest, very fun, might read the sequel if my internet connection went down over a weekend.

20. Girl With a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier 21. Life of Pi by Yann Martel 22. Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes 23. Replay by Ken Grimwood 24. The Lorax by Dr. Seuss

25. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood -- I know, I’m a disgrace to my country for not having read this already… worse, this is my first Atwood novel. I’m an embarrassment, I know. I don’t know that after this one I’m necessarily in a huge hurry to read the rest of her books, but it wasn’t bad. I think, to zero in on my primary impressions of this book, I’ll point to this one unintentionally funny passage in the last couple chapters where Offred apologizes to the reader that her story is not more story-shaped, that she doesn’t take much of an active role and does not make satisfying character choices, but that she can’t help that that’s how it all went down. And here I am like… but it didn’t? Margaret, you WROTE this. You mean to say you knew that the plot of this was not narratively satisfying but you left it like that anyway? And that’s my main problem with the book, that it is not story-shaped at all, it has no real plot. It is almost 100% world-building. And don’t get me wrong, it’s top-tier world-building. That’s the hook of this book, to get to the meat of the world building and find out why and how this all went down. That’s another thing, though -- the backstory is so much more interesting than the present day. Here’s my question: why didn’t Atwood just set the story back when the US fell apart and Gilead rose? I think that would have been much more interesting. Instead, we got Offred navigating a weird quasi-romantic affair with her oppressor and side-stepping an ostensibly gripping spy ring plot in favour of a lot of silent seething and growing complacency in a bad situation. And the thing is, I’m pretty sure Atwood knows that that’s what she wrote. That’s fine for her, I just found it a little frustrating. I did like Moira a lot, I was really hoping we would spend more time with her, and I am hoping against hope that maybe she’s back in the sequel, even though THM does explicitly say that Offred never saw Moira again. I also really enjoyed the epilogue at the Nunavut academic conference. First, just the concept of Nunavut becoming a major academic destination, that’s awesome. The send-ups of academic attempts at moral neutrality, those were too delicious. And the hope inherent in knowing that eventually, Gilead falls -- what a great note to end on.

26. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde 27. A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J Gaines 28. The Turn of the Screw by Henry James 29. The Giver by Lois Lowry 30. Dracula by Bram Stoker 31. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway 32. Oh the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss 33. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee 34. A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan 35. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez 36. World War Z by Max Brooks

37. Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin -- This book was pretty what-you-see-is-what-you-get, as long as you’ve ever been exposed to Hollywood cinema and knows literally anything at all about the movie. Still, it was compelling. It’s moderately self-aware that the spookiest thing about it is the claustrophobic controlling attitudes of the people in Rosemary’s life, and the hardcore gaslighting she goes through. Funny how a book with such a supernatural element is defined so much more by the realistic evils of regular humans. (For a given value of ‘regular’.) The reader always, always, always knows much more than what Rosemary is aware of, and in a way that made me feel complicit in Rosemary’s abuse. I found it inspired that Levin allows the book so many moments of real levity, such that it’s a pretty breezy read. Rosemary was easy to root for, likeable, as was Hutch for as long as he was around. Roman and Minnie were solid antagonists. This was nothing groundbreaking but it was a compelling read.

38. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 39. Tell the Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt 40. Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut 41. Eddie and the Cruisers by P.F. Kluge 42. The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr & E.B. White 43. The Hairy Ape by Eugene O’Neill 44. The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman 45. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson 46. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County by Mark Twain

47. Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry -- I think one of the best things I can say about this book is that it didn’t make me completely resent its considerable length. This 900+ page book is a monster, and there’s definitely some dropped plot threads that could have been easily trimmed out to make this a little more streamlined, but when you look at the fact that this is about a cattle drive from Texas to Montana… yeah, OK, granted, that’s gonna be a long story. This is a book with a lot of death, and I feel like a big theme of this book is how death is often sudden and lacking in dignity and doesn’t neatly wait until your character arc is tied up before you’re whisked off to the afterlife. And that’s very true of real life, but to be honest it’s not something I’m keen on in stories. I like my stories to be shaped like stories, because if they’re not, they’re unsatisfying. You’re not special just because you didn’t bow to the expectation that stories be satisfying to their readers, McMurtry. My least favourite part of this book was the character deaths. They often made me feel bitter to the author, either because it was unnecessarily brutal just for the shock value, or because the death made a subplot completely pointless, or because the death seemed socially targeted, like a black character dying early on in a horror movie. But another thing is, I rarely felt a full and untainted grief or empathy for any of the protagonist characters, because almost all of the characters were complicit in the continuing genocide of the Native American populations, to varying extent. Hell, one of the main reasons they leave Texas is because they’ve killed too many Native Americans there and now it’s boring. I’ve heard it said that this book is more sympathetic than the default to the Native American antagonists, but I completely disagree. In all the conflicts with the protagonists, they are ALWAYS the aggressor, and many are portrayed as complete monsters. That taints a lot of the content of this book, ‘cause how does one sympathize with genocidal fuckheads? If you’re even halfway decent, you can’t.

48. No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre 49. In The Woods by Tana French 50. Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw 51. Battle Royale by Koushun Takami 52. The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe 53. Big Blonde by Dorothy Parker

54. Summerland by Michael Chabon -- I wouldn’t necessarily swear off Chabon’s other works after reading this, because I think that it’s best summed up as a writer writing outside of his wheelhouse and not having his hands smacked away. Chabon is trying to write a children’s novel here, and it’s not working. Let’s take an actually good children’s book, let’s say Percy Jackson -- it succeeds because it has prose aimed at kids, but has emotional depth. Summerland is the inverse of that, it has adult-geared prose but an emotional kiddie pool. A lot of this is down to the cast and the pacing. The pacing is too fast, and the cast is too large, and we don’t get any time to settle into any plot or any idea or any character before that character is yanked away and replaced by something else. Chabon just needed to fill out the size of a baseball team, but he did that by trying to provide equal characterization for nine different characters, some of which are introduced VERY late in the story, and he trips over his feet. I will say, I still don’t give a fuck about baseball, but I also very much DID read that whole-ass book about baseball statistics and, by the virtue of the writer’s skill, found it compelling and gained my investment in aspects of the sport. This book, on the other hand, made me resent baseball. Baseball only ever slows down the plot, only ever makes the world-building flakier and harder to swallow. Seriously, they resolve almost every major conflict through a climactic baseball game, it’s too much. Speaking of world-building, it starts off very poorly and never really recovers. At one point the book lampshades that part of any portal fantasy where the protagonist has to boggle at the weirdness and ask a lot of questions and adjust, and seems to take pride in brushing right past that. Here’s the thing: the world-building is VERY weird, and the readership needs that adjustment period. Instead, the fantastical characters just glare at the MC and the reader like “you dumb fuck, why don’t you know this, keep up” and it’s not nearly as charming as Chabon thinks it is. Positives? I liked seeing some indigenous mythology incorporated, even though I can’t pretend I knew the foundational myths well enough to know whether they’d been gracefully handled. I liked that Jennifer T had an indigenous background, that was cool, though with the too-large cast she was inevitably snubbed her due time to develop her feelings on her native identity. Uhhh the story about the baby boy turning back into a doll, and the fairy princess continuing to carry him around, that was emotionally compelling. Also Taffy was the best character, doesn’t say much but there you go. Oh, also I read the new author introduction and he??? spoils Mr. Feld’s character arc??? Why would you do that? Baffling.

55. At the Mountains of Madness by HP Lovecraft -- I was steeled for a lot with this one. I knew this reading experience could go very wrong, since I know what a huge racist Lovecraft was, I know he was a homophobe, yadda. I was semi-prepared for that, and there’s a little racism in this for sure, though it doesn’t hang over everything. I was also prepared to have to filter my enjoyment through Lovecraft being Problematic, as I think overall I did expect to like this despite its flaws. What I was definitely NOT prepared for… was for this story to be unforgivably boring. It is so, so dull, and I can’t even explain how unfathomable I find this. Lovecraft seems to be working hard against the story’s own potential, in places. For one, he seems to LOVE hyping up a particularly scary (or so he says) moment, a lot of the narrator apologizing and hemming and hawwing over the incoming horrors he is about to describe… and then it’s something pretty mundane. He keeps going THE NEXT PART IS HORRIFYING HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS and then the next part is like, “and there were some very old statues and ooooh they were old as balls”. The story peaks very early when the campsite with all the slaughtered people and dogs is discovered, and I was so hoping that was a tease for even freakier stuff to come. Nope, that’s as freaky as it gets. I think the only part that had the potential, even, to grab me was the whole thing surrounding the missing human and the missing dog. That resolves in the most passive, boring way I could have predicted. The only real source of amusement reading this was seeing the influence of this story on parts of the wonderful video game The Darkest Dungeon, which is so much better than this story. It does Lovecraftian prose better, it’s better at being scary, it just more successfully actualizes the genre of Lovecraftian horror. This was very frustrating. I was promised iconic horror and I got an archeological dig.

56. Mary Poppins by P.L. Travers 57. Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman! by Richard Feynman 58. Dune by Frank Herbert 59. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum 60. Tiny Alice by Edward Albee 61. Go Tell It On The Mountain by James Baldwin 62. The Reader by Bernard Schlink 63. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck 64. King Lear by William Shakespeare 65. Medea by Euripides 66. Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare 67. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley 68. The War of The Worlds by HG Wells

69. You Are A Monster (Choose Your Own Adventure) by Edward Packard -- This was better than the first CYOA book I read for the project, but it still hardly feels like a fair contribution. It was better because all the possible endings felt like genuine possibilities as part of the same story, rather than random disconnected happenstances. I liked how you could take a detour via one choice and end up back on another sequence of scenes & choices that you could have arrived at earlier if you had made another choice. I liked the ending where he (I?) becomes a famous writer (and full-time monster) best.

70. Mr Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan 71. The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides 72. Don't Go Back to School by Kio Stark 73. The Awakening by Kate Chopin 74. This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Díaz 75. The Lottery by Shirley Jackson 76. Extra Innings by Baseball Prospectus

77. Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami -- This was so maddening. I did not go into this with high hopes, since a coworker of mine read 1Q84 not too long ago and hated it (meanwhile I started it and quickly DNF’d), and specifically alerted me that she was curious about where it was all heading and then everything came to nothing in the end. I was so hoping that Colorless would be a departure from that, since I WAS curious about where it was all leading, but uh. Nope. Doesn’t go anywhere. The end of this book reads more like end of any other scene in the book, the difference in experience only being that I was shrieking in rage because I knew I was reading the last page. There are SO many dropped plot threads. What happened to Haida? Why no exploration of Tsukuru’s possible queerness? Who murdered Yuzu? Those are the big ones but there were many more. Murakami’s writing of women is amongst the worst I’ve ever read. All the women are just boobs (there are some unintentionally hilarious lines about the cosmic significance of Eri’s breasts) and emotional support for Tsukuru’s character arc, and their lives revolve 100% around whatever Tsukuru has going on. Seriously, those conversations between Tsukuru and Sara where all they talk about is his old high school friends -- don’t you have anything going on in your own life, girl? All you have to think about is your not-boyfriend’s mildly tragic backstory. The prose was pretty easy to read, with some decent moments of introspection that sometimes overplayed the book’s hand, e.g. made it very obvious what the reason for Tsukuru’s ejection from the group was going to turn out to be. Very expository, lot of telling with no showing. Conversations with the secondary characters reminded me of post-mission conversations with squadmates in Mass Effect, you just walk up to them and they exposit all their life story and job requirements at you. At least Mass Effect didn’t try to get away with all this product placement. I get it, Murakami, you want me to buy a Lexus.

78. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger 79. Here We Are by Dorothy Parker 80. The Misanthrope by Moliere 81. The Mystery of Chimney Rock (Choose Your Own Adventure) by Edward Packard 82. Bossypants by Tina Fey 83. The Homecoming by Harold Pinter 84. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving 85. The Unnamable by Samuel Beckett 86. The Stand by Stephen King 87. Grendel by John Gardner 88. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut 89. Persuasion by Jane Austen 90. Beowulf by Unknown 91. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown 92. Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James 93. Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth

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2020 Books Read So Far

Note: Most of these are audiobooks (listening to books counts as reading books and if you disagree I’d ask you to consider why you believe that), books I started and didn’t finish will be listed but not reviewed, and all my opinions are extremely subjective. I’m putting this on this blog because I want to and I think it’ll help me keep track of what I’ve read if I write it down in a couple places. 

Some notes:

I’m surprised that most of these are nonfiction! I don’t usually think of myself as a nonfiction reader. 

Having audiobooks has made me way more productive as a reader, since I can read while I’m doing repetitive tasks at work, when I have to stand on the bus, when I’m running, etc. 

Naked, by David Sedaris

3/5, the audiobook was “unabridged selections” which means “we didn’t edit the individual essays but you’re only getting half the book”– it would probably have been a 4/5 if it was a whole book. I liked that Amy Sedaris was reading parts of it, but that’s because I like her more than I like her brother. This is sort of an example of the difference between “comedic” and “humorous,” because it’s definitely the latter. 

Read it if: you want to read something pretty fucking weird. 

Lafayette in the Somewhat United States, by Sarah Vowell

4/5, I saw this recommended a lot when Hamilton first came out so it’s been in the back of my mind for a good while. The book had a great cast, and having different people reading the historical quotes was an excellent touch! 

However, I think Vowell’s conversational style is a little jarring here sometimes. It’s like “wait, why are you talking about Bruce Springsteen, I’m not that familiar with his work but he definitely isn’t from Revolutionary War times.” I got her book Assassination Vacation at a used bookshop recently as well, and both books suffer from post-2016 hindsight, where she’ll say something about how incompetent and foolish the politicians of her time are, and I just have to snort to myself and say “Sarah, you’re going to lose your goddamn mind soon.” That’s a bit of an unfair reaction, but it’s hard to avoid having it.

I was also, maybe unfairly, expecting to learn more than I did. The problem is that I know a Lot about the Revolutionary War, and from the introduction I thought we’d hear more about Lafayette’s later life (my knowledge drops sharply after about 1810). The book basically ends after the Battle of Yorktown, though.

Read it if: you have not seen/listened to both Hamilton and 1776, or if you want to read a summary of the Revolutionary War with a focus on one French captain. 

Assassination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell

3/5, honestly maybe a 2.5/5. Okay, so. Either I know a lot more about American History than I felt like I did or this is again a very surface level thing. Part of it is because she spends 123 pages on Abe Lincoln. There are 255 pages total. 2/3 of the states I’ve lived in are Indiana and Illinois, two states that fight about claiming Lincoln as their own, and I’ve been to D.C. 4 or 5 times, so I feel like I know enough about Lincoln. I know about John Wilkes Booth, and his brother Edwin who saved Lincoln’s son’s life, and the death train that took Lincoln’s body around the country. I did enjoy learning about the doctor who was probably conspiring with Booth and how he ended up saving tons of lives in prison when there was a yellow fever outbreak (also to be briefly unbearably nitpicky: I think she might have mixed up dengue and yellow fever? She calls yellow fever “breakbone” but I can only find instances online of people calling dengue fever that. Maybe they called them all breakbone in the late 1800s. If anyone reading this is an epidemiologist, let me know).

It was interesting to hear that Charles Guiteau, killer of President Garfield, was part of the Oneida cult. I’m trying to think of anything notable she said about Leon Czolgosz, killer of President McKinley. I guess she talks about how people assumed he was a foreigner because of his name, but I already listened to “The Ballad of Czolgosz” in Assassins, so I knew “Czolgosz, angry man, born in the middle of Michigan.”

This one is from 2005 so the politics stuff is a little more interesting, since at the time I was busy learning multiplication and spending one entire baseball season learning about baseball and following my team (they won the world series, I have excellent timing). I will say that in 2005 we did have Google, so I am again annoyed with some of her asides and personal anecdotes. Look, if you go to the Hemingway house and you don’t know there will be cats there, that’s on you if you don’t bring your Claritin. Hemingway is associated with only two good things, six-toed cats and Daiquiris. 

She also does not acknowledge that the parties basically switched platforms? Lincoln’s Republican party is not today’s Republican party, in fact kind of the opposite, so it’s weird that she starts the book with a dedication that’s like “to my lifelong Democrat grandpa, he’d be pissed I dedicated a book about 3 Republicans to him.” I guess she does sometimes say stuff like “how did Lincoln’s party become Reagan’s” (paraphrase), but she doesn’t actually get into it. 

Speaking of Democrats, she literally spends more time talking about Pablo Picasso than she spends talking about JFK. She doesn’t explain why she didn’t talk about JFK, but it seems bizarre to me to write a book about American assassinations and to leave out John Fucking Kennedy. Literally I’ve talked more about JFK in this section than she did in her assassin book. It’s not until page 253 that JFK gets a full paragraph. There are 255 pages total. Truly, if she’d taken a paragraph to be like “I’m focusing on the presidents who were elected before 1900″ or “the presidents whose immediate families aren’t still alive” or even “I didn’t want to travel to Dallas for research” or SOMETHING to explain why she left out JFK, I would have understood it more instead of flipping through the pages wondering what was going on. 

Read it if: You do not listen to too many history podcasts and you didn’t read the Wikipedia page for the musical Assassins. And I guess if you don’t want to acknowledge that JFK did also get assassinated and that was kind of a big deal. Actually just listen to Assassins instead. 

And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie

5/5 as a mystery, 0/5 for its original title (not gonna say it here but if you’ve ever googled the name of HP Lovecraft’s cat, it’s along those lines). Less than 6 hours, narrated by Dan Stevens from Downton Abbey, fairly ideal as an audiobook. I am 95% sure I’ve already read this, because I spent the summer before I started high school reading every Agatha Christie book in the library (I do not have a list of all the Agatha Christie books in my library the summer of 2010, so there is some question). 

Read if: you want to hear the guy from Downton Abbey deliver the line “I’m not a complete fool!” in a tone that makes it sound like “I’m not a fucking moron!” Sidenote: Can anyone tell me if Brits say “solder” by pronouncing the L that I’ve always heard as a silent L? Or if Dan Stevens just fucked up that one word?

Over The Top: A Raw Journey to Self-Love, by Jonathan Van Ness

4.5/5

This was a super enjoyable audiobook! It’s a testament to JVN’s considerable charisma that this book is full of him giving people in his past who would rather be anonymous Russian names, and it doesn’t get grating (as a Marina, however, I was shocked to not hear my name at any point; most of the other Marina’s I’ve met in my life are Russian). JVN has had a wild ride in life, and it’s a really raw, honest story of how he became who he is. I will say that if you are interested in reading this, please look up the trigger warnings; there are a lot of things that could be triggering to people. 

I feel a little bad at how much more I liked this one compared to Tan France’s memoir, but I also feel like whoever was ghostwriting that one did a bad job at making Tan seem... not extremely defensive, cocky, and prickly (it seems that JVN did not use a ghostwriter; Tan’s on the other hand, let the phrase “I’m proud to be a petty bitch” make it into the final proof several times). Also JVN advocates going to therapy in his book, while Tan kind of says that you should only go to therapy if you have no friends or family or life partner to talk to, which I fundamentally disagree with. I don’t know. I also feel like, if I were to get a makeover from the Fab 5, Jonathan would love my hair (I have great hair) while Tan would say that I’m dressing too old for a 24 year old and then take me to fucking Lane Bryant or Torrid (I wear a size 16 US so IRL options are limited). 

Read if: You like Queer Eye or Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness

Medallion Status, by John Hodgman

4.5/5

I really like John Hodgman’s podcast, and I got to ask him a question at an event he did at the Field Museum and he was very nice, so I went into this inclined to enjoy it. 

And I did! I had a good time reading it. I read it the first week of January and now it’s the second week of February so I have already erased much of the book’s content from my mind, but he somehow made the perspective of being a formerly kinda famous person really interesting. I would also recommend Vacationland, particularly if anyone wants to write an au where Nursey, as a New Yorker, has a vacation home in Dex’s town in Maine. That’s right, I brought it back around to the topic of this blog. And that would be a fucking fantastic au. 

Read it if: you like memoirs! it’s a good one. 

Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie

Gonna give this one a 3/5 for performance, because Dan Stevens (again, because I liked his narration in the other one) does a really annoying American accent for a few characters, and an extremely bad Italian accent for another. I’m starting this review only a few hours in, so if it turns out that the Italian man is not Italian, I’ll revoke my criticism. Still a 5/5 mystery, though. I did have to stop many times when they were talking about Istanbul to go over to Spotify and play “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants. 

Books abandoned in 2020 (so far) (no real spoilers, I didn’t get more than a few chapters into any of them):

The Unhoneymooners, Christina Lauren

I got to a point where the main character was telling a lie that would put her newly accepted job into jeopardy, and it stressed me out so much as a relatively new hire that I stopped listening for the day and started another one, and then the week had passed and then the library took it back. I think I’d enjoy it more if I was reading it physically and I could control how fast I got through awkward parts (I am practically allergic to secondhand embarrassment). The performance was good and I did get a hankering for cheese curds. 

Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

I had like three audiobooks checked out at the same time, and even though this was again an abridged version, I just didn’t have time for all of them. My mom has a physical copy, I’ll borrow that at some point. 

The Witch Elm, Tana French

This is one I may revisit someday. The main character is kind of an asshole, which is the point of his character I think, but it made it hard to get into the story. It’s also a 22 hour audiobook, which is kind of insanely long. Additionally, the narrator has a very slow way of talking, but if I tried to speed up the rate of playback I had trouble understanding his accent (I think I just have trouble processing really fast speech in general as well, but I would’ve had an easier time understanding someone with the same accent as me). Anyways, someone put a hold on it at the library and then I didn’t check it out again. 

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For the writer's ask meme, could you do 1, 2, 10, 11, 12, 15, 17, 25, and 42 (which is, after all, the answer to everything)? Sorry for requesting so many, but the questions are too good!! Thank you 💕

That’s a lot of questions! 😄 But sure, I’m ready to answer them all. I’ll just put it under a read more because I tend to ramble a bit:

1)  Do you listen to music when you write?

Yeah! Actually, it’s funny you ask this, since I was precisely talking about the same thing this morning on Twitter. To sum up, I listen to different stuff depending on my mood (not to set a mood for whatever scene I’m writing), and it can range from classical music, to rock, to synthwave, to Britney Spears on a loop 😂

2) Are you a pantser or plotter?

I have no fucking idea what a pantser is, but by context I deduce it’s the opposite of a plotter. So the answer is that I’m a mix of both? I do make a very brief outline of the story, just the most important plot points like they’re the bare bones of a story. How those ideas get connected, that comes out to light while I write (or when I get a sudden great idea while brushing my teeth or when I’m about to fall asleep).

10) Do you set yourself deadlines?

Yeah, and I fail miserably at abiding by them 9 out of 10 times. The problem I have with self-impose deadlines is that I know there are absolutely no repercussions if I fail, aside from being disappointed in myself I guess... so I end up re-negotiating/moving the date forward 😅 In other news, I don’t respect my own authority.

11) Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

That’s an interesting one, because the authors whose works I think impacted me the most, in terms of how enthralling/addictive I found their writing style, are Agatha Christie, Stephen King, Terry Prattchet, and Virginia Perez de la Puente (yay for Spanish representation!). And all their styles and themes are nothing like the stuff I ended up writing in my fics, imo. 

12) Describe your perfect writing space

My room, my computer, door closed, headphones with music on, lighting a candle or incense stick. And most important: no interruptions (until I lose track of time and someone has to remind me that it’s dinner time). Internet access is a must because I sometimes need to fact check something or look up the translation of some very basic word I magically forgot how to spell.

15)  How do you deal with writer’s block?

Procrastination time! 🌈✨ I also feel guilty I’m procrastinating and try to write a tiny tinsy bit every day, just around 100-200 words, small goals. And even if I hate whatever I wrote, I try to ignore it and keep going because the only way to beat writer’s block is with a baseball bat. Most of the time, writer’s block is just a mask worn by plain ol’ insecurity tbh.

17)  What writing habits or rituals do you have?

One terrible writing habit: writing late at night. Even if I managed to get off my ass and write during the day, the pull of late night writing is strong. There’s something magical about that time frame between 2am to 3am, and it’s most probably that you’re tired enough to stop giving a shit and just write whatever comes to your mind.

25) Favourite part of writing

The feeling of satisfaction when finish and/or write down that one scene/story that had been stuck on your mind, it’s like scratching an itch. And also, when you realise the missing plot point to connect two ideas and you get a moment of “Oh shit, I’m a genius!” 😄 

42) How do you feel about love triangles?

I don’t like them. I’d go as far as saying I hate them. Unless there’s a fresh spin on it (the protagonist thought they were in a love triangle but they severely misread the situation, it ends in a threesome/poly, the thrid wheel is the best friend of one of the othe two and the supposed triangle is just gossip, etc), love triangles are so trite and overdone imo, like no thanks I’ll pass. It doesn’t help that in most instances is so obvious who the protagonist will end with, so then why torture the readers/audience with this boring bullshit??

[purplesurveys]

857

Your last ex finds out you’ve fallen in love with another person? I got back with my ex and I’ve only been ~in love~ with her, so this question doesn’t apply to me at all.

When’s the last time you were surprised? Today, because I SAW GABIE. After four goddamn months!!!!!!!!!!!! It was a big surprise to see her again, even if we did plan this out yesterday. I loved every bit of the brief time we had. Still giddy as fuck.

Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed walked out of your life? Realistically it wouldn’t be the end of the world but it would still suck and I would still be devastated, of course.

What is the last non-alcoholic beverage you had? Had water after finishing my dinner, just a few minutes ago. But I’m heating up some water so I can make coffee to drink for tonight.

Your mom finds used condoms in your room, you tell her? I’ll tell her it’s probably a prank from a friend, because it most likely would be. I’ve no reason to keep condoms, used or unused. Also I’d be pretty fucking pissed with such a prank and I’m likely to have a talk with that friend.

Do you prefer pasta salad, or coleslaw? I’d go with coleslaw, mostly because I do love it anyway and kinda because I’ve never heard of pasta salad.

Do you find smoking unattractive? I don’t find it ugly but it’s not necessarily attractive either. I don’t mind it, which is a far cry from what 18 year old anti-cigarette Robyn would’ve said.

Where’s the last place you went besides your house? I went to Gab’s house this afternoon. We played dress-up games, I bought from his dad’s small business (which sells theeee best Korean street food), she told me all about her internship and showed me the different softwares she uses, and she also introduced me to transcribing websites that can pay me a bit of money every hour because we’re both panicking about our futures hahahaha. Our activities were a bit of a rollercoaster but I fucking loved it. I was so happy for those three short hours.

If you were granted one wish, what would you wish for? I would love if I could get to dine in one of my favorite restaurants again.

Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? Yes, I can. I’m not dependent on it and mostly drink it socially, except for the times I have bottles of soju in the fridge to drink when I’m alone and just wanna chill. Also, childhood trauma because of alcoholism in the family has made me pretty firm in my decision to not fall in too deep with my drinks.

Whose bed were you on last? Just mine.

When was the last time you changed in front of someone? March, probs? I don’t do that a lot except with my best friends.

Last person you kissed, have you cried in front of them? A few hundred times.

Do you trust all of your friends? Yes. To begin with, they’re my friends because I trust them.

Do you think the last person you kissed is nice? Yes. I don’t like it when she loses her temper because it takes a while for her to be in control of it, but 99.8% of the time she’s the nicest, sweetest, and most understanding person I know.

Does anyone call you babe? Just my girlfriend, I think.

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months without cheating? Of course. Do you think the last person you kissed is a player? Well she’s only been with me and that’s been going on for a while, so I don’t know. We’ve had ‘what if we never got back together’ conversations though and she has told me that single!her definitely would’ve dated around and fooled around, so it’s possible that she could’ve been a player.

Could you go out in public looking like you do now? I would change my shorts. My tank top is decent; it’s actually meant to be worn outside but since it’s sleeveless and thin, I’ve taken to wearing it around the house so that I look cute here as well lol. I miss dressing up.

Do you believe exes can really ever be “just friends”? I do but I also don’t. Situation’s different for everyone.

Your ex wants you back? She did four years ago.

Would you rather love one person or have many short relationships? Just the one.

Anyone say they want to be with you forever? Mmm nope. It’s okay though, not really a fan of such dialogue. I’d rather she express this thought in different, less-cliche words.

Do you remember who you liked this time 3 months ago? Gabie.

Ever dated someone who was gorgeous but they had a conceited personality? No, I never thought of her as conceited.

Last person you had a deep conversation with? Again, Gabie. We had a brief but deep conversation about our plans for the short-term future, i.e. job-hunting, the possibility of freelancing for now, etc.

Is there a member of the opposite sex on your mind? Other than my dogs, no.

Did you reject or accept your last friend request? I ignored it for the meantime, haha. I don’t know who he is but we have tons of mutual friends apparently, so I’ll ask around to see if it’s safe to add him.

Would you prefer being locked in a room with your ex or your worst enemy? Ex, because that would also mean my current girlfriend and I’d never say no to being stuck in a room with her.

Have you kissed someone in ‘09 that means a lot to you? Didn’t kiss anyone in that year.

Do you want your ex to be happy, even if it means not being with you? I don’t have an ex but if I got into this situation with Gab it’ll be a hard-pill-to-swallow kind of situation. I’d ultimately let her go but like while I’d be bitter for a while, I would accept that it’s what she wants.

What would happen if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? That’s gonna be a huge breakthrough from a biological standpoint but I think I’d be more horrified than excited? I was traumatized enough by what happened in Eraserhead, so I’ll rush to the doctors first before celebrating lol.

Would you prefer a kiss on the cheek or neck? Neck.

Would it hurt seeing the person you last kissed kissing someone else? Yup.

If the last person you kissed bumped into you at school, what would you say? “what the fuck are you doing here”

Do you have a member of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? Andrew.

Do you believe your latest ex thinks about you? So tired of explaining the whole my-ex-is-now-my-girlfriend thing over and over lol so I might just skip questions like these if they still come up.

Has the last person you kissed, met your family? She’s met them but she’s just Gabie, Robyn’s best friend since seventh grade to my family.

Have you ever received a myspace message that made you cry? I was never active on Myspace.

Name someone whose name starts with the letter “L”: Liana, my successor in my vice-presidential position in my org.

Do you think anyone has feelings for you? Yep.

Will you fall in love in the next month? I think staying in it is more apt to say.

You’re insanely drunk stumbling through the streets, slurring songs, who are you with? While I’d let myself get to that level of drunk, I definitely wouldn’t let myself go out in public because that’s just dangerous. But to slightly answer this question, I’m willing to get irresponsibly drunk with Kate, Aya, Jo, and JM. Probably not Luisa because the last time we got drunk together she held my hand and it felt so off and I just wanted to run to Gab and cry because I was so creeped out.

Next time you will kiss someone? I have no idea. In another four months, maybe?

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? I think Gab. I just said I wasn’t ok and that I’ll just go to bed.

Do you like to cuddle? Only with my person.

If an ex said they hated you, you say? -

Do you know anyone who would just drop everything to come see you? No. I think that could get pretty unhealthy.

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t do? Tons of things. I’ve stopped saying I’ll never do this and that because I always end up doing so. In the last decade I’ve joined a college org, drank alcohol, smoked a cigarette, vaped, liked smoothies...list goes on and on.

Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? Nopes.

Is there someone you used to talk to every day that you don’t talk to at all? Yeah, people have come and gone. Sofie, Athenna, Macy, Chelsea, Kaira, Fern, Gabe, Agatha, Sachi, Audrey, Angel, Andi...again. List goes on.

Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? That would be my mom, and I am at best civil with her. We have good days but they’re rare at best. I don’t see myself ending up being best friends with her many years from now.

Can you have more than one best friend? Yup, I have two.

Has anyone said they love you in the last week? Mom, dad, Gab, Angela, Angela’s mom, and a bunch of people who congratulated me when I uploaded my grad photo on social media.

Last compliment you received? My hair.

Are you starting to realize anything? Now that I’m out of school for good and off to the real world? Absolutely.

Who was the first person you talked to today? My mom because she actually woke me up -_-

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 3 months? I’ve lasted a lot longer than that.

Have you ever known someone that just creeped you out? Yes. And my intuition turned to be right because they were recently officially reported for sexual harassment.

Do you hate it when people mispronounce your name? No because I don’t know how they can possibly mispronounce it; it’s pretty straightforward. I do get misspellings a lot but I’m not annoyed a lot by it because I understandably have the less-common spelling of the name.

[mostlywritersblock]

Dracula 2019 fic

Part 2

****

“You seem nervous.”

Zoe glanced up from the email she’d been reading to lock eyes with him. It’d been a total of 11 days since he’d showed up in her life. To say things haven’t been snowballing since then would be an understatement.

“I’m meeting with the board tomorrow for one final review. It shouldn’t be awful but they’re going to ask a lot of questions.”

“About me.”

“About the organization...but yes about you too.”

Dracula smiled sweetly, “And what are you going to tell them about me?”

Zoe narrowed her eyes and effectively closed out of her email. “I’m going to tell them the truth.”

Dracula’s smile fell.

“That we have absolutely no idea how you survived drinking my blood. That we’ve come to numerous dead-ends and have zero leads.” Zoe finished with a frustrated grunt.

Dracula nodded slowly, a thought seeming to occur to him. “This board, they know of my existence?”

Zoe threw him a flat look. “Of course they know about you, they’re funding the organization!”

She suddenly moved to pace around the room, but Dracula stopped her, placing both hands on her shoulders to hold her in place.

“Essentially then they’re just another organization with information on me.”

Zoe peered at him quizzically.

“Maybe they know something we don’t, maybe they have the answer?” He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so giddy suddenly. Was he that desperate to find a lead, to finally have a means to scratch the metaphorical itch he’d been feeling since the moment he was conscious. In short.

Yes. Yes he was desperate.

Or maybe just hungry

Maybe both?

****

Zoe wouldn’t let him come to the board meeting, not with the staggering amount of people and guns at the ready. Not that he minded. It was more out of precaution for them than anything.

And with good reason, Dracula thought.

He could definitely go for another bloodbath.

****

Zoe returned with a sour look and stomp in her step. She relayed to him the days events. Apparently the board was satisfied with the foundation but when one of them had broached the subject of Dracula’s location, Zoe had to stay tight lipped, least they treat her like she’s harboring a fugitive.

Dracula should really track down his lawyer.

Eventually one of the board members pulled her aside and delivered a tantalizing bomb in disguise. They claimed they saw right through her her attempts at denial and demanded she bring Dracula back in. They suspected she was hiding him somewhere and that she was somehow under his control-

Dracula laughed loudly at this part because let’s face it. It was ridiculous. Agatha would never allow it.

-Anyway, Zoe used her quick thinking and decided to strike up a deal with the board representative and-

“What kind of deal.” Dracula asked crossing his arms.

“I was just about to get to that part if you’d stop interrupting me.”

“Well then by all means, please. Carry on.”

Zoe rolled her eyes but continued.

“Basically they said they’d keep you a secret from the rest of the board and organization if you agreed to meet with their exc and exchange information regarding all things Vampire. They might also want to run some more test.”

Dracula pursed his lips, “So basically just another foundation/organization, we’re just cutting out the middle man, middle man being the -“

“Jonathan Harker Foundation, yes, also meaning we lose a huge chunk of our sponsors if we go through with the deal. The foundation is struggling as it is, I don’t know if it’ll survive another pay cut like this.”

“Yes, terribly tragic. Oh well, I see no other option than to proceed forward with the deal.”

“Of course you would say that, does my work mean nothing to you?” She meant it in the rhetorical sense but Dracula didn’t seem to realize.

“Zoe, if I make this deal there will be no more work at the foundation to do. You can simply just do so at this other organization.”

Zoe was about to comment that that wasn’t the point, that is was the principle, that her family and the Murrays had put so much-

“Zoe, this could be our one chance to learn more about what happened. I-I need to understand Zoe. After.” Here he took a deep breath unnecessary as it was, “after you made me realize that it was my fears holding me back and once I became aware of my circumstance after the incident I have this-this desire to understand what happened, this need to know why. It’s, It’s driving me insane Zoe. I can’t explain it. Just, Please.”

Some very old voice inside of Zoe told her she was being manipulated, but for some reason she didn’t care.

**

They agreed to the deal and plans were set in motion to meet with the excs the following day.

*****

Zoe can count on both hands the amount of times she has legitimately been nervous in her life; the past year she’s known Dracula making up at least half of them.

Still she shouldn’t be feeling as nervous as she was now, sitting in the lobby of a very nice, very posh building in downtown London. Dracula was sitting beside her, dressed to the nines per usual looking as cool a fucking cucumber.

Zoe suspected it wasn’t possible for him to get nervous in the same sense as she was. No fast pace beating of the heart, sweaty palms, or feeling the blood rush to your ears.

No, she suspected he didn’t have any of those symptoms.

******

When they reached the offices of the executives, Zoe assumed it would be the top floor. It was not.

The excs immediate reaction upon meeting Dracula was surprise, followed shortly by awe, and then finally disgust as it registered that this being killed people for a living.

Literally.

At least they all seemed moderately ashamed with themselves.

‘You’re one to talk,’ the old voice quipped. Zoe chose to ignore it.

*****

Every second they wasted idly chattering was a second more Dracula felt his brain wasting away. Weren’t these people supposed to be experts on all things Vampire? Weren’t they supposed to help him? Not the other way around. They asked all manners of questions, some teetering on the edge of rude to obscene, to downright idiotic and foolhardy. It was as if all information regarding vampires was the swill found in, what was it? The media? The television? Either way it was similar to the books of old that always portrayed vampires poorly.

Dracula was half tempted to give them a live demonstration of his so called ‘powers’ just to get them to shut up, when he remembered he was in public, in a very public building in a very public city.

He decided he’d just have to show them another time.

Probably on their days off.

*****

Leaving the executive room was something close to fresh air, if he needed to breath. Zoe was walking a little quickly, rushing on her way to the elevator. When she paused mid step and rounded on him.

“Was that or was that not odd to you?”

“You mean because we just wasted thirty minutes of our time with a bunch of imbeciles who knew nothing of vampires whatsoever.”

“Oh good so we’re on the same page.”

Dracula held up his thumb and index finger. “I was this close Zoe, this close to ripping off one of their heads!”

“Calm down it wasn’t that awful.” Zoe turned back towards the elevator.

“You’re right, it was worse.” Dracula followed quickly in after her.

“Look. I’m not sure why but the whole situation just didn’t sit right with me, I mean they were our sponsors for Christ sake, how could they not be informed.”

“I don’t know Zoe and frankly I don’t care at the moment I just want to leave here as soon a-“

“Hold on, notice that.” Zoe pointed to the number of floors inside the elevator. “We’re not on the top floor.”

“I don’t understand.” And he meant it to.

“We’re not even on the excs floor, look you need clearance to go up further.”

“Zoe I don’t thi-“

“Shut up, somethings not right here.” Zoe looked around once before stepping back onto the previous floor. She motioned for him to follow. Reluctantly Dracula walked out of the lift.

Zoe glanced around for a few more seconds before deciding something.

“Do me a favor, see that mechanic over there.” She nodded to other side of the office. “Distract them for me will you.”

Dracula let out another small sigh before moving but turned back around briefly, “You know I expect something in return for all my trouble in helping you.”

“I’d expect nothing less. Now hurry up.” She whispered.

Dracula made his way over and grabbed the mechanics attention with soft words and gentle hands. Zoe rolled her eyes as she approached from behind. Ever the charmer. Silently she searched for the key card. Finally she spotted it on the tool kit off to the side, not even on their person. Too easy.

Zoe swiped it.

*****

Back in the elevator Zoe ran the card through a security reader and the lift gave a small jerk as it moved upward.

“My, my Zoe, I hadn’t had you pegged for a petty criminal.”

Zoe flashed him a grin. “Not a criminal, just a Helsing.”

Dracula let out a soft chuckle.

A loud buzzing filled up the space suddenly and Zoe once again tore around in search of her phone. She froze though when she looked at the screen.

Dracula didn’t need to be a vampire to see her tense. Instantly he was on alert.

“Zoe, what’s wrong?”

She glanced up at him briefly before looking back at the buzzing phone.

“It’s Jack.”

“...Lucy’s friend?”

At the mention of the girl’s name Zoe flinched slightly.

Dracula felt himself relax, Jack wasn’t a threat. No matter how much the kid wish’d to be.

The elevator doors suddenly slid open. Zoe seemed torn before placing her phone on silent and stowing it away.

“I’ll call him back later.” Whether she was telling him or herself that, Dracula wasn’t sure.

They stepped out and instantly Dracula wonder not for the first time if Zoe had some sort of sixth sense for uncanny situations. They were in another office, bigger, nicer and far more expensive than the one several floors down.

“I knew it, I knew something was off earlier, someone or ones is trying to keep us from something.”

“The missing puzzle pieces maybe?” Dracula questioned hopefully.

Zoe made a beeline to the largest office in the room.

“I don’t know why, but I feel like we’re really close to something, of discovering something big and - and it’s here in this office.” Zoe didn’t wait for him before stepping through the glass doors. Dracula, finding his curiosity piqued followed after her.

****

TBC

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Love is Like the Flowers

Carry On Countdown

Nov. 25 Flower Shop AU

Simon

He’s here again.

It’s the third Friday in a row he’s shown up. Same bloody time.

Cheesed me off, it did, that first time.

Posh tosser just walks in here, minutes before I’m to close up shop. Strolls around like he owns the place. Wanders about, inspecting the day’s inventory like he has all the time in the world.

I’d wanted to get home, that first time. Not that there was anything to do at home, but at least I’d be home. Agatha and I had broken up a few weeks before.

A few weeks before this bloke decided to become a regular.

I didn’t come as too much of a surprise. The break up, I mean, with Agatha. Things hadn’t been good between us for some time. I just didn’t think she’d actually do it.

I’m honestly not as upset as I thought I’d be. I miss going out to eat with someone I suppose and having someone to watch the telly with at night but Agatha and I haven’t been more than companions for quite a while.  

I’m not sure when the spark faded away. I think there was a spark, once. Dating Agatha wasn’t really what I’d anticipated it to be. It had been comfortable and comforting in school but I’d had this whole romantic scenario in my head about what it would be like after we graduated.

It didn’t turn out that way. We just had less and less to talk about and even less in common.  Just kind of drifted apart, even though we were still together.

It’s all right, really. We’re still friends, sort of. I’d call her in a fix and I think she’d do the same.

But I was feeling sorry for myself, a few weeks ago, the night this bloke had marched into the shop—all slicked back hair, posh togs and elegant cheekbones.

He is striking to look at, I’ll give him that. Not much of a talker though. Doesn’t say much at all. Walks around for a bit then heads to the counter to tell me what sort of bouquet he wants in his cool, cultured voice.

I just gather the flowers, wrap them up and take his money.

I can’t help watching him though, as he strolls through the shop. My eyes just seem to follow him.

He’s at the counter now. The wind must’ve picked up outside. His hair’s falling into his face tonight, soft waves cascading past those sharp cheekbones of his.

It looks good like that. Makes him look softer, it does.

My face grows warm and I realize I’m staring.

What the bloody hell? Why am I thinking about his hair and stupid facial structure?

I get the flowers all organized and ring him up. I must just be knackered and not thinking clearly. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Mind’s wandering.

I can’t think why else I’d try to start a conversation with him.

“Your girlfriend must like getting these flowers every Friday,” I say.

His eyes widen.

They’re grey. Dark grey, like the sea at dusk.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” His voice is clipped and curt. Still posh as hell.

Fuck.

I flush all the way down my neck and I can hear Penny’s voice in my head. “Succumbing to the heteronormative stereotypes, Simon? Really?”

“Oh. Uh. Um. I’m sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.” I drop my eyes to the flowers and busy my hands with the wrap. And like a complete wanker I keep talking.

“Boyfriend, then?”

I’m mad. I’m an utter pillock. There’s really no other rational explanation for why I am still talking and saying such stupid things to him.

He raises his eyebrow and fixes me with a penetrating stare. “No, don’t have one of those either.”

Fuck.

But I keep on talking because I have utterly lost all control of myself. I’m sure he just wants to go home. I just want to go home. I don’t know why I’m prolonging the agony of this interaction.

But there it is, my mouth running off again. “That’s nice, then. Bringing a little bit of colour into the house for yourself.”

“They’re for my mother.”

I beam up at him now, finally on a safe subject. “Oh, that’s all right then. Nice of you to do that for your mum. Brightens her day, I’m sure.”

His face is expressionless. “She’s dead. I take them to her grave each week.” He drops two twenty-pound notes on the counter, sweeps up the flowers and walks out into the night before I even get a chance to give him his change.

Fuck.

Baz

I beat a hasty retreat out of the flower shop with only one thought in my head. Why am I like this?

Finally, after weeks of just staring at each other, he makes an attempt at conversation and I just sneer him into silence. As if I haven’t been going out of my way, coming to this specific shop every Friday for the past month, just to see this particular boy.

And then I fuck it all up by being a complete arse.

I’m seething at myself all the way to the station, the entire ride to the cemetery.

I pick my way to the stone that marks Mother’s grave and remove the wilting flowers from last week. The new ones take their place and I drop down on the grass next to them. I trace the outline of her name with my finger.

It calms me.

I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, as I watch the sun set over the city.

It’s hours later when I finally get home.

I curl up on the sofa, book in hand, but I can’t concentrate. I’ve made such a mess of this tonight.

I first saw this boy months ago, at my step-cousin’s wedding. I didn’t want to be there. I’m tired of going to other people’s weddings. I don’t even know her that well, some relation of Daphne’s that we rarely see, but since the wedding was in London I had no excuse not to go.

Dev was absorbed with his date. Some new girl he met at work and he’s utterly besotted with her. He was useless as a diversion. I didn’t know too many of the others and had little interest in speaking to the ones I did know.

It was an adult only affair so Father and Daphne didn’t bring Mordelia, even though my little sister is actually blood relations with this side of the family. It would have been far more interesting to spend time with her.

As it was we got there too bloody early and I was bored. I escaped the throng of well-wishers and went out behind the church to have a smoke. That’s when I saw him.

The florist’s truck was parked in back. There was a girl with purple hair gesturing wildly in the direction of the church and directing this boy to carry some giant flower arrangement in. I checked my watch. They were cutting it pretty damn close if they were still bringing in the decorations. The wedding was due to start in a quarter of an hour.

Didn’t envy him the conversation he was about to have with the bride’s mother.

He came out a few moments later, no sign of the purple-haired girl. She must be the one getting the lecture.

He was striking. Bronze curls, golden skin. He certainly caught my eye.

What of it, though? I’d never see him again.

I finished my smoke and reluctantly made my way into the church for the ceremony.

But I did see him again a few weeks later, at another wedding, this one for a friend from work. Same truck. Same purple-haired girl. Same bronze curls.

I got a closer look at him this time. This reception was outdoors, under gauzy white tents next to the church. The florists were busy dragging some of the bigger arrangements from the church over to the tent once the wedding itself was over and the wedding party was off taking photographs.

I parked myself against the side of the church, cigarette in hand, and watched them. He had to walk right by me three or four times, carrying large potted plants and then gigantic arrangements of bright flowers.

The third time I saw him was a little over a month ago at work. An after-hours reception to celebrate our newest acquisition and a meet and greet for the principals and staff. My office has a clear view of the elevator so I was able to watch him come and go for the hour or two before things got underway.

It seemed to be fate by then, bringing him into my life every few weeks, with his fascinating grin, mop of bronze curls, face and arms dotted with moles I could see even at a distance.

It wasn’t hard to get the florist shop’s information from the assistant who had planned the event.

It’s not all that far from where I live but it’s a long way from where Mother is. I used to always stop by the flower shop that’s right near the cemetery, on my way to visit her.

I’d walked by this place a few times since I had found its location but I only convinced myself to actually step inside three weeks ago.

And there he was.

I still don’t know his name. They don’t seem to believe in nametags at this shop. They do have a good selection of flowers though. I always find what I want for Mother, even though I go at the very end of the day.

I want it that way. I want to be the last customer, to not have other people around. In case I get the nerve up to actually speak to him.

But then he went and did it first, tried to make conversation, and I fucked it all up by being an arse.

I can’t go back.

I want to go back.

Simon

I can’t believe it when he walks in on Friday, right on cue, at five minutes to close. I thought he wouldn’t come back, thought I’d made a right bollocks of it by being such an absolute git the week before.

He does what he always does, walks in and strolls around without looking at me, so I let myself look at him.

He’s got a suit on, perfectly tailored to him and snug in all the right places. His dark hair is falling in soft waves again. His profile is arresting, his shoulders broad, his posture perfect.

I don’t know why I notice these things. Why I notice him.

I’ve been thinking about it, since last week. Thinking about him.

Longer than that, probably, if I’m going to be honest. Been thinking about him since the first time he came in.

I’m not sure why I’m so fascinated by him. I’ve thought about him a lot this week, when I was worried I’d never see him again.

It bothered me more than I expected.

Not in the ‘losing a customer’ way either. It’s more than that.

I look forward to seeing him and I think . . . I think I’m attracted to him. I’m not sure what that’s all about.

But his words from last week keep swirling through my head. I keep coming back to him saying he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

Or a boyfriend.

That he was more surprised when I mentioned a girlfriend. I can’t stop thinking about that. About what it might mean.

About why I’m so interested to know.

But I’ve got to get my apology out of the way first. I’ve got to apologize for being such an idiot and nattering on about flowers and girlfriends and such. When he was getting them for his deceased mother.

I really put my foot in it.

I’ll try to make up for it. I’ll try.

Who am I kidding? I’ll likely muck it up again no matter what I do.

Baz

I wasn’t sure if I should come tonight. I wanted to, I knew that. But I was such an arse last week. I don’t know what to say. I just tossed the money at him and stormed out. I don’t know what he’s thinking.

Simon

I wish I knew what he was thinking. He’s taking longer than he usually does. I feel like I should say something, apologize to him right now. But I was such a plonker last week. I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid again.

I always seem to say something stupid.

Baz

I’m delaying. I just need to go up to the register and apologize to him. I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath.

He’s staring right at me when I turn towards him. His blue eyes meet mine and his face flushes. I can feel my own heat up.

I lift my chin and make my way to the register.

I can’t decide if I should apologize first or tell him what flowers I want.

But he beats me to it.

Simon

“They’re on the house tonight.” I see his eyes widen when I say that.

What made me say that? They aren’t, exactly. He overpaid me last week, left without getting his change. And I decided just now, that whatever he orders, even if it’s more than his change, I’ll just cover it. As an apology.

“Excuse me?” He looks confused.

“The flowers. They’re on the house tonight. I mean, technically, they’re not actually on the house, because you overpaid last week. So, I suppose I mean they’re paid in advance. That’s more accurate. I mean, you left without getting your change last week, so I thought you’d just have a credit, so get whatever you like and we’ll call it square.” I’m babbling. I’m so useless at this.

But it doesn’t stop me from talking. I’m such a fucking idiot that I keep on going. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about last week. I shouldn’t have asked and I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Baz

He’s flushed and stammering and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s actually apologizing to me, when he’s got no reason. He was just trying to make conversation.

“No, really.” I stop him. He’s well into blustering by this point and I find I’m completely fascinated by the mole on his left cheek and the way his eyes are so blue, just a perfect shade of blue, and then my own face is heating again. “I was rude and I’m quite sorry.”

“You still overpaid. So, you’ve got a credit tonight. Pick whatever you like.”

“Thank you. . .” I pause and he gets the hint. “I’m Simon.” He puts his hand out. I take it. It’s warm and calloused and I feel a searing sensation thrumming up my arm from his touch.

“Simon.” I let my mouth linger on his name as I repeat it. His hand is still in mine and I force myself to grip it once and then let go as I speak again. “I’m Baz.”

“What can I do for you tonight, Baz?”

There are so many ways to answer that question and none of them appropriate for the moment.

“I need a bouquet again.” I tap my fingers on the counter as I think of what I want to say. “But I can’t think what I want tonight. Why don’t you surprise me this time?”

I can hear his intake of breath and his eyes impossibly widen further. “I can do that.”

He takes his time, longer than when he makes up my requests. He goes back and forth, pulling flowers up and then putting them back.

He brings it up to the counter finally. It’s a mix of white and pink lilies, white roses, a few sprays of pink hyacinths, blue forget-me-nots and to my surprise some blue irises and another bloom I don’t recognize.

It’s perfect.

“I hope this is all right,” he says, holding it out for me to inspect. “If there’s anything more or something you don’t like, just tell me. I don’t mind changing it.”

“No, no. It’s perfect as it is.” I reach out a finger and gently touch the unfamiliar violet flower. “What’s this?”

Simon tilts his head. “That’s purple statice. It’s got a colour close to violets but it works much better in a bouquet.” His brow furrows as he looks up at me. I’m a few inches taller than he is. “If you don’t like it I can switch it out.”

I reach out to touch the flower again. “No. No. I like it. It’s just the right colour.”

“Then I’ll get them all wrapped up for you.”

Simon busies himself arranging and wrapping the flowers, leaving me the opportunity to look at him. His hands, freckled and covered with small scrapes and cuts, make quick work of it and then his eyes are meeting mine again.  

“Here you go.” He hands the bundle to me and our fingers touch again. “Thank you for coming back, after last time.”

“I like your flower selection.” Truly, I am an idiot. That’s the best you can do, Pitch?

After weeks of making the trek to this particular flower shop, just to see this boy, I can’t even make sensible conversation.

I do like the flowers here. But I think I like the boy behind the counter more.

I just can’t tell him that without sounding like an absolute creeper.

The first time I came just to see him. I bought the flowers as an excuse for coming in the shop. And then I couldn’t help returning.

I wasn’t lying to him. I do buy flowers for Mother every week. I’ve done it for years. At first Father would take me to the florist shop near home and we’d go together. Once I was out on my own I’d just gone to the florist that’s closest. It never mattered where I bought them before, as long as the flowers were fresh and lovely and would last the week.

It’s always been more about spending time with her, thinking about her. It’s a ritual that brings me a small modicum of comfort. That makes me feel close to her again, if only for a little while.

I know she’s not there. I know she can’t see me. I know it’s more for me than for her. But tonight’s the first time I’ve let anyone else choose what flowers to give her.

And somehow, I don’t think she’d mind.

Simon

I think he likes the flowers but I’m not sure. He’s holding them but he’s got this faraway look in his eyes, like his mind’s not here. I’m sure he’s thinking about his mother.

I tried to pick flowers that have meanings, that signify remembrance and respect, but not a funeral type arrangement. I wanted it to be brighter somehow. Not so much grief as memory, I suppose.

He shakes his head and looks at me again. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I’ve kept you past your closing time.” “It’s all right. I’ve not got anything to do tonight.” “I’ll be on my way then. Thank you again, Simon.”

I like it when he says my name. There’s a softness to it, in that posh accent of his. “Is it nearby?” I have no idea what possessed me to ask that. He’s going to his mother’s grave. It was going so much better and now I’ve gone and mucked it up again.

“I’m headed to the station. I’ve got a bit of a ways to go. I don’t live too far from here but we didn’t when . . .”

I nod rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Don’t know what made me ask. I’ll let you go, then.”  

Baz

I should just leave. I’ve gone and told him I don’t live in this neighborhood and that mother’s grave is on the other side of the city. He’s going to wonder what the hell I’m doing here. It’s going to be utterly mortifying. I truly won’t be able to show my face here next week.

I’m not sure how we end up walking out together and I linger as he locks the storefront up. I’m weak, what can I say?

“You headed to the station?” I can hear my voice and it sounds desperate. Like I’m trying to prolong this conversation that should have ended many minutes ago.

“No, I just live down the street.” Simon’s eyes dart up to mine and then away to the street and then back to me. “Um. Uh. It’s in the direction of the station. So, we’re actually headed the same way, for a bit.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “If that’s ok, I mean, I’m going that way anyway, you don’t have to walk with me, I won’t be following you or anything weird like that.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and then jams it back in his pocket.

“It will be nice to have the company,” I say and he visibly relaxes. And shoots me a grin that nearly takes my breath away.

We walk in companionable silence down the street. Simon stops when we get to the tube station entrance.

“Have a good night, Baz.”

“You too, Simon. And thank you for your help and for putting up with me being an arse last week.”

He waves his hand at me. “Nah. You weren’t an arse. I was a complete numpty for making assumptions. Thanks for coming back.” Simon runs his hand through his curls and rocks back and forth before continuing. “I’ll see you next week, then, maybe?”

Does he actually look eager? I might be imagining it but there’s a definite glint of interest in my answer, I can see it in his eyes.

“Next week it is.” His smile definitely grows brighter at my words.

Simon

He’s back the following week.

“Hello, Baz.”

“Good evening, Simon.”

He’s standing in the middle of the shop, looking at me and I’m just staring back at him.

He usually just walks in and starts inspecting the inventory.

Baz isn’t doing that tonight.

Baz

I stand there and drink in the sight of him. He’s sitting at the counter, chin resting on his hand and a smile overtakes his face as he meets my eyes. I’m riveted.

I’m pathetic.

“What can I get for you tonight?” Simon stands up, his full attention on me.

I clear my throat and scan the shop. “Would you make up a bouquet for me again, Simon? The one last week was lovely.”

“I can do that. Same colors or something different this week?”

“Maybe something brighter.”

Simon bustles about the shop, collecting flowers and I take the opportunity to watch him as he works.

His creation is even lovelier than last week. More pink blooms and some reds this time, lush and fragrant.

We end up walking out of the shop together again and I wait for him to lock up, like I did the previous week.

“All right if I walk to the station with you, if that’s where you’re headed, Baz? I’m going that way myself.”

I was hoping he’d walk there with me again tonight.

I nod and he talks about his favorite shops along this street as we walk. There’s a curry take-out place, a small bookshop, a pub a few blocks further down.

My feet drag as we get closer to the station. I like listening to him talk. But inevitably we reach the spot where I need to leave him.

“Here we are then.” Simon stops, hands in his pockets and smiles up at me.

I don’t say anything in response. Can’t think of anything other than the fact that I don’t want to leave.

We stare at each other for another moment, neither of us moving. I don’t want to be the first to break eye contact. I don’t think I could look away if I tried at this point.

He leans forward. “Uh. Um. I’m probably going to head to the pub to eat. Haven’t done the shopping for the week and I’m not about to do it tonight. If uh, if um, not sure if you said you live close but if you’re back in the neighbourhood later tonight, maybe you’d want to have a drink?” Simon looks startled as he says that, as if that wasn’t quite what he was intending to say.

I answer before he changes his mind. “Yes, yes I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” I blink at him for a moment. “Which pub are you talking about?”

“Thought you said you live around here?” His expression is puzzled now.

“Oh. Right. Well, not too far is what I said, actually.” Two stops isn’t far, really, not when you take into account how big London is, after all.

“You don’t live around here, do you?”

Fuck. “Not quite. I’m just two stops away. Not far at all really.”

“You work around here then?”

Fuck.

No. Work is a change of line but he doesn’t need to know that. “No, work is a bit further away.”

“Then how’d you end up at our shop?” Simon definitely looks puzzled now. “It’s not on your way or anything?”

“Ah.” I’m wracking my brain for an excuse. I really hadn’t thought this part through at all. I don’t know what I’d thought, when I’d searched out the shop. I just knew I wanted to see him again. And once I saw him, I wanted to see him again. And again.

I think of the only plausible explanation I can confess to without embarrassing myself for all eternity. “I told you I liked your flowers. I recognized the name of the shop. You did some work for us, a while back, at the office. Thought I’d check it out for myself. Haven’t been disappointed.”

“Oh. Oh, all right then.” His face clears and a grin splits his face. It’s glorious.

I feel momentarily guilty for deceiving him but the true story is better suited to a different time. And place. And after I have a few drinks in me.

“You still haven’t told me which pub.”

His grin gets impossibly wider. “You mean it? You’d like to get a drink later, then?”

“I would.”

“Would it be easier if we met near you? So you don’t have to trek on back here?”

I shake my head. “No. I pass by here on my way back anyway. I’ll just get off on the earlier stop.” I look at my watch. It’s half past six. “It might be a bit later. Say eight to eight-thirty? Is that too late?”

“No. I’ll head home and shower and go ‘round the pub around seven-thirty to eight.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my mobile. I unlock the screen and pass it to him. He doesn’t take it, just gives me an odd look. “Put your number in. That way I can let you know if I’m running late. I can give you my number and if you change your mind you can just let me know.”

Simon takes it and taps at the screen. He hands it back to me and then reaches in his pocket to pull out his own mobile. “Not that I’ll be changing my mind but here, go ahead.”

Our fingers touch when I take it from his hand and I feel that surge of electricity again. I punch in my number and hand it back. “Why don’t you call me, make sure we’ve got it right.”

My mobile lights up a moment later with the caller ID showing “Simon Snow” with a smiley face emoji next to it.

“I’ll see you later then, Simon Snow.” I start to make my way down the steps to the station but I’m stopped by his hand on my arm.

“I forgot to tell you which pub.”

“Text me the name? Then I can get directions for when I come back.”

I’m on the tube when my phone buzzes with the name of the pub and a series of emojis from Simon.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes. I’ve finally got something interesting to talk about when I go visit Mother tonight.

title from New Order song The VIllage.