#mb i will actually look at open jobs tonight

[curiosity-killed]

you know when something happens and you're like "eh that's annoying but not a big deal" and then hours later your brain pops back in like "hey! surprise!! i'm actually super upset about this!"

[circe-and-the-wolf]

Still imagining that Abigail epilogue? Yes, I am.

In my mind, this is Joeys’s house. She has a visitor, as you can see 🧛🔍🖤

⬆️ (enjoying the luminance brushes on Procreate a little too much 😂)

📷 Fan art photo collaging using Procreate - photo of MG from ADOW - photo of MB by Luis de la Luz - stock/my own photos of garden furniture, foliage, house, etc. 📷

And there’s an imaginary scenario (for @cecipaez-blog1 ). I don’t own the characters, I haven’t properly studied the film, I have no idea what I’m talking about, really: it’s just for fun 🎡.

——————————————

A Visitor - Part 2 - Ready or Not

— imaginary mini epilogue to Abigail (2024) featuring Joey/Ana and Lazaar —

You often feel like you’re being watched. It’s a hazard of your line of work and the questionable company you keep. But tonight, as you clear away the debris of an evening with friends in your backyard, the feeling is palpable.

You pause to listen and gauge the sensation. The fairy lights strung overhead dance slightly in a warm swirl of summer air, making the shadows below you throb in and out of focus. A wind chime twinkles, with slight menace, from the garden next door.

Get a grip, you tell yourself.

Get inside and lock the door, your body tells itself.

Just as you have composed yourself and are about to continue the clean up job, a clear, luxuriant voice cuts through the warm night air behind you.

“Not interrupting anything, I hope?”

Your movement slows as immediately you identify the speaker. You straighten and speak his name:

“Lazaar.”

You are surprised by the evenness of your tone, when your pulse seems to feel the exact opposite.

You turn and, with another rush of the tepid breeze, he emerges from the shadow of a tree. His hands are in his pockets. His posture is soft. But his stare is far from it. He walks slowly towards you, enquiringly.

“I had friends over for dinner,” you gesture towards the empty pizza boxes piled in your arms and the beer bottles which clink together in your clawed fingers.

He nods and his gaze flickers towards the house.

“Everyone left,” you find yourself needlessly reassuring him.

“I see.”

You can’t quite see if he’s smirking but it feels as though he might be. As he observes the clutter in your arms, the movement of his eyes is languid and appraising. “May I?” he reaches towards the empty bottles to relieve you slightly of your load.

You’re taken aback by the offer, but agree, “Sure.”

As the bottles are transferred, you notice his nostrils flare. You realise he’s trying to ascertain what kind of company you have kept. His brow smoothes and you assume he is satisfied by his investigations; it was, after all, a girls’ night in.

Without being asked, he walks over to the bin store and deposits the bottles in the correct one. Returning to take the pizza boxes from your arms, he repeats the process. You observe that you find this bizarrely incongruous show of domesticity wildly attractive.

As he saunters back towards you, he looks at the open door to the house. You stand there wondering if you are actually going to invite a vampire into your home.

“Why are you here, Lazaar?” The question emerges low and slow into the sultry air. You didn’t mean it to sound so provocative but you’re coming to realise you have little control around this man. Creature. Fantasy figure.

The piercing gaze is on you now. The vampire looks slightly agitated by your question. You watch as he steels himself and sits down upon the garden wall. He shrugs:

“I find that you…” his gaze drops to his hands, “you… are on my mind.”

You take a deep breath to quell the lilting, fizzing sensation rising within you. You note the unassuming nature of his posture as he sits on the wall, deliberately metres away from you. Yet this calculatedly unthreatening stance does nothing to mask his agitation.

Numbed and blurred slightly by the moderate amount of beer you’ve consumed, you probe your instincts more carefully. You find there is no fight or flight here. No threat. You feel the same submissive calm of a few nights ago when you saw him in his garden. The same curiosity. The same heady lurch of your insides when he so much as looks at you.

“Ditto,” you hear yourself say, with a slight smile.

The look that now passes his features is positively devilish and you witness his first genuine smile at you in return.

But the warmth of the moment curdles instantly. You gasp as you notice the uniformity and whiteness of his teeth. They look normal and far from razor-sharp. A wave of nausea resonates with the shock pulsing through your body.

“Your mouth…” you breathe, your fingers finding your own lips by way of explanation.

His smile fades and he moves towards you but stops abruptly when you recoil.

“You’re not…” you breathe and your heart begins to thump as confusion and panic flood your senses, “you’re not in your true form. This - this isn’t you. It’s just an illusion… what are you doing? What game are you playing? Why are you here? I think you should…”

“Ana…” he interrupts, his voice gentle but stricken, “Ana, it’s all right…”

“I must be crazy. What the f*ck was I thinking…,” your mouth is dry and your legs are shaking as you try to back further towards the house.

“Ana, please,” his palms are raised in surrender as he takes two more cautious steps towards you. As the moonlit shadows slide over his features, you watch his face transform into something more familiar. His pupils darken until void of all light, his irises take on an ethereal glow and his fangs become clearly visible beneath a snarling lip.

Your heart stills as you realise that this sight, which should terrify you, has in fact achieved the opposite effect.

“There now…” he soothes, the old-worldly timbre chiming again in his voice. He tilts his face up to catch the moonlight further.

Otherwise he remains very still. Waiting. Watching.

His breath is patchy and you can see the anguish in his eyes.

“Why did you change?” your voice is unsteady, as though you might cry.

“My form… I can... I wanted to be something less alarming… more palatable… more safe.” His brow furrows and his lips close firmly. In the moonlight, you notice a muscle ticking in his jawline.

His vulnerability in this moment is exquisite.

“I did it for you,” he murmurs and this dissolves your doubt as swiftly as it had appeared.

“Well don’t,” you fold your arms but take two steps towards him, “don’t do that again.” your voice softens.

“I shan’t,” he bows his head reverently and relief floods through his tone.

When he lifts his head again, his gaze is searching, “But I want to take the form that you desire.”

The last word rips through you, quite literally, and he speaks again:

“How do you want me to be, Ana?”

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

The dating agency is back!!!

***

Chapter 3

MB’s office

3:52 pm.

Jade was the receptionist of the agency for a vast number of reasons: she was organized, efficient and ready for anything. Most of all, she was pretty good at getting rid of unwanted clients and trolls.

Jade probably weighed 120 soaking wet, but she was fierce. Her glare could make Thanos run for his life. And anyone that knew her could tell you that when the nail filling stopped, it was time to start running.

That’s not to say that Jade was a rude woman. Quite the contrary; the clients loved her and she was really nice and helpful. But she sure as hell didn’t have time for annoying people.

Or people with attitude.

“I have an appointment at 4.”

Jade raised her eyes from her computer and arched an eyebrow at the guy in front of her. She didn’t know this one, so it was probably one of the other girls’ new clients.

Her smile was serene. “Hello, good afternoon. Welcome to Madame Baggio’s dating agency. How may I help you?”

He stared at her and she stared right back at him. Finally he sighed. “Good afternoon.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Roan of Azgeda. I have an appointment with…”

“Lary.” Jade completed for him. “She’ll be with you in a moment. Would you like some coffee?”

“No.” Then Roan turned and went to take a seat next to Sabina Wilson -who had been fidgeting since she arrived.

The door that led to the offices opened and Tilim came out, talking to Fleabag.

Now, Tilim is one of the famous matchmakers at the agency. Her attitude was really no-nonsense, and she had a great eye for detail and shipping in general. Basically her job is to see the possible matches for a client and present the one she believes to be the best.

And the most important part of this job is to make sure the client is happy with their match.

“Now that you took a look at your options, you can think about it carefully.” Tilim was telling Fleabag. “There’s no rush.”

“This seems way too easy.” Fleabag pointed out.

“Over here this is the point. Canon is the hard part, here it’s fun, love, fluff and the occasional PWP to wash the soul.”

“Oh, yes please.”

Fleabag waved as she left, and Tilim turned to Jade. “Is my next client here?”

Jade indicated Sabina. “Over there.”

Before Tilim had a chance to greet the woman, the door opened once again and Eijiro Kirishima from ‘My Hero Academia’ entered the place.

“We have a lost anime character.” Jade commented.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.” Tilim assured her. She walked up to him. “Hello. Wrong company, Kirishima.” She informed him. “You need to go back and turn left on that purple sign over there, go straight through the Cartoon Alley and wait by the Anime Ocean.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, get some yaoi ice cream and I'll be with you tonight. I'm the night manager there.”

“Oh. Thank you.” He looked around. “I guess I got lost after the Fanfiction Gate.”

“It happens all the time.” She assured him. “I’ll see you later.”

Kirishima waved as he left.

“Miss Wilson?” Tilim called Sabina. “Ready to go?”

***

Roan sat on his chair and stared at the young woman in front of him.

If he was forced to define her in one word… It’d be cute.

“So what are you looking for?” She asked in a voice that made him think of Disney princesses.

It was a bit unnerving.

“I am not…” He cleared his throat. “This wasn’t actually my idea.”

“It hardly ever is.” She told him simply.

Lary was responsible for the first interview of potential clients. She tried to understand what they were looking for in a partner or just in general. She had one of those faces, one that made it seem like it was perfectly fine to talk to her about anything.

“I’m dead, so I’m not sure…”

“It’s okay.” She assured him. “You’re dead in canon, and we don’t bother with that around here. We can always throw you to another universe, or just give you an AU where you live.”

Roan frowned. “You can really do that?”

“Of course. We have Padmé raising her twins with Obi-Wan on another planet. Anything is possible.”

***

After the initial interview, the client’s profile was sent to Ayla, who worked on finding possible matches using their unique system. (A board on Pinterest).

She did preliminary matches that were then passed to the two official matchmakers (Arê and Tilim) based on the general information offered by the guests. There were the most basic stuff (like sexual orientation) all the way to the serious part (political affiliation and which side of the bed they slept on).

Just then, Ayla was glaring at her screen. She grabbed the phone and pressed a number.

“Yes?”

“Ully, why is Lorelai here?”

There was a long sigh from the other side. “Not my department. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lorelai Gilmore! She shouldn’t be here! She should be with Luke! They’re endgame!” Ayla protested.

“Ayla, I love you, but I’m dealing with a Morgana here -not sure which version. Put a note on her file, tell the Madame you’ll quit if she breaks the ship up.”

Ayla sighed and hung up. “I’m calling Arê. She’ll understand me.”

***

Arê was the second matchmaker of the agency. She had the same job as Tilim: to present potential ships for their clients, after Ayla had presented the options.

However, her approach was completely different from Tilim’s.

While Tilim was practical and objective, Arê was… All heart.

“Do you want some gummy bears?” She offered Frodo.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Thank you.” He took a gummy bear, then stared at it.

“It’s really nice.” She encouraged him.

Frodo put it in his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully for a minute. Then he grinned. “It is nice.” He agreed.

“Now, let’s take a look at your…” Arê’s phone started ringing. “Just a second. Hello? Moh!”

Now, Arê was a romantic with a romantic heart. She was the softest touch you could find anywhere… Unless she was upset with you.

And Moh was her fiancé. “Have you eaten already?” She was asking, after making a gesture for Frodo to wait a second. “You haven’t had lunch yet?! Are you kidding right now?”

Frodo winced in sympathy for the man on the other side of the line.

***

May pressed the button on her phone that put it on speaker. “Yo.”

“Yo?” Tilim snorted from the other side, but let it go. “I need help.”

“Yeah, professional help. We all do.” She said as she eyed the new piece she was embroidering.

“At the moment I need your help.” Tilim said pointedly. 

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Where can a witch and a megalomaniac have a first date?”

“Is that like a setup for a joke?” May asked, frowning.

“No. That’s my next ship.”

“Oh, okay then.” May put her embroidery down. “Let me check.”

May was responsible for finding dating options for the clients of the agency. As their clientele was very singular, it was something that took a whole lot of research, which she was very good at.

“There’s this kinda pub, where they serve drinks in beakers, like those conical flasks.”

“Sounds great. Thanks, May.”

“Yeah, no problem.” She grabbed her embroidery again. “Where was I?”

***

While the girls were hard at work finding true love for the clients, Paula was working hard in bringing in new clients.

Although most of the clients of the agency ended up there by accident, there was always the occasional proactive character who’d need their help.

Therefore, Paula worked in advertisements to let people know they could trust them to help.

“Paula.” Natane rolled her eyes. “You can’t put in the pamphlet ‘you’ll be happy, wanting or not’.”

“But it’s the truth.” Paula pointed out.

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is.” Paula insisted. “Most of our clients don’t even know how they got here. Much less how they got shipped with their new love, so…”

“But it sounds bad when you say it like that.” Natane whined a bit.

“Fine. I can lie if you want.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’ll charge extra for it.”

Natane gave Paula a flat look. “You have a salary.”

“Then I want a bonus.”

***

After everything was said and done and posted on AO3, it was also very important to make sure the clients were happy with their matches.

“I’m telling you, darling, it’s all great.” Ully said on the phone. There was a pause. “I know about the haters, but how do you feel?”

Ully was the one who kept in touch with the clients after the pairing was done to make sure they were living their happily ever after. 

As she was really good at talking to people -and, more importantly, listening to them -Ully took great joy in her work. It was nice knowing the couples were doing well and getting their fluff on.

“I know.” A nod. “I know.” Another nod. “I see, I really do, but there’s something you need to see. It’s your life, darling. Tell the others to fuck off. Nobody asked for their opinions. There you go.”

Another happy client.

***

Natane eyed her boss -the Madame - with a sort of resigned bemusement. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

The Madame grunted.

“I see…” Natane drawled. She had been working as an assistant for a while, and she was still surprised that this woman had managed to survive on her own for so long. It didn’t seem possible.

“I’ve paired Loki and Maleficent.” She pressed.

The Madame gave her a thumbs up.

“Are you alive?”

Another grunt.

“I will bite you.”

The Madame finally opened her eyes. “Not in the office.”

“Good to know I can bite you in another place.”

Natalia, the Madame’s second assistant and Natane’s sister, entered the room with a tray of mini cupcakes. “Open up.”

“Wha…” The boss’ words were cut by a cupcake being thrown into her mouth. She frowned, chewed the cupcake, swallowed it, then looked at Natalia. “Why are you stuffing my mouth with cupcakes?”

“My mother sent them to you.” Natalia informed her. “Your next appointment is here.”

Natane was the dreamer, Natalia was the mover. That woman was as practical as she was focused. In some days she was the only one that got the Madame to work on anything. 

This time it wasn’t necessary. The Madame sat right up. “Really? Right now?”

Natalia frowned, clearly suspicious. “Yes…”

“I’ll be back!” The Madame declared skipping out.

The Nats looked at each other. “Don’t ask me.” Natane said.

“No more sugar for her.” Natalia decided.

***

Quinlan looked from one side to the other. “I… I do not know how I came to be here.”

The Madame nodded. “It happens.”

He frowned. “I thought I had died.”

The Madame���s smile was serene in a really creepy way. “Only in canon.”

Quinlan was getting concerned. “What kind of place is this?”

“The kind that makes you happy. Now… Any preferences for dating?”