#to at least know he must work with Agatha instead of force

[dafukdidiwatch]

Martellus is still a sleezeball and a trashbag, but give him props on this. He understands the political station and status and situation he's in, and acknowledges the best way forward even if he has to swallow his pride for it. He has dignity.

[copperbadge]

i'm reading all the peter wimsey novels because someone recommended gaudy night and that's how i work, and now i'm up to the nine tailors and just finished murder must advertise (my favorite so far), but i found it really hard to get through have his carcase, which was odd since i loved harriet vane so much in strong poison. even the characters seemed to bugger off at the end of have his carcase instead of tying up all the storylines and sayers seemed disengaged after the first act or two. i liked the parts with peter and harriet, even the two chapters that are 99% cipher, but everything else felt weak. did you enjoy this one/why or why not? do you have a favorite of the wimsey novels other than gaudy night?

I may be inducing a fight by saying this but I think Have His Carcase is one of Sayers' weakest novels, and certainly the weakest of those featuring Harriet Vane. I tried to re-read it recently and couldn't get very far into it, and I'm a huge fan of Sayers. I think it's also a necessary book in order to create a complete story for them -- but I don't know that it's necessary to read it in the modern era, and certainly not necessary to re-read it.

(My other picks for least enjoyable: Five Red Herrings and Nine Tailors, both of which are visibly her attempts to write like Agatha Christie, one of her literary heroes -- and they're not bad books, I just don't like Agatha Christie style "clockwork" mysteries, which tend to sacrifice personality to logistics. I suspect this may have impacted Carcase somewhat. We will come back to this.)

Gaudy Night is actually not my favorite overall -- I think it's one of her best, but Murder Must Advertise is my favorite and in fact the first one I read. Which is hilarious because Peter spends a significant amount of time Not Being Peter Wimsey in it, but it's just such a combination of things I love. Advertising (which Sayers worked in and which she also clearly loved writing about), secret identities, crime rings, a hint of romance, office gossip...

Anyway, Carcase. I think the problem is that to get from Strong Poison to Gaudy Night, there has to be a bridge, and it has to be kind of an unpleasant one, and thus you get Have His Carcase. One of the major points of Harriet's arc is that Sayers wanted to contravene the "damsel rescued by the hero" narrative. Not so much because she believed women should save themselves or not, but because she believed that a relationship based on that kind of inequality, where one partner was grateful (or was expected to be grateful eternally) for being saved, was inherently unhealthy and unsustainable, and it was also a super common narrative at the time she was writing. This reaction to the narrative is most visible in her unfinished novel Thrones, Dominations -- which was finished after her death by Jill Paton Walsh, and I'm not a huge fan of the end product, but I've seen the original manuscript held at Wheaton and it's evident that this was a theme before anyone else took over, it wasn't forced into the plot.

In any case, Sayers had to get Harriet and Peter from victim and rescuer to equal footing, and while Gaudy does a lot of lifting in that regard, it doesn't do enough on its own, there had to be a previous groundwork laid. In a sense I'm glad that the grappling they have to do, which is sensible and intelligently written but also really unromantic, was done in Have His Carcase, so that it doesn't intrude more than briefly into Gaudy Night. Carcase is a lot about Harriet setting boundaries and testing whether Peter will cross them, and Peter reacting (sometimes poorly) to someone challenging him in ways he's unaccustomed to being challenged. Carcase is two people finding out the worst parts of each other so they can work out that they love the reality of each other anyways, which is what they're doing in Gaudy. But we have to witness it in Carcase, which is unpleasant. At least for me.

As she matures as an author and gains more power over how she's published, you can see Sayers trying new things -- after Bellona (another fave) she gets very literary with Strong Poison, and then seems to swing between these kind of torturous attempts at Christie's style (Herrings, Tailors) and incredibly sensitive, emotionally delicate books like Murder Must Advertise and Gaudy Night. Carcase is a weird combination of the two, where she seems to be applying the dispassionate Christie style to a book that wants to be Gaudy Night but can't be.

Anyway, even her less enjoyable books can still be pretty fun, and it's worth it to have books like Murder Must Advertise and Strong Poison, and the thrilling romance of Gaudy Night. But yeah, Carcase is a bit of a slog to get through.

[heliads]

A Matter of Metal

Based on this request: “an alternate version of magneto’s son and been in shield and been really close to hill and fury so sword has sent him to investigate the hex with the trio and he has the same powers of magneto and basically wants what agatha wants wanda powers and basically betrays sword/shield”

masterlist

Three people sit at a table. They are each dressed in shades of navy and black, guns obvious on hips and knives hidden on shins. The flickering glare of a fluorescent light casts shadows across the room. Despite all the resources of S.H.I.E.L.D., they’ve never bothered to get it fixed. The man, one black eye patch hidden in shadow, sits closer to the woman, whose dark hair is clinically pulled away from her face. They stare at a second man, one who returns their gaze without a shard of hesitation. Between the three of them, they know enough secrets about S.H.I.E.L.D. and the various governments to tear down the entire fabric of the world.

Instead, their focus is on a manila file folder, one that’s been slid across the table to the second man. He eyes it coolly. “You want me to investigate Wanda Maximoff?” Fury nods. “S.W.O.R.D. claims to have it under control. I’m not sure how much of that I believe.” Maria Hill gestures towards the folder. “You’ll be there as our eyes and ears. S.W.O.R.D. is willing to accept our help, but we’re fairly certain it’s only as a way to get us off of their back. You’ll have to be careful, Y/N, but we think you’ll be able to find out more than they’re letting on.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “At this rate, I’m not sure whether you’re sending me because you trust me or because you want to see what would happen if you sent another agent with abilities to tangle with Maximoff.” Fury chuckles at that. “Are you sure your powers don’t include mind reading? I can’t keep anything from you.” Y/N lets his stony facade break for a second as he laughs. “That’s why we’re such good friends.”

Hill smirks. “If you consider Fury a best friend forever, I’m getting worried about your mental state. You sure you’re up for this job?” Y/N grins. “I’m the only one you trust. If I wasn’t ready, you wouldn’t have asked me about it at all.” Fury nods. “You’re not just there to watch and wait, L/N, you’re there to act. If you feel the need to intervene, do so at will. We’ll defend you to S.W.O.R.D.”

The barest hint of curiosity flares across Y/N’s eyes. “You want me to go behind S.W.O.R.D.’s back?” Fury shrugs. “We want you to make the right decisions, even if they happen to be against S.W.O.R.D. direction. Use discretion, but do what you must.” Y/N nods, then begins to rise from his chair. “When do I leave?” Fury and Hill stand as well. “Whenever you’re willing. The first trucks leave in a couple of hours.”

Y/N turns to go, but a call from Fury makes him glance over at the man again. “And L/N? Take care. From what I’ve heard, things aren’t exactly smooth sailing over there.” A devil-sharp grin makes its way onto Y/N’s face. “Trust me, Fury. I can take care of myself.” Just as he says that, the room begins to shake. It’s not much, barely noticeable, but still there. Every metal thing in the room begins to contort for just a second, and then the moment passes and they smooth themselves back out again once Y/N disappears from the room.

Y/N heads quickly to his apartment. It’s not far from S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, carefully chosen for an easy escape if necessary. In this case, Y/N won’t be running away from anything. Instead, he’ll be running towards something, a risky shot that just might plunge him into a scenario far more dangerous than either Fury or Hill realizes. That’s why they’re sending Y/N, after all. No matter what, he always comes out on top, regardless of how deadly the situation ends up turning. In fact, the darker the scene, the better he works.

Y/N begins to fill a black case with a number of supplies. Clothing, weapons, you name it. Just as the case begins to fill, he pauses, and turns to a gunmetal gray box almost hidden in the back of the room. Y/N kneels before it almost reverently, and lifts the lid. Inside lies a helmet of dark metal, one that would be snug to the skull but extends down, cut away from the eyes like those of the Ancient Greeks. Y/N’s eyes close as he holds the helmet in his hands. It was not his, not at first. No, it belonged to his father. Erik Lehnsherr.

Erik had raised Y/N, both by his presence and his absence. They both shared the same ability to manipulate metal, to raze the earth if they wished. The only difference was that Erik was long gone, and Y/N was forced to stay here today. Y/N isn’t sure if Erik was dead or alive, or if that even mattered. Erik had vanished one night in a cloud of smoke, with the yells of men echoing over the pounding of heels on asphalt. He could be dead, or missing, or simply choosing never to return. In all honesty, it didn’t matter. Y/N remembers the key detail- the look of anguish on Erik’s face as he realized he was losing his family again, one final blow in a sea of countless injuries.

When Y/N leaves for the S.W.O.R.D. encampments, there is a metal helmet hidden in the black case on the seat beside him. He does not let it out of his sight for a second.

The truck is rocking back and forth, heavy tires digging deeply into muddy ruts as it travels along an only semi-paved road on the way to Westview, New Jersey. Y/N sits in the back with a couple of other new arrivals, but he does not speak to them. He rides with these nervously chattering brains and muscle only because he does not wish to stand out amongst the residents of the Westview encampment. Few people know the true importance of Agent Y/N L/N, and it’s best to keep his high level under wraps. This want for secrecy, however, is not enough to force him to converse with the others. Everyone has their limits, he supposes. This is his.

Y/N can sense the Westview encampment before he even looks out the tinted windows to see it. He can feel the boundary pressing in around him, the tendrils of magic practically reaching out to wrap around his brain. Y/N’s power is raw, has always called to others like it. Apparently his magnetism doesn’t just extend to metals. As the truck carries him closer to Wanda’s energy barrier, a pounding in his skull gets worse and worse, feeling like an anvil slamming against his temples.

Y/N does his best to hide any signs of weakness, but he must have a slight sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead or something, because S.W.O.R.D. Director Hayward raises an eyebrow when he greets Y/N outside of the truck. “You alright there, agent? What, you get sick on the way over?” Y/N isn’t in the mood for politicking. “You might consider questioning your driver instead. I think I’ve seen more technical skill in a fifteen year old with a learner’s permit.” As Y/N strides away, he sees a trio of friends exchange glances as they try to hold back laughter. He recognizes them in passing- Woo, Rambeau, Lewis, present in the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases thanks to their experience with Avenger-level threats.

Y/N arrives late in the afternoon, and sits in on a couple of debriefings before night falls over the encampment. S.W.O.R.D. isn’t exactly following through with the laissez-faire attitude they highlighted in their project write-up, but Y/N assumes that a few details were embellished to make sure Fury didn’t come after them. These details would include an accidental send-off of one Monica Rambeau into the so-called Hex, and a later disappearance of a S.W.O.R.D. spy at the hands of Wanda Maximoff when the man had been discovered creeping into Westview via the sewer system.

Clearly embarrassed to present these findings to an extension of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hayward had decided to wait on any further activity regarding Westview until the next day, or at least until things cooled down with Wanda herself and with the tensions already simmering between Director Hayward and the trio of Woo, Rambeau, and Lewis. Y/N waits until action on the encampment is beginning to settle down, when the dark cloak of night will hide his silhouette, and then slips out of his assigned bunk, heading towards the barrier to Westview.

If he thought the call to the magical energy was bad in the truck, it is a thousand times worse here. Yet the pure power of the boundary calls to Y/N even as it pushes him away. Y/N walks until he’s mere inches away from the shimmering scarlet surface. Around him, guards ignore his sudden appearance, their scopes and tech not picking up his figure. Y/N smiles to himself. It’s funny how easy it is to manipulate all that metal. Erik would have loved it.

Y/N turns his focus back to the barrier of Westview. He considers it for a moment, then pulls his father’s helmet from where it was hidden under his coat. He slips it on, and the pain dissipates to almost nothing. What remains instead is that same hunger, that same want for the power right before his eyes. Y/N reaches out a hand to touch the barrier, and his eyes widen for just a second as he makes contact. It is amazing how much is right there for the taking. Without another glance, Y/N steps through the barrier into Westview.

Agent Y/N L/N has been missing for only a couple of hours. Director Hayward issued a statement telling everyone at the encampment that L/N was out on a S.W.O.R.D.- authorized mission, that he will be back soon. Some people believe him, but more notice the crease of fury that has appeared on his brow, or the clench of his knuckles as he storms into the tech center where Darcy Lewis and Monica Rambeau currently watch the live feed of a drone,  one that has just been sent into Westview.

Hayward stomps up to the group, considers the monitor for a second, then nods to an awaiting technician. “Take the shot.” Monica, who had been speaking to Wanda through a microphone, freezes. “What?” Her panic is not enough to stop the missiles from clicking into position on the drone, or to have any impact on Wanda, whose eyes glow red as she shuts down all S.W.O.R.D. control of the drone. Monica’s live feed flickers into static.

Scarlet bands of energy wrap over the drone, and she turns away from it. Wanda does not notice the failsafe missiles still preparing to fire, or notice that anything is wrong at all until the launched missiles crumple in a tangle of wires and screeching metal. Wanda whirls around to see a man in a metal helmet standing across the street, his eyes fixed impassively on her. He releases his clenched fist, letting the buckling metal fall to the ground in tandem with his lowered arm. Wanda stares at him. “Who are you?” Y/N returns her gaze. “Someone who can help you get what you want.”

Scores of S.W.O.R.D. agents are clustering around the Westview barrier, watching as it flashes scarlet, rent apart as a woman steps through. She is dragging a broken drone, which she tosses at their feet. As she speaks, fear and apprehension begin to dawn on the faces of the gathered agents. Monica Rambeau steps forward and attempts to reason with Wanda. Director Hayward realizes that this negotiation tactic isn’t working and tries another option: outright threats.

Yet Wanda Maximoff does not seem concerned by the soldiers pointing guns at her, or at least not until Hayward snaps his fingers and a wave of fully automated weaponry focuses on her. “They’re not humans,” Hayward calls, “You can’t control their minds.” Then another voice echoes out from behind Wanda. “But I can.”

Y/N L/N, clad in his father’s metal helmet, steps through the barrier. He raises his arm, and all scraps of metal crash and crumple together, surrounding Hayward with piles of useless waste. Hayward stares. “Agent L/N? What are you doing?” Y/N laughs, the sound deep in his throat. “I’m making my choice.” Hayward seems taken aback by this betrayal. “What would Fury say?” Then, quieter, “What would your father say?”

An edge of stone hardens in Y/N’s eyes. “I wouldn’t know, because he is gone. Do you know what I remember from that night? I remember my father fighting to get back to me, but he was forced away because of your organizations and petty squabbles, all because you’re scared of people like us. People with powers. So, now that you mention it, I think he would be proud of me. I’m finally continuing what he always wanted.”

Hayward’s eyes narrow. “You would turn your back on S.H.I.E.L.D., on S.W.O.R.D., on everything, for what? A chance to use your powers whenever you wanted? You could do that here, you know.” Y/N appears disinterested. “Where you’ll hold it over me for the rest of my life? I’d rather not.” Hayward glares. “This is your final warning. We will be coming after you.” Y/N raises his arm again, and the gathered S.W.O.R.D. agents flinch away. “Actually, you won’t. I plan to make that very clear.”

Y/N’s eyes glint, and the entire encampment begins to shudder. Hayward turns to his officers as he realizes the unfortunate truth- everything here, the walls, the weapons, the tech, it’s all made of metal. A cold smile spreads onto Y/N’s face as he watches the encampment crash to the ground in a hail of sparks and ruined scrap, weeks worth of research gone in an instant. Y/N turns his back on S.W.O.R.D., holding out a hand to Wanda. “Ready to go back?” She nods, smiling, and accompanies him back inside the barrier.

Wanda is grateful for a new ally. It’s a shame, though, for if she were to see inside Y/N’s head she would see no desire to help her. Instead, what lurks underneath that helmet is an all-consuming want for vengeance, for power, for everything Wanda can give Y/N and even more that he can take from her. Even after just a couple of hours in Westview, Y/N realized that Wanda represents an untapped source of power, one that Y/N could call to himself as easily as drawing breath.

His lip curls when he thinks of Hayward’s last words to him. Mentioning Y/N’s father? That was a low blow. And besides, it didn’t even work. Y/N could laugh to think of how little Hayward knew of Erik Lehnsherr. Had Hayward known a fraction of Erik’s true goals, of all of his attempts to reinstate control to mutants and people with abilities, he would never have allowed Y/N onto his little base in the first place.

What would Erik think of Y/N’s decision? He’d be proud. As Y/N disappears into the shrouded city of Westview, feeling his own powers grow with every second that he spent around that beacon of energy known to the world as Wanda Maximoff, he sends out one last thought to his father. I’m doing what you would have wanted. I’m continuing the cause. S.H.I.E.L.D. had always held Y/N back, but he’s finally broken off all chains. It’s time to begin again. It’s time to create a new world, one where power is given to those deserving of it.

If Wanda Maximoff had any idea what would happen to her perfect little town, she would have run long ago.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mionemymind​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​    

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Well it’s been several months! Hope you guys haven’t forgotten about this little fic! I won’t keep you waiting too long! I highly suggest you read the second author’s note which can be located at the end of the chapter on either FFN or AO3 if you have any questions! With that said, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Huge thanks to @mitsukatsu for always letting me bounce ideas off of her! Thanks, girl! Hope ya’ll enjoy! -Jen

                                           Chapter Thirteen

Though the sky was shrouded in near darkness, the full moon peaked through just enough to illuminate the scattered clouds that blanketed the night. It was eerie to say the least and even Agatha, despite what she now was, stuck close to Dracula as they made their way down an off-beaten path towards the small village. If her still heart could, it would be beating with such ferocity that her very chest would've felt the crushing blow of each throb.

"You're awfully quiet." Her mate commented, offering his hand as they stepped over a log. "You have nothing to fear. It is quite a simple process and I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to you."

"That's not what I'm afraid of you." Agatha said quietly. "I am not worried about my sake."

"Then what?" The Count inquired, stopping them both in their tracks. "This isn't about your moral standards is it, Agatha? We've discussed this on numerous occasions. I only wish what is best for you. I think in time you will see that. How much, I cannot promise, but it will get easier." He smiled gently and tilted her chin to press his lips to hers. "Come," he urged. "Let us not wait. Time seemingly moves much faster than one would presume."

Part of her wanted to say something. Outright deny any participation in this immoral act. But perhaps it was her selfish love for him that even made her consider the possibility. Why was romance so damn desirable? Holding her in a vice grip where eternity with her former enemy was a far more pleasant option than being without? Was this love sickness? Could he feel the same way? That only made it worse. The former nun sighed, trying to clear her head of such thoughts. So much had happened in these past few months. Her skull hurt and she wasn't quite sure if it was due to her fall or just the strain of it all.

"Ah! We're here!" The excitement in Dracula's voice pulled the former nun from her thoughts. She looked to the vampire, his teeth glinting in what little moonlight shone from the clouds. "It's right outside the city of Brașov, secluded enough that we shouldn't be bothered." He reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. "Fear not," he murmured. "I will be right by your side guiding you the entire time." Though his words offered little relief.

The village was nothing special, far from appeasing to the eye. It was small, perhaps used at most for those passing through or people making just enough to get by. Agatha absentmindedly dug her nails into the palm of her hand, feeling their newly found strength press indents into the skin. Dracula was speaking to her, but his words sounded so distant as she took in her surroundings. As a greater part of her wanted to turn back and return to the castle, an unexpected sight captured her immediate attention.

"No, please! I'm begging you! Leave me be!"

From the entrance of an alleyway, a woman stumbled backwards, her hands outstretched as if in some poor attempt to protect herself. Agatha stepped forward instinctively, but found her mate's arm outstretched in front preventing her from going forward.

"Wait." He said quietly. "Allow this to play out."

Agatha threw him a look of horror about to protest when a stranger strode out from the shadows something glinting in his hand. Without warning, the figure slashed the object at the woman's neck causing a gurgling choke of surprise to escape past her lips. Something sweet filled the air. The scent was more alluring than any blossom the former nun could remember smelling. Blood. Fresh blood. Human blood.

Whizzing, the lady collapsed on the ground, too weak to ward off the man as he began to dig through what little satchel she carried. Finally snapping from her trance, Agatha looked in horror at the sight before her. At the intense feelings that bombarded her mind after witnessing what she had just seen. How both her former and immortal sides were battling against her sanity.

Agatha's eyes remained locked on the man's as he stood unmoved just meters from her. With her new found abilities, even in the nearly moonless night, she could make out the thick, crimson liquid as he dripped down the shimmering blade. It was almost teasing. Watching it fall to the ground below where it became soiled by dirt.

"What are you waiting for?" A voice coaxed softly from behind, its excitement barely masked. "Go, I'll follow."

Yet Agatha's attention was not drawn to Dracula. Instead, her gaze briefly flickered to the figure lying nearly lifeless off to the robber's side. The woman's hands wearily grasped at the deep slash drawn across her throat as her life blood gushed between her fingers. An easier prey, she knew, but not one of good consciousness. If the former nun was to kill, then there had to be a reason.

"Two for the price of one." She heard Dracula say from behind. "The girl is merely a mercy kill."

They had different ideas about compassion, and the younger vampire's attention redirected once more to the man. The soon to be murderer. If it could, her blood would be boiling. A strange emotion began to fill her. Almost primal in nature. Her smooth teeth began to shift as she took a step forward towards the thief.

"Stay-stay back!" The man warned, swinging his knife shakily between Dracula's and Agatha's direction. "I'm warning you!"

But Agatha's ears no longer heard the desperate, empty threats. Nor did she feel the anticipation of her mate by her side. Instead, she lunged forward and knocked the man to the floor. Predator finally becoming prey.

Fangs cut through soft flesh like a spoon through room temperature butter. Instantly a flood of hot, sweet liquid coated her tongue and flowed down her throat in deep, hungry gulps. Agatha wasn't sure what she had been expecting. As a child, she'd once fallen and bitten straight through her bottom lip. Through the pain, the blood had tasted salty. Unpleasant. But now, here where she feasted, it was like honey straight from the comb. This wasn't the putrid taste from animal gore. No. No, this was far, far delectable.

"Agatha."

A hand clamped down on her shoulder but Agatha ignored it, choosing instead to keep suckling away at whatever remained of her victim. The grip, though gentle, tightened slightly causing an unanticipated low grumble to escape from deep within the former nun's throat. Finally, she sat up, blood dripping unceremoniously down her chin. She blinked, slightly confused for a moment as she began to take in her surroundings once more. Dracula smiled fondly at her, an almost proud sort of expression. Agatha blinked again and, looking from the dead man to her lover, quickly wiped away at her chin in slight embarrassment.

"I must admit I am quite impressed." The Count mused, admiring her handy work. "You took to it much better than I had anticipated." He ran a hand through her hair, his dark eyes flickering away from the body. "Now might I interest you in some dessert?"

The blood that bubbled around the entry wound on the woman's neck was already blackening with clots when Agatha arose to her feet. With great care, the younger vampire made her way over, careful not to step on the crumpled body. The lady gazed up at her with grey, uncertain eyes, each breath more raspier than the prior. Perhaps she didn't see the act Agatha had just committed, or was too out of it to even fully absorb what had occurred.

"Scared…" It was about all Agatha could clearly make out. "Please…"

Ignoring what Dracula could possibly be thinking, his Bride gingerly sat on the ground and cradled the woman like one does a babe. Her skin was grey, cold as what little blood left stuck to Agatha like a paste. A waste, she knew, but her own needs were none of her current concerns. She held the woman close, as best as one could for both being around the same height.

"There is nothing to fear." The former nun said softly, her eyes locked onto the woman's. "Soon there will be no pain. No horror. Be at peace with your Savior. Go now with God."

Her pulse stopped and Agatha watched the woman's chest rise and fall one more time before all with still. Gently, she closed both eyelids, covering the irises that reflected the moonlight like glass. She turned her head to see Dracula watching her, his expression hard to read. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she lowered the woman back down onto the ground and rose to her feet.

"She didn't deserve to die like that." Agatha finally said, not turning to meet the vampire's gaze. "No matter what you say, I made the right call."

The Count exhaled. "I take it you know your way enough to start walking back towards the direction of the castle?" Agatha merely nodded and Dracula cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose then I'll clean up for tonight. We can make that a lesson for another day." He smiled, trying to lighten the tension. "You did well, Agatha. Give yourself some credit. We'll have to celebrate amongst ourselves."

Dracula kissed her cheek and Agatha forced a small smile. She tried not to look at the two bodies as her mate gave her hand a small squeeze. Though she physically hadn't felt this great in a long while, the repercussions of what she had done had struck her hard.

Honestly, she quite yearned for the vampire's company as she followed the trail that led back to their home. Right now, the idea of being alone wasn't all that pleasant. Then again, crushing the chest of a human to prevent it from turning was far less appealing. So she went by memory, trying to push past what she had done until the castle was in sight.

"Foolish, foolish…" She thought to herself, the brush and stone crunching under her feet. "Just let it slip away. If there is some higher power that thinks I have done some good enough to deserve the least bit of mercy, allow me to forget for a few precious moments."

A humorless chuckle escaped from between her lips. At least Dracula hadn't called her out on her biblical speech. That had taken her by some surprise. But as a nun, the dying always seemed calmed by the idea that God awaited for them with open arms and complete, forgiving nature. She hadn't quite understood that. Then again, she hadn't quite understood much of that the more she considered it.

A pair of arms wound themselves around her waist just as Agatha reached the top of a hill. Dracula pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled. She could smell the heavy scent of blood on him, though it was far from pleasant. Corpse blood never did have the same effect she was beginning to pick up.

"You walk too terribly slow." He murmured against her skin. "If I were a fox and you were a rabbit, you'd be dead."

"Always lovely with your analogies." Agatha snorted, rolling her eyes. "And we both know I'm too wise to be a rabbit." She paused, hesitation in her voice. "Is it done?"

"As I've said before," Dracula turned the former nun so that she now faced him. "You are my true bride. I have no intention to turn others." Her eyes narrowed, pressing him for a better form of confirmation. "Yes. You have nothing to worry about." The Count exclaimed, admiring her in the moonlight. "Have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?"

Forget. Forget. Agatha gazed up into his dark eyes, taking in the lust and excitement that they held. She could taste the thief lingering on her tongue. Feel the dried blood from the innocent woman against her skin and on her clothes. Forget. Forget. She wanted to block it out. And here stood Dracula. Completely unaware, far too focused on what he thought was right. Was okay. In that moment, she needed him to help her forget. Wanted him to make her forget.

"Then show me." She whispered, his eyebrow quirked in surprise as she moved his arms to the straps of her dress. "You tell me I'm exquisite, but words have no meaning over actions." Agatha locked eyes with him. "Take me here. Right now."

Dracula's lips curled into a smile. "I did not realize how much tonight meant to you."

A blur of emotions. A tidal wave of feelings. Agatha bit her lower lip, glancing once at the night sky before back at her lover. They still had time. A few hours before dawn. They'd make it back. She just needed to be distracted. If just for a little while. Forget.

Agatha forced her second smile of the night. "Then let me show you."

[edrodgg]

My Candy Love - Love Life | Episode 6 Guide | Castiel

Outfits: 

The first is for Castiel / Hyun.    

The second is for Nath/ Priya.  

The third is for Rayan.

~ Translated content, so wording may be slightly different in My Candy Love.

Negative answers ( - )

Positive answers ( + )

Neutral answers ( / )

AP: 1050 ( approx. ).

Rosa and Castiel:

I understand your point of view, Rosa. But there, Castiel is really under a lot of pressure. Totally unfair. ( + )

Rosa may not be wrong, Castiel ... I know it's hard, but in absolute terms, it's not been so long since this whole affair broke out.

Rosa: Do you want us to call him??

Are you going to tell me that you don't want to know, maybe ...? ( / )

No. If he needs to talk to us, he knows where to find us. If it is found he needs to be alone. ( + )

Yes! It is not good for him to be alone in his corner. ( - )

Nina:

Nina ... I'm sorry but ... is there anyone else who could go see your mother? At least until the early afternoon…? ( - )

Look, Nina, don't worry. Go see your mother. It's more important. I'll manage it. ( + )

Bepray: How did you do it?

I developed a new clientele by increasing the activity of the gallery… ( - )

Without firing anyone, anyway. I managed, as I promised you. ( + )

Bepray: We really believe in local industries.

Ah yes, you really don't doubt anything. A month ago, I was plagued, now you roll out the red carpet for me ... ( / )

It may be a bit premature, but I keep that in mind, if necessary. ( / )

Bepray: You cannot imagine the number of small businesses that had to close the day when their only client experienced a reversal of fortune.

This is very good advice. I take note of that. Well, I don't really have time yet… ( + )

Oh, I don't know ... It's already a lot of work. And Mr. Aberny looks pretty solid, financially. ( / )

Eva: Oh ... But ... What insolence! Candy, are you going to let him talk to me like that, anyway?

I'm sorry, Eva. He begins. You can understand that he has something else to do, right? He is a little stressed. ( + with Castiel )

I'm sorry, Castiel, but she's right. This job is also in contact. ( - with Castiel )

Castiel: But I work better when I am rested. I'm going to tangle the brushes, by force.

Okay, so take the inventory for me. I'm going to replace you indoors.

I'm making your coffee to help you hold on! Come on, go to work! ( + )

Chani: Ah, great. It's kind of him. So how is your new recruit doing?

There is good and not so good, but I will not complain. It's already lovely to have accepted. ( / )

Perfectly! If I could, I would hire him! ( / )

It is complicated. Finally, I cannot blame him. It's already lovely to have accepted. ( / )

Hyun:

I'm really sorry, but I can't afford it ... ( - )

But hey, it's your sister, I'll see what I can do. ( + )

Dan:

It's a bit short. Don't you think we risk exhausting buyers at this rate? ( / )

Ten days… It's going to be sporty, but I can manage it. ( + )

Ten days? You do not believe it! The last time, a fortnight was barely enough. ( - )

Dan: What do you have in mind?

I thought ... Yael also takes care of the press relations of his artists. Maybe she could help us. ( - )

Given the delays ... I think we will have to settle for the bare minimum: on-site posting and mailing. ( + )

Eric: It's true that I was fully into our investigation, with this new track, I only thought about that ...

Well, you were taken, it happens… You are someone passionate about his job, it's better than the opposite. ( + )

Finally, she exaggerates a bit, doesn't she? She too could have called you. ( / )

It is true that I, too, would have made a little face, in his place. A week is a long time.

Eric: And I wonder if it's all worth it to continue…

Indeed, everything you tell me there is not a very good sign… ( / )

But yes! Of course, it's worth it. We are still better than two than alone, right?

You know, the couple is never easy. We, too, sometimes argue. ( / )

If you choice the third option

Eric: Don't tell me that you too are fighting over and over…?

You would be surprised ... It remains between us but, these days, we take a little more head than usual. ( / )

No, it's true that, lately, we happen to have disagreements, but not to this extent. ( / )

Agatha is in the alley. ^^ 76 AP

Castiel: You can never really be quiet in the era of 4G…

At the same time, if people come to consume to see you, I will not complain ... ( + )

Oh, stop ... I'm sure it made you a little happy, basically? ( - )

Yael: UKJ is one of the most promising talents in lousy art. It's a heavy trend in art.

It takes time to adapt, but the idea is not uninteresting, I think ... ( / )

We agree. I'm sorry, Yael, but it's going too far ... ( + with Castiel )

Steve: I didn't think it was that bad.

You must confuse ... It's true that he looks a little like him, but he's just a student who is making a replacement. ( - )

So ... Can you keep a secret? He gives me a hand for the day, but he doesn't want it to get out. ( + )

Hyun: You have to start at some point, right? You too, Candy, when you started, it was ...

Hyun ... I'm interviewing in my cafe there. This may not be the time to recall my beginnings… ( / )

Haha, yes, a real disaster! Fortunately, you were there. ( + )

Okay, Hyun, she can answer on her own, right? ( - with Hyun and + with Dambi )

Castiel: Oh, it's okay, huh ... You wouldn't even talk to Pancake like that ...

But next time, I'll ask him if I want help, instead of you. ( - )

Well, Castiel ... You have to face the facts ... It was not a good idea. ( / )

Must say that he obeys without arguing when asked something ... ( + )

Dambi: I'm sorry ... I had not seen the foot of the table ... Wait, I'll get the broom.

Well, it's just dishes, it happens ... ( + )

Try to be a little careful… ( / )

[anncanta]

Lullaby

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Or read below

Sokolov tried to stay. Muttered something about how the captain should go to the bottom with his ship, that he would not allow her to sacrifice herself alone... Something else. Agatha did not listen. Almost forcibly pushing Sokolov into the boat and making sure that it sailed a sufficient distance so as not to be affected by the explosion, she moved away from the side, and... stumbled upon Dracula.

‘Why did you let them go?’ looking at the Count and feeling her head emptying, and her legs becoming cold and heavy, asked Agatha.

‘You can't eat them all,’ Dracula said with a shrug. He turned around. ‘Let's go on deck.’

‘What for?’

‘From there you can see the bay.’

After watching Dracula climb the steps leading to the captain's bridge, Agatha gathered her last strength and took a step behind him.

It was cold on the bridge and the stupefying smell of the sea. Agatha leaned aboard, thinking briefly why the scent was so clear just now. It must have been some sort of fresh air intoxication after being in a stuffy cabin, she decided.

‘How are you feeling?’

Dracula stood at the helm, holding a heavy wooden wheel with one hand and resting the other on a time-polished rim.

‘Mortal like never before.’ She closed her eyes, grinning. ‘What about you?’

The answer slid along the edge of her mind, barely touching it.

She opened her eyes.

‘Look,’ Dracula held out his hand and leaned forward slightly. Agatha glanced where he was pointing. ‘The pawn has reached the eighth line.’ He hesitated and, straightening, turned to her. ‘It's a pity there won't be another queen.’

She didn't answer. The salty air blew over hot cheeks, scratching at the skin. Running her hand along the rail of the side, Agatha came across a burr sticking out of an old tree. Blindly stroked and circled it. She remembered the fuse left unlit in the hold, the helpless gaze of Pyotr getting into the boat, the blood on the deck, the gallows, and the dimly glittering number nine on the wide-open door.

And also – candles in shabby bronze candelabra, an elegant chandelier on the ceiling, and a brown-gray tint of stone walls. Freedom and lightness and the feeling when you can say what and how you really want, and not because it is good, decent, and correct. When the pieces moving around the board are not a goal, but an excuse to look into each other's eyes.

Agatha had a week to think about it. A week in order to find a hidden unaccounted box, to listen to unusual and suspicious sounds, to the whisper of the sea, to herself – to think and remember.

‘The kiss of the vampire is an opiate.’

Many years ago, working in a hospital in Budapest, an inexperienced nurse who did not even know the basics of chemistry and at first confused drugs for the stomach and for healing wounds, one day she mistakenly drank a tincture of Philonium* left by a doctor for one of the patients.

Agatha remembered well the insane delight and acute excitement that seized her then. She remembered how she left in the middle of the watch and wandered around the city, gasping for breath from incomprehensible happiness rolling up to her throat, smiling a drunken smile, looking into the faces of passers-by in search of something unknown.

None of this was in the least like what she was experiencing... in cabin number nine.

She thought he had somehow brought her to his castle. Thought... God, thought what?

‘Would you like to look at the shore?’ Dracula's voice pulled Agatha out of her stupor. She lifted her head and stared at him. ‘This is where the journey ends,’ Dracula said.

Agatha nodded. Letting go of the board, she took a few steps towards the Count and stopped opposite.

‘I wanted to blow up the ship,’ she said. ‘Down there…’ she hesitated, ‘a gunpowder…’

‘I know. Good job.’

For a minute Agatha stood motionless, and then stepped forward and buried her forehead in his chest.

‘How tired I am,’ she said, feeling the tears run uncontrollably down her cheeks. Somewhere in the periphery of audibility, the steering wheel creaked, and his hands wrapped around her. ‘If you knew how tired I am of you.’

For several long seconds, she simply cried, as if this could help expel from herself or calm down the disappointment, pain, and resentment that were tearing her from within.

Waking up from a dream can be difficult, the Mother Superior once said. It was not the first time that Agatha had to admit that she was right.

She cried, and Dracula held her with both hands, without saying a word, and minutes passed by them, silently flowing into the darkness.

A shudder that engulfed her body as her tears dried up forced her to pull away. Raising her head, Agatha looked at Dracula. He looked at her in silence, and nothing could be read on his face.

‘Do that already,’ Agatha begged and tried to escape. ‘For God's sake!’

Her efforts didn't make him budge one iota. Instead of answering, he only grabbed her tighter, hugging her.

Once again pressed to the slightly damp fabric of his shirt, Agatha was silent for a while.

‘When I’m not constantly busy running after you or from you, I start to get scared,’ she complained.

Dracula laughed.

Running a hand through her hair, he made her move away and look at him.

‘Be patient,’ he touched her cheek with his hand. He spoke after a pause: ‘It will end very soon, I promise.’

Silently Agatha looked into his eyes.

The barely swaying wooden planking of the bridge chilled her feet through the thin soles of her shoes. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a seagull flying past the port side.

‘When I was a little boy…’ said Dracula.

‘You were a little boy?’

‘Hush,’ he touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb. ‘When I was little boy,’ he continued, touching her hair again and burying his fingers in the heap of tangled strands, ‘I had a nurse. An old woman from the Hutsul Carpathians. I was afraid to sleep alone in the room, and she sang me a lullaby – she sang to me until I calmed down and stopped struggling with sleep. I still remember that song.’

He ran his hand over her cheek and began to sing.

He had a warm, deep voice, – baritone, Agatha remembered. This tone of voice is called a baritone.

The song was calm and gentle, slow and simple. Agatha did not understand the words – the language was unfamiliar to her: not Hungarian, Polish, or Romanian, which she had heard where she lived. One phrase was repeated constantly – full of light hissing, like the whisper of a wave.

‘What does it mean?’ Agatha asked during the break between two verses.

‘Sleep, love, everything is fine,’ said Dracula.

Agatha nodded absently and laid her head on his shoulder.

Dracula's voice became quieter but still sounded confident. Concentrating on the lullaby melody, Agatha closed her eyes.

When he picked her up in his arms and carried her somewhere, Agatha did not resist. She only moved when she discovered they were on the passenger deck.

‘Not number nine,’ she said.

He smiled, stopping at the next door.

‘The sixth is free.’

Shutting the cabin door behind him, he went inside and lowered Agatha onto the made bed against the wall.

She watched him sit on the edge of the bed, forcing herself not to turn away or move.

Still, she shuddered when he took her hand.

Bringing her palm to his face, Dracula pressed his lips to it.

Agatha was silent, staring at the long strands that had strayed from his perfect hairstyle, darkening against the background of her unnaturally pale skin.

‘My patience is running out,’ she said.

Dracula raised his head and looked at her with a smile.

‘Just a little more,’ he asked.

She could not tell how long they sat, looking into each other's eyes, before Dracula turned away and, taking possession of Agatha's palm again, pulled it towards him.

Agatha looked down at the open collar of his wide white blouse. With one hand, Dracula was holding an aspen stake against his chest, with the other he put Agatha's hand over the stake.

Agatha looked up at his face.

Dracula smiled.

‘Free me,’ he said.

Agatha licked her dry lips. Hundreds of thoughts and feelings attacked her at once, but all she could ask was:

‘Why?’

He paused.

‘I have many answers,’ turning away, he looked at the horizon visible in the porthole; the sky above the hills was beginning to brighten. ‘So many answers have accumulated over four hundred years.’ Dracula turned to her. ‘But the main one,’ he smiled, ‘or, rather, the one that now seems to be the most important to me – I don't want you to run after me or from me.’

Agatha was silent. Her fingers clenched and unclenched on his hand, which wrapped around the stake.

‘But that’s not necessary at all,’ she said, and pulling the stake toward her, pulled it out of Dracula’s palm and threw it away.

* Filonium is an ancient opium-based remedy for the treatment of stomach cramps and dysentery. According to a number of sources, it was used in the English Pharmacopoeia until 1867.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 13

Being married to Lila Rossi, now Agreste, for six years has been... an experience. The woman goes through life following her own path and coaxing people left and right, while he cannot say or do anything without the sole control over his mother's life being lost. Why would a man like Gabriel Agreste who claims to love his wife so much do such a vile thing? The worst thing is that he managed to sustain him legally and catch him with the last woman in the world he would have thought of marrying.

He must remain married to Lila as long as his mother remains in a coma or the hospital will be forced to kill her. Adrien has no other words for what would happen if he divorces her, but it's so sad to be married to a woman he doesn't love and he's the only one who must fulfill the damn contract, because if they discover an infidelity is the same as divorcing.

His mother deserved more, if she had followed that childhood love instead of his father, she woulded be happy...

Chloe and Marinette have been looking for ways to free him from torture, even Felix decided to help in order to free him from his sad fate. At least, it stopped being Chat Noir or that could have played against him, with how easy Lila manipulates people. He get migraines just from imagining making a mistake.

"Adrien, I'm going out to eat with Alya." Lila appears in his field of vision in her usual expensive way, always looking like he's attending a fashion event (which means expense and that translates directly to him working as a slave in different contracts. She makes her money, sure, but her expenses exceed those gains.) She barely looks at him as she checks her phone, probably talking to Alya or one of her lovers, not that he really cares.

"Sure, say hi on my behalf." She turns to leave, but Adrien stops her. "Remember that today we will have dinner with Michel Laforet for next month's charity event. "

"I wouldn't forget it."

They say goodbye barely looking at each other. Adrien is busy reviewing the job proposals, Marinette sent him a couple of locations to investigate a few weeks ago, due to a group of drug traffickers who settled in Paris and need to know their links, he of course must follow their leads and possible connections to find a way to disrupt it. He's now free to continue his work, especially since the MT is busy dealing with Akuma.

He was very surprised when he saw his first Akuma in seven years, he is also quite fearful of what this new villain intends. The way he has attacked, his champions are very different and, consistent with his cousin, he seems to be trying to measure the heroes. For that reason, he approves of Marinette's approach of keeping Luka in a safe place so that no one notices the use of the second chance, that way the villain will never know if his plans could have been altered in any way.

Wait this time it doesn't last for several years.

Now if he could understand why they want him to model in a banana suit for a soup ad, maybe he could consider it.

-----

The Anibiotic: How are bananas and soup related?

Wild goat: If it's another one of your jokes, I swear by Satan that I'll burn your house down

Silent Hill: I approve the plan

Plasticine: Your jokes are really bad, bro

Dragon Tamer: I think this is a serious question

The Antibiotic: It's a modeling proposal

Needle: They offer you the weirdest roles

Plasticine: Like the sardines!

Three balls: that was good

Not in hell: Maybe it's a way to get attention by putting two discordant elements together

Not in hell: You guys are that strange

Almost pretty: Pleasant

Wild goat: We are great, you know, there is no other creation as stylish as us

Not in hell: I would keep my comments, but I completely disagree

Dragon Tamer: If you start a discussion about this, I'm going to ban you from the chat

Wild goat: Tyranny! I will arm a revolution

Plasticine: Maybe it's banana soup. You don't understand art!

Three balls: Neither do you

Perfect Crime: You’re a disappointment

------

John Constantine was not planning to spend his morning avoiding being stabbed by a ten-year-old boy, nor avoiding being eaten by two German shepherds. But there he's, avoiding the edge of a Swiss knife as he tries to shake off two huge dogs without hurting them, because he's sure the boy's murderous intentions would triple if he hears a single screech from one of his pets.

He may not have met Damian in person, but he know enough about him from the chats and from what Marinette shared with him.

"Look, kid, stop, okay? Damn, I haven't drink enough for this... "

"Why?"

"I don't read minds, kido, you'll have to explain yourself." Damian frowns and presses the knife against the blonde's neck, if it wasn't for the dogs he couldn't have him subdued. The Kwami hesitate about what to do, they are talking... only in a very violent way.

"Why are you do with my mother?"

"Did they give you the talk yet? Because it would be very uncomfortable for you to receive it from me. ”John looks at the boy, who doesn't flinch at anything and seems ready to stab him. It would be better to collaborate, he doesn't want to harm the child, he can only imagine the adorable woman's anger if her son is hurt in some interaction between them. "Sure... Sexual attraction, simple like that. I don't pretend to be your father or to be a stable romantic couple, she deserves something much better than me. I'm just content to enjoy our time together, happy?

"Don't you want to be my father?"

"No, I'm the worst candidate for that position. What made you think that, kid? "Now it's his turn to frown. Much love can be had (he will not deny it), but both are aware that they would be the ruin of the other, he doesn't want to condemn her to a life as dark as his and expose her to all the demons that follow him, she truly deserves something better than misery fllow him.

He also knows that, despite all his complaints, Plagg has told him that he's its true owner and that his soul is balanced with that of Marinette, that's why they gravitate around each other and could trust as if they were born together. That doesn't mean they are romantically good to each other. Sexually? Magical, but the romance in their lives has been tragic and putting that together, well, it could be a problem for everyone.

"You've been with her for four years."

"We are mainly friends, confidants. Do we have sex? Yes, do we want to get married and have more children? No... We would just be miserable. Those stories that soulmates are happy together? Son, these are lies, romantic shit from movies and junk books.

Damian recoils, shocked by the information, all of it. Her mother had hinted at a casual relationship, but the look in her eyes told him otherwise. Soulmates? That doesn't exist, but the Kwami didn't exist for him either until his mother introduced them to him. Wretched? He need to analyze what he have learned.

"Why do you say that?"

"Experience, son. Do you want to sit down or go for a walk? The second seems to excite your friends more."

Damian snaps his fingers and the hounds stand beside him, freeing Constantine. Her kind gaze is very dark, long-suffering and ironic.

Just when he's about to answer, the alarm on his phone goes off and he knows what it means.

Akuma attack.

"Go away, I won't say anything."

Damian nods and Kaalki opens the portal, just look at the man's tired posture for a moment before breaking through the portal back to the MT. Agatha and Edgar just behind, have a job to do.

-------

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

What a wonderful day for an Akuma attack. Somebody take the stick out of the villain's ass because the beast is horrible, nor Hawkmoth dared so much

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

WHAT HAPPENS WITH PARIS? IS IT A VIOLET DOLPHIN WITH BAT WINGS?

The Last Hours @Toogoodtodie

@TheFlyingGrayson Paris would appreciate if you blocked any information on the city from external sources in the country, if you do not know how, you can contact the @MaxKan_Tech offices to receive information

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

@Toogoodtodie ok?

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

@TheFlyingGrayson @Toogoodtodie Subtle, Anthony. Please, Mr. Grayson, contact my office and we'll make your stay in Paris much more pleasant. You can also contact the prosecution to find out the legal procedures for staying in Paris and the security regarding the Akuma

Marc @MarcAC_twt

Does our villain use drugs?

[recentanimenews]

OPINION: How Umineko Changed My Entire Approach to Fictional Media

All screenshots captured on Playstation 3 by author

  The following article contains a discussion of thematic elements and motives that appear during the second half of Umineko When They Cry. While no actual plot details will be revealed, some might still consider it spoilery. So if you want to experience one of the greatest pieces of fiction ever completely untainted, you should check it out on Steam right now.

  The internet is pretty rad, isn't it? You can follow your favorite creators, watch tons of awesome shows, and talk about your favorite things with other people. How about we do that right now? Well, too bad, because YOUR FAVORITE THING IS BAD, ACTUALLY! You made the mistake of posting about it online, so prepare to be sent lots of negative comments linking to 5-hour video essays pointing out every single flaw about your favorite story and why you are wrong for enjoying it!

    It's a situation I'm sure many of us have experienced at least a couple of times online. While the internet can be fantastic for finding like-minded people to chat with about things you deeply love, it can also be a gamble and sometimes you end up in a discussion where your conversational partner seems more interested in showing off their intellectual superiority over a work instead of openly discussing its merits or flaws. I certainly know — I used to be one of them.

  "As I've eaten my way through countless tales to escape boredom, I haven't really been eating them. I've just been killing them." - Hachijo Tohya

  The rise of social media has opened the gates for some incredible in-depth discussion and has changed the way I experience things over the years. But there is also a dark side to the discussions on the internet and that is the trap of wanting to feel intelligent in how you approach stories, which is often accompanied by not really being emotionally earnest. I myself tried to come off as perceptive by pointing out so many mistakes and bad things about media which led to exactly one thing: me becoming absolutely miserable. All I cared about was consuming as many things as possible (FOMO's also one of the many downsides of social media) and appearing as "smart" about them as I could. Until one fateful 10-month stretch in which I played a certain visual novel known as Umineko When They Cry.

    Umineko really is tailor-made for catching people with that mindset: It depicts a mystery story about how mystery stories are told and consumed — and what genre would be more fitting to challenge someone concerned with intellectual superiority than one that is all about the clash of Author vs Reader? 

  "Books aren't a competition. It's not about who's read the most. But boasting that you've read all your ever need to read is just as wrong-headed" - Battler Ushiromiya

  Umineko starts off with a well-known mystery trope: A family meets up in a mansion on a distant island, gets cut off by a storm, and then slowly gets murdered one after the other until everyone is dead. And just as in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None (which served as one of Umineko's main inspirations), a bottle detailing the events of the incident to the public eventually washes ashore. But this only serves as Umineko's prologue, as its main character Battler quickly finds himself facing off against a self-proclaimed Golden Witch known as Beatrice on a meta-narrative level where he must prove these gruesome killings could have been committed by a human culprit, or be forced to acknowledge her existence and allow her to fully revive.

    Thus begins a game of chess filled with exceedingly preposterous murders in which our protagonist's family gets killed by demons, giant goat butlers, and sharpshooting bunny girls — all supplemented by the so-called Red Truth, a truth-revealing tell not unlike Martha's vomiting in Knives Out. Battler must use these authorial proclamations and find a loophole that enables him to explain the murders in a way that does not frame any of his beloved family members as the killer and still allows him to deny the existence of the gruesome and torturous witch.

    Umineko's all about how stories are perceived and told by both their creator and their audience. It explores how remarks by the author in every situation — no matter how off-hand they might be — can be used, applied, and twisted to shed a completely different light on a story regardless of its original intent. It shows how adding meaning to a narrative that wasn't meant to be there can both add to or subtract from its most important element: The heart its creator wanted to convey.

  "If I had found meaning in only exposing the truth, I would have sunk to the level of a truth-revealing witch and fallen into ruin, spreading only hatred, [...], crushing and refusing to acknowledge anything but the particular truth I seek, unable to escape the cycle of misery." - Ange Ushiromiya

  Umineko goes through many different angles of how we create, share, and discuss the tales that fuel our discourse. It ponders the importance of rules when creating storylines and tackles how easy it is to overlook major themes and motives by just focussing on minute details that are open to misinterpretation and irrelevant to a story's soul. It even includes the typical misanthropic yet oh so intelligent detective that usually gets idolized in most media (think BBC's Sherlock or House, M.D.) and puts them at odds with every other character because who would really want to cooperate with someone that completely disregards you as an equal human being and merely perceives you as an amalgation of hints, motives and alibis?

  "Sheesh! Just one more step and I'd have been able to take a heart as innocent as the smooth sand just after a wave had pulled back and tear it to bits. What a shame. This isn't fun anymore." - Erika Furudo

  And just when you start to really get into Umineko, it moves away from its main conflict, providing you important hints for its solution which most readers ignore as they aren't presented with facts and logic but on an emotional level distanced from the characters we long to get back to. But most importantly, it conveys how one single element is so indispensable to enjoying the narrative odysseys we embark on in our lives, to cherishing the characters that are presented to us in these tales, and to truly understand a story's message behind things like story developments, plot twists, and narrative tricks. I, of course, am talking about love.

  Be it the love you feel for characters, for certain staging elements, phrasings of prose, orchestrations of music, design of sound effects, implementations of themes and motives, or cinematographic puzzle pieces — the one thing that is indispensable to truly enjoy all kinds of media, is love. Or, to quote Umineko directly, "Without love, it cannot be seen."

    By the time, I was nearing the end of Umineko's eight main chapters, it had transformed from an intellectual battle between author and reader to an all-out war of a story against its community of readers who simply wanted to tear it down to cold, hard "facts." I had spent ten months and over 100 hours. The first half took eight of those months to get through (owing to a few lengths in Episodes 2 and 4), I finished the second half in less than two despite my busy schedule. I even dedicated a whole 15-hour marathon to the final episode as I was too glued to the grand finale to move away from it.

    A new me came out the end. I no longer had an interest in tearing apart media for minor missteps. I enjoyed them much more deeply and honestly and began taking my time with the things I consumed. Instead of filling my plate at the buffet of stories as much as I could, I gave each dish its own course on the menu so I could appreciate its flavor in a different way — one bite at a time and not stuffed up simply to give the outward appearance of a seasoned gourmet. And for that, I will never be able to thank Ryukishi07 and his co-creators at 07thExpansion enough.

  "The point of theory-making is not to create a culprit or to trample the truths that lie in the hearts of those who have not sinned. If you want to play detective, don't neglect the heart. Otherwise, we're just intellectual rapists. Don't forget it!!" - Willard H. Wright

  If you are interested in reading Umineko When They Cry, you can find both its Question Arcs and its Answer Arcs on Steam, GOG, and MangaGamer. You can also read the manga adaptation digitally on Bookwalker (though I personally recommend the visual novel for its award-worthy soundtrack alone).

  What work of fiction has touched your life in a profound way? Tell us in the comments!

      René Kayser works for Crunchyroll as a PR and Social Media Manager in Germany. You can find him on Twitter @kayserlein where he tries to get people into Umineko every single day.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[jaybug-jabbers]

All-Glitch Pokemon Blue Run Pt17 (Final): A Whole New World

Professor,

You've always nagged-- uh, I mean, informed-- me about the importance of taking copious, detailed notes about everything, for the importance of research and records. So even though you were in the audience that day, I'm sending you my report about my fight with the Elites.

I know you strongly advised that I train a little more before taking them on. After all, the team was only at level 40. I agree that was a little low. You told me I was being rash and impatient, and maybe I was, I don't know. But I knew my team felt ready. They were so eager to fight for me, and I believed in them.

So I entered the arena, and faced off against the first: Lorelei. I won't lie; she was so easy it was almost trivial. Wobbles' Thunderbolt wiped out almost all her pokes in a single hit. Lapras needed two hits, but it was still easy to tank a Hydro Pump from it. The only uncertainty was Jynx, but after paralyzing it, Charmed could deliver a Fire Blast to its face.

In almost no time at all, I was already in Bruno's chamber. At least this fight took a little longer, but we still weren't working up a sweat. I opened with Jasper to face his Onix. Jasper had been training for this. He'd taken out countless Onix on Victory Road. This one went down like all the others. Hitmonchan was next. I paralyzed with Gia first, but then Bruno started to use X-Defends. I pondered this. It meant I wanted to use some decent Special attacks. Only two of my pokes really had decent Special, of course-- Wobbles and Charmed. I switched Wobbles in, although he caught a hefty Counter to the face for it. Still, he cleared the Hitmonchan out no problem. Next up was Hitmonlee, and I was able to clear it out with Giago, bashing away with Strengths. There was a second Onix, but Jasper wiped it out as easily as the first. The ace was Machamp. While this pokemon is known as an absolute beast of an attacker, he simply doesn't stand a chance against Giago's raw bulk and defenses. She simply shrugged the attacks off and took the pokemon down.

On to Agatha. Things were finally starting to get more difficult. I opened with Jasper, since he knew Earthquake. She started with a Gengar. After a Screech and two Earthquakes, Jasper was able to take the ghost out, since the Gengar didn't use particularly wise moves. Next was Golbat, but it was a trifle with Wobbles' Thunderbolt. Haunter was also easy for Jasper: after a Screech it only needed one Earthquake to go down. Before it left, though, it used a Confuse Ray. When Arbok came in, it was a little more serious for Jasper. The snake used Glare and now Jasper was both confused and paralyzed. Earthquakes did some damage, but not tons. What's worse, Arbok was Screeching and using Acid, so Jasper's defense kept dropping. Jasper finally went down to a Bite before he could finish the job he started. But he left the Arbok rather low of health and easy pickings for a revenge attack. Charmed did this handily.

Then was the final Gengar. I started with a Thunder Wave from Gia. The Gengar chose to poison Gia. Honestly, that was a blessing in disguise; I didn't want to deal with Hypnosis and Dream Eater. Giago chipped away with the only move she could use, Surf, but it was slow going due to Gengar's massive Special. Eventually Gia succumed to the growing Toxic damage. I sent Dusty in next and it was very much the same story: Get hit by Toxic, chip away with Hydro Pumps, eventually go down to Toxic. To my irritation, Agatha then used a Super Potion. I brought in Charmed and Fire Blast things, but run out of Fire Blast and have to resort to Embers. Then Agatha uses a Super Potion AGAIN. I start to grow aggravated as Charmed goes down to Nightshade.

Thankfully, Fractal comes in and saves us from this annoying battle. A well-aimed Fly ends the fight. 

Agatha admits defeat rather begrudingly, but tells me to keep going.

At long last, I reached the final Elite chamber. It belonged to Lance, the dragon tamer. He took some time to wax poetic about how rare and difficult dragons are to find and train, claiming them to be the superior pokemon typing that will dominate all others. I smirked at him.

"Best not rest on your laurels. A new and even more powerful pokemon type could always come along, you know."

The guy chuckled. He told me,

"Yes, I've heard people talking about your so-called 'glitch' pokemon. Personally, I'm not sure if I believe your story."

I reached for my pokeball and told him it was time to see for himself.

Thankfully, Lance's opening pokemon was a pushover. As intimidating as Gyarados was, it collapsed like a wet paper towel to Wobbles' Thunderbolt. Dragonair was made of sterner stuff, though. I decided to play it safe and start by Thunder Waving with Gia. Then I switched to Jasper. A Screech and a couple Earthquakes are all that's needed, although it helped a great deal that Dragonair missed its Hyper Beam. I don't know if even Jasper could have dealt with that kind of hit.

I met the second Dragonair with the same Thunder Wave treatment. Then I sent Dusty in, hoping to chip away with Ice Beams. Unfortunately, Dusty never gets her chance. She goes down immediately. However, Wobbles can clear the dragon away with Aurora Beam.

The fourth pokemon is an Aerodactyl. Like the others, I Thunder Wave, and then I tell Jasper to chip away with Hydro Pumps. Of course, Jasper is more of a physical attacker, but it did some damage. When Jasper fainted, I sent Charmed in to try out some Fire Blasts. It helped wear the Aerodactyl down some more, but it wasn’t not enough. However, at this point, Fractal could finish things off, smashing through the rocky beast at high speeds.

Lance sent out his ace, Dragonite.

Same old story-- I open with Thunder Wave. Then I use some Strengths. It's a bit slow going, but Giago, like Jasper, is more about the long game and survivability. Eventually Gia wears that dragon down to about 1/4 of its health. Then Gia falls. I think I can bring Fractal in to finish things.

But then, Lance uses a Super Potion. It's a slap to the face, honestly. I'm still not sure why using potions during a battle is officially allowed in the rulebook.

My Missingno falls to the Dragonite, and I'm down to just Wobbles.

I tell Wobbles to use Aurora Beam. Wobbles turns and starts glowing bright.

But then, something horrifying: Dragonite moves first. It launches itself bodily towards Wobbles.

I watch helplessly. I know Wobbles' defense is paper-thin. I had been counting on Wobbles outspeeding the paralyzed dragon. But the problem was, it had used so many Agilities that it was faster now.

The dragon careens toward us, a massive brute compared to the tiny body of Wobbles. I think it's over.

But then, in the last moments, Wobbles somehow manages to slip past. The dragon crashes loudly onto the ground.

Then Wobbles aims, and he fires.

When the dust settles, Lance is forced to eat his words. He accepts his loss, and he's forced to admit that my glitch pokemon are actual, real things, and not some fanciful delusions.

I think it's finally done. I'm mentally preparing my victory speech. But Lance doesn't concede that I am the new Champion. Instead, he smiles sort of smugly, and tells me there's one more person I must face.

And it's Professor Oak's freaking grandson.

I had to take a five-minute breather first. I healed up my team and tried to psyche myself up. All things considered, these Elites hadn't been too terrible to face. But I was starting to grow a little weary, and that last dragon battle had been pretty close.

On the other hand, this was Oak's grandson. I mean, how hard could he be? I had spanked him just before heading up Victory Road, so it was doubtful he'd gotten much stronger since then.

So we headed back out there, onto the Champion's stage. Blue gave me some grand speech about his journey, about all the things he'd learned as he helped out Oak, and how he'd assembled a team that would beat any Pokemon type.

I just laughed and asked him, "Are you sure about that?"

He seemed annoyed and told me they could beat even "my pack of freaks."

Done wasting time, I sent my ace out first. He deployed his Pidgeot. It honestly was pathetic; Wobbles blasted the thing clean out of the sky.

He sent his Alakazam out next, though, and I was a little more cautious about that. Like before, I used Giago to paralyze it, and then tried chipping away at it. Gia never had stellar Special, so she goes down. However, just like before, Fractal's devastating attack strikes the powerful Psychic pokemon down. Fractal might be a glass cannon and easy to underestimate, but when you get in his line of fire, you'd best look out.

Next was Rhydon, and I sent Dusty out. To my wonder and joy, Dustdevil solos the Rhydon with Hydro Pumps. I cheered, happy that Dusty was contributing too.

Arcanine comes out next, and although Dusty does her best with Hydro Pump, she quickly folds to the fire dog's strength. I sent Jasper out, and try again with Hydro Pump. Jasper's Special may not be better than Dusty's, but as a sturdy fellow, he could stand up to the dog's strikes until he blasted it with enough water.

Next out is Exeggcute. Charmed has her time to shine, and engulfs the tree in a ball of flame.

Finally, it's Blue's ace, Blastoise. Giago had fainted at that point, so there was no help from paralysis here. I sent out Fractal to do some damage, but he goes down quickly. Dusty as well. Jasper is weakened from his fight with Arcanine and also falls. It's down to a weakened Charmed and Wobbles.

I don't bother sending Charmed out. I knew that her Slashes and fire moves weren’t going to be enough. A fire lizard against a water turtle just isn't a wise move. So really, it's up to Wobbles, my starter.

Thankfully, thankfully-- Wobbles outspeeds. Even more thankfully, Wobbles is able to OHKO the Blastoise with one Thunderbolt.

And then, we'd done it.

There was so much shouting and jubilation from the crowds after that, that it's a bit of a blur. I know Oak rushed down to the arena to talk to us. I remember Oak saying he was proud of how much I'd grown since I'd left with his little Charmander. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm pretty sure Oak still had no idea there was something off about my pokemon. Like, was he sitting in the far back or something? Does this guy have vision problems? I don't know, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that the little Charmander he'd given me was quite a bit different now. As in, I'd raised it and then hybridized it with a Charizard'M. I figured it was fine, though-- he didn't really need to know.

You know what happened after that-- the talk we gave together to the public about glitch pokemon. But when it was time to officially register myself and my team in the Hall of Fame, I went to the room alone with Oak. So I'll tell you what happened.

It was short and simple. Oak gave a brief speech, ceremonial stuff. Then we put my pokeballs into a machine.

The machine displayed the records on a screen. It looked like this:

The machine didn't seem to really process the glitch pokemon correctly, so it displayed the same confusing jumble of pixels for each of them. Unfortunately, Charmed's natural cloaking abilities were so strong, the machine failed to even recognize her and generate a record for her. That's really unfortunate, since she did contribute to the team! Maybe in the future, though, we can adjust the equipment to understand glitch pokemon.

By the end of it, the machine was emitting a strange sort of noise-- I think Dusty messed with its audio settings. It seemed to unnerve Professor Oak, but he carried on with the ceremony anyway.

And that was it. I'd become Champion of Kanto.

It’s all so strange to think about. This summer hasn’t turned out at all like I had expected it to. I’m visting mom at home today, in Pallet Town. When I woke up this morning and laid there, thinking about the events of yesterday, I had to wonder for a moment if it was all a dream. 

I’m just a Bug Catcher from Pallet Town. I spent my days catching Weedles and Caterpie and just wandering Viridian Forest. This whole world of glitch pokemon and all the bizarre things to come out of it . . . this strange reality I stumbled into, it’s well beyond anything I would have even imagined. And it carried me further than I ever would have thought.

I know, I’m just rambling now. I’ll stop. I know we still have a lot of work to do-- now more then ever. Now that we’ve revealed to the world the truth about glitch pokemon, they need us to help explain and understand them. It will be a massive change for everyone.

And this all started because I couldn’t stop wondering what hid in the grass beyond the fence in Pallet Town. It’s funny, really. Now that I know the answers, I just feel . . . more excited then ever.

-Junebug

[aion-rsa]

WandaVision Finale Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains WandaVision spoilers.

After eight near-perfect episodes, the story of WandaVision has concluded with a finale installment that sticks the landing on all fronts, including multiple cinematic battles, several heartfelt goodbyes, and a long-overdue moment of agency for a heroine who has so often been denied a choice in her own future. 

But while “The Series Finale” is a deeply satisfying coda to what is probably Marvel’s most emotionally satisfying outing to date, it leaves us with more than a few questions about where these characters go from here. Let’s break down what happened in the WandaVision finale, and what it might mean for the Marvel Cinematic Universe going forward.

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Wanda Transforms Into the Scarlet Witch

Thanks to Agatha’s pronouncement last week, we already knew that Wanda was the legendary Scarlet Witch but in “The Series Finale” we see her fully embrace her chaos magic, right down to an amazing contemporary riff on her traditional comics costume. (That headpiece! The cape! We love to see it!)

There’s even a return of the mind control visions we saw her deploy to such great effect in Avengers: Age of Ultron. What can’t this Wanda do?

Granted, we still don’t know what all this power now means for her character in a larger sense, but to be fair, neither does she. Wanda’s abilities as displayed in this episode are fairly tremendous, as she uses witch runes to neutralize Agatha, wipes her mind, and brings down the Hex she’s built around Westview, freeing its residents. 

In the episode’s post-credits scene, however, her abilities appear to have grown even further, as she’s able to take in a scenic lake view even as her astral self is also busy reading the Darkhold, right down to making its pages turn on their own. 

This is a move we’ve seen Stephen Strange pull before, but according to Agatha, Wanda is even more powerful than the Sorcerer Supreme. So….what else will she be able to do? That seems to be what she’s trying to find out.

Westview Returns to Normal (Sort of)

During her (quite frankly pretty badass) battle with Agatha, the older witch frees several Westview residents from Wanda’s mind control, forcing her to face what she’s done to the townspeople in her quest to build a perfect life. The simultaneously angry and desperate crowd of Westview residents – who look like nothing so much as a suburban take on a horde from The Walking Dead – confront Wanda and reveal a bit of what it must really like as a person who lives under the town’s spell.  

The most harrowing victim is certainly town queen bee Dottie, who comes to herself long enough to beg Wanda to allow her to see her daughter, or perhaps write her into the larger storyline as one of the twins’ friends. But we also learn that Wanda has been projecting her grief and pain into Westview’s nightmares, forcing them to suffer right alongside her, rather than providing a peaceful, perfect escape. 

What Happened to Agatha Harkness?

At least one resident of Westview won’t be returning to normal, however. After Wanda defeats Agatha by scattering witch runes around the Westview Hex to neutralize her magic, she uses her own power to wipe Agatha’s memories and essentially turn her into nosy neighbor Agnes, the WandaVision “role she chose,” for good. 

Your mileage may vary on whether this is an acceptable ending for Agatha – a character who was, admittedly, often monstrous, even though she was right about the way that society is all too willing, even eager, to vilify powerful women out of fear (and often just because it can). On the plus side, since nothing lasts forever in the Marvel Universe and Agatha Harkness is a pretty powerful witch in her own right, there’s every chance this character will reappear down the road. After all, Agatha was Wanda’s mentor in the comics and she tells Wanda here that her magical expertise will be needed in the future. 

We Said Goodbye to Wanda’s Kids (Or Did We?)

As products of the Hex, young Billy and Tommy Maximoff’s fates were always going to be tied to it, so in choosing to break the illusion, Wanda also accepts that she’ll have to say goodbye to her sons. In one of “The Series Finale’s” most heartbreaking scenes, she and Vision, knowing what’s coming, tuck the boys in for bed one last time, as the red glow of the shrinking boundary line edges closer to their house. 

Wanda also thanks the boys for choosing her as a mother. Reader, I cried. Plus, this basically confirms that Billy and Tommy aren’t entirely constructs of Wanda’s imagination. They’ve come from somewhere, and possess something like souls. How that all happened is anyone’s guess – here’s your entry point for Mephisto, folks! – and it’s something future series can explore, but it’s certainly the way I’d prefer to read it. 

But, since the last thing we hear on WandaVision is also the voices of Tommy and Billy shouting to their mother that something is wrong, it seems pretty likely we’ll see some version of these characters again. There’s precedent in the comics after all, and finding her lost boys is a pretty powerful narrative throughline to carry over to Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. 

What Happened to White Vision?

Paul Bettany’s dreams of essentially working with himself are realized, as Vision and the White Vision come to blows in the skies of Westview. But despite the epic battle between the synthezoids – or, synthezoid and Mind Stone-fueled recreation of that same original, as the case may be – physical combat isn’t the most compelling, or even interesting part of their encounter.

Instead, it’s philosophy. Yes, you read that right. Upon realizing that the two are too evenly matched for either to emerge victorious, Vision decides to engage the White Vision in a thought experiment about their shared existence, and whether either of them is truly the man (robot?) they claim to be. The two end up in a sort of pseudo-philosopher’s debate about The Ship of Theseus, a thought experiment centered on issues of identity and meaning, and what makes a thing real. 

This is surprisingly deep stuff for a Marvel property but the conversation contains tantalizing hints about what we could expect as we head into Phase 4 of the MCU. After all, it will likely contain stories full of magic, mutants, and transformation of all types; this is simply WandaVision giving us a metaphorical anchor to hang onto throughout. Well, that and providing a way to bring Vision – or some version of him – back for good, as Westview Vision restores White Vision’s memories and gives us all a reason to hope that he and Wanda will one day be reunited again.

Was the Vision in Westview Real? 

Yes and no. The Vision that lived in Westview and shared a house with Wanda wasn’t physically the Vision we’d previously seen in the Avengers films. He was a flesh and blood construct, created by Wanda’s power, informed by her grief memories, and born from the piece of the Mind Stone that lives inside her. (This makes sense, given that the rise of Wanda’s magical abilities was connected to her initial exposure to the Mind Stone. As Agatha puts it, the Scarlet Witch is forged, not born, and for Wanda, that crucible was her time with Hydra and the Infinity Stone that served as a sort of cosmic gasoline on her sleeping abilities that might never have stirred otherwise.) This Vision represents Wanda’s hope and sadness, but mostly her love. 

And, as a result, even Westview Vision doesn’t greet his oncoming demise with sadness, or even fear. Instead, he reasons, he and Wanda have been here before twice already, forced to say goodbye before their time. And since their relationship has survived before, there’s every reason to believe it will again, and they’ll find their way back to one another.

Monica’s Powers, the Skrulls, and Captain Marvel 2

Unfortunately, thanks to everything else going on in “The Series Finale,” Monica Rambeau doesn’t have a ton to do here. However, she does get a straight-up hero moment, where she throws herself in front of a bullet (or four) for Wanda’s kids and reveals a heretofore unseen ability to phase through objects and slow them down. She also frees the real Ralph Bohner, and happily helps send dirtbag SWORD director Tyler Hayward to prison. 

Happily, however, despite her limited screentime in this episode, Monica’s MCU future looks bright. In the mid-credits scene, she’s approached by a Skrull disguised as a SWORD agent who takes her aside and reveals she was sent by a friend of her late mother, Maria’s. And that friend, who is most likely Nick Fury, would like to see Monica – in space. 

We’d all basically assumed that Monica, who is Maria’s daughter and clearly has some as-yet-unprocessed resentment toward Carol Danvers, would be a significant player in the upcoming sequel Captain Marvel 2, but perhaps there’s an even broader future in store for her, as part of the SWORD-like organization Fury and the Skrull named Talos formed at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home. 

Who Was the Fake Pietro Maximoff?

Sadly, the character played by Evan Peters in WandaVision was not actually Wanda’s brother Pietro ported over from the FOX X-Men universe like we all hoped. So, yeah, unfortunately, that means mutants technically still do not exist in the MCU, and that’s a problem another movie or series will have to address.

While trapped in his self-described “man cave”, Monica discovers that the Fake Pietro is really just Ralph Bohner, the mysteriously absent husband Agnes was constantly complaining about throughout the season. Agatha kept him under her spell using an enchanted necklace, and when it was removed his real identity returns. Whether the fact that Agatha’s punishment to live as her Agnes identity involves being really married to Ralph is unclear but in Westview, anything is possible, I guess.

Wanda’s Future and Doctor Strange 2

Wanda has long been confirmed as a major player in the upcoming sequel Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, but we haven’t known how exactly she would fit into this story, having never exactly met Stephen Strange before. But since the WandaVision post-credits scene confirms that the new Scarlet Witch is determined to learn more about her powers, it seems that will change fairly quickly. The only question is, how?

Stephen Strange has served as a mentor to many magic users throughout Marvel Comics history and could certainly be someone that Wanda seeks out to help her access and control her new abilities. But, given that she’s also currently DIY-ing her knowledge of witch history with a magical item that is basically subtitled the “book of the damned” it’s also very possible that she and Strange will end up at odds over the Darkhold’s existence, her possession of it, or both. Plus, there’s that interesting wrinkle of her still hearing the voices of her construct children that shouldn’t still exist outside of Westview thing. Time to explore the multiverse, anyone?

The post WandaVision Finale Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3bl8T3d

[flowersindistress]

Ch 20 - On My Mind [Ever Since We Met]

In this one: Agatha says goodbye to her Sisters (and inadvertently invents water guns?)

The blood of a vampire. Or at least his blood. Agatha’s scientific mind couldn’t help recognizing it as a key to success of the Count’s attempts at creating more like him--though this not something she needed to think on at the moment. His blood was clearly something more than a combination of the lives he took. She had the notion before tonight that it was, but now she knew for certain. His blood had saturated her with something more. She felt empowered.

Agatha noticed everyone’s scent more strongly now and realized this may soon become a problem. Luckily, she was well fed enough for now. She walked the infirmary to check on her Sisters, still needing the confirmation that they were fine, in spite of knowing the convent was safe at the moment.

When she opened the door, it was with such force that she almost took the wood from its hinges. It would no doubt take a while for her to grow accustomed to her newfound strength.

Her Sisters looked at her in horror when they saw the state she was in. Maria, Lily, and Florence noted it looked like the nun had come out of battle.

“Are you alright?!—You’re bruised and bleeding,” said Maria, rushing over to her with a handkerchief. “And have some…red on your chin.”

“Oh, right,” said Agatha, wiping off some of the blood. Truly she must look worse than she felt. “I’m ok. Really.”

“What on Earth happened?”

“Well, Count Dracula showed up, as expected. But he’s gone now. We had an argument, that was all,” she stated simply.

“Oh. Well, I reckon I’ve never had a proper argument before,” said Florence, wide eyed and inspecting the state of her clothes and marks on her chest.

Maria nudged her, before she could continue saying anything else along those lines. Agatha ignored the comment, rubbing her neck. She would heal soon enough.

“Is he really…gone then?” Maria asked.

“From the premises, yes,” she said. “He tried to turn me against you all, the miscreant.”

“And you’ve fed…” said Lily. “From him?”

“Yes. It was necessary at the moment.”

“Well, you’re glowing, Agatha,” said Florence. “In spite of your frenzied state, you must feel well, I imagine. What was it like?”

“Florence, she was literally just in a room with a vampire, you shouldn’t be asking her such things,” stated Lily.

“It’s alright. It was fine,” she said waving a hand in the air. She didn’t exactly want to articulate on the matter, though she could relate to her younger Sister’s curiosity.

“I do feel quite rejuvenated I admit. Now, onto important matters: You’re all safe. Keep every part of the convent surrounded with the pages as we did tonight, for precaution. The convent must remain properly guarded. You know about the rest, correct? There’s garlic, I presume that could help as well. Holy water too, definitely…” she chuckled. Agatha’s thoughts seemed to race quickly through her mind. “…They must invent some sort of revolvers that shoot out water instead of bullets. That would be very helpful…”

“Slow down, Agatha…” said Lily.

“Oh, and the silver. I just found out it works.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I stabbed him with it,” she said, ignoring her Sisters’ surprised reactions. She needed to deliver as much knowledge as she possibly could.  

“It does not kill but it does create a temporary paralysis. I have some blades in my study, which I will leave you with before I go. Along with anything else that might be helpful. Stakes, of course…”

“You’re leaving?” asked Maria.

“Yes, of course, I must.”

“Why? Agatha, we trust you. We know you won’t hurt us. Even if you did stroll in here with blood on your chin and almost breaking down the doors,” Maria smiled. “We need you here.”

“I did hurt you. Involuntarily as it might have been, I did. I have brought a vampire into the convent, and not one as harmless as myself,” Agatha said. “I can’t continue to risk that. And you don’t need me. All you need are two things—Wits and weapons.”

“Can’t you control it? Stop the dreaming?” asked Lily.

“That is the problem. I can try but I’m not sure how effective that will be. It’s not exactly easy to…remove the Count from one’s mind. And given that I’ve had more of his blood,” she sighed. “I am not going to allow that to occur here any longer.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. We’ll go with you,” Maria insisted.

“You will stay here. I will not hear anything more of it. Now, the daytime is fine. At night stay in your rooms. Take care of the others. The convent is properly guarded. Oh, and as for Alma and Emily—"

“We will nurse them back to health, I know.”

“I was going to say, stake them,” she said.

“Oh. Right.”

“If they show any further changes or aggressive behavior, of course. They are isolated, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep at a safe distance and if it needs to be done, stake them while they sleep in the day. It is for their own sake.”

“Agatha,” said Maria. “Will you be ok?”

“Yes, I will be,” she smiled softly, trying to offer as much comfort as she could. “I’m going to go pack some things and then I’m leaving. I’m going to find Stefan.”

“You’re going to stay with the Detective? Agatha, I don’t think that’s…allowed…”

“Given the situation, I don’t have much of a choice. Besides, I’ve practically been sleeping with the other one, so either way I don’t think I am on good terms with God at the moment…I left you all some things in my study. Enough for you and the rest of the convent. Is everything understood?”

The Sisters nodded, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop their (very stubborn) Sister.

“I’ll write to you.”

The youngest of them, Florence, reached out and gave Agatha a hug goodbye.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 16: Secrets Of Sorrow

The walk to the market is peaceful, a welcome moment of calm after the ordeal in the coffee house. Arthur points out his favorite spots as we pass by them, and we talk about every topic under the late morning sun, the conversation peppered with his usual innuendos, at which I simply roll my eyes and laugh.

I already thought he was fun to be around, but I have now seen a whole new side to him under his nonchalant charm and flirty jokes. The way he rushed to help me has made me appreciate his company in a different way. Despite his predatory attitude, I know that he would never hurt me, that he cares. He showed me the goodness in his heart, and I trust him that much more for it.

We’re in the middle of passionately discussing one of Agatha Christie’s mysteries, which I just told him about, when we run into someone.

“Will,” Arthur greets him. They know each other.

“Lucky to encounter thee on this quaint day, Arthur.” The man speaks English, but he sounds so... old. Even for the 19th century. He turns to me, his mismatched eyes on mine as he reaches for my hand and bows down to kiss it. “Forgive me, my lady, but thou art so lovely I cannot help but admire thy beauty. William Shakespeare, at thy service.” 

Well, that explains the antiquated way in which he talks. He stands straight again, and his long hair falls over one of his eyes. I forcibly shove my confusion to the back of my mind and decide to just go with it as I introduce myself, my hand still extended into his.

“Anaïs Bertran. Are you a friend of le Comte?” He nods, understanding the implication of my words. So he’s a vampire too. “How odd, I’ve never seen you at the mansion. Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” There is something off putting about the way he smiles at me, almost as if he is plotting something. Regardless, I am intrigued by the glimmer in his golden eye. He finally releases his delicate hold of my hand and pushes his long hair behind his ear, revealing his other eye. The sunlight makes the red in it seem even brighter, the odd shade of pooled blood visible where his iris should be. I wonder how it got that way. 

It is then that I notice how quiet Arthur has been and glance at him. The smile on his lips is tense, forced for the sake of politeness.

“We should go,” I say. “Sebastian must be waiting for me at the market. I don’t know how I’ll get back if I miss the coach.”

Arthur nods before putting his arm around my waist.

“Good day, William.” He seems eager to usher me away, but the other writer stops us before we leave.

“Wait,” he calls out. “A friend of mine will hold a ball this week. It would be my pleasure to invite thee, lady Anaïs. Thou mayst bring whomever thou wishest as thy companion.”

“Thank you, William, I’ll be there.” Unnerving as he is, the prospect of experiencing a party in this time period sounds appealing enough for me to accept. “You know where to send the invitation.”

As soon as I nod goodbye, Arthur begins walking away, discreetly pushing me along with him. Once we’re out of earshot, I turn to him.

“So, what did he do that was bad enough to get kicked out of the mansion and warrant this cold attitude from you? Come on, spill the tea.”

“You’re quite perceptive, dove,” he chuckles. “As you have already deduced, he was turned by le Comte, but by the time I arrived he was no longer a resident. I heard he left of his own accord. As to why, I cannot say.”

“So you just dislike him because he’s creepy?” I tease him, although I would be a hypocrite to deny Shakespeare gives me a weird vibe, too.

“No, dear. I dislike him because I do not trust him.” I raise an eyebrow at his answer, and he goes on. “Dazai and I meet with him sometimes to discuss our work, as fellow authors, but there are certain... creative differences that I cannot overlook.” Before I can ask him to elaborate, he changes the topic. “I am afraid I will be unable to attend the ball with you, darling. I am approaching a deadline with a publisher and I have work to do. You should ask the other residents, though. I’m willing to bet at least one would be thrilled to accompany you.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but ultimately buy his excuse. He must be using a pseudonym or something. I decide against pressing the matter any further. Instead, we go back to where we left off our previous conversation.

“What’s the name of that book again?” he asks. “You’re doing an awful job of explaining the plot, dear.”

“Murder on the Orient Express. Don’t blame me,” I laugh, “ I just don’t want to spoil the mystery, and it’s hard to remember exactly how all the clues were presented. Piecing them together is most of the fun. Such a shame that you can’t read it, it won’t be published until 1930... something. 34, maybe? Whatever, ” I turn to him with a smile, “just know that you are the one responsible for making this genre so popular. I’ve lost count of all the adaptations of Sherlock Holmes there are in my time.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because he frowns and looks away from me. I remember reading somewhere that Arthur disliked Sherlock Holmes, but I never really knew why.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was such a sensitive topic.” I gently squeeze his arm, prompting him to face me again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He quietly shakes his head. For a moment, I am taken aback by all the pain harbored in his blue eyes. It is fleeting, and disappears so quickly it makes me question what I just saw, replaced by his usual smirk.

“We’re here, darling. Welcome to the market.”

I quickly spot Sebastian in the crowd. He is carrying a canvas bag, like mine, but the flaccid and empty appearance of it leads me to believe he must have done multiple trips to and from the carriage.

“Thank you, Arthur.” I stand on my toes to wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “For everything. I better go before I lose sight of Sebastian again.”

“See you at the mansion, dove” he winks, before promptly turning around to walk away. I take it as my cue to penetrate the mass of people, and slowly but surely, I eventually squeeze through to make my way to the butler.

“Hey,” I poke the back of his shoulder to get his attention, and he smiles when he turns away from the fruit stall. “It was a bit of an adventure, but I finally got the coffee. Also, I’m never doing that again, ever.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it on the way home,” he laughs. “I’m almost done here, Anaïs. You can go wait in the coach, it’s parked on the other side.”

Thankful for the option to finally put down the heavy sack of coffee creating indents on my shoulder, I nod and disappear into the crowd after calling a lazy “see ya” over my shoulder. The market stalls are nothing special, all of them displaying all sorts of foods and handcrafted items. The people browsing them, though, I find incredibly fascinating. Ladies in full skirts and big hats ponder which kind of artisanal soap to buy, while gentlemen clad in suits hassle with the vendors. Like in my time, people are just people, but observing their fashion and etiquette is nothing short of interesting.

I roam through, slowly making my way across the market, when something catches my eye. Near the exit, a stall selling herbal remedies and various plants has a bouquet of tall yellow flowers on display. They are a kind I had not seen in the gardens of the mansion, but my eyes widen when I recognize them.

The Saint John’s Wort is a sudden reminder of a very important thing I left behind when I was transported back in time. With everything going on, I have completely forgotten to take my antidepressants. Not that I could have, had I remembered, for I do not have access to that kind of medication here. Those small yellow flowers are the closest alternative.

I approach the stall and inspect the flowers, confirming that they are, indeed, Saint John’s Wort. Making a strong enough concentrate out of them will take me weeks, so I better get to work before the withdrawal symptoms start.

“I’ll take all of these, please,” I tell the vendor, a short man with a bushy moustache and a rounded belly. “Do you also sell tincture?”

He puts up his index finger, indicating me to wait, and digs around some boxes below the counter. When he emerges again, he puts a small vial by the bouquet.

“There you go, mademoiselle. It will be seven francs.”

“Merci,” I thank him as I hand him the required amount of coins. With the large bouquet in my arms and the vial safely inside my bag, I make my way outside, where the same carriage that brought us here awaits me and Sebastian.

When he finally joins me, I shuffle over to the side, trying to make space for him between all the crates of produce that cover the seats.

“Nice flowers,” he simply says. “Though if you wanted an arrangement we could have made a better one from the garden.”

“They’re not for decoration,” I explain. In part because I need it, and in part to illustrate my point, I fish out the vial of tincture from my bag and pour a drop into my mouth, which makes my face contort from the bitter taste. “They’re medicine.”

“Oh.” Sebastian’s brows join in concern. “Do you mind me asking what for?”

“It’s nothing serious, don’t worry. I’m not ill or anything,” I hurriedly reassure him. I have no qualms about telling him the truth, but I don’t know how he will react. Even in our time, prejudice surrounding this topic is still a problem. I notice he is still observing me, patiently waiting for an answer, and I turn my gaze to the window. “It’s, uh...” I stammer quietly, “for my brain. Can’t exactly get meds around here...”

“I am so sorry, I didn’t know,” his tone suddenly softens. I am relieved by the lack of judgement, but the pity... The pity is almost worse. “If there is anything I can do for you -”

“Sebastian, it’s fine,” I interrupt him. “I’m fine. I just... I get a little sad and a little anxious sometimes, that’s it.” That is a massive understatement, but I really don’t want to delve into it right now. “You don’t have to treat me any differently. Please. That would make me feel worse.”

He takes a deep breath and stares at me for a few seconds, as if pondering whether I’m telling the truth or not. After what feels like an eternity, he finally smiles.

“Okay, Anaïs. I will keep being strict, I promise.” He chuckles, breaking the awkward silence, and I smile too. “Alright, now tell me what happened with the coffee! I want to know!”

[lov3nerdstuff]

I Found {Part 8}

*Loki x reader*

Part: 8/8

Words: 3.6k

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream

A.N.: So... This is the last part 😊 I hope you guys enjoyed the series and the idea I tried to follow with this! Let me warn you: there's blood in this! But also flufff 😁💚

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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It was early evening when Loki was yet again summoned to the throne hall. He followed the guards through the many tunnels in a feigned calm, already hearing the loud noises from the feast echoing through the entire palace. The occasion itself wasn't making him nervous, and neither was the prospect of murdering the king within the next two hours… but ever since he'd had to let you go to get cleaned up and ready for your presenting, he'd felt on edge.

Now, as he walked into the hall with his usual long, elegant strides, he found it beyond crowded for once. Long rows of tables, people everywhere, food and drinks in the plenty… and Loki was led to a seat right in the front, in close reach of the king's high throne. Maybe all this would work out indeed, maybe luck would for once be in his favor...

He sat down in silence, and closely observed the people around himself in cold evaluation. Along with him in the front sat a few higher councilmen, and some people he had seen around but never really bothered to get to know. Yet what really interested him was the current absence of the king. Wasn't this supposed to be his feast? Loki also didn't see you anywhere, and that was way more concerning than the king's absence.

The people around him were merrily eating, drinking, laughing… it reminded him of the feasts Odin had held back in Asgard. He'd never enjoyed those much, and he certainly didn't enjoy himself right now. His lips were set into a grim line as his eyes searched the faces around himself, the guards and staff… he couldn't fathom how they would react to what was about to happen.

At last, finally, the king entered the hall with hurried steps as he moved towards his throne, and the room fell silent in an instant. People bowed their heads, and Loki followed the example easily, but with disgust. He'd only need to play his part for a little while longer… then it would all be over for good.

"My dear guests!" The king called into the hall, croaky voice more cheery than Loki had ever heard him speak before. He really must want you then… the thought disgusted Loki even more, and he smiled to hide the movements of his jaw clenching.

"I welcome everyone to tonight's feast! As I see, the food and wine have already fallen into appreciating hands, and I will not keep you from their joys for much longer, but I believe we owe this feast an occasion!" He laughed, and quite a couple men along with him. Loki didn't really believe that these people would need any reason to get drunk and whore around, but he obviously stayed quiet and observed the king as he walked up the few stairs towards his throne and slumped down with a groan.

"We are here to celebrate the newest toy in my collection, who will as of tonight become not only my personal chamber companion, but also every woman's idol in her devoted selflessness." He said in a heavy but pleased sigh, then clapped his hands. "Bring her in!"

Loki's eyes snapped towards the door that was pushed open at the side of the hall, and he watched how you were led into the room by two guards and a calmly smiling Agatha behind you. You'd been forced into wearing a tiny piece of black fabric that barely served to cover the very necessities from the guests' yearning eyes. Loki surely hoped that you had managed to sneak the dagger into the folds of the thin fabric.

The guards led you to stand right on front of the stairs leading to the throne, and thus to stand only a few feet away from Loki.

You were looking down to the ground, your face calm and peaceful as you stood straight with an impeccable posture. Had you been this good at the act before? Loki suppressed both a frown and the urge to stare at you like a protective, lovesick puppy. If his gaze would've met yours, he feared that his eyes might have betrayed him and given away just how deeply his affection for you was rooted within his being.

Instead he looked back at the king, who took up the word once more while ogling you with a hungry stare. "My, you are beautiful, my sweet… sinfully perfect. What is your name, girl?"

"Y/n, your highness." You replied calmly, not lifting your gaze off the stairs in front of you.

"Tell me, Y/n… Have you been taught and instructed in the arts of pleasing?" He continued to ask with a self sufficient smirk, and Loki bit his tongue to keep every other muscle in his body relaxed, to not reveal himself or even worse, you.

"Yes, my lord." You nodded once, calm and compliant, and if Loki hadn't known any better, he truly would have believed that you had fallen into submissiveness. The thought was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Have you improved, since your reported failure? With the help of Loki?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And do you wish to be put into my services now, pet?"

"It would be my honor, and my privilege. My king… I could not imagine a greater joy." The words came from you so easily that Loki seriously wondered where all of this calm and braveness was coming from now. Only a few hours prior, you had been severely doubting your abilities to put on this act… and now it seemed like you were no less capable of it than Loki himself. He felt beyond proud, and just as certain that you could do this as he had been all along. But no less better about you having to do this in the first place.

"My, such a willing pet…" The king mused happily and his eyes snapped from you to Loki. "I must say, I am impressed with your work, god of tricks. You truly seem to have turned this stubborn little minx into a compliant, submissive plaything."

Loki smiled his most dashing smile and held his arms up in a flattered shrug as he rose to his feet, taking a few steps to stand next to you just below the throne. "Well, your majesty, I would spare no efforts to see my tasks done to your fullest contentment only."

The king gave the guards a knowing, commanding nod before mere moments later, they dragged a middle aged man sitting close to the front to his feet, and out of the room despite his heavy and foremost noisy protests. Well, that was (or rather had been) the head of council.

"It seems to me that your reward is in order, my friend." The king grinned, showing off his tiny, broken teeth. "You have fulfilled every task put upon you to my contentment, and even exceeded my expectations. Thus I shall reward you, Loki of Asgard, with the position of the head of my council. However this power I am only willing to put upon you since I don't want any of the remaining carrion in my council to occupy this position."

The smile that came upon Loki's face was real this time… things were working out exactly as he had plotted, and exactly as he had explained to you. "I shall accept this honor, my king, with the most humble thanks to your generosity."

"Then so be it!" He declared grandiloquently, voice echoing over the quiet chatter in the audience to have them all fall silent once more. "I hereby declare you chairman and head of the king's council of Underworld."

With a humbled bow, Loki took small steps backwards until he could sit down on his designated spot at the table once more. People started congratulating him immediately, but he only nodded politely as his eyes remained fixed on the king. That had been step two of the plan, now you would need to continue on with part three while all Loki could do was watch until it would be his turn again.

"Now, this is still a presentation after all! A show both for me and the kingdom." The king stated loudly, and the room fell silent once more as if in guilty impatience for the time they would finally get to eat on. "Come, pet, and show to me what you have learned."

Loki's stomach flipped and his heart picked up speed as he watched your hands tremble ever so slightly for a mere second, then you took a deep breath in the completely silent room and your shaking subsided. With a certain yet slow saunter you took the steps upwards to the throne, keeping your back straight and your gaze on the ground right until your stood directly in front of the king.

Luckily the man's eyes were entirely fixed on yours from the very moment you looked at him, and Loki's hands balled into fists under the table until his knuckles turned white and the skin felt like tearing. The entire room was mesmerized by the scene unfolding in the front, and one could have heard a pin dropping. Only the low, pleased humming of the king could be heard as you slowly traced a hand from his right temple down to his neck. Just like you had practiced… Loki could almost feel the memory of your hands on his own skin, and watching it happening in front of him now made his blood boil and his stomach feel beyond twisted. But he also couldn't bring himself to look away, couldn't avert his eyes even if he tried.

Your fingers caressed the tyrant's neck for a moment, then you pulled him closer only a tiny bit as you followed every step of your practiced procedure. With you looming over him, your face way too close while still at a safe distance, he was completely drawn in, deeply mesmerized and unable to focus on anything but you.

Honestly, Loki could blame the king for a great lot of things, but not for falling under your spell… for he knew all too well how utterly impossible it was to refrain from that. And oh, you did act your part well… Loki almost felt jealous, had he not reminded himself that partially at least, you were doing all this for Loki himself.

Then however he was drawn out of his thoughts by the quickest movement he had ever (almost) seen, as you drew the dagger he had given you out of the dainty fabric at your side, right over your ribcage, and stabbed the sharp metal right into where the king's pulsepoint must lie. Very few screams and gasps could be heard in the audience, as not everyone had caught on to what had happened just yet. And despite having known what would happen, Loki found himself surprised by the sheer brutality of the action, and at the same time… infinitesimally drawn to you. Amazed, he watched how the king's eyes widened in shock as blood spluttered out of the wound, and how you still moved to cut his throat nonetheless in such a calm collectedness that Loki shuddered involuntarily. Well, if that wasn't attractive…

Surprise had numbed everyone in the hall for a moment, given you enough time to finish your work, but as the seconds, the heartbeats passed, and you moved off the throne and away from the king's dead body, the guards finally jumped into action while the folk broke out into hysterical screaming.

Your gaze met Loki's in an instant, and he could've sworn that your eyes sparkled even more than they had previously. The small smirk you gave him only added to that, and his entire system was ablaze in the most positive way as he jumped to his feet to meet you in front of the throne.

"By the gods, that was beyond alluring…" He smirked at you as he wrapped an arm around your waist in a gesture of utter protectiveness. Maybe even a little possessiveness. Yeah, definitely that too.

"Why thank you." You grinned back, trying to wipe off some of the blood on your hands and arms on your poor excuse of a dress. "I must say, it was more fun than I had imagined."

"You are absolutely irresistible, Y/n. I cannot wait to spend the rest of eternity with you." He sighed softly, before turning to the approaching guards and piercing them with small blades of ice at once. The guards that had followed behind them stopped dead in their tracks, looking at Loki in surprise and most definitely fear.

"People of Underworld…" Loki started, in his most official sounding voice. "We bring to you the chance of revolution! The king is dead, and so will be everyone who tries to refuse my order. I am representative of the highest authority you have, and it now falls onto me to rule over you."

As of yet, people actually seemed to listen to what he was saying and nobody was trying to arrest or murder him. That was an improvement to previous attempts to take over a kingdom that wasn't his to rule.

"Go on… you're doing great." You whispered to him with a small smile, and Loki couldn't help but grin as he spoke on.

"I cannot possibly make up for the many wrongs he has done to this kingdom and its people. And I realize that I am not one of your kind, and have not been living here for long. But I do assure you that I am very much capable of putting an end to every attempt to re-establish this form of tyranny. I will also not hesitate to end anyone who wishes to stay loyal to your just passed king, and join him in death rather than work to improve the life of everyone in your realm. I give you the choice now."

For a moment everything was quiet, just as quiet as it had previously been, before one by one the people started bowing slowly. From the councilmen to the guards to the ordinary folk… everyone was bowing to Loki and thus also to you, who still stood next to him with your fingers intertwined with his own.

And it didn't even come as a surprise to Loki anymore, that he enjoyed the feeling of having your unconditional trust and unyielding loyalty way more than having a kingdom to rule. He didn't need people to bow before him… He only needed you, to trust and love him, and for him to worship and love you in return.

"I have exactly two orders to make, as the ruler of this kingdom. One, I wish for someone knowledgeable to show Y/n and me to the surface of the planet, safely. And secondly… I will impose onto my dearest Agatha the task to set up a new government for this place. And while I will be gone soon, I will most definitely hear of the outcome of it." He spoke calmly and with certainty, grinning at Agatha who rolled his eyes at him with a smile. Then he moved on to be a bit more precise in what he meant. "Now for everyone who's not as eloquently gifted: if anyone disobeys the old bat, I will come back with the entire Asgardian army to do to you EXACTLY what my lovely Y/n just did to the man on the throne. I believe you understand that, given the previous visuals."

People all around the room nodded both in fear and in actual appreciation as the chattering and nervous mumbling continued once he didn't speak on. Loki however only had eyes for you, as you gave his hand a little squeeze.

"We did it. We actually did it." You smiled brightly, a short moment before wrapping your arms tightly around Loki.

He held onto you just as desperately, as he relished the feeling of having you all to himself at last, without guards or secrecy or anything that could come in between you. "YOU did it, my love… you were amazing."

"And so were you! I honestly think everyone is scared of us now… but in a good way, I think." You said quietly, holding tightly onto the fabric of his shirt on his back.

"Yeah… we murdered their king, that doesn't really leave a good impression. And that is exactly why we should not rule. Gaining power this way almost always leads to misery and definitely always to inevitable failure." He mused, drawing patterns on the soft skin of your back. "Do you still wish to come back to my world with me? To my brother's kingdom?"

"Of course! I love you, Loki, I don't want to be anywhere you're not." You replied immediately, easily but with the frown well audible in your tone.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but smile. "I love you too… even though I'm still trying to figure out what exactly that means."

"We'll figure it out together. Happily, and far away from this living hell. It's never been much of a home to me anyway. You are though... My home..."

"And you are mine, love. Now, let's find someone who can show us to the surface."

Firstly however Loki conjured up something warmer for you to wear, and while you changed, he went to speak to Agatha, who already found herself surrounded by confused guards awaiting new orders. She was handling them quite well, he thought with amusement, and the king's body was kindly removed from the hall, while the people simply continued with their feast. That truly was the spirit of Underworld… a place Loki couldn't quite bring himself to miss in the future.

"You!" Agatha frowned at Loki, but couldn't really convey the anger she was trying to portray. "You created this mess, and now you leave it up to me to clean up after you!"

"Well, it seems you are doing great already!" He smiled at her innocently as you returned to his side, taking his hand once more as if to make sure he wouldn't leave your side ever again. He had no intention to.

"Careful! I'm old, but bright enough for you to put me into power." Agatha warned him with the same deep frown, but couldn't help smiling a moment later. "Your mother wouldn't necessarily have been proud of your ways, but certainly of your intentions. And definitely of your results."

"That's good enough for me." Loki smirked, glancing down at you for a moment, then back up at Agatha. "Thank you, for your help."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Agatha shrugged with a mischievous expression, then smiled once more. "Have that seer of yours check on us from time to time. Wouldn't want to risk another misled government."

"I can assure you, we will keep an eye on you." Loki smiled back, beyond certain that Underworld would become a better place from now on.

A little while later, after you'd said your very few goodbyes, a small group of guards led Loki and you towards the surface. It was a rather long journey, and certainly as confusing in its variety of paths as it could be, but it would be worth it, after all.

"I cannot wait to see the sky again…" Loki sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I've never actually…" You shrugged in the same quiet as your words trailed off into silence.

"You haven't ever seen the sky?" He wondered in sincere surprise, but then it dawned on him that the king probably hadn't allowed anyone to come to the surface but the guards for their occasional pickup of stranded people, like Loki had been. "Well, let me tell you, it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen."

You returned a smile, and Loki knew that you would love the sky just as much as he did. After the longest march, you finally arrived at the surface with its whipping winds of actual fresh air, and Loki felt like he had been starved of deep breaths. He thanked the guards, and at last stepped out of the tunnels together with you. And while you admired the millions of stars in the nightsky in utter amazement, Loki only had eyes for you. Yes, you were better than the sky. Better than the stars, than fresh air, than freedom. And definitely better than any kingdom could ever be.

Once you finally were able to tear your eyes away from the sky to look at Loki, he was smiling at you in all the adoration he didn't bother to hide anymore.

"What?" You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck with a smile of your own, pulling him closer.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you a glorious kingdom where we are going." He replied with a half smile, pulling you closer by your hips. There was no reality, no version of time and space in which he would ever let you go again.

"I'll be just fine wherever you are. Don't worry so much, Loki… I'm quite content with the multitudes that exist solemnly in our minds." You smirked at him, and Loki couldn't help but grin back. Yeah, you two would definitely mess up New Asgard. Quite possibly Earth in its entirety. And he literally couldn't wait.

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[v-thinks-on]

Six Feet Apart

Note: Now for something a little bit different. I didn’t expect to write quarantine fic, but I was thinking about how Jeeves and Wooster usually keep a little bit of physical distance between them, and was wondering if actually being forced to keep that distance might change things, and so this happened.

There was no way around it; old Bertram had fallen ill. I went to bed a little early the night before, a little scratchy, perhaps, but no worse for the wear, and woke up feeling like I’d been bowled over by a freight train. I shivered and ached and felt like I was made of lead - all together not a pleasant picture by any means. Now, I’m a usually healthy fellow, but I’d heard from Jeeves - and you know how he keeps up on everything - that the flu wasn’t just in Spain, and it was only a matter of time before it came around to our neck of the woods. I’d already known a couple fellows who fell ill, but they were just some distant acquaintances - uncle of a friend of a cousin sort of thing - I never thought it would come knocking at my door.

But there I was, pilled up under every blanket in the house - Jeeves tells me I had a fever of a hundred and three - hacking up a storm. The doctor was called in post-haste, of course, medicine was doled out, and orders were given that no one was to approach my person unless absolutely necessary for fear of contagion. I would like to hope that Jeeves put up at least a bit of a fight in the old feudal spirit, but in the end, the doctor’s wisdom won out and I was consigned to languish on my lonesome.

To tell the truth, the better part of a week passed in hazy delirium, and even now I only recall a few passing moments and couldn’t tell you if they were real or just dreamed up. But eventually, one morning - or rather late afternoon - I managed to sit up on my own, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and had the wherewithal to wonder when Jeeves would come in with the oolong.

To my rather indignant surprise, Jeeves did not appear shortly with the oolong. I was eventually greeted by a nurse, who examined me from a distance like I was a pregnant rhinoceros. Her mouth and nose were covered so we didn’t even have to breathe the same air. It was she, I believe, who informed me that, despite my recovery, I was to remain under quarantine for the foreseeable future - at least what felt like the foreseeable future, and a little while beyond it - and that no, Jeeves would not be coming with my morning tea.

I don’t mind a little peace and quiet, but by the time they finally let me out of that flat I had just about gone bad. I never realized just how small it was and it’s never felt quite so miniscule since. That first breath of fresh, unfiltered air, as I stepped out onto the street at long last, was like a breath of life. I strode along, cane in hand, feeling like a new man, beaming and waving at everyone I passed - maybe I had gone a bit barmy, but at the time I didn’t have it in me to care.

My luck had turned, and it wasn’t over yet, because I was just strolling down the way, not a care in the world, when I nearly ran straight into the man I most wanted to see. Of course, Jeeves shimmered out of the way just in time, but I caught him round the shoulder before he had made too much distance between us. Now, I’m generally not a clingy sort. I can entertain myself well enough, and Jeeves and I are usually content to exist with a comfortable distance between us, but after a few weeks of being tip-toed around like Aunt Agatha when she’s on a roll, a fellow can get a little lonely.

“Sir?” he asked in a most disapproving way, but he must not have minded too much, because he didn’t move away.

“They’ve set me free at last!” I proclaimed, steering him toward the park.

“Yes, I am aware,” Jeeves answered drily. “It was my intention to return to the flat and return it to a habitable state.”

I waved it off. “Oh pish! It’s too nice a day to waste inside! You’ve got to tell me about everything I’ve missed while I was locked away.”

“Very well, sir,” Jeeves said, and resigned himself to the perfect weather and my gregarious company.

Eventually we meandered back to the flat, and Jeeves set about tidying up in his usual fashion. I was content to just sit back and watch him work for a while, relishing the sight of everything back in its place. I glanced at the latest paper that Jeeves had been kind enough to fetch for me in town, but it only held my attention for so long. Jeeves had moved on to the kitchen by the time I tossed the paper aside, so I ambled in to join him. I wasn’t a common visitor to Jeeves’s lair, and he seemed a little surprised to see me as I stepped through the doorway that separated his domain from mine.

“Sir?” he said, his attention torn between me and the food cooking on the stove.

“Don’t mind me,” I insisted, “Just wondering what’s for dinner.” I took in a deep breath and it really did smell delish, especially after what felt like ages of living off of whatever I managed to scrounge up. I’d almost forgotten what a real meal tasted like.

“I hope it’s to your liking, sir,” Jeeves said, but he was smiling a little, like he did whenever I finally noticed his latest feat.

“Absolutely!” I exclaimed, drifting a little closer to take it in. I leaned over Jeeves’s shoulder until I nearly bumped up against him and I had a sudden desire to press closer still, but I knew better than to encroach.

As it was, Jeeves glanced my way, but he didn’t seem to mind.

So, I lingered, watching him put the finishing touches on my dinner with well practiced ease. I didn’t dare go near the stove myself; we’d had one early disagreement and that had been the end of that.

At last, Jeeves jarred me back into the present - “Sir, if you would wait in the dining room, I will be out momentarily.”

“Right ho!” I exclaimed, never one to argue, and did as I was bid.

I didn’t have long to wait before Jeeves shimmered out with the daily bread. He laid it all out on the table and asked, “Is there anything else you require, sir?”

“No,” I said, but as he began to fade out just as quietly as he appeared, the whole room started to feel a little sparse and empty - a little less lively without his presence to fill it up, if you see what I mean. So, on a bit of a rummy impulse, I called out, “Jeeves, you could join me, if you wanted to. For dinner, I mean.”

He turned sharply to face me, and for a moment I could have sworn he was going to say yes, but that feeling was gone like a flash. He only said, “Thank you, that’s very generous of you, sir,” before receding into his lair.

Dinner was fine, but after that, I sort of gulped it down. While Jeeves cleared up the table, I meandered over the piano. I had played around a little while I had the place to myself, but it just wasn’t the same.

Now, I started with gusto on one of the old favorites:

“In the land of San Domingo,

“Lived a girl called Oh! by Jingo,

“Ja da Ja da da da da da, ump-a, ump-a, ump-a, ump-a...”

Sure enough, Jeeves came drifting in, looking a little less than pleased.

I finished up the chorus before calling it a wrap. Instead, I asked, “Jeeves, what was that clever song you picked up?” I tried humming a snatch of it, though the old cranium was a little foggy on what it sounded like.

But, of course, Jeeves was undaunted by garbled melodies. With a polite, “If I may?” he sat down beside me at the piano and had it in no time. It was all I could do to keep up with the harmony - though I may have first taken a moment to inch a little closer on the bench.

Jeeves finished with a flourish and I burst into applause. “Brilliant!”

“That’s very kind, sir,” he said with a little bow. He looked rather pleased with himself.

We paused for a little while before the next set. Jeeves looked as fresh as ever, of course, but after all that exertion, I was feeling a little winded - perhaps I wasn’t quite back to my old self after all. I tipped over a little and my head found Jeeves’s shoulder; a nice comfortable place to rest for a moment or so.

For a while, Jeeves didn’t say anything, content as we were, I suppose. I think I may have dozed, because I started a little when he asked, “Sir, is everything alright.”

I forced myself upright, feeling rather top-heavy. “I’d say so,” I attempted. “Just a little tired all of a sudden, but I’ll be right as rain in a jiffy.” At least, that was what I tried to say, but the last word was interrupted by a large yawn.

“I see,” Jeeves said rather dubiously. “I can demonstrate another piece tomorrow, if that would be to your liking.”

I brightened immediately. “I’d say!”

“Very good, sir.” Jeeves pushed back the piano bench a little and got to his feet, but he remained hovering by the piano. “Do you require any assistance?”

I shook my head and braced my hands against the piano bench, readying them to push me to my feet. “I think I’ll be alright. Thank you, Jeeves.”

He wasn’t fooled. But, with a tremendous shove, I managed to get myself upright, and I walked confidently toward the master bedroom with hardly a totter, though my legs felt rather laden. Jeeves drifted after all the while.

I got as far as the tall mirror in the bedroom and began fumbling with my cufflinks, cursing all the many layers of my raiment.

“Might I be of assistance?”

I had nearly forgotten he was there, he’d been so quiet, and jumped a little at the interjection. My wardrobe wasn’t usually so complicated that I needed help with it, but my arms had gone all stiff and heavy, and there was something that seemed rather pleasant about the whole idea after being without Jeeves for so long, so I answered with an enthusiastic, “Righto!”

I held up my wrists and Jeeves efficiently undid the cuffs before taking a step closer and moving on to my waistcoat. Each movement was quick and precise, like everything else Jeeves does. I’ve often thought he could have done a zillion things with that brain of his, and maybe I’d spent too much time surrounded by doctors, but all I could think was that he’d make an incredible surgeon with hands like those, but there he was helping me instead. A thing like that warms a fellows heart. After spending a few long weeks feeling like I was alone in the world, here was Jeeves to remind me I wasn’t alone at all.

He was done in a jiffy and then it was off to bed. I could hardly keep my eyes open as Jeeves covered me in blankets to keep out the chill.

“Good night, sir,” he said, before turning off the light.

“G’night Jeeves.” I fought off the tendrils of Morpheus long enough to say, “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back, sir.”

Before he could drift into the other room, I reached out and somehow my hand found his. I just gave it a quick squeeze of a reassuring sort, maybe to assure myself he was there, and then at last, I surrendered to sleep.

[flutteringphalanges]

                                     Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Warning HEAVY SMUT FILLED chapter! Happy 2021 and my first update of the year! Hope you guys are doing well! Felt a little glum but decided to turn that energy into an update! Feedback/reblogs/likes is greatly loved and appreciated! Fingers crossed I did these two justice haha! -Jen

                                                       Chapter Ten

"Welcome home, Agatha."

It was as if some unseen force had cast itself upon her and rooted her in place. Agatha stared, slightly slack jawed at the sight before her, mind struggling to keep up with what she was seeing. Zoe, seemingly unharmed, lay there fast asleep by the vampire's side. Dracula's fingers drummed lazily against the couch's arm as he patiently waited for the woman's response. He, unlike her, was not stunned by this unplanned reunion. After all, he was the responsible party for this surprise "get together".

"You…" Agatha started, her eyes darting around the room. "How did you-"

"An invitation, of course." Dracula said with a mere wave of his arm. "From young Zoe. I came by to see if you were available and unfortunately, I was met by the babysitter." Agatha's eyes grew wide and the vampire grinned, knowing very well what she was thinking. "Oh, ease up, Agatha, Mrs. Avery is just fine. I sent her on her way back home. Told her you had asked me to watch Zoe until your return, seeing as we work together and all." He sighed, shaking his head. "I honestly hadn't anticipated for it to be so easy."

"Get out of my house!" The former nun growled, pointing a finger towards the door. "This is practically breaking and entering! A crime! I could have you arrested!" That would surely go over well, but the logistics weren't at the top of Agatha's thoughts. "Just because a seven year old-a child-tells you that it's okay to come into someone's house doesn't mean it is!"

"Actually, in my rule book, it is most certainly allowed." The Count smiled, reaching for the remote. "As long as they inhabit it." With that, he flipped the television off. "And Zoe lives here so it works in my favor."

Feigning a yawn, the vampire stood up from his spot on the couch. The young girl, still deep in her slumber, only shifted slightly and stretched out. Agatha watched her anxiously unsure if she should make a go for it and grab her and run, or find a means to take Dracula out. Perhaps once and for all. As she stood there debating, the Count brushed past her and made his way into the kitchen.

"Are you coming?" He called over his shoulder when the former nun didn't immediately storm after him. "I doubt you'll want to wake her up while we talk."

"Oh I think you've said quite enough for the night." Agatha hissed, clearly growing more heated. "Aren't you the least bit concerned about everything you've violated our terms and conditions? What's stopping me from calling the Foundation or that lawyer of yours right now?! Right at this very minute?!"

"You won't." Dracula replied simply. "And even if you did, what have I done exactly? I was invited in. No one was injured. There is nothing in any clause that says who is and isn't allowed to grant me access." He let out a quiet chuckle. "But I'm not concerned anyway. And I could easily argue my concerns of you not returning my texts. I think Dr. Bloxham would be delighted to learn about that."

"Get out of my house." Agatha warned, trying to sound as threatening. "Or I'll…" Her eyes flickered around the room and landed on the first thing that sat on the counter. A spatula. Great. "I'll make you regret not doing so."

"Oh really?" Dracula snorted, taking a step closer. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

She was thinking. Thinking hard. But it was difficult to concentrate when facing off with a vampire. She was angry. So damn furious that it felt as if she was truly boiling inside. But as she stared back at the Count, trying to hold her ground, that fury. That force. Was slowly starting to transform into something else. A storm the likes of which she'd never encountered.

"You were saying?" The vampire encouraged, moving even closer to Agatha. "Come now, Agatha. Finish that train of thought of yours. What do you want to do to me?"

He had her nearly pinned against the wall, her back pressed tightly to it as he loomed over her with those dark, hungry eyes. Agatha's heart pounded as blood flushed her cheeks, something stirring within her very core. Undeniable lust.

"I'm not asking you again." She forced out, somewhat taken aback by how labored her breathing had become. "Leave my house at once."

"You know you can't force me to do that." He replied in a low, velvety whisper. "It wasn't you who invited me in." Dracula reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair behind the former nuns ear. She shivered. "This isn't anyway to treat your guest."

Her knees felt weak as she fought the primal urge to lunge forward and give into whatever horrible desire this was. It wasn't right. She wasn't right. But then why were her mind and body at a civil war with one another? Agatha bit down on her lower lip, toes curling inward.

"Go…" She nearly pleaded as he closed the distance between them. "Just…" But his mouth was already on hers before she could finish.

Lost. Somehow that felt like the right word to describe it. Trapped between the present and this convoluted fantasy. Yet as their kissing grew more fervent, his cool hands touching the curves of her face, everything but this moment seemed to tumble away. When the vampire broke away to allow her a moment to catch her breath, Agatha nearly protested. She stared at him, too flustered to imagine how ridiculous she must look right now.

"I could take you here…" He suggested, nodding towards the empty kitchen table. "Or the countertop, that would equally suffice." Dracula moved his hands to grip Agatha's forearms as if to steady her in place. "There are lots of places I could have my way with you, Agatha Van Helsing. That is, if you'll let me in."

Zoe. The seven year old was still fast asleep in the living room. The former nun could feel the vampire's nails digging into her flesh. Hot. Christ how she felt so hot. What the hell was happening to her? This was his fault. His doing. Surely it had to be. And yet, she needed him. Required him to fill this sudden carnal craving within her.

"Zoe…" Was all she managed to rasp out, knowing well enough he'd understand. "Zoe."

"Ah, concerned about disturbing the child." He chuckled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a wide grin. "I suppose we wouldn't want to scar her...No, that would be less enjoyable for the both of us." He exhaled and glanced down towards the dark hallway. "Bedroom it is."

She tried not to dwell on the fact that lay lingering in her mind about how he knew where her bedroom was. Momentarily pushed away the unwanted thoughts of him traversing around in there admiring her personal things. Instead she froze that bit of her mind and allowed him to take her past the threshold and into the unlit room.

A bundle of nerves. A nest of live wires in a thunderstorm. Agatha was already beginning to tremble as Dracula placed a kiss to the corner of her mouth before trailing his way down just above her jugular. His teeth lightly scraped the tender skin, but the vampire made no move to bite her. Instead, he pressed his lips to the pulse and lightly sucked. The former nun let out a soft moan, surprised by how unstable she felt on her own two feet. Dracula smiled against her neck, arms wrapping around her waist to keep her upright. He was enjoying this way too much.

"...I thought you wanted to take me…" She gasped out, leaning into Dracula as he continued to indulge himself. "Not commit whatever this…" Agatha's breath hitched in her throat as he playfully nipped at her. "I thought you wanted sex."

"I do." Dracula admitted, letting his tongue run lightly across the sensitive spot of her throat. "But foreplay is a worthy appetizer." He straightened up, and even without much light, Agatha could see the thirst in his eyes. "Sit down." He commanded, motioning to the bed. "A good guest brings their host a gift and I think I've figured out what to do about mine."

She could've told him to leave. Demanded it again. Perhaps even called the Foundation and explained everything. But she was angry. Stressed. Confused. And, as odd as it was, mildly curious. Count Dracula was not her friend. He was an intruder and yet...yet...her she was. Sitting down on her mattress looking up at him. Wondering exactly where this was going and hoping Zoe would remain asleep.

"Take your pants off."

Now that had her snapping back to reality. Agatha blinked as she stared at Dracula. The vampire simply gazed back as if what he said hadn't been well...bold. When the vampire didn't retract his statement, she found herself undoing the top buttons of her pants and slowly pushing them down. Before she could react, Dracula snatched them from her grasp and tossed them to the side.

"That was rather uncouth of you." Agatha muttered, her cheeks flushed as she now sat before him in some rather unflattering underwear. "You could have at least…" His eyes were fixed on her and suddenly, she felt at a loss for words. "You could have…"

"Now that dreadful pair of underwear."

His voice, though firm, was not threatening in the slightest. It was as if he was instructing her. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Agatha did as she was told and discarded the piece of clothing. So there she sat on her bed, legs pressed tightly together in front of her supposed enemy.

"Open your legs."

The words were quiet, almost gentle, and a shiver went up Agatha's spine. Suddenly the woman felt as if she was being transported back to her teenage years. The awkward time of romance. Agatha had never been with anyone. Never even had a true boyfriend really. And the witty, strong willed person she'd become was okay with that. Sex had never been an issue. In fact, it had made becoming a nun an even easier feat. But that was about to change.

"I've never had sex before." Agatha said quietly, not looking to meet Dracula's stare.

"I'm well aware of that." Dracula almost scoffed. "I'm centuries old, Agatha, and while I am no Christian, as far from it as one can be, I do know what regulations many branches of nuns, monks, and priests follow." He smiled once more, but it almost seemed genuine. "I suppose it's a good thing I have enough experience for the both of us then." He nodded his head. "Now go on and lie back. Close your eyes."

It was as if something else had gotten possession of her mind. A side of her that was ignored, that shoved aside the nagging notion that what was happening. What she was doing in that moment, was and would be a regrettable mistake. But mistakes were only that if they occurred. And Agatha's rationale had long since left the moment she felt the vampire's cool hands touch her inner thighs.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you believe a vampire's favorite spot on a human is the neck." Dracula stated, letting his nails lightly scrape against her bare flesh. "But that is a common misconception."

Agatha bit down on her lower lip, trying to control her uneven breathing. "Then enlighten me." She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut as his fingers brushed ever so lightly against her entrance. "Where does a beast like you prefer to feed?"

Dracula let out a low chuckle. "The femoral arteries are a rather tasteful source." He explained simply. "They're location is in both legs and travels all the way to the groin. One can even detect a pulse." The vampire smiled, his eyes flickering between Agatha's rising chest and tense facial expression. "And I can assure you that yours is very, very fast."

Before Agatha could utter a reply, both of Dracula's hands caught either side of her legs and held them in place. Suddenly, the vampire's tongue ran across the length of her slit and Agatha saw stars. A strange sound escaped from between her lips, but the Count held fast. His movements were slow, methodical, and the former nun's core throbbed with a fire that she'd never experienced.

"Relax…" Dracula murmured against her. "You are too on edge. Shall we try something different?"

It was a rhetorical question, she knew that. And yet, when the vampire pressed a kiss to her swollen lips before lifting his head back up, Agatha was certainly not prepared for what came next. Her eyes fluttered open, hands gripping the sheets as she finally caught Dracula's stare with her own. Again he smiled, a dark, mischievous grin that the former nun was too lost for words to comment.

"Tell me how this feels."

Agatha bit back a yelp of surprise as she felt the vampire's fingers touch the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her entrance. The bud throbbed as he methodically moved in a circle causing her to squirm. Christ it felt good. It shouldn't feel good. She didn't want it to feel good. But it felt fucking fantastic. The Count chuckled, smirking as the former nun's back arched in pleasure, a low moan escaping from deep within her throat.

"Lost your voice have you, Agatha?" Dracula snorted, increasing the pressure in his strokes. "If I may be so bold, I'd go as far to say that this encounter is our most productive yet. All things considered."

"Shut up." Agatha managed to choke out. "You...I…"

"Hm?" The vampire inquired with false interest. "Are you trying to tell me something, Agatha?" His fingers slid down and, with precision, he slid one digit inside of her. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

The world around her was spinning. He was making her feel ways in which she never thought possible. If she was true to religion, she would be most certain that this man. This creature. This vile being was the Devil in the flesh. But as his finger pumped in and out of her, her wetness slick on him, she wanted more. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. How stupid she felt. How utterly flustered. How absolutely, completely, entirely aroused.

"Are you alright?" Dracula asked, a second finger joining the first. "You look as if a cat has gotten a hold of your tongue."

"Pants off..." And even Agatha was momentarily surprised by her demand. "You...pants…"

"Demanding." The vampire replied, unable to hide the amusement in his tone. "Though I am not opposed to it." He smirked, removing his fingers from Agatha. "You might as well remove the rest of your garments during this intermission."

The woman frowned at him, but took off her blouse and unhooked her bra, now completely nude in front of her supposed enemy. Dracula slipped rather easily from his garments, laying them neatly off to the side as opposed to Agatha's which had just been casted. As he stood before her, as naked as the day he was born, she took in the infamous Count. His form was immaculate. Muscular. Dark hair that sprouted like a thick rug on his chest. As her eyes travelled downward, she finally settled upon his cock. His large length already well erect and most likely eager to have been released from the confines of the man's pants.

"You can touch it if you wish." Dracula said, snapping Agatha from her stupor.

Hesitantly, Agatha reached forward and lightly touched Dracula's shaft. She tried not to look at him, knowing he was watching, as her fingers curled around it. Her eyes flickered over to the head and noticed how it was already beginning to weep a bead of precum. The former nun felt juvenile. Silly. And holding him, examining him like this didn't help any. Letting her hand fall back onto the bed, she finally met the vampire's stare.

"This is wrong." She exhaled as Dracula moved beside her on the bed. "We are wrong."

"Perhaps…" The vampire muttered, sliding closer so their bodies touched. "Maybe it is wrong. Maybe it isn't." He leaned in and kissed Agatha, a hand cupping her face. "But we are here, aren't we?"

"Mm…" Agatha hummed against him, closing her eyes once more as Dracula went to position himself between her legs. "This is all a dream. It feels like a dream."

"I assure you, it isn't that." The vampire said, eyes taking in the sight of the former nun's form twisted in the sheets. "And I would most certainly know. But if you must," and he leaned in close to her ear. "We can always pretend."

When Dracula thrust himself inside of her, Agatha let out a small grunt of pain. It burned. Ached as her body adjusted to his size, her hymen that had been the curtain of her virginity now stripped away. Tears pricked her eyes, but when the vampire's mouth met hers, she soon began to forget about the fading pain. Each thrust, more forceful and vigorous than the last bringing pleasure and ecstasy.

Agatha's nails racked down Dracula's back, but they left no visible marks. Everything around her was a blur as the mattress creaked under them, trying to withstand their motions. It was all building up. The tense. The emotions. The heat. And soon, the former nun began to teeter on the edge.

"Dracula…" She managed to gasp out.

"Just let go, Agatha." The vampire instructed, his own voice rough and astonishingly labored. "Give into the release."

It was as if she had been hit with a bolt of lightning. Every nerve ending in her body was alight as Agatha let out a cry, the tsunami of euphoria finally breaking through the floodgates. She was already trembling, her body coming down from the aftermath when Dracula followed suit, white hot bliss shooting through the vampire. He growled, an animalistic sound as he pressed his face into the nun's neck. But much to the woman's relief, she felt no fangs pierce through her skin.

For a few moments, they lay there, in an odd sort of embrace. Then, without so much as a word, Agatha rolled off to the side planting some space between the two. Already she was beginning to feel the effects of the adrenaline wearing off. The energy she had spent long since past. Perhaps, in a way, it was a good thing. Being too tired to really process it all. Closing her eyes, she refrained from looking at Dracula as if some small part of her feared that, if she did, the figurative roller coaster would begin once more.

"I'd like you to leave now." She mumbled tiredly. "Please."

She half expected to hear some response. A snide comment of some sort. Instead, she heard the other side of the bed creak as if a weight was being lifted. Footsteps met her ears, but she still did not allow herself to look and see what the vampire was up to. Another sound, the door knob turning, and Agatha relaxed. Why Dracula said nothing, she was unsure, but sleep tugged endlessly at her consciousness. He was gone, or so she very much hoped. And that's what truly mattered.

Exhaling softly, she tugged the mess of blankets and sheets over her body. Tomorrow she'd face the reality of tonight's action. But for now, Agatha would sleep. A deep, dreamless sleep where the dreaded vampire could not follow. Where she could focus on nothing. Not on the Foundation. Not on this bloody assignment she'd been coerced into. And certainly not Count Dracula. Her breathing slowed, thoughts growing fuzzy as the strings of reality were snipped away and darkness fell.

                                                           XXX

When Agatha's eyes opened the next morning, she found herself alone in bed. For a brief, marvelously ignorant moment, she tried to convince herself that maybe, just maybe it had all been a dream. But when she took in the state of her room-the twisted sheets, her carelessly tossed clothes from the day before, and the unmistakable muscle aches, she knew it all to be true. Swallowing and muttering slurs of curses under her breath, the former nun got out of bed and slipped on a robe. At least for now, she'd have a moment to…

"Aunt Aggie!"

Agatha felt every fiber in her being tense up the moment she opened the door. There, at the dining room table, sat Zoe with what looked like some form of dessert like breakfast. She gave her aunt that same goofy, childish grin she knew so well. Powder sugar covered her lips as she dug her fork into whatever dish she was eating.

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to get up." A familiar voice broke through the silence. "I was considering giving you breakfast in bed. But now that you're up, I suppose you can just take a seat while I get it ready."

Standing proudly in her kitchen as if he owned the place was none other than Count Dracula. He smiled at her, his expression edging on smug as Agatha took all of him in. Dressed in the same attire as the night before, he now also sported a flower printed apron with pink lace that had been a birthday gift to her from a co-worker. She never wore the damn thing and how he came to find it, she didn't nor wanted to know. The vampire held up a spatula and motioned to a pan on the stove.

"Clătite." He explained before she had a moment to ask. "A Romanian form of crepes if you will. These I rolled with strawberry jam-it was all you had in your refrigerator unfortunately." With a mischievous glint in his eye, he held out a plate to her. "Extra whipped cream?"

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Wedded Woes [7] PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: Trelawny talked up a big game at a scenic boardinghouse and, playing some newly weds, you and Arthur are paying the price for it. WARNINGS: Cliche tropes ahoy?

“Now, I need you to follow my lead…” Trelawny stated once the both of you stood before the main floor’s parlor room, your eyes shifting around to take notice of the odd staff and then some of the guests lingering outside. “I imagine the conversation won’t be pleasant.” 

“We just need a distraction, not to insult their honor,” you replied in a low voice, raising an eyebrow toward him. 

“Oh, believe me, nothing keeps a mind occupied better than an argument,” he replied, straightening out his jacket and squaring out his shoulders. Regardless of what he was planning on doing, you knew you weren’t about to disagree or get in his way with that money at stake. You knew it was a gamble without confirmation that he was indeed hiding money in the books, but you trusted your gut in most situations and that was what it was telling you in your current one. 

So, you walked into the room behind Trelawny after he shoved the doors open with an almost overzealous flourish, causing the occupants inside to look toward him curiously. Both Agatha and Gregory were sitting inside, both in conversation until Trelawny came walking toward him. 

“I believe it would be in all our interests if we were to discuss reimbursement for the damages you two have caused,” Trelawny stated, sounding very much like a man who wasn’t about to take no for an answer. You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows a bit at the act, but you tried to remain as neutral as you could until you understood what he was playing at her. 

Naturally, the looks that came across Agatha’s face was one of confusion, Gregory narrowing his eyes toward him. 

“What could you possibly be talking about?” Agatha asked, folding her hands in front of herself as her husband stood up behind her, a hand resting against the back of her chair. 

“The damages to my poor cousin’s marriage, of course,” Trelawny replied, extending a hand back toward you, “They have been here but two days and married only slightly longer than that and already it has been putting such stress into her. Your meddling and then of course your lack of control over your guests, how could we not be upset?” 

“Mrs. Kilgore, we are deeply sorry for the harassment last night, but what meddling could he possibly be talking about?” 

Oh, no. You took a breath in, your mind racing as you squared your shoulders, narrowing your eyes. 

“Please, I would greatly appreciate it if you would not try to play us for fools, you know exactly what he is talking about. Last night? Forcing us to dance under your watch? I could barely get him to kiss me let alone enjoy himself, on top of that terrible drunkard putting his hands on me, it was the worst night of our lives.” 

“Well, I do wish that could have gone better for you, but I don’t believe the blame for that is on us.” 

“It most certainly isn’t,” Gregory stated, his tone tight and you could hear the anger pulled tight behind it. 

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?” you snapped. 

“Mrs. Kilgore, I know you’ve talked to me about the issue before, but perhaps the problem lies within your marriage and not what is happening here. Surely we can’t be expected to pay the price for you marrying so quickly.” 

“How dare you,” Trelawny returned, faining great offense that you tried to echo with the quick exhale that followed her statement, “If I am to recall, you had told me that this establishment would be more than perfect for the occasion, and barely two days in and they would rather leave than spend another minute in your home.”

“Well, am I to remind you, Mrs. Kilgore, how you were trespassing behind locked doors? Surely that isn’t--” 

“I had told you more than once that the door was unlocked, surely I can’t be faulted for assuming that was as free as the other rooms. I never asked you to get involved in the affairs of my marriage and yet you also sit here and insult my character?” 

“Indeed!” Trelawny stated, “I believe it best that my poor cousin leave, should you continue to distress her further. However, I am still of the mind that we should receive some of my funding back for what damages this whole ordeal has done.”

“We are not charging Mr. and Mrs. Kilgore, but if you would like some of the money you have invested back--” 

“We won’t give it,” Gregory stated, “We are not at fault here, they are causing a scene for the sake of it. We’re not going to be moved by such.” 

“I’ve heard quite enough,” you stated, shaking your head. Trelawny turned toward you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, please go and tell Tacitus to pack a bag. We will be leaving within the day.” 

With a nod, you moved back toward the doors and shut them behind you as you heard Trelawny turn to address them both inside. With a heavy exhale, you quickly moved toward the stairs and up onto the second floor. You made your way toward the study, opening the door to Arthur looking about ready to attack whoever was to step through there, a couple billfolds tucked into his case with his clothing. 

“Easy…” you said, partly shutting the door behind you, “How are things in here?” 

“Fine,” he stated with a nod, “You wasn’t lyin’ ‘bout the money. How are things down there? You two ain’t done, are you? Barely had time to…” 

“No, no. It’s just me,” you stated, moving across to the bookshelf across from him, pulling out the book from the other day and opening it. You couldn’t help the small smile at seeing the money inside, happy to be right. “Trelawny’s got them busy with some dramatics, sent me out after insulting my “marriage”.” 

“Sounds like him,” Arthur muttered, the two of you falling into quick silence and you pulled more books out and took the money inside, tucking them back into the spaces. It would be enough to keep eyes off you for the night, though you felt your presence wouldn’t be met with such warmth as it was before. 

Figuring you got all you could, both you and Arthur went back to the room to start getting things ready. You shoved a handful of bills into your case and clothing, shutting it tightly as you could feel some anxiety filling the space between waiting. Really, it hadn’t been much of a wait, evening barely touching afternoon before Trelawny returned alone as he opened the bedroom door. 

“How did we fair?” he asked once he shut it securely behind himself. 

“Ain’t sure, wasn’t countin’” Arthur replied, “Couple thousand, at least. Dutch’ll be pleased.” 

“Wonderful,” he stated, “Agatha and Gregory are willing to let us stay another night, but we must leave the following morning. However, the sooner we leave, the better. So, I will contact the coach and we’ll leave tonight.” 

Upon agreeing, he left in a hurry that didn’t really leave you feeling any better. There were still a number of feelings that still sat from the night before, but they seemed a little muted behind the knowledge that there was stolen money in the cases and you weren’t exactly welcome anymore. It was more waiting and you hated it, all your life knowing you took off as soon as you had your score. 

Still, you were almost free and you could work through the rest then. 

“He’s bein’ dramatic in every sense today,” Arthur commented after some silence, causing you to glance up from where you were watching the window, “This is why we never put him on the getaway.” 

“He’s been driving most of this,” you replied with a shrug, “He said he had to get the coach, probably had to go into town. Shouldn’t be too much longer.” 

“I guess…” Arthur muttered, sounding like he didn’t even want to give him that much of an admission. 

“If I’m going to be put on cons like this after because I managed to go through with this, I don’t know how much of that I’m willing to take,” you remarked with a short chuckle. 

“Naw, you’ll probably get ribbed ‘round the fire enough but don’t think Dutch’ll force somethin’ like this again. Sounded like he regretted havin’ to go through with it.” 

“Wouldn’t budge, I tried,” you said, shaking your head, “Though, yeah, I feel like I’m going to have to answer plenty of questions about this whole thing.” 

“Yeah…” Arthur stated around a sigh, a pause following that sounded like he was struggling with before he spoke up again. He glanced toward you, a frown on his face. “I...listen, I didn’t get to say much last night but if you wanna--” 

However, before he could get it out, there was the sound of a couple footfalls outside and some struggle as it sounded like someone was shoved against the door. All conversation stopped, dying on your tongue as your stomach tightened. A few moments later, the door swung open with some force, Trelawny stumbling in unceremoniously like he had been shoved inside. Gregory walked in behind him, quickly hauling him up from his near fall and wrapped an arm across the front of his neck, your eyes catching the sight of a metal barrel shoved into Trelawny’s temple. 

“Alright…” he started, “Here is how this will happen. You’re going to tell me where you put the money you stole, and I won’t save the law the trouble and put a bullet in your cousin myself.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stated, Gregory turning Trelawny harshly in his hold as he raised the gun toward you instead. 

“We are not playing this game anymore, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he stated, “Where is it?”

“Listen, Mr. Dupoint--”

Your words died down at the sound of the hammer being pulled back on the gun, your head rising slightly as you raised your hands at your sides slightly. There was some movement from your side, Arthur shifting in to step somewhat in the space between Gregory’s gun and where you stood. However, he was unarmed and you were only too aware of that, Gregory narrowing his eyes slightly with a soft huff. 

“How noble.” 

“Mr. Dupoint, please…” you started again, his hand shifting to point a gun at you over Arthur’s shoulder. 

“We’re not negotiating,” he stated, “Tell me, or I will put a bullet in one of you. What will it be?” 

“You keep threatenin’ them, mister, and you’re gonna regret it,” Arthur stated, standing tense off to the side of you as Gregory turned his gaze toward him again but not the weapon, his expression impassive. 

“By all means, do something, but one of them will die and that will be on you,” he stated, “I’m getting tired of repeating myself: where is the money?”

There was a heavy pause as nobody spoke for a moment, no more attempts to negotiate or threaten. You could feel some frustration cropping up in you, not liking the feeling of staring down a barrel. A gun. Slowly, you took in an inhale as realization hit you that Gregory wasn’t the only one in the room that had a weapon. You could at least get him to release Trelawny if nothing else in the confined room. With a sigh, you nodded. 

“I’ll get you the money,” you replied, hearing a hiss of your name from Arthur that caused you to shoot him a look, “It’s in my case, but you’ll have to let me move to open it.” 

Gregory seemed to weigh that option, his aim still steadily on you. However, eventually he relented, adjusting his grip on the gun and Trelawny as he did so. 

“If you move in any way that I don’t like, I’m not going to give you another chance,” he warned, earning a nod from you before he allowed you to take a couple steps back. Keeping your gaze on his, you pulled the case toward yourself slowly with your foot. 

Bending down, you undid the locks before opening it to the money that sat inside. Clearing two of the billfolds from the back of it, you set them out slowly beside yourself before reaching down further to grip your gun that waited inside.