#and guess what? Agatha is so flattered

[cissa-calls]

Countdown to Agatha: Day 771

Wanda: “How do I tell Agatha I want to be enemies in a non-platonic way?”

Natasha: “Just start with a simple truth, a fact about her that’s something to build off of for how you feel”

Wanda: “That’s perfect!” *flys away* “Agatha!”

Agatha: “What’s up hot stuff? Didn’t get enough of me in our last duel?”

Wanda: “No- I mean YES!- I mean I could never get enough-“ *panics* “You smell like old books and raspberry jam”

Agatha: ???

Natasha in mental anguish: “NOT *THAT* KIND OF TRUTH”

Wanda: “Should I bring up how her laugh is like a symphony of birds cackling?”

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Destino: Let's begin, peasants!

@ask-guardian-gallade

*Destino takes one look at Romeo and makes a disgusted face.*

Oh great. The walking stick over here decided to make an appearance. Your face reminds me of something. A Stunky's backside. Nobody wants to see it but it keep rearing it anyway. And you lost your arm too? How did that happen? Wait, let me guess. Your battling skills were so bad that you lost it to the first Pokémon you saw? I wouldn't be surprised if you lost it to a Sunkern. I've heard how pathetic they are. Perhaps you're a Sunkern in disguise, considering how weak you look. I could probably knock you over with a single breath. Snap you like a twig too. You should probably be more careful around other Pokémon. I wouldn't want you to loose your other arm because they gently bumped into you.

@spikyegg

*Destino laughs as soon as they see Derek.* You think that ensemble looks good on you? Haha! That's probably the funniest thing I've seen all day. You look like if a Trubbish decided to take a shit and proudly display it on themselves. And that head piece? That's probably the most flattering part about you. Then again, you're not anything special to look at. Main character? Of what novel? Because I doubt anyone would want to read a book with you as the protagonist. I think you probably misunderstood your role. You're one of those character who would appear for a second and get easily forgotten because of how little impact you more than likely have in this world.

@team-pokefriends

*Destino looks at Sophie, shit-eating grin on their face.* You know, I love it when other Pokémon create impossible dreams for themselves. Like you. Dreaming of being cool looking like that? How truly inspiring. The cape certainly doesn't help. Did you really think putting that ridiculous cloth on you would suddenly make everyone think you're cool? Perhaps you should change your dream to being the world's most deluded Slowking. At least that's achievable. And you're one of two leaders of a Pokémon team? However did your team mate allow that to happen? I mean, sorry to say this but it's clearly some elaborate prank they thought of to make you look stupid. I doubt I'd ever want you to lead a team if I made one. That's sending so many red flags. I'm surprised you haven't failed miserably yet.

@nobetternamethanthat2

*Looks towards Daniel, feigning surprise * Wow. I'm speechless. I truly am. I didn't think I'd find someone so ugly but here we are. I should give you a medal for going around looking like that. And the outfit too? Oh man, I feel sorry for anyone who decides to hang around with you. Then again, I imagine they're doing it for pity. And come on. At least style your hair a bit. Put a bit of effort into your appearance. I know not everyone can look as magnificent as me but at least try to have some dignity. I would offer to make you at least look somewhat decent but I doubt even my skills could help out in that department. How could you ever make yourself look presentable when each mirror you come across cracks at the sight of you?

@neverlandfaerai

*Destino looks at Agatha with a mock surprised face* The god of creation decided to make you look like that? I wouldn't be surprised if you were one of the idea they threw away and ended up accidently being created. I imagine they regretted that decision. I mean, who would even care for a decrepit creature like you? Do you even have any friends? Family? I highly doubt it. Why would anyone want to be around some washed up old crone? And please don't speak. It makes it much easier to maintain my illusions of your intelligence that way.

@ask-suicune

*Destino takes one glance at Zantzu and smugly smiles.* Well well well. If it isn't the water type who decided a scarf would be a good thing to wear. Perhaps you should get a bigger scarf to cover more of yourself up. And what is up with those ribbons? Born with ribbons coming out of your ass? Damn, I almost feel sorry about how ridiculous you look with those. And that hair. Purple. Did you dye it that colour to make yourself look a shred bit presentable? No? You were born with it? What a disaster for you. I'm surprised you wake up everyday telling yourself you look ok. Your scent is also incredibly interesting too. Did you attack a Stunky or did one just sneeze on you? I thought water types were supposed to be clean but the whiff I got of your stench makes me doubt what I've heard.

@askpokemoncrossover

Sai. You know, you amaze me. Being some mad scientist's fucked up creation must be so hard for you. That's not the case? How on earth would you explain your looks? I have the belief that every Pokémon can be strong. Looking at you though, I can see I was wrong. Those noodly arms would barely be able to get a single hit on an opponent. I guarantee that if I used my weakest attack on you, you'd flop to the ground in an instant.

And I doubt anyone would come running over to aid you. You look like the type of Pokémon not even a mother could love. Does anyone love you? If you said yes, that'd be the funniest thing I'd have heard in a long time.

@ask-lu-two-and-mew

Now, help me out Lucario because I'm really struggling to understand how you could ever think that face mask could work. That's natural? What an absolute shame that is. Perhaps you should cover up. At least then your friends wouldn't be embarrassed being around you. And a fighting type too? I thought fighting types were supposed to be these strong looking Pokémon that could hold their own against any opponent. I doubt you could even put a dent in a geodude. I imagine everyone else probably fights your battles as they would see how pathetic your attempt at fighting was and take pity on you.

Destino: Don't worry, I'll come at the rest of you later. I know you all crave my attention. I understand. Who wouldn't?

[eclectickss]

Make Me Feel Special (1/2)

Pairing: Milf!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: Mommy issues/kink, sexual implications, major age gap (reader is of age)

Summary: You are angry at your best friend for turning down the opportunity for something that you would give your life for: a mother.

Word Count: 3K?

Link to Part 2

A/N: Not grammar checked at all! A blurb gone big!(still at writers block on PGATW) But requests are open! I’ve never done one before but i’m willing to try. <3

-

-

-

You entered the apartment and placed your keys in the dish and jacket on it’s hook, making your way into the kitchen to place your to-go food in the fridge. Jane sat at the island on the computer you shared, and you smiled.

“Hey, I picked up sandwiches for dinner. Hope that’s cool.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Your best friend didn’t look up, but it didn’t really bother you. Well, she was your only friend, but still.

You and Jane had been sharing the apartment for years now, The two of you working a good job to afford it and making a livable income. You had been close since high-school, due to your similar social status, but beyond the two of you, nobody was too good at making friends.

From what she had told you, Jane’s mom wasn’t around much when she was growing up. Jane was a teen pregnancy, and ever since she was born, her mom made no time for her daughter. Agatha, was her name.

Agatha came from a wealthy family, though. Her parents (Jane’s grandparents) wouldn’t allow her to use the family money for her child, much less anything else. She struggled with Jane, and therefore the two of them were ever close.

Agatha’s parents died when Jane was in high-school, so her mom inherited their wealth, but their relationship was past salvageable. At least in Jane’s eyes, it was.

Jane was always telling you about how bad of a mom Agatha was and about how you were lucky that you didn’t have to deal with someone like her. Jane didn’t understand though. You would had given anything to have someone like Agatha. Even if she wasn’t around to much, it was still better than nobody at all.

-

-

-

You were now setting the table for two as you pulled the sandwiches out of the fridge, also finding some strawberries to place at the table. You now were looking through the pantry for chips when you heard a knock at the door and Jane moving around to answer it.

“Mom?!” You heard at the door while you still had your head buried in the pantry. Your eyes widened at the name, never expecting to hear it in your life (in that context, at least). You thought Agatha was out of the picture. “What are you doing here?” You stayed silent as you listened from around the corner.

“Well, I think it’s long overdue that we had a talk, Jane, honey.” She sounded a little more raspy than you were expecting, but that doesn’t say much about someone who used to be an addict.

“We don’t do that, Mom. Anyways, now isn’t a good time.” You heard your friend sigh. The woman was your literal mother... you could at least give her five minutes, you thought.

“I want to start, honey. Please just let me in?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“C’mon, kiddo.” She begged, and you felt a little bad for how Jane was acting. You know her mom wasn’t a great person, but she was still her mom.

You never got to have one of those.

“If this is just you on another one of your sobriety stunts...”

“I’m really trying this time, Jane! I know I fucked up, baby, but please.”

“Fine.” Your friend grumbled. You heard increasing footsteps and your heart raced as you were about to meet the source of Jane’s complaints and drama.

You hurried to sit at the kitchen counter before the two women caught you snooping, but your gaze snaps up just in time to see Agatha Harkness walk into the room.

Jane might have always mentioned that her mother was any and all variations of a bitch, but she failed to mention how attractive the woman was. Her messy brown hair sat on top of an old purple cardigan and worn out jeans, followed by a pair of well-used slip-on shoes. The look together was not extremely flattering, but Agatha somehow pulled it together in a way that made your stomach turn. Your eyes raked her down, but you think she caught you when you met her gaze again. She smirked softly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had guests!” She says as her own eyes follow your figure, and you wonder if she’s just doing it to mock you or flatter you. She looks back up with a glimmer in her eye, and you decide on the latter option. Your face goes red, but you try and brush her actions off, not wanting to mistake it for anything else.

“Didn’t I say that this was a bad time?” Jane grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Harkness. My name is YN.” You smiled as you held out your hand.

“Call me Agatha, darling.” She stared into your eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of Jane’s friends.” You panic under her gaze.

“We were just about to sit down for dinner, if you want to join us. We don’t have any food for you, but-“

“Oh, thank you... I was hoping I could talk to Jane in private, though.” She walked over to the table and took a seat.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it to YN, too.” The two of you joined Agatha at the table.

A long moment of awkward silence passsed between the three of you before your guest finally spoke up.

“I want you in my life, Jane. For real this time.”

Nobody says anything, and dishes stop clattering.

“I know I shoulda done this earlier... hell, I shoulda done this when I got claim to my parent’s money, but I want to look after you. I never got the chance to do that when you were young... cause of all the drinking and working... but I can do that now. I’m ready.”

Jane sat with her mouth open and a half eaten sandwich forgotten on her plate.

“No, Mom, you shoulda done this from the moment I was conceived. You don’t get a second chance with me. I’m not giving you a second chance, or a third or a fourth or whatever number you wanna give yourself. You wanna know why? It’s because I already did that. And you let me down every single time.”

Agatha looked a little speechless.

“Fine, then.” She sighed. “I won’t bother you again.” But it hurt you to watch a daughter turn away her mother, when that was an opportunity that you wanted so badly. “Is it alright if I stay the night, though? It’s a long drive back to my place.”

Jane rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was being dramatic, but didn’t want to put up with any more of her antics. “I better not see you in the morning. YN can get blankets for the couch.”

-

-

-

“Hey, Jane,” You sighed as you entered her room.

“Hey, YN. I’m sorry you had to deal with the shit show that is my mother. I can’t believe she just walked in here and expected me to accept her pathetic invitation.”

“No, it’s ok. She’s not that bad with me.”

“Well she just met you. I just don’t understand why she thought showing up unannounced would magically make me want a mother again. It’s fucked up.” Jane said, but you couldn’t sit there and watch her tear down something that you wish you had.

“Yeah,” you mumbled and rushed out of her room before she could say anything else.

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, then headed over to the sink for some tap water. The cool liquid rushed down your throat as you held down your tears, thankful that nobody was around.

“Hey, Honey,”

Shit. You forgot that Agatha was on the couch.

You turn around to see her meeting your gaze, although her eyes quickly found the way to the rest of your body.

“You doing alright, babygirl?” The nickname made you heat up. She spoke with concern and care; something that Jane chose to ignore, which made you feel bad for Agatha. You wish that Jane wouldn’t take for granted what her mother was trying to offer her.

“Uh... yeah... I guess.” You sigh, hopping up to sit on the counter as you watch the other woman fill her own glass at the sink. “Jane is just... being a little hard right now.” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to lose the trust of your friend but also wanting to gain the trust of another.

“What do you mean?” You realize the situation you have put yourself in.

“It’s just... I didn’t have a mom at all growing up. Or a dad. I had my shitty uncle... until he tossed me into the foster system. I had it real rough... and it still kinda is... but Jane has been helping. That’s why we’re friends at least. She might view me as a charity project, but i’m desperate, I guess.”

“What does all of this have to do with Jane being hard, hon?” She leaned onto the counter across from you.

“She didn’t really have a mom, either... growing up. No offense.”

Agatha shrugged. “I know.”

“But now that she’s given an opportunity to have one, she turns it down... and it makes me jealous. Mad. Angry.” You pause. “I know I’ll never get the chance at a mom, but she has one. And fuck, I would give so much to have that.”

“To have someone like me? A recovering drunk who treated their teen pregnancy like a joke?”Agatha sighed into her hands, but her words meant so much more to you than she may ever know.

“Yeah. To have someone like you. Someone who cares.” At that, she looked up with a new light in her eyes, but you don’t meet her gaze. You don’t want her to see the blush or desire written on your face, so instead, you pull a cigarette out from your jacket pocket.

She watches you as you hop down from the counter to get the lighter out of the junk drawer, paying attention to the way your body moves. You notice how her eyes follow you, but you don’t call her out on it, knowing you would do the same if the roles were reversed.

“You want a hit?” You lift your eyebrow as you raise the smoke to meet her gaze. A glint of humor is caught on her face, and you smirk.

“Sure... why not.” She says as you join her in leaning up against the counter. You bring the cigarette up to your mouth and click the lighter.

“So,” Agatha starts again, both of you a few puffs in. “How did you end up here with Jane?”

“Uhh... we met senior year of high-school. I was fucked up. Shit grades. Wasn’t going to graduate. Drug money to pay off... no job. Jane used your money to pay off my debt. She found me a job. Tutored me. Like I said, I felt like a charity project. But at least I graduated. We both work now and pay for this place together. Maybe it’s not great but we’re both better off than we were a few years ago.”

“Why didn’t she accept anything I tried to give her? Did she tell you?” Agatha was prying, but you didn’t mind.

“You mean after high-school? She didn’t want any help from you. In her words exactly... ‘She wasn’t there for me for the first 18 years of my life, so why should she help out now...’”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I didn’t grow up poor, Agatha. I grew up with nothing. I would have taken any of your offers in a heartbeat, no matter how guilty they made me feel.”

“Good girl.” She nearly whispers, and you turned to face her, but you couldn’t make anything out of the expression written on her face. Your own skin was hot and something was burning in your core, and you didn’t know what to think.

“I’m sorry... what did you just say?” You watched as she put the cigarette out, now giving you her undivided attention.

“So tell me, honey, do you have a boyfriend? I’m assuming a pretty thing like you would have one. Tell me about him.” Part of you wondered where this conversation was going, but the other part assumed that she already knew which direction you leaned in.

“Uhh... not my type.” You stared at her with curiosity.

“So you got a girlfriend, then?” Her new confidence shocked you a little bit.

“Uhh... no.” You tilted your head, and she seemed to pick up on your confusion.

“Good girl.” Your mouth was dry. “You see, mommy doesn’t want you having a girlfriend... no, she wants you all to herself.”

Your eyes widen in shock, but your core aches and cheeks burn. You stare at the woman next to you as a hand slides onto your thigh.

“Oh come on, darling. You said you wanted a mommy, baby. I wanna take care of you. I see the way you look at me. Don’t deny you want me too.” She spins around and pins you to the counter, and you audibly gulp.

“But- Jane.” You whine, already being driven crazy by the proximity of Agatha’s body.

“Jane is kicking me out, baby girl. And you can come live with me. Mommy has a pretty house, honey. I can feed you, clothe you... make you feel good. I can make you feel special.” And God, your soul was ready to leave your body. You wanted this. You could hardly think as her soft lips grazed over the skin on your neck, and a soft moan escaped your throat. Her tongue and teeth pulled at the skin just below your ear, trying to pull a response out of you.

“Mom!” The both of you jumped at the third voice in the room. The two of you turn to Jane in shock. “What the FUCK are you doing!” She rushed over to the two of you, pulling Agatha off of your body. “You can’t just come into my life and try to fuck my friends after someone rejects you!” She pushes her mom back and turns to you.

“Oh my god, YN, are you ok? I cannot believe that she tried to touch you. God, that makes me sick.” She hugged you, but you still couldn’t say anything.

“Jane, honey, you don’t know-“

“Shut up! I can’t even look at you! Get out of my house, mom. I never want to see you again.” Jane’s face turned red with anger.

“Honey-“ Agatha met eyes with you, but you didn’t know what to do.

“Leave! Now.” She seethed and stomped back to the bedroom, expecting Agatha to be gone when she got back.

The woman in front of you moved silently while you still processed what just happened. When she returned with her belongings, she gave you a note, but headed out without saying a word.

After a few minutes, you finally looked at the piece of paper in hand.

If you ever make up your mind...

1286 Lincoln St NW

(673) 867-5309

-Agatha

-

-

-

“YN, are you sure you’re alright? I really never would have expected my mom to touch you or even make you feel uncomfortable. I’m so sorry.” Jane sighed as she sat on the bed.

“I’m fine, J. You don’t have to apologize on her behalf.” You replied, sitting on the chair opposite her.

“I mean what even happened. Why did she do that?”

“Umm... I don’t know. We were just talking and then she started that.”

“What we’re you talking about?”

“Oh, I was just explaining how we met.” You tentatively answered.

“YN you didn’t have to tell her that. I know it’s personal for you, I can’t believe she forced you to talk about it.

“I uhh- actually didn’t mind. I wasn’t forced.”

“Then why would you trust her with something like that? You know how she is.”

“Because...” You thought about your next words carefully. “She cares.” Jane scoffs.

“That must be a different woman we’re talking about, YN. My mom is a selfish bitch who only cares for herself.”

That tipped the iceberg for you.

“You know, Jane? I understand that you and her might never be besties like she wants you to be, but that doesn’t mean you get to fuck her over now that she’s trying.” Your friend looks up at you in shock.

“Well she fucked me over my entire life, so I don’t see why I can’t do the same.”

“Because! Jane! She’s changed! It’s only right that you give her one more shot in your life!”

She took a pause.

“I’m sorry, YN, are you defending my MOM? After everything she’s done to me, and everything i’ve done for you?!”

“Yes. It is sick watching you throw something away that I can only dream of.” You spat angrily.

“Geez, YN. Just- get out of my fucking house. Keep your rent money for the month. Pack your shit and get the hell out of here.” She nearly ran out of the room.

But you weren’t surprised. In fact, you expected this the moment you chose your side.

-

-

-

The knocks resonate through the large door attached to the even larger house. Agatha has money.

You thought Jane was over exaggerating a little bit, but now you understood that she wasn’t. You sighed as your cab sped away, and now all you could do was wait.

Agatha opened the door, slightly shocked to see you, but nevertheless happy.

“Hey baby, what is it?”

You took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the woman who stood in front of you.

“I want you to make me feel special, mommy.”

-

-

-

link to part 2

[zafirosreverie]

Agatha || Olivia || Ursula || Carla || Jennifer

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Eve smiled as she entered the classroom. It felt a little strange to start a new chapter in her life, but she didn’t want to be alone and she always wanted to learn literature anyways, so, here she was! She just prayed she wouldn’t be the only older person. 

She smiled at the guy he met in the door, Julian, as she took her jacket off. She was careful not to show the little tattoo on her wrist, not wanting to be seen as desperate and creepy. She didn’t like the fact that she got so nervous and her hopes were raised every time she met a young person. 

In a world where you have a tattoo with your Soulmate's age at the time you'll meet them, she hasn’t been able to find hers. The age on her skin was low, which meant her soulmate was someone young. While she was growing, she always thought she’d meet her soulmate when she’d be around that same age. That was why she married Ted, even if the ages weren’t exactly the same, both of them thought it didn’t matter. Maybe the tattoos were only an approximation. 

But then, after years of marriage and a son, his tattoo started to change color. A fews days later, she discovered him cheating on her. It seemed like he found his real soulmate. It was hard for her, because she not only had to take care of Brendan alone, it was the realisation that she still had to find her soulmate out there...and it was someone younger. 

She tried to convince herself that she really didn’t need to find them...but that didn’t stop her nervousness whenever she met someone younger. What was scary to her though, was the fact that she kept getting older, and the number on her wrist remained the same. 

_____________________

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, work” you said and gave Margo a forced smile. 

It was the third time you were late to class. You didn’t even make it to the first one!! Margo acted like she didn’t mind, but you knew it wasn’t the case. And your classmates were always staring weirdly at you. Especially the older woman, Eve. The brunette was always looking at you, even if she acted like it wasn’t the case.

If you were honest, you were flattered by  it. She was a beautiful woman and you would be lying if you said you didn’t stare back at her some times. Too bad she was too shy to have an actual conversation.

“It’s ok, Y/N, we’re leaving anyway” Margo said and you frowned

“Leaving?”

“We're going to have the class in the bar” she winked at you.

You were confused as fuck, but who were you to say no to free food and drinks?

________________

You smiled as Eve continued to talk about her son and other stuff that you didn’t really listen to because you were too busy staring at her incredibly beautiful eyes. How did you two end up having dinner together while the rest of the class was lost  somewhere in this place? You didn’t know. But you loved it. 

She was so funny, gentle, sweet and lovely, which just made you feel even more dragged to her. You knew she was probably already taken, but hey! One could dream right? After all, you still had some more time before you met your soulmate, that was the reason you always covered your tattoo, no need to worry about it yet. They were supposed to be 45 years old when you met them, and you guessed you’ll be somewhere around that age too, so, you had some time to flirt with beautiful women meanwhile. 

Speaking of, she was telling you about her marriage and how it ended being the wrong person. She seemed a little nervous for that conversation, and you couldn’t help your curiosity. 

“So, how old are you?” you asked. 

“45” she gave you a small smile.

You felt your heart stopping and your cheeks burning. Eve frowned a little, worried about your sudden silence. 

“What’s on your wrist?” you suddenly asked.

“I- what?”

“Eve, what’s on your wrist?” 

“Why do you want to know?”

You sighed and looked at her for a moment. It was obvious she wouldn’t tell you just like that, so you took a risk.

“I’m Y/A” you said.

Eve looked at you and you noticed how the color left her face. She quickly rolled up her sleeves and showed you her wrist. 

Y/A 

You did the same and Eve gasped. 

45

And both of your tattoos were of a different color now. It looked like black, but if you looked at it carefully, you could see some pink in it. That’s probably why none of you noticed it had changed the first time you saw each other..

You stared at each other for a moment, the same thing on both your minds.

"oh...dear"

[jake-amy]

fic writer interview

i was tagged by @useyourtelescope (many moons ago! and i was super flattered bc i love their fics! so thank you!! 💖 i am just real slow.)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 16!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

86,540

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

just the one! bridgerton.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the florist who loved me – A look at the various Bridgerton family group chats as Anthony meets one Kate Sharma. (modern, text fic)

‘cause i know that it’s delicate – jealous Anthony, in-between their first kiss and Aubrey Hall. (canon era, missing scene)

Companionable – three times Colin shared a dance with Cressida Cowper, and one time he refused. (mixed tv/canon era; *despite the summary, this is very much a colin/pen fic!)

Of Two Minds – Violet breaks the news to Kate and Anthony that Colin and Penelope’s wedding is being moved up. (canon era, missing scene)

a (veritable) font of knowledge and gossip – Colin and Penelope help Agatha, Jane, Thomas, and George each find their match. (canon era, future gen, current wip) 

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i do! i actually really enjoy receiving a response from an author, i always want to be able to respond to my own. i’ve fallen behind over the past handful few fics, only bc sometimes i don’t know what to say to such nice things, but i do want to catch up soon to say thank you! truthfully i would rip my heart out of my chest for anyone who takes the time to leave a comment!

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i’m not much of an angst person to be quite honest! maybe mementos or have i known you twenty seconds, or twenty years? only because they’re edmund/violet fics, and, well…

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i never have. my brain is simply not big enuff.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not really! but someone sent me an ask on here the other day re: a wip, asking me why i had made a character queer, which wasn’t all that great to receive. i just didn’t feel like answering so it’s just been deleted.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

just the one time, and probably never again. i feel like i was judging every single letter i typed as i was doing it. but it was a missing scene i always wanted to see – and it’s my favorite (🤠) kind of smut, domestic bliss – so i guess i wrote it for myself.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

😧 not as far as i know!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i haven’t!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not yet, though @sofwrites​ and i might get around to a gregory/lucy one some time 🦆💚

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

there are so so many. i love ben/leslie and jake/amy so much (i think i created my ao3 profile just so i could read them), but for bridgerton, my favorites are penelope/colin, gregory/lucy and anthony/kate.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

my only current wip is a (veritable) font – i started drafting it last may, so it’s been a real, real slow process, but i’m almost done with thomas and i’ve got an outline for george, so i’m sure i’ll finish both. + my beta for it is the best. but there are two wip’s sitting on my desktop, one angst (rmb, but if penelope had been married and widowed before then) and one smutty (colin.... envisioning penelope’s boobs, because he said he had hundreds of times before their engagement night, which is just insane, off-the-charts horny behavior 💀), but i doubt i’ll actually get around to finishing either.

15. What are your writing strengths?

i think i’m pretty good at having several characters be in one scene! (i kinda get why jq wrote like two scenes with all the bridgerton family now. every time i do it, i think “why 🤡”) but – i’m really happy with how they turn out, in the end, and i think it’s become one of my strengths. 

and family stuff! looking back at everything i’ve written, more of it is family-oriented than ship-oriented, and i think it’s also one of my stronger suits.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

i feel like i’m pretty dialogue heavy sometimes, and sort of second-guess when/where i need to add action a lot. i’ll just wonder, “do i need to say they walked across the room? isn’t it obvious they’ve already sat?” because i’m afraid i’m boring the reader by making note of something so plain, so there’s that. that, and i’m sure i overuse the em-dash.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i’ve never done it (except for the thing i’m working on, which has a line of latin in it), but i’d probably ask a friend who spoke the language for help, if i were to write extensive dialogue.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

bridgerton, but there’s a jake/amy fic i never finished somewhere on my old computer. i’m only counting ao3, though – if we go back to ff.net though (😭) it was probably harry potter.

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

i feel like i’ve always thought it was “the florist who loved me,” because i’m a really disorganized writer and i’m happy with how it flows as a text fic (and it made me like, obscenely happy any time someone said it made them laugh), though i also love “a (veritable) font of knowledge and gossip,” and words of advice because they’re both very personal to me. but i do also really like family tree, because i just remember making this post, which then wouldn’t leave my mind until i turned it into a drabble. i think it’s short and sweet and fun and it’s two of my faves, gregory and colin. 

and maybe also Dear Francesca, because it’s the first fic i published on ao3, almost 1 year ago now. i’d maybe only read 2 of the bridgerton books at that point, but it just irked me so much how much the bridgertons let francesca miss (like her sister’s whole ass wedding??) over the course of s1 😭 

yeah i probably shouldn’t have answered with five different fics, but i normally feel more embarrassed than not talking about my own writing, so i’m just gonna put it all here for now.

tagging / saying hello to: @sofwrites @daphnejane @irishseeeker @britishteacup @pensbridgrton @mskatesharma @ourlilinfinity @your3fundamentaltruths 💕or anyone who sees this! feel free to go ahead and interview yourself ✍️

[agxthahxrkness]

Oh gosh, what can I say about you and your absolutely amazing portrayal of Agatha Harkness? Let's start with: Kathryn Hahn would be proud. Seriously; you've connected with her on such a powerful level that I think the WandaVision showrunners would be convinced YOU were the one writing for her. I love every single second of our characters' interactions, and I cannot wait to see where things go.

[Impressions of me]

//omfg ummm... hi.. yes. I don't know what to say. Ummm yes, so, thank you very much. I'm extremely flattered and I don't feel like I deserve that kind of praise. I guess I write her well because I basically am the witch. When my friends told me to watch WandaVision they were like "Okay, but be prepared because it's gonna be like looking into a mirror". I didn't believe them, I should have lol. I even had to pause an episode and walk off for a minute.

I would absolutely love to write her for the MCU. If any show runners or executives are around, DM me I swear you won't regret it.

Ugh I hope she would be proud of me. I honestly don't know how I would handle to idea of Hahn finding my bullshit here. Give the powerful witch the sapphic love interests she deserves.

[cornholio4]

A Date With Prince Ali

Author’s note: I admit I was using this story as an excuse to gush about Knives Out; an enjoyable movie even if you're like me and your biggest exposure to mystery stories are Scooby Doo episodes and movies.Over a year of Ladybug salt and LIla Salt; different types of stories and using pairings with Felix and Damian Wayne (not a fan of either of those pairings to be honest). Then I realised why not try one that is Marinette X Ali as surprisingly enough there are no stories of that yet.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng just sighed when class was just finishing and Lila began spinning off her latest tale about some celebrities that she had supposedly met, really it was quite frustrating how all suckered in they were. Nino told everyone about how his parents were taking his little brother Chris to an appointment so they could have their own party there with him as a DJ.

Lila of course said she would love to come over when she has time and has another story she has been waiting for the right moment to tell them. This made Marinette groaned and Marinette almost missed it when Nino asked if she can expect to find her there.

"Oh no sorry Nino, I already have plans..." Marinette told him and then saw disappointed glances from most of the classmates as this was another occasion she had missed out with Lila involved. "Look sorry but I already have plans; I'm going to go see Knives Out tonight." Marinette explained and everyone looked at her incredulously as everything they knew about the movie didn't seem like it would be one Marinette would see.

Then of course Lila was putting up a facade of how disappointed she was that Marinette would not be coming. "Really girl, if you don't want to come because Lila is coming then you can at least be honest and tell us... No need to make up a story on the spot..." Alya chided her and Marinette sighed at her words along with the disapproval that came from Adrien.

It wasn't an excuse and she really did plan to go see the movie that afternoon, she had been looking forward to it for some time.

What her classmates didn't know was that she was actually a big fan of mystery stories, from her childhood of watching mystery movies with her parents (she watched a lot of the TV show about Hercule Poirot), watching Scooby Doo as well as reading the Agatha Christie books. She actually loved watching the mysteries build up with all the clues and red herrings built up and put together in the ending.

In fact when she was accused of stealing by Chloe she was putting her deductive skills to rest and she also got to use them when she began to suspect that Adrien's father was Hawk Moth. She rarely got to use the skills she developed from all the mysteries stories she had seen and read.

True the deductive skills failed to convince her classmates that Lila was lying but that was neither here nor there.

Later she got home and noticed a parcel for her and she opened it to see a necklace looking like it came from the kingdom of Achu and guessed it must have come from her secret admirer again. She had been getting presents and letters in the mail for a small while from a secret admirer saying they had only just gotten the courage to send these tokens of their feelings towards her.

She began wondering who it could be with her first hope being that it was from Adrien but soon her feelings began dying out. It had to do with his words about Lila's lying not hurting anyone.

What instantly could get her out of a Lila related sour mood was wondering who could be her secret admirer; she had yet to tell Alya about it. Mostly because she was pretty much dreading whatever scheme Alya could cook up to find out who it could be.

Some of the presents were mostly jewellery and she figured it must be someone well off, one of her first candidates was Luka but looking at the expensive jewellery it may not be there. Unless the Couffaines were secretly wealthy and were being humble about it to the point of living in their small houseboat. Currently her best candidate would be Kagami.

Her parents were gushing about her latest gift from her admirer and were encouraging her to wear it for the movie today. She thought it would be a little much but she decided to do so. She had changed into a detective outfit she had designed and Tikki was asking about where it came from.

She had explained that during the last summer at a birthday party for one of her cousins; it was a murder mystery role play party that she was so excited for and designed everyone's outfit. Her role was as the lead detective's deputy.

She had gotten to the door but then saw someone enter through the door and it was someone in a hooded jacket along with some sort of chaperone bodyguard. The person took his hood down and saw it was Prince Ali of Achu.

"Prince Ali, what a surprise..." Marinette blurted out remembering when she had last saw him as Ladybug. Rose had told everyone about how excited she was to have ice cream with him and some time ago she had been disappointed to tell them that Prince Ali admitted to her in his last message that he liked someone else and was sending her letters before he can finally confess in person.

She felt sorry for Rose and tried to console her along with the other classmates, Lila made a half hearted story that she was asked by Prince Ali himself to keep it secret that she liked some other princess. Of course they had eaten it up.

Rose had said that Prince Ali really spoke fondly of her and said he hadn't had a chance to see her along but she was kind, clumsy and adorable with a passion for fashion.

Marinette knew that Prince Ali was in France related to a charity he was doing and how it would be a busy one, Lila made up a claim that she would try and see if they can get time to get them to see him again. Lucky Lila counted on the fact that it was reported that he would only be in France for 3 days and how unlikely it would be that he would be in Paris to see them.

A part of her thought about directly asking him about Lila but she decided she didn't want to use him like this to settle a grudge against a bully.

"Marinette, hasn't had time to see you directly..." Prince Ali admitted to her with a blush with Marinette feeling like she should be questioning why he was there. "I managed to make enough time in my schedule to come here and see the girl I liked." Prince Ali told her sheepishly and Marinette froze having put the clues together:

The presents having come at the same time when Rose talked to Prince Ali with his message about sending presents to his crush and the description of this crush.

Uh oh...

"I am... flattered your majesty but... Rose likes you and I am sure a girl code or a sis code exists..." Marinette trying to come up with the best excuse she could do. Her parents were no help as they were gushing about it and how Marinette was always a princess to them.

"Rose is a good friend but I can't help it when I saw a pretty girl and what Rose told me about you; how helpful and kind you are. I noticed your designs on your website and I was amazed by your talents. Plus the achievements you have made." Prince Ali told her and Marinette's cheeks began going red. "Are you doing anything tonight?" He asked hopefully and she shook her head.

"Sorry but I already made plans, I want to see this movie at the cinema called Knives Out..." Marinette told him and Prince Ali put out his hand offering to treat her to a movie. Her brain shut down and it only rebooted again when she noticed she was led to his limo.

She smiled awkwardly at Prince Ali as she sat next to him, she then began wondering if she even liked him like that. He was handsome alright but that was not enough for her to fall for someone; she knew Adrien was handsome but didn't care for him when she thought he was a bully friend of Chloe. She only started to fall for him at the umbrella incident.

Maybe she could give Prince Ali a try as he was a nice boy starting charities and being nothing but kind to Rose.

They reached the cinema and Prince Ali helped Marinette out as they entered with his chaperone and his hood disguise back up, they got in line and paid for their tickets. They got to the screening room and Marinette noticed Aurore and Mireille there who recognised Marinette but not her apparent date. They were going as Chris Evans fans and were wierded out when Marinette revealed she was a mystery fan.

They sat down and the ads and trailers played and followed by a message from the movie's director Rian Johnson asking the audience not to spoil the ending to their friends as it was a whodunit mystery. Marinette with a serious look on her face zipped her mouth shut at that which Prince Ali laughed at and she just looked sheepish.

They watched the movie and during the first act Marinette saw how intentionally horrible most of the characters were. while because she hated being scared was the main reason why she hated horror movies another one was because it was hard to like any of the characters in those movies and want to see them survive.

They laughed at scenes in it (especially at Daniel Craig's hilarious accent) while Marinette was analysing any potential clues and feeling tense as it went on. The movie ended and Marinette left with Prince Ali gushing with the others about how good it was but Marinette made a move of asking they be silent about spoilers when they got out of the cinema room.

Marinette took mystery stories very seriously.

They got out of the cinema and Marinette gave him a kiss on the cheek as they went began smiling awkwardly at each other. Then somebody shouted that it was Prince Ali and they just noticed his hood fell down. They quickly got back into the limo and it drove off.

The paparazzi followed them back to the bakery and Prince Ali helped Marinette out and got her into her home as they had taken pictures of them.

At Nino's party, Nino had told her big story and was going on about how twenty minutes ago Prince Ali phoned her about some paperwork he had just finished at the moment to open an orphanage in her name.

Then Rose screamed out looking at her phone saying Prince Ali was in Paris right now and was seen exiting their local cinema with a date! She was gushing about Prince Ali finding love with her crush but then the classmates began looking at Lila asking about what she had just said despite her attempts to change the subject.

Curse the horrid timing.

Rose's eyes were bulging and told everyone to come and see who it was and everyone was speechless when they saw the photos. Lila looked herself and let her frustration get the better of her and ranted about Marinette on the spot.

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Djinn’s Bride! ~A Celebration of Love~

Part 5

[Walpurga Nacht Academy]

[Prefect Meeting Room]

Marcia: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH?!

Rosa: … Hey, hey, you’re kinda going overboard with the whole surprised reaction, you know? We’re already way past that.

Marcia: Haaaaaa? Don’t treat this like it’s just an everyday occurrence! 

Rosa: Huh? But shouldn’t you be happy? 

Marcia: Ha?! What’s there to be happy about?! Can’t you sense the situation here?

Rosa: Grr! I can! I totally can! That’s why I thought you’d be ecstatic to have all your problems solved like this! Isn’t this what you’ve been hoping for?! That ‘rich overnight’ type of success story?!

Marcia: YOU IDIOT!

Rosa: ?!?!

Marcia: Stuff like that doesn’t exist in reality! If something is too good to be true, then it definitely is! Don’t just take it for granted that things will work out so easily!

Rosa: E-Eh? What’s with this speech?! Since when did you have such a strong moral code?!

Marcia: It’s just common sense, Rosalia. Money that’s not earned through hard work will just trickle down between your fingers.

Rosa: Th-That was surprisingly cool coming from someone like you… It’s kinda scary seeing you like this. 

Marcia: These things aren’t matters to laugh at. If I don’t take them seriously the old man will get disappointed in me.

Rosa: Marcia…

Marcia: That’s why, under no circumstances, can I just throw everything I’ve worked on to get married to this guy! 

......

Besides he’s totally not my type, anyway.

Rosa: What’s with these standards all of a sudden?!

Marcia: Sorry~ I just don’t go for guys that look this silly~ I want a super cool looking husband that’s also filthy rich~

Rosa: Haaaaaaa?! Then what was with that speech just now?! Make up your mind already! 

Marcia: Hehehe~

Blanche: Goodness gracious. This has gone on for long enough.

June: Tch. Fuckin’ headache.

Diana: …

Cass: U-Um, in that case, you wi-will not take Mister Djinn’s offer, Miss Py-Pyroeis?

Marcia: No way, no way! Hahahahahaha! It sounds super troublesome, you know?

Vita: What a shame. To think that you would willingly discard your golden goose just like this. My expectations were surpassed. Fufufu~

Marcia: … You still sound like you’re looking down on me, heh… In any case! That’s how things stand. So as you can see, I’m gonna have to turn you down. I mean I’m flattered and all that, but our timing just isn’t right~

Rosa: Geh, what’s with that obviously fake line? And turning him down in front of everybody…

Diana: These sort of things should be blunt.

Rosa: I-I guess, but you know…

Djinn: Ah, so that’s how it is?

Blanche: … He’s taking it surprisingly well.

Cass: Se-Seems like he’s an u-understanding person. Ho-How fortunate!

Marcia: Yeah, yeah. So sorry again~ 

Djinn: …

Marcia: Ah, but don’t look glum! I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s just your type~ Just keep looking! The world’s your oyster!

Djinn: … Hm.

Marcia: …

Djinn: …

Marcia: Um, i-in any case! Since you won’t be fulfilling any wishes, guess you can go back to your lamp now! Ah, don’t worry! Our dorm will take super good care of it and won’t be bothering you or anything. 

Djinn: …

Marcia: … Ah? Uh?

Djinn: …

Rosa: … Hey, he’s still here… What’s up with that?

Cass: Ma-Maybe he needs help returning to his lamp?

Marcia: O-Oh! Hahahaha! Why didn’t you say that, man? Don’t be shy to ask for help! Here, here! As your kind master I’ll help you get back in the lamp and-

Djinn: … Actually.

Marcia: Ye-Yeah?! What’s wrong?

Djinn: That won’t be happening.

Marcia: E-Eh?! What do you mean?!

Djinn: Well, getting back there, is kinda, you know…

Marcia: Ye-Yeah?

Djinn: A huge hassle~

Marcia: … Huh?

Djinn: It’s~ sooooo~ lame~

Rosa: Geh! He’s just lounging on the table like it’s a sofa!

Blanche: It’s not as if he was much of a charming figure before, but…

Cass: Hi-His whole personality to-took a sudden shift…

Agatha: … Annoying.

Marcia: La-Lame? I mean, I guess I understand, but still… Didn’t you say the place is great?

Djinn: Ah, that… I was lying.

Marcia: Huh?!

Djinn: Yeah, it’s kinda small and cramped. Not to mention super dark. Can barely see anything in there. 

Marcia: A-Ah… 

Djinn: And it’s super lonely too~ Playing mancala against yourself is super depressing. Especially since I can barely see the board in the first place.

Rosa: … This guy’s life sounds sadder the more I hear about it.

Djinn: Haaa, I guess you’re right on that part, fluffy hair.

Rosa: Flu-Fluffy hair?!

Agatha: GYAHAHAHAHAHA.

Rosa: Do-Don’t laugh so loudly! It wasn’t even that funny!

Djinn: See~ That’s what I’m talking about! I want somebody to banter with and have fun. I’m super jealous of you guys~ Aaah, to be able to enjoy the world so freely~

Blanche: … He’s deeply misread the situation.

Diana: Mm.

Djinn: That’s why~ I’m looking for a wife~

Cass: He’s ju-just lonely in the end…

Rosa: Hmm, I guess we can’t fault him for this, huh? Alright, Marcia!

Marcia: Huh?

Rosa: Just go with him!

Marcia: HAAAAA?! NO WAY!

Rosa: But I feel super bad for him! Didn’t you just hear how pathetic he is? You’d be doing him a service!

Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Morgainne! We can’t sa-sacrifice Miss Pyroeis li-like this!

Rosa: Eh? But didn’t you get that weird pitying sensation in your stomach when you heard him talk? Isn’t Marcia going with him the nice thing to do in this situation?

Cass: Um… I-I-I…

Vita: It would certainly solve this little issue~ I for one wish to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials my dear magpie~

Marcia: He-Hey! Don’t marry me off, just yet!

Agatha: Hehehehehehehe… How… nice… you… get… to… be… a… March… bride…

Marcia: Nooooo! Listen to me!

Diana: Agatha. You’re wrong.

Marcia: Diana! You’re coming to my rescue?! I will worship the ground you walk on-

Diana: It’s June a bride should aim for.

Marcia: IS THAT REALLY THE PART YOU SHOULD BE CONCERNED ABOUT?! HAAAAAAAAAA?!

June: STOP YER YAPPIN’, DAMN IT!

Marcia: AAAAAAAAH! YOU MONSTERS! YOU’RE CASTING ME AWAY JUST LIKE THAT?! I’LL HAUNT YOU! I’LL SERIOUSLY HAUNT YOU ALL!

Vita: Oh~ What a delightful concept~ Is it not so, my dear Agatha?

Agatha: Hehehehehehe… seeing… the… chowder’s… agonized… face… would… be… fun… ehehehehehehehe

Marcia: HEARTLESS! ALL OF YOU! ABSOLUTELY HEARTLESS!

Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Pyroeis!! Please!! Do-Don’t lie on the floor like this!

Marcia: AAAAAH, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE! YOU MONSTERS CAN JUST DO WHAT YOU WANT!

Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Pyroeis!

Blanche: …. Djinn.

Djinn: Hm?

Blanche: I would like to make a request of you. 

Djinn: Ha, didn’t you hear me, bunny? Wish granting ain’t happening here today-

Blanche: No, that is not what I’m referring to. 

Djinn: Hm?

Blanche: As you can already see Marcia has no intention of following through with this arrangement. Forcing her against her will would only result in a miserable affair. This is why I believe it would be best for everybody to be done with this and move on. Don’t you agree?

Marcia: Blanche… BLANCHEEEEEEE!

Blanche: Do-Don’t cling to me like this! It is unpleasant!

Marcia: But!! I didn’t think you’d come to my defense like this! You’re an angel! A goddess! I’m eternally grateful to you!! My children will know of your-

Blanche: I understand already! So please, stop this right now!

Marcia: Blancheeeeeeeee!

Rosa: I-I guess Blanche is right after all. Forcing somebody to marry against their will is just…

Marcia: That should be common sense in the first place!! Seriously, why is your head screwed on backwards, Rosalia?!

Rosa: Huuuuuh?! Are you seriously calling me dumb right now, when I’m agreeing with you?!

Marcia: Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you almost sold me out! My only ally here is Blanche!

Cass: We-We’ve truly done something unforgivable…

June: Yer too harsh on yerself, Cass.

Marcia: And you’re not even trying to act compassionate at all!

June: HAAAA? WHAT WAS ‘HAT?

Marcia: Blegh!

June: I’MMA RIP ‘HAT TONGUE OUT RIGHT NOW, YA LIL’-

Blanche: I-In any case, I believe it has been made clear to you why I’m making this request.

Djinn: ................

Blanche: ...................

Djinn: … Gotcha.

Rosa: That was easy! That was way too easy!

Djinn: But… no can do on that one either, bunny.

Rosa: I KNEW IT

Blanche: ... Excuse me?

Djinn: As I told you girlie, sitting in that lamp is mind-numbingly boring and I don’t wanna do it anymore! 

Rosa: That’s exactly what a brat would say!!

Agatha: That’s… ironic… coming… from… you… hehehe

Djinn: So given the situation, there is only one solution~

Marcia: Eh, what do you meAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

[BOOM, CRASH]

Rosa: Wh-What’s with this wind current?! It’s like we’re sucked in!!

Blanche: It’s from the lamp! Take a good look at it!

[BOOM, CRASH]

Djinn: That’s right, that’s right~ We’re gonna settle this inside the lamp~

Marcia: I DON’T WANNAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Rosa: OUCH! HEY! DON”T PULL ON MY HAIR LIKE THAT! WH-WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!

Marcia: THIS IS PAYBACK FOR BEFOREEEEEEE-

Rosa: EEEEEH?! YOU’RE DRAGGING ME DOWN WITH YOU?! HOW MUCH OF A VILLAIN CAN YOU BE?! LE-LET GOOOOOOO-

Cass: Mi-Miss Morgainne!

June: CASS! SHIT!

Blanche: Himalia-senpai, your grip’s too strong!

Diana: ....

Agatha: Let… go… you… dumb… land… animal… Big… Big… Sis… !

Vita: My~ I shudder to think what a wondrous adventure awaits us all~ Fufufu~

Marcia/Rosa: THIS IS THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORST-

back | next

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Lying is the Most Fun (Loki x f!Reader) - Part 3

Synopsis: Loki meets your sister and you have to deal with the bed situation.

Words: 1406

Warnings: none

AN: I went out and got my hair fixed after fucking it up. I didn’t realise how much it was affecting my mood until I fixed it. Anyway, if you wanted to be tagged in future chapters just let me know.

Your sister was staring at Loki. He had his arm around your shoulders, your body resting against his. You’d been sitting on the sofa, listening to your mother tell a story about Agatha from across the road when your sister had arrived with her fiancé. After initial introductions she had taken a seat across from Loki, staring at him with narrowed eyes and judgement in every line of her body. She’d never liked any of your previous boyfriends.

“So you met at work?” she asked.

“Where else am I going to meet anyone?” you replied.

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond. Loki tightened his arm around you, presumably flashing your sister one of his trademark winning smiles. You patted his knee in what you hoped came across as a comforting manner.

“And you haven’t been together long?” she asked.

“Long enough to know I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Loki replied as smooth as butter.

“Only a few months,” you supplied, ignoring his answer.

“Every single one of which has been absolute bliss.” His lips pressed to your temples again and you fought against a disgusted shiver.

“So how did it happen?” she asked.

“I’d been watching her for a while, so impressed with her work. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. And then one day she stepped in front of a bullet for me,” Loki said.

“All part of the job,” you muttered, ducking your head.

“Well, after that I asked her out for a drink. I figured, the woman who had saved my life must like me at least a little bit. And then one date turned into another and then another until I realised I couldn’t do without her. No one has dazzled me the way she has.”

You laughed uncomfortably. You patted his knee again, getting up.

“You want a refill?” You asked, looking down at his empty cup of tea.

“Thank you, love.”

You took the cup from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the palm of it. You flushed, drawing it back from him. You disappeared into the kitchen, knowing you were leaving him to the lions.

You stood at the stove, the kettle on top. You placed your hands on the counter, leaning forward and bowing your head. You let out a long breath, trying to get your thoughts under control. Your head was spinning. You should be better at this than that. You were a paid liar. This shouldn’t be so hard.

A pair of cold arms wrapped around your waist, a hard body pressing against your back. The scent of pine and snow and shadow told you it was Loki. You grabbed his wrists, ripping his arms from you. He tutted, wrapping them around you again.

“You don’t want your family seeing that little display, do you?”

“You disgust me,” you spat.

“You flatter me.”

He buried his face in your neck. His breath fanned over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. It was cool, cold in fact, and you wanted to get away from him. The kettle began to whistle.

“You should get that.” His lips brushed against your pulse point.

You grabbed the kettle, swinging it around, almost hitting Loki in the chest with it. He took it from your hand, standing still too close. You looked up, reminded how much taller he was. He was practically crowding you against the countertop. He tucked some hair behind your ear, his cool fingers lingering on your jaw. You looked into his blue eyes, finding it difficult to look away.

“Is everything okay in here with you kids?”

Loki spun away from you, pulling the mugs closer to him. You smiled at your father, patting Loki on the back as you passed by him.

“Everything is perfect,” you said.

“Are you sure, kiddo?” He kept his voice low.

“Yeah, daddy. Everything is fine.”

You slipped past him, back into the living room. You took your seat on the sofa again, ignoring the look your sister was giving you. Loki sat beside you, close enough to feel the coldness rolling off him. He handed you the mug of tea he’d made for you before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You let him pull you against his body, resting your head on his shoulder. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. You glanced up at him. He was smiling down at you.

You turned back to your tea, not wanting to keep looking at him. If you did you might do something stupid. Like slap him. You took a sip from the mug.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” your sister asked, “you’re terrible at keeping secrets from me.”

“I wanted to make sure it stuck,” you replied with a shrug.

“And you think it will?” she asked.

“It better,” Loki said.

You turned your eyes back to him. He was looking down at you, the hint of a predatory glint in his eyes. You scowled, pushing his arm from your shoulder. He laughed, leaning backwards. You shifted forward to keep any part of you from touching any part of him. You caught your sister’s eye. She raised her eyebrows at you. You shook your head, settling in your seat more comfortably.

Loki rested a hand at the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He gently tugged on it until you looked at him again. He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry, love,” he said.

“It’s okay. I know it’s just because you want this to work,” you repied, giving him a tight smile. He chuckled.

“It’s good to see our youngest daughter so happy,” your mother said.

“It’s better to see your eldest daughter getting married,” you shot back.

“Oh sweetie, I just meant that it’s been so long since you’ve seen anyone,” she said.

“I guess I’ve just been too busy with work.”

“Lucky for me,” Loki said.

Your mother gave him a dazzling smile. You rolled your eyes, chugging from the mug. The faster you finished it, the faster you could retire for the night and not deal with your family’s bullshit. Although, then you would be dealing with a whole different type of bullshit.

“I’m going to turn in,” you said.

You got off the sofa, taking your mug with you. You left it in the sink in the kitchen, knowing it would annoy your mother. You slipped into your room, closing the door and letting out a long breath. You grabbed your pajamas and your towel.

When you returned to your room it was to find Loki standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but sweat pants. Your mouth fell open.

“Hello love.”

“You better be getting ready to make a bed on the floor or else we’re going to have a problem,” you said.

“Why make a bed when there’s a perfectly good one already here?”

“We’ve already been over this,” you said, slamming the door shut, “if you insist on doing that then I will be removing a limb.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Before you could give him an answer he had one of your arms pinned behind your back, his breath ghosting over the shell of your air. You gritted your teeth, turning your face to look at him. He was too close. You could count the colours in his eyes. He smirked.

“Although I can think of worse things than being pinned to a bed by you,” he murmured, his eyes straying to your lips.

“You wish,” you hissed.

“You have no idea what I wish for.”

He let you go. You got as far from him as you could, putting as much space between you as possible. He turned away from you, rummaging through his bag. He pulled a book out from amongst his clothes. You watched him settle in the only chair in the room, opening the book up.

“Do not worry, love. You can sleep easy.”

You watched him for a few moments but he didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You slipped into the bed. Loki raised his hand, snapping his fingers. All the lights in the room went out, a soft glow emanating from his palm. You closed your eyes, turning your back on the demigod.

You tried to ignore the sound of him breathing.

Tags: @sheridans-dynamos​ @tumultuous-love​ @juniperbab​ @internetgremlin​ @true-queen-of-mischief​ @sev7en​ @fleurs-en-ruines​ @lokilover2000-blog​ @hakuoyuki​ @el-eldritch​ @foreverbeingthunderbuddy​ @fuckthatfeeling​ @libellule2001​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @smollest-soybean​ @jessiejunebug​ @cxstl-e​ @paulsonix​ @sadwaywardkid​ @alcoholic-muffin​ @eveybitch @subtlemalice​

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Quiz: Which Desmond Hall Character Are You?

SPOILER WARNING FOR DESMOND HALL ARCS I AND II

Last week, I was going to work on finishing my next review, but then my muse pulled me aside and ordered me to write a Desmond Hall personality quiz while threatening me with a conjure doll and silver pin. Not every Desmond Hall character is in this quiz, only the ones that I thought would be the funniest to write. Enjoy!

1. You have just arrived at an ancient manor house enveloped in darkness that rests atop a sinister network of haunted caves. When you learn this, how do you react? A. Lie in bed for several days while writhing in agony. B. Accept it and keep myself busy while pining for my voodoo island home. C. Act insufferably smug, because soon the house will belong to me. D. Go search for creatures in the caves to alleviate my boredom and satisfy my compulsion to do random disturbing things. E. Barely react at all because the writers have forgotten that I have a personality. F. Swan around while talking to myself about how the manor looks like something out of a storybook. G. Wish that I could live there again, because I've been trapped in a trippy magical closet for months.

2. The daily newspaper arrives and the headline reads, "GIRL BRUTALLY MURDERED.” What is your response? A. Retreat to my bedchamber and panic loudly about how I hope no one discovers that I’m the murderer. B. Get the body buried and all evidence concealed. C. Observe a moment of silence for my former doxy, then promptly forget she ever existed. D. Cut out the photo of the victim's face, suspend it from a papier-mâché gallows tree, and display it prominently in the foyer. E. Feel moderately concerned for my safety, but not too much. My ghost boyfriend will protect me...maybe. F. Scheme to blackmail the killer into marrying me. G. Wonder, "Was that my brother again?"

3. Your hobbies include: A. Moping around the manor house in fancy suits and contorting my face as though trying unsuccessfully to relieve myself. B. Reciting dramatic monologues with bits of scenery caught between my teeth! C. Plotting murder, robbery, and the corruption of young maidens while sipping sherry. D. I wander. I visit. I'm here and there. I'm a kind of ghost of Desmond Hall. E. I used to enjoy rebelling, flouncing, and bickering, but I've lost my taste for those. Now I prefer hanging out with old people in a cottage that smells of strange spices. F. Talking to and stroking my sweet little snake. (By which I mean "reptile with no legs and a forked tongue." Get your mind out of the gutter.) G. Necromancy.

4. Your favorite foods include: A. Bubbly eggs cooked in champagne. Definitely not kippers. B. The cuisine of my native island, before the evil of THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES made all the plants poisonous and killed all the animals! C. My spouse's hors d'oeuvres--but only when I don't have to eat them off the floor. D. Sugar, strawberries and cream, and the very best...*checks Teleprompter*...butter. E. Muffins laced with magical herbs. F. The delicious misery of the man who tried to strangle me and of all the other women who want him. G. I don't eat anymore. I'm a ghost. Food passes right through me--literally.

5. What turns you on? A. A lover who is unpredictable but not murderously crazy, and who likes to wear lacy nighties. B. I would not know! I have not felt those urges in three hundred years! C. Money. D. Anyone from my preferred gender who actually wants to spend time with me. E. A ghost who behaves like Edward Cullen. F. Jean Paul Desmond! He is the sexiest male character in the history of television. G. Submission and unquestioning devotion. Also, lesbians.

6. What is your signature look? A. Highly flattering mod suits combined with an unflattering combover. B. A long black Victorian dress. C. A stodgy gray/green suit, which is probably in desperate need of Febreze after being worn three days in a row. D. Turtlenecks. E. Bleached blonde hair and faddish early ‘70s fashions. F. Long pointed fingernails, false eyelashes, and a creepy grin. G. I once hung from the ceiling with my shirt torn open. Does that count?

7. Everyone has a skeleton in their closet. What is yours? A. Although I want to reach out and help the beautiful young women who come to me, instead my hands reach out to kill! B. I single-handedly cursed my employer's family by signing his grandfather’s (misspelled) name on a pledge to the Dark Lord. C. I am a black widower. D. I used to participate in necromancy rituals with my dear cousin. E. I stole a piece of my mother's jewelry and sold it at a pawn shop. F. I am a priestess of the Serpent God. G. Funny you should mention skeletons. My closet has a literal one hanging in it.

8. If you had to guess, which of these personages were you most likely in a past life? A. A freebooter possessed by the Devil. B. Myself. C. Henry Seewald--who looks exactly like a toddler version of me--transported back in time via the 49th hexagram. D. Someone named Claude. E. A young girl sacrificed by a priestess who looked like my mother. F. Ophelia, if she were real. G. My great-uncle with the same first name as me, who was allegedly disowned for being a poet.

9. Your favorite Dark Shadows character is: A. Barnabas Collins. B. Magda Rakosi. C. Nicholas Blair. D. David Collins. E. Carolyn Stoddard. F. Angelique Bouchard. G. Quentin Collins.

10. What from 1970 Dark Shadows do you believe was most likely inspired by Strange Paradise? A. The character of Judah Zachery, who is highly reminiscent of THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES. B. The use of a retcon to completely change Angelique's backstory. C. The name Desmond Collins. D. The implied reincarnation in the Summer of '70 arc that (sadly) never got explored as much as it should have been. E. The subplot about Quentin falling in love with Daphne's ghost. F. The Leviathan cult's use of snake iconography. G. The carousel in Tad and Carrie's playroom.

If you answered mostly A, you are Jean Paul Desmond, richest man in the world and master of Desmond Hall. Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome in spite of his receding hairline, Jean Paul is the victim of two self-imposed curses, one of which causes him to strangle people when the Mark of Death appears on his hand (which is totally not a reflection of some repressed or hidden part of his personality, having formerly displayed megalomania and control freak tendencies on his island). When not under the effects of this curse, he is the living embodiment of charm and sweetness and attracts would-be partners like moths to a flame. Logically, the same must be true about you, because online personality quizzes are never wrong. ;)

If you answered mostly B, you are Raxl, daughter of the Priestess of the Serpent and winner of the Canadian 1969 and 1970 scenery-chewing contests. Far older than she looks, the Desmond family’s housekeeper may not be as loyal as she appears, depending on the whims of whomever wrote the plot outline for the final arc. She is an expert on all things occult and supernatural, from tarot cards to the Egyptian Key. Even after her retcon, she is awesome.

If you answered mostly C, you are Laslo Thaxton, husband of Ada (Desmond) Thaxton and master of Desmond Hall in the absence of Jean Paul and Philip. I would say that you are an unscrupulous, greedy Devil-worshiper like Laslo, but I’ve always hated those personality quizzes that make moral judgments about people just because they share some traits in common with the villain. Therefore, I’m just going to assume that you are most likely a decent person who only got Laslo because you happen to love money and Nicholas Blair.

If you answered mostly D, you are Cort Desmond, twenty-something cousin of Jean Paul and Philip. Eccentric and erratic but oh-so-adorable, Cort is a polarizing character loved by some fans for his good looks and (often unintentionally) funny lines, but hated by others for being somewhat of a spoiled brat. Like Hamlet whom he idolizes, he seeks justice for the death of his father, along with the inheritance his Dear Stepfather Laslo wants to steal from him.

If you answered mostly E, you are Holly Marshall--or, rather, what Holly has become since her creator Ian Martin left the show. Formerly a spitfire with a high IQ, a low boiling point, and a love for outdated slang, Holly has become a shell of her former self under the new writers. She spends more time unconscious and hypnotized than not; when she is conscious, she wastes her time pining after an unsuitable love interest who treats her like Edward treats Bella in Twilight. I hope this doesn’t describe you, because, if it does, you should seek help. Don’t be like Desmond Hall-era Holly!

If you answered mostly F, you are Agatha Pruitt, a young seamstress obsessed with Jean Paul. While the master of Desmond Hall has attracted many suitors, none are as strange or disturbing as Agatha, who blackmails him into letting her live at Desmond Hall after his failed murder attempt and proceeds to wreak havoc there along with the Serpent God (who may or may not be Raxl’s Great Serpent) whom she worships.

Finally, if you answered mostly G, you are Jean Paul’s brother, Philip Desmond (not to be confused with his cousin Philip Desmond, or either of the two Philippes des Mondes). A secretive figure largely mysterious even to his own brother, the handsome Philip dabbles in the dark arts and other mysteries, which ultimately leads to his disappearance into the caves beneath Desmondton and reappearance as a ghost. His character alignment is unclear--he may be evil, or just chaotic neutral--but one thing is clear: whoever messes with Philip has the Devil to pay.

[cissa-calls]

Countdown to Agatha: Darkhold Diaries: Day 634

Wanda: “I have 100 problems and somehow you always manage to be 99 of them all at once.”

Agatha: “Aww…flatterer. Who or what is my singular competition?”

Y/N: “Ooo can I guess?? Pre-Westview trauma probably!”

Wanda: “No, through the power of memory and magic - somehow Agatha’s managed to insert herself and make problems out of events she wasn’t even there for”

Y/N: “What is it then?”

Agatha: “I know what it is. Your secret problem…your secret guilt Wanda.”

Wanda, sweating nervously: “No. Please don’t say it out loud”

Agatha: “You were the one who left the door open and let the roomba escape into freedom outside. Your one problem is that somewhere, unbeknownst to you, the roomba wanders lost because of you. And you never confessed.”

Wanda, in tears: “I didn’t know they were so fast!”

Y/N: “YOU LET IT ESCAPE???? YOU TOLD ME THE ROOMBA WAS JUST AT THE REPAIR SHOP?!”

Agatha: “Yeah, the big repair shop in the sky”

[simisunny]

Mother May Be (Part 2: Finale)

“Urk…” The detective’s vision becomes blurry by the time he wakes up, as his voice becomes hoarse when he talks. “Where am I?” 

Where is he, indeed. He’s lying on a bed, but not the lumpy, hard one that he got from a thrift store. As his vision clears, the detective sits up and sees the room more carefully. Unlike his place, this one has wallpaper containing yellow flowers, along with paintings that seem—-how can he put it more delicately? Chic. Yes, that’s what one of his coworkers put it when she talked about her new apartment (and even showed pictures of what it looks like). 

“This isn’t my room,” the detective announces in alarm. “I need to get out of here.” 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” the detective hears a familiar female voice from the hall. And it doesn’t take too long before she comes into the room, holding a tray full of food and drink. Detective Peterson’s eyes widen before Agatha’s cheery disposition. “Hope you don’t mind me making some breakfast for you.” 

“A-Agatha?” He groans, rubbing his face before eyeing on the woman. “I-I’m in your home? But how?” 

“You don’t remember?” When the detective shakes his head, Agatha’s expression doesn’t falter. “You passed out in the bar. I don’t know where you live, so I took you to my home so you can rest. I’m so glad you’re okay, though.” 

Too glad, the detective notes before he can speak up, making it light in his tone. “Well, I’m flattered that you’ve taken care of me. Though, I think it is time for me to go—-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Agatha waved her hand dismissively. “I called your workplace, saying that you’re unable to work. Now you can have a couple of days off to yourself.” 

“Y-you did what?” The detective’s eyes widen more. How could this woman—-whom he just met—-would know which police department he’s working? So he then clears his throat and manages to smile. “You know, I really don’t mind working, now that I’m ready and determined. All I need is my—-Urk!” 

“Oh, my!” Agatha rushes over to his side, her hand rubbing the back of his head. “Are you okay, sweetie?” 

Now Detective Peterson appears startled when this woman called him “sweetie.” She can’t possibly be embarrassed when she called him that, could she? All he can do is let it slide and not let Agatha be concerned. “I’m okay, miss. It looks like my legs are asleep or something. Maybe I need to walk around so my legs would be awake.” 

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I’m a nurse, and I don’t think it sounds good.” 

So many surprises, Detective Peterson thinks sarcastically. He’s tired of surprises since this morning. But to make his tone light, he responds, “You know what? Since you’re a nice lady, I won’t say ‘no’ to your cooking. Fair enough?” 

Now the middle-aged woman has an eager expression, pleased by Detective Peterson’s decision. “I’m so glad. You will enjoy a home-cooked meal.” Patting the detective’s shoulder, she continues, “I’ll be back in a bit, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Okay, sweetie?” 

With that, she walks away, humming. 

Here she goes again, calling him “sweetie.” Peterson is not used to being called that. Maybe Agatha didn’t mean it out-of-intention. Or maybe—-in Detective Peterson’s theory—-, she’s lonely since there’s no one here except for him and Agatha. Poor woman. 

Looking down at his bowl and glass, the detective appears to be uncertain; the woman gave him too much food since there was oatmeal, bacon, and eggs. And the container is nothing more than a sippy cup, which, to the detective, was ludicrous. 

But he shouldn’t complain, and the detective must finish it. So taking a bite of the oatmeal, the taste of brown sugar is oh-so-sweet, yet somehow, he wants more of it. And the bacon and eggs are cooked to perfection, even though there is a hint of grease. Peterson had nothing wholesome or home-cooked since—-well, ever. The only food he tried tasted like ash or plain. So he takes some more until he can finish them all, along with the orange juice. It’s as if Agatha has a motherly touch for cooking, and it was good. 

Too good.  

“Ah, I see you have finished your food.” The woman comes in with a soft grin. Before, her white and brown hair was down, but it looks like she put it up in a bun. And a white apron is draped around her waist, covering much of her light green sweater and brown khakis. “Did you like it?” 

“Very,” Detective Peterson confesses after taking his last sip of orange juice. “I never had a home-cooked meal that’s ever good.” 

She chuckles—-in between a light and hysterical one. “Oh, I’m sure your parents were wonderful cooks.” 

Slowly, Peterson’s cheerful demeanor chips away, replacing it with a grim expression. “Actually, I only have a dad, and he was never a good cook.” 

“O-oh, my.” The middle-aged woman presses her hand over her chest, crestfallen by the detective’s revelation. “I’m sorry about your loss—-”

“She’s not dead,” he cuts in. “That’s what my father told me, but I presumed she is since my mom never bothers to come around. But I don’t bother with me not having a mom.” 

“Has your father ever been hard on you?” 

The detective nodded, stunned by the woman’s question. 

“You’re not the only one who can figure things out so quickly like you, Allan,” Agatha says, trying to sound light-hearted, but there is a hint of sadness in her tone. “But I’m sorry that you had a hard life. Why, if I raised you, your life would be nothing but sunshine and rainbows.” 

When Agatha puts it that way, it makes the detective cringe. Maybe his life was bittersweet, but he doesn’t complain. He tells himself that he’s okay, and things could’ve been worse if he wished for something different in his life. 

“Look,” the detective says after clearing his throat. “It’s nice of you to give me so much since last night, but I really should go. I’ve overstayed my visit, and I don’t want to bother.” 

“Aww, you can’t be leaving so soon.” Agatha pouts playfully. 

“But I must leave. Besides, I have so much work to do, cases to finish.” 

Agatha shakes her head. “Come on. You need to lighten up. And don’t you remember? I called the station, stating that you’re unable to work due to an illness. I’m sure there are police officers who can cover and do their work for you.” 

Whatever the woman is trying to do, it’s making Detective Peterson peeved. So with a stern tone, he exclaims, “Thanks for your help, but I’m okay. I don’t need anyone looking out for me. So if you can tell me where my phone is, I’ll be happy to call them and say that I’m ready to go back to work.” 

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to mention your phone.” Slowly, Agatha crosses her arms, her face turning into a grim expression. “It’s broken.” 

“What do you mean ‘broken?’” 

“Well…” The middle-aged woman looks at her nails as she answers, “Somehow, there was a mishap with it. Let’s say there was an accident with it.” She said the word “accident” with a hint of menace, but the detective needs to keep his expression neutral. 

“Fine, then. May I use your phone?” 

“My pleasure, if you can.” 

Peterson lets out a derisive snort. “Let me guess? Did it have an accident, too?” As he tries to sit up, the detective blanches when he can’t feel his legs. “M-my legs. W-what happened to my legs? I can’t move!” 

“Oh, sweetie. I told you you needed rest, but you didn’t listen to me.” 

Peterson’s brow creases when he narrows his eyes. “What did you do to me?” 

“Whatever do you mean,” she gasps, which the detective notes that it’s a facade. 

“Stop pretending and tell me what you did to me. I never met you before, yet you’re treating me like a son. Then, for some reason, I woke up to notice that I can’t move my legs. So you better have an explanation, so help me—-” 

“Don’t you dare raise your tone on me, young man!” Agatha interjects, raising her tone in return. “I’m your mother.” 

Once more, he makes a derisive snort while shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am. You’re not my mother because she is long gone before I was born. And ma’am, if you don’t explain to me what’s really going on, I will take you down to the police station with a gun on your head.” Detective Peterson feels through his back to find the gun, but his mouth feels dry when the weapon is no longer there. “Damn it. My gun!” 

“Oh, about that—-” The middle-aged woman approaches the detective, cocking her head to the side while smirking. “There will be no guns in my house. Now please, be a good boy for me, or you will not get any privileges like watching TV. Is that clear?” 

Inside, the detective wants to rebel against the woman who is taking away his dignity. But when he says, “Okay, mom,” the detective covers his mouth. This is uncanny for him to act so vulnerable. 

Agatha’s smirk spreads. Victory goes to her. “And what do you have to say to yourself when you raise that tone on me?” 

“I-I’m sorry, mom.” Again, it’s tearing Peterson apart to behave like this. 

“Good, boy.” When she pats his cheek, she turns to the door, but not before stating, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, honey. I need to grab a couple of things before I can start making lunch for you. Be good for me while I’m gone.” 

“Okay.” 

As he heard the door close from the front, it’s his cue to leave. Although he feels immobile—-what with his legs feeling like lead—-Detective Peterson needs to push past the pain, gather his things, and go home. Though each step he takes sends an electric shock, so he has to stifle his groans. But as he searches for his things in the room, it’s nowhere to be found. So Peterson limps out of the room, looking left and right before going to the next room. 

But the first room he enters, the detective’s gasps in horror. 

There are photographs of children he recognizes, and when he enters to look inside the drawer, there are different clothes from young boys and girls. It’s as if this woman had a collection, but something morbid. 

This is the detective’s big break, and he needs to inform the police. 

Luckily, there’s a phone nearby, so Peterson hobbles toward it and punches in the numbers quickly. After letting the phone ring for a few seconds, he hears a police officer’s voice. “Hello?” 

“Yes, hello! Detective Peterson, here. I need a couple of men to get down here, right away.” 

“Why? What’s the matter?” 

“I’m kidnapped by the woman who’s responsible for abducting children from the past few years. I found crucial evidence that she’s behind this. You need to hurry, or—-”

“Or what, sweetie?” 

Now the detective’s wide eyes are on the middle-aged woman, whose hair is messy and is in front of her face. How did this woman become lovely turned gruesome that shortly? 

“I-I thought you were doing some errands,” he speaks up after a moment of silence. 

“I was until I realized that I left my purse.” Agatha eyes on Peterson with playful sadness. “You disappoint me, my child, just like the others I have raised in the past.” 

His throat becomes constricted. So it was the woman responsible for the kidnappings—-all the pain she put upon to not only the parents but also the detective himself. “They were not your children,” he growls. “You had no right to strip them away from their parents.” 

Agatha lets out a bitter laugh, which the detective arches his eyebrow in confusion. “You know, I said the same thing when my child was taken away from me. I was not allowed to see him because I’m ‘unstable.’” Tears are streaming down her face, but she keeps on laughing. “I still wanted to see my child so badly. So I tried to find every child and strip them away from their families to make them my own. But no matter how much they disobey, they go like this…” To Peterson’s horror, Agatha makes an irregular sound at the back of her throat while making a killing gesture. 

“Just because you lost your child, it doesn’t mean you should do the same to other people’s children! You’re not making it sound easy, Agatha.” 

“Don’t you dare call me by my first name,” the middle-aged woman barks. “I’m your mother!” 

“You are not, and you will never be!” 

“Now, stop denying it, sweetie, or you’re going to make things worse for your mother.” 

Pulling one of the drawers is a gun—-the same rifle that Detective Peterson possessed. He curses under his breath. How foolish he is not to search his belongings first and then call the police. 

It will be his fault if the detective is fallen and not able to stop this madwoman. 

To his relief, there is some shouting in the hall, and the backup Peterson called for has arrived. Three officers are pointing the guns from her behind, ordering Agatha to drop her weapon. After a few seconds of hesitation, she drops the detective’s weapon in defeat, and kneels on the floor before one officer handcuffs Agatha. 

“Are you okay?” asks one officer who approached Detective Peterson. 

“I’m alright, thanks to you guys.” 

“We’ll need to get a statement from you, though.” 

Peterson nods in affirmation, knowing that it’s part of the process for arresting someone and all. 

Suddenly, there’s shouting among the men, and the detective’s heart is pounding when he sees Agatha holding the gun again. How in the world did this woman get her hands on the rifle when he saw her getting handcuffed? “Oh, son,” the woman exclaims in disgust. “How you hurt me so much.” 

And the last thing he witnesses is the crazed woman firing her shot at him. 

                                                ——————  

Peterson jolts up from his seat, his breath running shallow as he tries to compose himself. It was all a dream, he thinks when he rubs his eyes while groaning. And it was too real. 

Taking in his surroundings, Peterson is back in his apartment, sitting at his desk where he just slept. He deduces that he passed out after scanning his reports and evidence for too long. Then the detective eyes on the photo that a witness gave him, where a figure is wearing a familiar brown coat, but the big sunglasses and the blue and yellow shawl is obscuring the identity. Slowly, the detective’s eyes adjusts on the next photo that his father gave him, and his heart shatters when he gazes upon the same figure with him when he was a baby. 

Peterson knows that this cannot go on much longer. 

So quickly, Peterson grabs his phone from the corner of his desk and punches in the numbers, letting the ringing go on before he hears a click. 

“Hi, can you get a hold of the chief for me? It’s important.” 

A few seconds of waiting, he hears the chief’s voice. 

“Hi, chief. I think I found some crucial evidence on who’s behind the missing children’s case.” 

“Oh? Do tell.” 

After explaining the evidence he has, the detective pauses, taking a deep breath before announcing the name. “The suspect I believe is behind this is Agatha Peterson, my mother.”

[anxiously-shipping]

MESSY MURDER {2}

FIRST / NEXT

Description: The dead body of Ali Blacksky is found in his English country mansion, broken and bloody. The detectives get called in. It's obviously a murder. For ex world-famous detective Logan Croft and his brand new assistance, Roman Milton, this is just another day in the figurative office. But murder gets messy. Murder gets especially messy when Roman has a crush on the best suspect and Logan gets himself an admirer among the staff. And when new bodies begin to pop up. Yeah, that can complicate things too...

Triggers: Dead bodies, injuries, police, murder, previous case mentions, PTSD

Ships: Eventual prinxiety, eventual logicality, pre-existing demus/dukeciet

"You're Roman, right?"

The young man jumped in his seat, knocking some of his coffee to the ground as he spun around staring wide-eyed up at Logan. "Uh... Yeah, I'm Roman."

Logan nodded, leaning against the wall. "Archie said you might be able to help me."

"H-He did?"

"Yep," Logan said, nodding slightly and narrowing his eyes. "Apparently, you're the second-best thing to happen to this place."

"You being first, of course," Flattered Roman, regaining the confidence Logan had seen back in his old office.

Logan shook his head. "No, that spot is reserved to the decent coffee machine."

Roman nodded. "Fair point. What can I help you with?"

"According to Archie," Logan sighed. "I can't claim who the murderer is without at least looking at the crime scene first. But I don't want to get back into murder after last time." Roman nodded, wincing slightly like most did whenever the incident got brought up, even if no one but a certain few knew the details. "So he said that you were to help me."

"Huh? Why?" Frowned Roman.

Logan glanced down the corridor before looking back to Roman. "Because your resume says you excel in athletics."

"What does that have to do with anything-"

"I'm getting there," Logan growled, shutting Roman up. "I'm scared to go back, I'm only twenty-nine and I don't want to nearly die again. I skimmed over your resume, you have a proficiency in everything, ranging from sprinting to boxing. Also, you're a good detective, due to records. You solved the Portsmouth kidnappings."

Roman nodded slowly along with Logan. "So? Do you want me to be the Holmes to your Sherlock? You don't even need me, you've never needed help."

"I don't need help!" He snapped defensively. "I need-" Logan paused, swallowing his pride. "Assurance."

~'^'~

They sat in the First Class carriage of the train, speeding blindly past villages and hamlets. Roman was listening to Hamilton, whispering the lyrics to a song that sounded like it was about sex or an affair. It was a little uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Logan was reading Agatha Christie books. When he had been growing up, he'd always guess along the way. The guessing turned to actual detection and soon he was narrowing down suspects just by reading the first chapter. That was how he had gotten into detecting.

Currently, he was reading, 'The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd'. It was phenomenal, and he had obviously read it before. Logan allowed himself a moment to wonder if Roman had read murder books, or watched a lot of 'Death In Paradise' and that was what had urged him to become a detective. Maybe he'd ask.

"Roman," He said simply, making the younger glance up. "What made you decide to be a detective?"

Roman grinned, sitting up. "Well, for you, I'm guessing it was reading so many murder books, which slowly got you trying to figure out the murderer before the characters and then you were too into it to try to find another profession. You sign up for police detecting work and you ace it."

"How did you-" Logan began.

"Simple, specs!" Laughed the other. "You're reading Agatha Christie. The book looks worn and well used, but there's no sticker saying it was from a charity shop, or even a slight tear in the cover that could suggest it's second hand. But, there is a groove sticking out of the cover and I can recognise that it's your name that you wrote on the inside front cover of your paperback book as a kid or teen." Logan listened in mild surprise, nodding slowly, as Roman continued to explain. "You're the bookish type, I saw more copies of Agatha Christie's' book in your backpack when you opened it to get out that one. Judging by all the interviews I saw about you on TV and your attitude, I just filled in the gaps and, poof. Reasonable estimate."

Logan smiled, his respect for Roman growing. "I see what Archie meant about you being a great detective. Half of the dimwits back at our station wouldn't even know to check if my book had become worn."

Roman smirked. "I am probably one of the best," He flattered himself, cockily.

The older raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you came here because of a play or musical about murder or investigations? Maybe, 'An Inspector Called'?"

"Ye-uh, yes... How did you know?" Roman trailed off.

Now it was Logan's' turn to smirk. "You may be one of the best, Roman, but I have been knighted for my detection work. Obama was excited to shake my hand. If that doesn't speak for my accomplishments, then what can?"

Roman laughed again, relaxing. "I see. So, not only are you a smartass but you also have some of America's' best presidents giddy just to shake your hand for the cameras."

"I truly am amazing, aren't I?" Logan quipped, looking out of the window as the conversation ended. Maybe working with someone wouldn't be so bad.

And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to be back.

~'^'~

Roman looked up at the hotel and he frowned. "So... You're a world-renowned detective, right?"

"Right."

"And I'm well respected and had a moment of fame for solving the Portsmouth kidnappings, right?"

"Right."

"So, why, for all the love in hell, are we staying at the cheapest-looking Travelodge in the whole of England?"

Logan shrugged. "Because it's only for one night, Milton, grow up." But he couldn't deny how ugly and grimy the building looked, looming awkwardly over them with peeling paint and dirty windows. But now wasn't the time to be picky. The autopsy had taken the body in and was analysing it. The local police had touched absolutely nothing after they got word that the Logan Croft was coming down. All that had been changed to the crime scene, according to the report, was that the body had been removed, and there was a chalk outline where the body had been. The blood still lay on the floor, nothing had been moved and it was off-limits to all who lived in the house.

Logan sighed and walked up to the Travelodge, swinging open the door. A spotty teenager looked up at them and her eyes widened when she saw the man walking in. Anyone who was anyone knew about Logan Croft. His face had been in papers, he had solved international cases and he had a vibe. He had a very unique vibe.

Roman followed in behind and the two sorted out which rooms they'd be staying at with the stunned teenager. The two detectives went up the stairs - Logan didn't trust elevators after he once had to investigate a murder about a woman with a broken spine because a cord had been cut and she had hurtled to the ground, dead. It wasn't very interesting and it was solved in a day. It had been committed by her ex-husband who actually only meant to kill her husband but didn't know the man was out for a football game. As you can tell, very boring.

As the two men walked up the stairs, Roman started a conversation.

"So, out of the three people we know about, who do you think is the biggest suspect?" He asked nonchalantly.

"You mean out of the two workers who had found the body and the brother of Mr Blacksky?" Logan double-checked. Roman nodded and Logan didn't even hesitate as he replied, "The younger brother. Strong motive and bad relationship. A common thread in murders. But, I was specifically requested by this Patton person. I can think of three reasons why. Either he didn't kill anyone, he's just a fan; he wants to kill me so he killed his employee to try to get me to come; he's such a big fan he'd kill someone just to see me."

Roman looked at him as he explained, nodding slowly. "Good points. But the Patton one is loosely stretched, the ideas are all a little too odd and crazy."

Logan stopped walking and turned to face Roman. "We're dealing with murder, Mr Milton." Logan said calmly. "Things are always crazy."

[akutagawaprize]

bsd really got me into learning about the rl authors, but ive been having trouble finding stuff about the japanese authors. do you have any recommendations for where i could start?

Ahhhh, I’m flattered you came to ask here for suggestions!  I don’t think I’m the best person to ask, honestly, but I’ll do my best to help! Since you said it was BSD that got you interested, most of my recommendations will be from the Japanese authors featured in the series~

Short Stories

This is only to get you started, a bit of a sampler for what some of the literary greats have to offer.

Rashomon & In a Grove by Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

– Akutagawa is the master of short stories, so there can be no better starter when it comes to dipping your toes in when it comes to Japanese literature. Most of Akutagawa’s works deal with exposing the egotism of man and the flaws of the human spirit. His writing may be elegant and refined, but to others it comes off as unfeeling and cerebral; you’ll have to find out for yourself where you stand.

Beneath the Cherry Trees by Kajii Motojirou

– “There are bodies buried beneath the cherry trees!” This line from one of Kajii’s most famous works is often quoted, probably because it associates the ephemeral sakura with the grotesque. Sakaguchi Ango also wrote a story with the same title, but I find Kajii’s to be the more memorable one between the two.

Separate Ways by Higuchi Ichiyou

– BSD may have you fooled, but Higuchi is actually an extremely popular literary figure in Japan, due to both the quality of her work and her all too short life. “Separate Ways” is quite a short read, but it has a heartbreaking realism most stories twice its length can’t even hope to touch.

The Human Chair by Edogawa Ranpo

– And now, we enter the surreal. Though more known for being the originator of modern mystery stories in Japan, Edogawa was also considered a master of gothic horror. Be warned, this story can be disturbing so skip this if you have a faint heart! (As an aside, Ito Junji put a spin on the tale and published a oneshot inspired by “The Human Chair“ a few years back.)

Novels

There are a number of novels I could’ve added, but in the end I went with these five works. Not all of them are easily digestible, but this lineup offers enough diversity that I hope would convince everyone to explore more of Jp lit!

The Sound of Waves by Mishima Yukio

– Sure, Mishima led one hell of an eventful life, but you wouldn’t have guessed that after you’ve read this particular work of his. This tale which follows the love story between a hardworking island boy and the daughter of a wealthy ship owner has a universal and timeless appeal that makes it a modern classic. A must-read!

No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu

– Bleak. It will always be the first word that comes to mind every time I’m asked to describe “No Longer Human”. It’s an i-novel which follows a man named Yozo, someone who regards himself as a failed human. His acute awareness that he is different from others makes him miserable, forcing him to wear a mask and “play the clown” while keeping his turbulent feelings inside. All in all, it’s a depressing and somber novel, but it provides insights on humanity from a writer who has struggled to fit into a normalizing society.

The State of the Times by Oda Sakunosuke

– In this short novel, Oda perfectly captured the decadence and decay of the occupation period following Japan’s surrender at the end of World War II. It’s also semi-biographical in nature, with the narrator of the story as a writer looking for inspiration and material in his everyday encounters… Hmm, sounds familiar?

Quicksand by Tanizaki Junichirou

– “Quicksand” is actually a fitting metaphor one of the characters finds herself applying to her situation, since she was “sinking deeper and deeper into a quicksand’ of lies”. The cast of this story are driven by obsessive and uncontrollable urges that through Tanizaki’s masterful writing is fascinating to read, almost embarrassingly so. And yes, for everyone asking, this is indeed Tanizaki’s famous lesbian love story. 

I am A Cat by Souseki Natsume

– This satirical novel which pokes fun of the follies of upper-middle-class Meiji society can be long and meandering, but the distinctive style in which the narrator uses feline quirks is disarmingly charming. Quite appropriate, since the narrator is, in fact, a cat.

Contemporary Works

Just for a change of pace, in case you’ve gotten tired of reading about Meiji/Taishou/Shuowa Japan. Most would have heard of Murakami Haruki, but after reading his works, a lot of them felt repetitive to me. In any case, if you like him, that’s good too, but I want more people to be introduced to the works of these two contemporary Japanese writers with strong, distinctive voices.

Kitchen by Yoshimoto Banana

– I’ve read “Kitchen” way before I’ve gotten interested in BSD. Revisiting it last year, I think it’s a work that appeals the most to adolescents. Still, there’s something relatable for all readers, with the story touching upon a broad range of subjects, including sexuality, existentialism and death.

The Decagon House Murders by Ayatsuji Yukito

– If you’re a fan of locked room mysteries as I am, you would love this one! In the first pages, it references Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” and the murders(!) that do occur in the remote island are reminiscent to what happens in the said novel, with the members of a university detective club dying of mysterious circumstances one by one. This novel has a very clever plot twist and if you’re paying attention, you might be able to pick on it. As a bit of a trivia, Ayatsuji appears as a character in BSD Gaiden! His ability is based from his other novel “Another”, which some of you may have watched as an anime series back in 2012.

I’d recommend reading my list in order, but go ahead and pick any one of those to start! And if you’re having trouble finding a few of the works I recommended, hit me up with a DM and I might be able to help~! Enjoy reading~~!

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #131: A Quiet Half-Hour in Saigon

January, 1975

This time, the Legion of the Unliving! Which is always an embarrassment to the writers when some dead characters turn out to not actually be dead. But to be fair, how could Steve Englehart know that Steve Englehart would be bringing Wonder Man back in twenty issues?

Also, as usual, this cover is a filthy lie. As the title suggests, this issue is more about a quiet moment before the storm. The Avengers taking some time to chat it up and explore character beats while behind the scenes a foe (spoilers: its Kang again) prepares a new attack.

The cover would be more accurate if the Avengers were standing around oblivious while the Legion of the Unliving loomed behind them. And maybe the Avengers would be taking a water cooler break, standing around talking about the game.

Anyway.

Last times: Kang kidnapped several women, including one very past menopause, because one was destined to be the Celestial Madonna and have a god baby but it turned out to be Mantis and also Swordsman died and Kang literally wrestled with himself and the Avengers went to Vietnam to explore Mantis’ past some more and got into a scrum with the Titanic Three, three ex-villains who decided it would be more fulfilling to be North Vietnam’s Avengers but who will inevitably go back to villainy.

This time: I already said. Its a breather episode, of sorts.

Although we do start with Mantis KLOK!ing a mugger right in the face.

What the dude was even thinking trying to mug this particular garishly dressed group, I’ll never understand.

He seems confused that someone dressed like a bar girl is so agile. Which. This whole time, Mantis was just dressed in her old uniform? That’s a bar girl outfit? She’s been serving on the Avengers basically dressed like a cocktail waitress?

Although I guess if its okay when Zatanna does it...

Anyway, after kicking the dude, choking him, and then slamming his face into the ground, she takes a moment to angst about becoming the Celestial Madonna and that she’s unknown on the streets where she remembers growing up.

But Mantis time is over, Steve Rogers just showed up in his new Nomad identity and becomes the center of attention.

And geez, he’s the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He’s smiling in every panel. He just wrapped up his first case against the Serpent Squad and decided to drop in on the Avengers.

Iron Man gives him a friendly shoulder punch and tells him he’s looking great, apparently unable to remove his gaze from Steve’s exposed man cleavage.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye bemoans all the changes the Avengers have been through since Hawkeye ragequit the team. Steve is Nomad, Swordsman died, Wanda studying witchcraft. It makes him wonder where that leaves him.

Meanwhile, Kang and Rama-Tut continue wrestling through time. Rama-Tut basically being ‘geez just accept you’re going to mellow out in the future’ and Kang is more like “You cannot make me believe that I will become as soft as you! Though we fall through this void for a thousand thousand eras, I’ll yet fight on!”

Kang needs to chill.

But he doesn’t get the opportunity to either chill or fight for a thousand thousand eras because his time sphere is yanked into Limbo. No, not the Illyana Rasputin dimension.

Instead, the timeless realm of Immortus, MASTER OF TIME.

The narration wonders how a timeless place can have a sequence of events and that is a really good question.

Kang immediately gets into a dick waving contest demanding to know who Immortus is and why he thinks his name alone should impress him.

The reason this is a dick waving contest is that Kang already knows who Immortus is. He’s been spying on the Avengers since #8 and even though Enchantress retconned the entirety of issue #10, Kang still saw it happen. He says this later. He’s just being difficult.

Immortus puts Rama-Tut into an imprisonment tube and Kang decides to take the time to yell at the unconscious man. He gets really into it too while Immortus looks on at his baby tantrum and muses that Kang is most certainly a man he can use.

Meanwhile, back in Saigon. Which. I mean. Can you say meanwhile when one of the places is a timeless place? Limbo is too confusing.

Hawkeye contacts Jarvis on the handheld visio-transceiver to see if Captain Marvel returned their message yet. He has not. As I said, very busy in his own book. Even though he expected the Avengers to drop everything for an issue to be part of his big storyline, they don’t get the same courtesy.

This is why everybody prefers Monica and Carol to you, Mar-Vell.

Hawkeye then asks if Wanda can come to the screen for a quick chat but she’s sequestered with Agatha Harkness and she left strict orders that they were not to be disturbed.

And while that call is going on, Mantis approaches Vision. But not to seduce him this time.

She apologizes for her behavior toward him in the recent past. And although Vision insists there’s no need to apologize, she likewise insists yuh-huh. With the whole Celestial Madonna thing, it seems that her life is coming to a new phase and she wants to put her affairs in order for whatever happens next.

Vision tells her she’s taking this too seriously and that if anything, he was flattered. And if an android can feel that emotion, imagine what new heights she could reach!

But that’s the thing. Mantis does not want to reach new heights. She was happy as she was.

Meanwhile, everything is great for Steve Rogers! He’s very much the guy that’s finally dating again after a contentious divorce. Except in this case, its after the president of the United States committed suicide in front of him after trying to take over the country with a mutant-powered UFO.

But it feels good to put the White House scandals behind him and start again. He’s even thinking of rejoining the Avengers. After he gets that pesky Serpent Squad finished off! Ha ha ha!

There’s a lot of Steve/Tony shipping fodder in this issue.

Meanwhile again, Mantis stands on the outside looking in, admiring the spirit of adventure and camaraderie between the Avengers. She thinks of herself as a Not-Avenger but I call BS on that. She appeared in Giant-Size #1 and Swordsman didn’t. She’s at least a de facto Avenger.

Also, her Mantis senses are tingling that someone is watching her but by the time she looks, the mysterious cloaked figured from last issue who has been watching her from the roof has disappeared.

And apparently in timeless Limbo, five hours have passed while Kang yelled at his older self and only now has Immortus gotten to the point of bringing Kang here.

Also, only thirteen minutes have passed in Saigon. Remember, half-hour in Saigon is in the title.

Immortus wants Kang to help him attack the Avengers. And here Kang reveals that he did know who Immortus was all along and is familiar with his work in issue #10.

Rama-Tut, now awake but still in the imprisonment tube, tells Kang he’ll never capture the Celestial Madonna. So Kang threatens to kill him. Which is less stupid than it sounds. Killing his future self won’t affect his present self and he doesn’t want to become Rama-Tut so he’ll be glad to have himself die if he ever does.

Anyway, Kang wants to use Immortus’ ability to pluck men from any era, like he did in retconned issue #10. Except he’s going to do it smart, not dumb like Immortus did.

Immortus grants Kang power over his machines to let Kang do what Kang gonna do.

So Kang summons the Legion of the Unliving, as seen on the cover!

With a specific eye toward people with powers and people who will bring a crucial element of fear to this campaign because all these people are dead by the year 1974, which is the year the comic is in.

First, the Frankenstein Monster (Adam or The Modern Prometheus to his friends)! Because Hammer Horror is spooky.

But seriously getting into it, the next selection is WONDER MAN from the year 1964! A man whose powers were created to equal the original Avengers, who the Avengers let die, and whose brain patterns were used to create the Vision.

His appearance will cause consternation in all the Avengers but will discombobulate the Vision most of all. And that’s what’s important because the Vision will be the one most likely to remain calm and logical in this assault.

So lets double up.

The next member of the Legion will be the original HUMAN TORCH from 1954!

More like the Human-Shaped Torch or perhaps the Inhuman Torch. Since he’s a robot. But he will serve as a threat to Vision’s robot body as Wonder Man threatens his artificial mind.

For reasons that will be revealed in upcoming issues but I’ve already touched on it before.

The next selection is to match Mantis. MIDNIGHT from 1973 but also from the Master of Kung Fu #16.

He’ll be able to counter Mantis with his own martial arts. That way Mantis can be taken unharmed so that she can marry Kang and make him the ruler of the universe.

You can give Kang this. He stays on message.

Next, the GHOST from 1969 but also from Silver Surfer #8-9. He is a pirate ghost. And he was chosen because he’s double dead or something.

And last, BARON ZEMO! Died in Avengers #15. Surely a man with no powers who was dumb enough to glue a mask to his own face will aid this battle. I mean, I guess seeing him would discombobulate Captain America. If he were participating in this battle. Which he isn’t. So. Choosing Zemo is stupid. You went against your own stupid rules, Kang.

BUT ANYWAY GROUP SHOT!

Although, if the point is to confuse and terrify the Avengers, I have to wonder why he didn’t choose Swordsman for his Legion of the Unliving. Having to fight against Swordsman so shortly after watching him die would rub some major salt in the wound. Could they even raise a hand to their recently fallen friend?

These are some haphazard selections, Kang. I mean I gave you shit about Zemo but at least the Avengers have some feelings about him probably. And Wonder Man and Human Torch are inspired choices. But who are these nobodies like Midnight and the Ghost and ‘Frankenstein’? What are they to the Avengers?

Back in Saigon, Vision decides to talk to Iron Man about love. Which makes him incredibly uncomfortable. Its kind of great.

Vision confesses he finds Mantis’ presence distracting. Her recent distress and the idea that she may leave the Avengers soon have become things that tug at his thoughts. And surely Iron Man has picked up some knowledge regarding matters of the heart after all that time he has spent with his employer, renowned playboy Tony Stark.

Iron Man tries to stammer through an answer that love is different for everybody.

Realizing that the subject embarrasses him, Vision swiftly lets him off the hook and promises he will never talk about love with Iron Man again. To Iron Man’s immense relief.

Meanwhile, Mantis is still wondering about her fate and the feeling of being watched when she spots Swordsman’s ghost in the busy streets of Saigon.

Just “standing there so grim and... green.”

She tries to tell herself that its not happening. Tries to force herself to stop seeing it. But finally she breaks and runs toward the green ghost. But as she reaches the spot where he was, he is no longer.

Its now minute twenty-four of the apparently literal half hour.

Oh, and the narration assures us that Kang had nothing to do with the apparition. Which would have been a really good way to grab Mantis without the Avengers being able to stop him.

Because as we are soon to learn, with Immortus’ equipment, he can just kidnap people right to Limbo.

But Kang and Immortus are too busy discussing tactics right now. See, Kang initially wanted to just transport himself and the Legion of the Unliving to 1974 to fight the Avengers in Saigon. But Immortus talks him around to just kidnapping the Avengers to Limbo.

There is an endless maze of tunnels beneath Castle Limbo. And if Kang wishes to inspire fear and confusion in the Avengers, its a good battleground.

Its a good idea. AND THE LAST THING HE NEEDED FROM IMMORTUS!

He traps the Master of Time in an imprisonment tube.

Kang has no respect for a man that holds his attacks until an ally appears. Immortus lacks the aptitude for true warfare. And he thought Kang would consent to be a mere warlord in his court.

Immortus acts surprised at this sudden but inevitable betrayal but he really shouldn’t.

Now, twenty-eight minutes into the Quiet Half-Hour in Saigon and Cap Nomad receives a notification that the Serpent Squad has been sighted in Los Angeles. So off Nomad goes, bounding over a wall to go wrestle some snake themed supervillains. And, again, this is the happiest he’s been in a while.

And as soon as Nomad is gone and Hawkeye wonders what they’re going to do now, the Avengers are kidnapped to Limbo with a mighty KZAP!

Transported into separate locations within the labyrinth beneath Castle Limbo.

And Kang contacts them on the PA telling them they’ve defied his will for the last time and that they will die here in the Labyrinths of Limbo. And then he sicks the Legion of the Unliving on them.

And that’s the end of the story. But there are more pages in the book. The letters pages have been included! And dang but there was apparently a shipping war in the fandom back in 1974.

But the letters I’ve seen in this and recent issues seem to lean toward Vison and Mantis getting together.

One letter says that Vision and Wanda’s relationship has gone far enough. “One of the most basic beliefs of love is to eventually marry and procreate children. How can a machine return love and warmth to Wanda? How could the Vision be a father? The whole situation is unrealistic. I know this is comics, but with the realism Marvel has instilled in its books, I hope this is changed.”

Another letter argues that Vision and Mantis suit each other much more naturally than Vision and Wanda and hurls vile obscenities on anyone that disagrees. Both Vision and Mantis “exhibit magnificent control of both body and mind, they are both without a past, and both are ‘strangers in strange lands.’” And wonders why Vision even loves Wanda. I mean, sure, he can see why Wanda loves such a mysterious, brooding powerful, attractive fellow with a sexy voice. But why does Vision love Wanda? The letter writer theorizes “The Vision, thrust into a world of mature adults, is still immature in the ways of the heart. To hide his emotional adolescence, he becomes involved with a beautiful woman. More importantly, being ‘in love’ with Wanda makes him feel human. Read over the last sentence. We all know how much the Vision would like to be human. He’s somewhat resolved to the impossibility of this, but loving Wanda compensates for it.”

Another letter in last issue, wanted the love square between Wanda, Mantis, Swordsman, and Vision to end with Vision and Mantis together and was noncommittal what would happen to the other two.

Which is all funny, looking back from a perspective of Wanda and Vision being one of THE couples of Marvel to rival Hank and Jan (divorced), Scott and Jean (she died, he remarried), Peter and MJ (demonically retconned), Black Bolt and Medusa (divorced) and Reed and Sue (together but could probably use marriage therapy but there’s no therapists in the space between dimensions where Reed trapped them to rebuild the universe without running it by Sue).

Hm. Discouraging. But anyway, with the perspective looking back, its weird to realize that at one point, it wasn’t sure that Wanda and Vision would end up together, get married, have demon children, lose their demon children, get divorced, and eventually Wanda would go crazy and cause Vision to be killed by She-Hulk. Readers back then wouldn’t know that.

And its heartening, in a weird, small way, that basically fandom has never changed. People have always been over-invested in who fictional characters kissed and they will continue to always be over-invested in who fictional characters kissed.

I can only hope that the letters pages continue to be included on Marvel Unlimited so I can see how people react to upcoming events.

[wren-likethe-bird]

The Kissing Booth

A SnowBaz fanfiction

Simon

Once a year, usually in the spring, Watford stages a carnival for the students.  It’s usually quite humble, mainly consisting of booths selling small magic trinkets, or snacks like cotton candy, sweets and other classic carnival fare.  There’s always the tiny petting zoo over near the Cloisters, and some years Watford even scrapes enough together to bring in a carousel.  Most of the booths are run by student volunteers, and though everything is by donation, all proceeds go to whichever charity the student body has voted on.

           I go every year, mostly for the caramel apples and sweet cider, but this is the first year I’ve been behind the scenes of the carnival and helped at a booth.

           In truth, I didn’t even sign up for it, but Agatha hadn’t had a break all day and needed some cotton candy of her own.

           I should have told her to find Penny, or Trixie or even Minty.  Anyone but me.

           It doesn’t take long for the word to spread that Simon Snow has taken over the Kissing Booth, and mortifyingly the line has doubled in length.  Mostly first or second-year girls, blushing and stammering or swaggering up to the counter with a pronounced sway in their step, with the odd boy interspersed through the line.

           It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me – that honour goes to the time in second year that Baz stumbled upon a spell that made my clothes slowly dissipate, garment by garment, in the middle of the dining hall – and after the first two or three quick, cold kisses I start to calm down, but I’m counting the minutes until Agatha comes back.  How she endured hours of this, I cannot comprehend.  That’s just Agatha, I guess.

           A redhead drops her donation into the tin and her eyes flit around, meeting me for only a split second at a time, her cheeks aflame.  I try to look as non-threatening as I can and lean forward enough that she can close the rest of the space.  She darts in with a kiss that’s no more than a peck before running over to a giggling pair of who must be her friends, a triumphant grin on her face. She must have been dared.  Poor girl.  I hope I wasn’t her first.

           “Well, well, well.”

           My stomach lurches at the cold drawl I know only too well.

           “What are you doing here, Baz?” I say in as civilized a tone as I can manage.

           He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth in a twist that’s a bit too amused to be a sneer.  “When I heard that the Chosen One had taken over the Snogging Booth, I simply had to see it for myself.”

           “Well, now you’ve seen it, so now you can go.”

           “Saving the World of Mages one kiss at a time,” Baz murmurs with a chuckle.  “Not exactly what I was envisioning.”

           “I’m only covering for Agatha,” I retort, “she’ll be back in five minutes if you’re wanting her services.”

           He scoffs.  “I’d rather not snog your girlfriend, thank you very much.”

           “She’s not my – forget it,” I shake my head.  I’ve told him at least a dozen times, but it never stops him.

           “She must have been really desperate for a break to put you in charge,” Baz drawls on, his voice smooth like honey but with too much of a bite to be sweet.  “You’d think she’d at least pick someone attractive for the Kissing Booth.”

           It stings, but I don’t flinch.  “What, someone like you?” I spit back too fast.

           His eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise as I realize my mistake.  “You flatter me, Snow,” he purrs, and I feel my cheeks heat up, but I furrow my brow tighter and hope it passes for anger.

           “Is there a reason you’re still here?” I growl as the burning spreads from my cheeks to my ears.  

           “As a matter of fact, there is,” Baz says, and his gray eyes look cool enough to staunch the flames at the tips of my ears, but the more I glare into them the more the fire rages.  “I’m here to torment you.”

           “Great, well you’ve done that.”

           “I wanted to see what you’d do.”  He leans on the edge of the counter, bringing his face far too close to mine for comfort. “What would the Mage’s Heir do if his nemesis showed up at the Kissing Booth?”

           “You can torment me any time,” I shoot back, “you’re holding up the line.”

           “Oh, yes, well,” he feigns conern, “I wouldn’t want to keep anyone from their kiss.”

           “Then go away.”

           His eyes narrow and he pretends to think.  “Mmm, no.  I don’t think so.”

           “Baz, I’m warning you.”

           “Terrifying,” he drones, “but this is too much fun.  Besides,” his eyebrow flickers up, “don’t you owe me a kiss?”

           I flash him a smirk of my own.  “Aw, Baz. If you were so desperate for a kiss, you could’ve just asked.”

           Baz, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye.  “You think of that comeback yourself?”

           “There’s a fee, you know,” I ignore him, barely having to raise my voice above a murmur for him to hear me, he’s so close.  “You haven’t paid the fee, so I don’t owe you anything.”

           He doesn’t drop his eyes from mine, and the cool gray takes on the spark of a challenge.  Out of my periphery I see him reach into his pocket, and there’s the clatter of coins dropping into the tin.

           I should punch him.

           I should spit in his face.

           I wanted to see what you’d do.

           I take him by the lapels and crush his mouth under mine.

           He makes a muffled sound of shock.  To be fair, so do I, but mine is more angry than it is surprised.  I kiss him hard and rough, and it’s a bit of a juxtaposition because his mouth is oddly soft.  A face like his, you’d expect his lips to be made of marble, cold and unmoving, but he’s the farthest thing from unmoving.  I can’t tell if he’s struggling or if he’s kissing me back but his lips are so, so soft and I want to bruise them, mark them, bite them…

           I only stop when a series of wolf whistles reminds me that there are at least ten people watching us.

           Trying to salvage the illusion of control, I break away harshly, still gripping him by his collar.  The cocky smirk has dropped from his smooth features and now his face mirrors mine, a matching scowl, like I’ve crossed a dangerous line.  I probably have.

           “Was that what you wanted?” I growl.

           He doesn’t answer, just holds my gaze another few seconds before pushing back from the table, his lapels slipping out of my hands, and stalking away.

*** 

I don’t see Baz at the carnival after that, and I stay as long as the booths are open, perusing the same counters and feigning interest even after having looked through their contents three times.  I keep Penny company where she mans the popcorn booth, drizzling caramel over every few cartons, and I even get bored enough to hang around Agatha back at the Kissing Booth for a little while, until one too many patrons have asked if I’m available for service.  When she and Penny are freed we pet the goats at the petting zoo, the ones that Ebb has graciously volunteered for the event, and take a few spins on the carousel.  Only once the light has begun to fade and the signs are being lowered from their booths do the three of us part ways.  Even then, I offer to help Ebb get her goats back safely.

           Basically, I’m doing anything I can to put off going back to the room, but eventually I can’t avoid it any longer.  I’ve wandered the grounds enough times that the sun has properly disappeared behind the distant hills and I can barely see the ground in front of me. Even then I’m tempted to consider crazy alternatives like spending the night at Ebb’s place, but I’m pretty sure that would be against school rules anyway, and besides, I’ll have to face Baz eventually.  There’s no undoing what’s happened.

           When I finally trudge back into the room, he’s staring out the window at the moat, presumably trying to intimidate the merwolves, but he turns at the sound of the door.  His expression, though I don’t see it for long before I look away, is hard to read. Wide eyes and a furrowed brow, like he’s still mad at me for my stunt earlier, but there’s a bit of a questioning edge there, too.  Almost a where were you edge.

           Normally I have to start any type of conversation, but tonight he wastes no time. “What the hell was that, Snow?”

           There’s no question as to what he’s referring, and I can’t help but get angry again.  “Me? You’re the one who had to start something!”

           “Well, you didn’t have to react so drastically,” he mutters, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall by the window, the moonlight casting its glow on his skin and making him even paler than usual, almost transparent.  I half expect fangs to slide out from his lips for no reason and complete the picture.

           His soft, soft lips.

           “You were egging me on,” I seethe, the memory igniting the rage that I’d felt in the fractured moment before kissing him, “it’s your fault anything happened.”

           “Proud little hero,” Baz says with the slightest smirk, “can’t back down from a challenge.”

           “You know I can’t, not in front of people.”

           “Wouldn’t want them to think the Heir is a coward.”

           I feel like a balloon in me is swelling and deflating at once.  “But that’s just it, Baz,” I insist, anger momentarily aside.  “If they think I’m afraid, what reason do they have to hope?”

           He doesn’t answer right away, and for a second I think maybe he understands. I want so badly for him to understand.

           “No reason,” Baz eventually says, turning to look out the window again, “not with someone like you as the Chosen One.”

           I want to groan, to kick something, to shake him by the shoulders and make him look me in the eye and for once not fight me.  Have we ever in our lives made eye contact without there being some challenge between us?

           “Why did you have to get in that line?” I shake my head.  “There are so many other ways of tormenting me, lower-stakes ways.”

           “To be fair, I’ve already exhausted most of those,” Baz murmurs with a little shrug of his shoulders.

           “When have you ever been fair?”

           “Touché.”

           I’m tired of standing here at the door, so I kick off my shoes and sit down on my bed, trying not to think about how much closer I am to him now, still at the window, looking as vampiric as ever.  His gray eyes are positively silver in the moonlight, and the black of his hair looks silkier than ever, as if it’s soaking the rays directly into him. He almost glows.  I have to laugh a little, because more than once Baz has mockingly compared me, with my bronze curls and sky-blue eyes, to the sun, but he himself wears a halo of night.  If I am the sun, then Baz is most certainly the moon.  Distant, cold, mysterious, almost too pristine to touch.

           His gaze returns to me suddenly.  He raises an eyebrow in a wordless inquiry, and I realize I’ve been staring.

           “What exactly was it you expected me to do?”

           “At what point, Snow?” he gives a humourless laugh.  “You had more than one opportunity to react.”

           “When you paid the fee.”

           His tiny smile disappears.  “It doesn’t matter.”

           “It does.”

           “Drop it, Snow,” he says, the hardness returning to his eyes, and I know I’ve cornered him.  Drop it is Baz’s way of betraying himself, of saying there’s something that he doesn’t want to tell.

           “Was I supposed to kiss you?” I ask.  For some reason I have to know.

           “No.”

           “Then what?”

           “I don’t know, Snow, punch me.  Push me. Beat me to the ground.  Something.”

           My brow furrows in confusion.  “Wait. You wanted me to hit you?”

           He shrugs, more with his head than his shoulder.  “One of us has to get hurt, right?”

           I rise to my feet, and I’m face-to-face with him again, only his eyes are different this time.  Whereas at the booth he had betrayed no hint of doubt at our closeness, now there’s a flicker of something in the silver, something that feels a lot like the way my heart is racing in my chest, and it dawns on me.  He was putting on a show at the carnival, acting like nothing I could do would get to him, just as I had been.

           If they think I’m afraid, what reason do they have to hope?

           One of us has to get hurt, right?

           And suddenly it makes sense.

           There’s only a few inches between us, so it feels almost natural when I lean in and press the gentlest of kisses to his lips.

           He doesn’t kiss me back this time, but he doesn’t move away either.  “What was that for?” he asks when I draw back a second later.

           “You act like we’re so different,” I say wonderingly, “but we’re the same.”

           “How?”

           “What do you think we’d be if we didn’t have to fight each other?”

           I don’t miss the split second of longing in his eyes.  “Keep dreaming, Snow.”

           “Because I bet it would involve a lot more of this.”  I bring a hand up to his neck, my fingers instantly lost in the wavy tips of his hair and it’s exactly as soft as it looks bathed in moonlight.

           Baz closes his eyes like he has to collect himself.  “You’re the hero.  I’m the villain.  What more do I have to say?”

           “Fuck that,” I chuckle, “we both know that’s not true.  You’re a boy, and I’m a boy.  That’s all.”

           “Tell that to the rest of the world.”

           “I don’t care about the rest of the world,” I shake my head adamantly, “I want to know what you think.”    

           “About what?”

           “If there was no act, no reputation, no role to play,” I murmur, “if we were just two boys, what would you do?”

           Baz returns my gaze a moment, searching my eyes.    

           Then his lashes close and he’s kissing me, and my eyes drift shut again like I’m sighing in relief.

           I let my fingers tangle higher up in his hair while my other hand grips the front of his shirt like earlier, only without the anger of the afternoon.  He angles his head further and guides the kiss deeper, his hands gently gripping my waist and pulling me closer.  I melt against him, my mouth moving with his, my head swimming with his citrusy scent, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my throat when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle tug. Suddenly I’m floating, weightless, and Baz gives a muffled sound of surprise when I press back a little harder.

           When we finally break apart, both of us gasping and dizzy, I immediately want more, want to line his neck with my mouth, want to feel his breath hitch when I reach the base of his throat, want to hear my name in his sigh.  Would he sigh Snow or Simon?  I want to know.

           “Please,” I whisper, dotting a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “can’t we just be two boys?”

           When I meet his eyes, they’re full of more longing than ever.

           In response, he kisses a soft, slow triangle pattern on my cheek, and I recognize the pattern of the three moles by my eye, and I can’t help but smile.

“We can try.”