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beawriter · 3 years

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Red Herrings

Want to misdirect your readers from a big plot twist, but still lay it out in plain sight? I have the tool for you: red herrings.

First of all, what is a red herring?

a fact, idea, or subject that takes people's attention away from the central point being considered:

[For example:] the police investigated many clues, but they were all red herrings.

- Definition by the Cambridge Dictionary

In general:

It’s a type of foreshadowing, though it’s false clues

It can be used in any genre

What can a red herring be?

A character who seems evil or suspicious.

An object that seems important.

An event that seems to be significant to the story or protagonist.

A clue placed by the antagonist or a secondary character that sends investigators down the wrong path.

Those are the main ones, but you could have other ideas

What you should do:

Make sure that they’re important, logical and inform the plot

Lie, but not completely. For example: let’s say someone has been murdered. The victim was found with two glasses of wine in the room, one of them having traces of red lipstick, which implies the killer is a woman. However, it turns out that the suspect shared a glass of wine with the victim earlier that day.

Be fair with your reader

you don’t want your reader to finish the book and throw it across the room, just after lighting it on fire

misleading is fine, but if you leave out information completely, then no one could figure it out and you lost your reader’s trust

Make your reader remember it

It usually takes three times of information being said for the reader to remember it

If you only say it once and never mention it again, it’s basically useless

Put the real clues, just don’t insist a lot on them until you reveal it all in the end and show the reader all the real clues that you previously mentioned

When you plant the real clues, force your reader’s attention elsewhere

it’s giving them extra (sometimes useless) information to the reader

you can distract them with action

with high emotions (it can be almost any emotion, just intensely)

with hiding it in a list of things

What you should be careful not to do:

Be careful not to be dishonest. Just don’t.

Don’t have all the evidence point to a completely opposite direction or have the twist be something like “oh, the murderer was the guy we didn’t see for half the book”

A bit like being dishonest, don’t show your red herring as being the absolute truth

Don’t add them because the plot lacks tension, excitement, or conflict. They need to be relevant to the plot, perhaps even to the point that if you took it out, the plot would collapse

If the red herring is a character:

Don’t give any (obvious) reasons for your reader to suspect the guilty character to be the culprit

The innocent character needs to legitimately seem possibly guilty

maybe they benefit from the crime

maybe they had the means or opportunity to commit the crime

maybe they have a strong motive

or all of the above.

Double herrings:

This is optional for your story, so you can skip this section

A double herring is a clue that is introduced early in the story, which seems to be too convenient, and then a second clue comes in and conflicts with the first one. The character following the clues will believe the second one, until it’s almost too late and realize the first clue was the right one all along.

Stories with good red herrings:

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner, in which the narrator’s secret is mind-blowing, but it’s all there and foreshadowed in the book

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling, in which all the clues are there to find the culprit, but the red herring misleads the reader

And There Were None by Agatha Christie, where the red herring misleads and the culprit is, for a while, not a suspected

!!SPOILER ALERT!! Explaining one red herring

In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, we, the readers, and the characters are led to think that the villain is Sirius Black

We are given many clues that Sirius Black wants to kill Harry and is on Voldemort’s side, just like when he was in prison and was heard whispering “he’s at Hogwarts,” so he is not explicitely saying he wants to kill Harry, or even that he’s talking about him, but we think he is implying it.

We do get clues about Scabbers (Ron’s rat) being the villain and actually Peter Pettigrew, who is supposed to be dead, just like how they could only find Peter’s finger and Scabbers has a missing paw.

There’s many other clues and misdirections, but I won’t go through all of them because I’ll be here all day if I do

The End

I hope this helped, and feel free to add more:)

#red herring #writing tips #writing advice #writing #writingblr #writeblr #writer #writers #writers of tumblr #writers community #writing community #fiction writing

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elia-de-silentio · 3 years

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Recap on the Book (+ a theory on Atsushi)

The Book is an element that received little attention compared to the character drama in Bungo Stray Dogs, but it's actually the element instigating it, as the thing almost everyone desires. This time, I want to make a recap on it, and take a look on an interesting theory regarding the connection between it and Atsushi.

The first one to mention it is Fitzgerald. He describes it as pretty much Aladdin's lamp from the original fairy tale: something to make all wishes come true, in his case the resurrection of his daughter. Appearently, Atsushi is the 'guidepost' to the Book, and that's why there was such an hefty bounty on him at the start of the series. Whatever that means, we are all still waiting to know.

It also mentions that it is 'impervious to fire and all abilities'.

But Fitzgerald was in cahoots with two other amiable fellows who were after the same thing: Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie. While the latter has not appeared since except for Dead Apple, the former has given us new infos on the prized Book.

He too wants to use the Book, but in his case, the goal is a little more lofty: he wants to recreate the world, one without the 'sin' of ability users. So, the Book's powers aren't limited to just bring back the dead, they really have a reality-altering scale.

(translation by @akai-koutei)

At the start of the Decay of Angels arc, Chief Taneda gives Ranpo a few more informations about our object of interest.

It is in the hands of the government, and it has been studied, via a single page extracted from it, that holds the same power as the whole Book (like a Death Note).

Moreover, we find the first limitation to the power: 'the written content must conform to the rules of karma'. In other words - and we're going deliciously meta here - it must have narrative consistency, unlike the 'real world' in which accidents of any kind and without any meaning happen all the time. Of course it does! If a book had inconsistent plot development and characterization, wouldn't we all be complaining about bad writing?

Lastly, it's suggested that it was created by an ability user, which set its rules to prevent excessive and senseless destruction.

This rule begs the question - do Fitzgerald or Fyodor know about it? 'A girl suddenly springs back to life' doesn't have much narrative consistence, and neither 'all Ability users suddenly vanish'. A way to work around this limit would be rewrite history itself: Fitzgerald's daughter never died/Abilities never existed in the first place. It would erase the timeline in which these events would be impossible, and create another in which they have consistency.

This would also be the reason for the initial plan of the Decay of Angels, using the page to depict the ADA as terrorists ... but before that, they had to 'create' their crimes by killing relevant people that had spoken against the Agency, giving them plausible actions and motives.

It also fits with the Sky Casino: a building that was woven back in time with a complete backstory, instead of just popping out from nothingness. Still, this also show us that there's no need for the details to be absolutely accurate: Dazai managed to figure out that the building had been written from the Book because the 'top secret' details of its creation didn't exist in the first place. Still, these details are ones that do not 'disturb' the flow of a story: it's a freaking flying casino, who is going to think about the funds? Just enjoy the story!

But then we find an outstanding exception: Sigma. A whole human being brought into existence by the Book, without any past that he can remember. He appeared three years ago, in a desert, with only the clothes on his back and a train ticket. No backstory from him.

How was this possible? It's not very narratively coherent, a person popping into existence.

Well, we must consider that we know only what Fyodor says about it. He might be withholding information from Dazai and the audience, or even lying to confuse his opponent; or maybe he doesn't know the answer himself. He recruited Sigma, likely after hearing about his Ability, but did not create him personally.

Maybe Sigma's 'parent' actually did have a backstory and purpose planned for his 'character', but for some reason, they weren't received. Or maybe they knew some trick to circumvent the limitations of the Book. Maybe the government was experimenting with it, and for some reason someone was like 'hey, let's see if we can make a person pop out in the desert, without anyone being around to check if it happens or take care of the eventual human being!'.

Yeah ... this part is rather confusing. I look forward to an explaination on Sigma's origins.

The last time that the rules of the Book are mentioned, is to show us a way to circumvent them. Fyodor had written that 'no police officer will believe the Agency's innocence' ... but he didn't factor Tachihara in. As a member of the Hunting Dogs, he is a police officer; but during his infiltration of the Mafia, he acquired this second identity. He is an officer, and at the same time, he is not. As soon as he inquires other mafiosi on the matter, he becomes clear to him the ADA's guiltlessness, in which he couldn't believe when talking with the othe Hunting Dogs.

And Ranpo in later chapters used a similar strategy, bringing his proofs to a group of journalists to make the masses think; and in turn, this divided the police between those who still obeyed the rule and those who adopted a new perspective.

The human ability to put ourselves in other points of view is the uncontrollable variable that can break the Book's powers.

(By the way, I wonder if that was actually Fyodor's plan. He seems too smart and well-informed to not take this possibility into consideration. Considering that the clashes among the police resulted in riots and chaos; and he commented earlier, talking to himself, that he didn't create the 'perfect' plan his colleagues required because that would be boring ... maybe this is his own plan to undermine Fukuchi's power and get him out of his way, to be the one who will actually puts his hands on the Book?)

After that, an interesting comment was made: the Decay of Angels planned to use the Book 'the next full moon'. It's uncertain if it's because it can only be used in this time frame, or if it can be just be found (in both cases, the Book has another rule that limits its use)

The last time any piece of the Book made an appearence, it was with Fukuchi dangling the famous page, and the possibility of rewriting it, in front of Atsushi and Akutagawa; but that was also the first sound defeat for the Shin Soukoku. Fukuchi still has the page, and now our hopes reside in Tachihara, currently about to face him.

Then, there is supplementary material: the BEAST AU. I haven't read the light novel or manga, so any information I can provide is from the wiki and @looking-for-stray-dogs 's summary.

In this AU, Dazai has managed to obtain the Book, but thanks to his Ability, he retains his memories even in different universes. But didn't Fitzgerald say that the Book is immune to all Abilities? Or only those which try to destroy it?

Still, Dazai used the Book to create his own pet universe - kind of like Fyodor wants to do, but with a much more personal goal: creating a universe in which Odasaku lives. This appearently can happen only if he never becomes Dazai's friend.

However, the definition of 'make what is written in it into reality' is not exact: it is more like a 'container' for every possible universe in existence, and what is written in the pages will not 'rewrite reality', but 'call forth the universe in which it happens'.

Think of it like Michelangelo's ideas about sculpting: the statue is already in the block of stone, the artist merely brings it out.

Beast!Dazai then mentions another clause: if three or more people know the truth about a world created by the Book, the stability of said world gets compromised, and it gets higher possibilities of ceasing to exist. Which is pretty much what is happening in the canon manga.

And this is all we know insofar. Is it enough to make theories? Of course! Anything is enough to make theories!

One I've seen circulating, and that I really like, is 'Atsushi is a creation of the Book'.

Supporting it:

• Atsushi is considered so valuable because he is a 'guidepost' to the Book; it would actually make sense that someone created by the Book mantained some connection to it.

Contradicting it:

• There already is someone who was for sure created by the Book: Sigma. And he is already in the Decay of Angels: if all sentient beings created by the Book mantained a connection to it, wouldn't that mean that they don't need Atsushi? Instead, not only they are still looking for tiger boy, but Sigma needed to threaten and use his Ability on Taneda to find out just where one page was.

Solution: maybe Atsushi was specifically written to be a 'tracker' for the Book, while Sigma wasn't?

Supporting it:

• Atsushi doesn't have any certified past, someone threw him on the streets without giving him anything that could lead back to a birth family. And appearently, nobody noticed someone had a suddenly missing child, or tried to investigate on the abandonment of a toddler.

Contradicting it:

• Who the hell creates a supernatural being that can lead to an even more supernatural book and then throws him in the trash?!

Solution: who the hell creates a supernatural being who can exchange informations and throws him in the desert?! Whatever the keeper of the Book is on, it can't be legal, or even well-cut for the matter.

More seriously, we are told that Atsushi's parents abandoned him, but it was the Headmaster that said it, and he's not the most reliable guy around. Atsushi not only does not have any proof for that, but he also has a faulty memory due to trauma: if he forgot Shibusawa, what else could he have forgotten?

Supporting it:

• The Book can appearently be used - or maybe retrieved, the phrasing is a bit ambiguous on that - under the full moon. Atsushi's Ability is called 'Beast Beneath the Moonlight', and he himself is called a 'weretiger', derivated from 'werewolf', a creature that has a traditional connection to the full moon.

Contradicting it:

• It might be a coincidence?

Supporting it:

• Shibusawa took a very specific interest in him, even going to the point of torturing him to make the 'Beast under the Moonlight' manifest

Contradicting it:

• Shibusawa was obsessed in finding the 'ultimate ability'. The fact that appearently Atsushi has it does not mean that it is related to the Book, or even that it is an objective statement.

Supporting it:

• Fyodor took a very specific interest in him. He was the one who directed Shibusawa to him, as far as six years ago, when Atsushi likely hadn't manifested his Ability. So, how did this rat, who is very interested in the Book and probably spent a lot of time finding ways to get it, know about him?

Contradicting it:

• Dazai appearently knows nothing about it. Considering how smart and careful he is, it would be expected that he did his research on why everyone was so fixated on the Agency's newest recruit. Instead, he looked genuinely shocked when he's told about Sigma's birth. So, whatever Atsushi's connection to the Book is, it's not of that kind. Moreover, Fyodor hasn't had a single interaction with Atsushi insofar. Wouldn't be more logical trying to somehow secure his willing cooperation if he needs it? From his side, Atsushi doesn't seem to know how he looks like (when he thinks about him, the face is always obscured), nor he acts like he vaguely recognize the name before - something that instead happened with Shibusawa

Possible solution: maybe Dazai isn't God the All-Knowing for once in this manga?! Or maybe he was lying to keep a margin of advantage. And Fyodor rarely acts in a very direct way, usually putting other people and convoluted plans between himself and anyone who could be involved. Sending Shibusawa to Atsushi might have been such a case.

Contradicting it:

• Fukuchi has no problem attacking Atsushi. The whole Decay of Angels's plan put the life of Tiger Boy in danger multiple times. An odd thing to do, if they goal is something that can be reached only through him.

Possible solution: they know he has regenerative abilities on a nearly Koro-sensei level? I admit, I'm not very sure on this point.

All in all, I think it's a very plausible theory. And do we want to talk about the drama character development it would bring about? Atsushi already questions his right to live, how would knowing that he had been created for some purpose decided by someone else impact his worldview?

In conclusion, I think that the Book is a very interesting, mysterious element, and I really look forward to see if it will be used, by whom, and why Atsushi seems so connected to it.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd the book #bsd atsushi #bsd sigma #bsd tachihara #bsd fyodor #bsd fitzgerald #bsd shibusawa #bsd meta #bsd theories #bsd spoilers #elia's recaps

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ninzied · 3 years

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into the woods

based on the prompt: you know that scene in TWD where shane is being all cute and kissing up lori’s stomach? that but make it kastle.

rated m. 3k.

“She should’ve been back by now.”

Frank scours the tree line along their campsite, as if she’ll walk out of there any second. She hadn’t taken much more than a toothbrush with her, only a hand towel and a bottle of water to rinse off. How much longer does she need with those things?

“You worry a lot,” Sarah remarks. She doesn’t look up, measuring out coffee grounds for their pour-over stand. “For someone who’s ‘just friends’ with her.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this weekend,” Frank says with a scowl.

“I could use a refresher myself,” says David. He’s emerging from their tent, zipping it back up the side before stretching. “From what I recall, Karen’s the one we invited. You’re the one who chose to tag along.”

Frank arches an eyebrow at their surroundings. “Thought my invite was implied.”

David makes a protesting sound. “You don’t have a monopoly on manly activities, you know.” He comes over to Sarah, drops a kiss on her forehead in greeting before taking one of the lawn chairs next to her. “I can camp. I can do camping. I’m a survival guy too, remember?”

“Ignore him,” says Sarah. “He gets grumpy before his morning coffee.” She leans over their fire and removes the kettle of water, which has just started to boil.

“There’s one thing we have in common,” says Frank. He nods his head toward the tent David vacated. “Kids still down for the count?”

“Both of them out like a light,” David confirms. “That ghost story Karen told them last night worked a little too well.”

“Trouble falling asleep?” asks Frank, not unsympathetically. “Or was it nightmares?”

“Leo came up with a sequel, actually,” says David. “Which she insisted on recounting in very vivid detail. None of us really slept after that.” He scrubs a hand tiredly over his eyes, but he’s also grinning a little, like he can’t help but be proud of this fact.

Karen would be proud too, Frank thinks, and pictures the smile he’ll get from her later.

“How about you?” Sarah asks Frank, her tone perfectly, deceptively innocent. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” says Frank.

The look Sarah gives her husband is a lot subtler than the one she receives in return.

Frank clears his throat. “You two got something you want to say?”

David shrugs. “Only that it’s a pretty small tent you and Karen are sharing.”

“We made do,” says Frank.

Truth be told, though, David’s not wrong.

Karen had borrowed the tent from Nelson, who, as it turned out, hadn’t gone camping since he was about ten years old. It had been a tight squeeze—that palpable warmth in the thin sheets between them, the soft little sighs Karen let out in her sleep, had all been nothing short of torture to Frank.

But the Liebermans are on a need-to-know basis only.

David is opening his mouth to say something else when Sarah interrupts him. “Here,” she says, “drink this,” and presses a tin of steaming black coffee into his hands.

“Guests first,” says David, but Frank’s already standing.

“I’m good for now,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I’m just gonna go for a walk.” He stoops down, checks for the blade inside of his boot.

“Karen’s a big girl, you know.” David takes a sip of his coffee. “I just don’t see how this is going to win you any points in her book.”

“Oh, let him go,” Sarah chides. “He’s not going to rest easy otherwise.” She calls cheerfully after Frank, “Tell Karen that coffee will be waiting when you guys get back, all right?”

…

If anything, Frank figures he could use the time away from the others.

Last night had been exhausting, with the Liebermans up for about half of it, and then Karen so close yet just out of reach. He’d behaved himself perfectly well, but the ache of all that longing for more hasn’t left him, and so he tries to walk it off instead.

Frank steps into the trees, the morning sun filtering through in soft, muted patches of light. They’re barely into September, but the leaves here have already started to pack themselves down into the ground. It makes his job easier, tracking which way Karen has gone.

She can take care of herself; he knows that. But she knows he’s going to worry. It’s something that they’re working on, meeting each other halfway. Still, Frank reasons that there’s a time and a place for these kinds of concessions, and out here in the woods is not going to be one of them.

Frank has been walking for about ten minutes when he steps into a snug little clearing, and suddenly, she’s there.

“Karen?”

She’s a few yards ahead of him, lounging with her back against the trunk of a large maple. She’s resting her arm on one of its thick, gnarled roots, and she—

She has her nose in a goddamn book.

It’s a small paperback of Agatha Christie. One of those rare finds that she’d unearthed from the half-price bin down the street from Frank’s place. It’s where she’d gotten her inspiration for the ghost story she told them last night.

Frank knows this because she’d read it aloud to him three nights ago. The book hasn’t left her side of the bed, until she packed it for this trip. She must’ve tucked it into her hand towel before leaving their tent earlier.

Karen glances up as he approaches. She doesn’t seem remotely surprised to see him there. In fact, she’s looking at him with a teasing kind of impatience, like he’s kept her waiting, and—

Oh.

He’d been planning to steal a kiss or two at most from her before they headed back to camp, but she clearly has more than that on her mind.

Always two steps ahead of him, his girl, and he wonders if that isn’t one of the things he loves most about her.

“Frank,” she greets him, lightly admonishing. She puts the book down. “What took you so long?”

She stands as he strides over to her, a disbelieving smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

“This what I think it is?” he asks her. He palms the sides of her rib cage, walking her slowly backward until he’s pinned her to the tree.

“Mm.” She winds her arms a little slyly around him. “You know solving murder mysteries always gets me in the mood.”

“You mean like last night?” He leans down, capturing her mouth in a kiss. Her hands are already pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt, gliding up his body and tugging the fabric over his head.

“I’ve been dying here, Frank.” Karen gasps out as his mouth moves over her jawline. “I thought they’d never fall asleep.”

“I know. Fuck.” Frank snakes his hands beneath her clothes and under her bra, cupping her breasts with a small but satisfied groan. “Couldn’t take it either. Wanted you so bad.” He remembers the reason for the Liebermans’ insomnia, and the kiss he presses to Karen’s collarbone contains the definite edge of a smile.

“What?”

“Tell you later,” he murmurs, stepping back and pulling her with him. With the toe of his boot, he carefully rearranges his sweatshirt over a stretch of some soft-looking moss.

Karen breathes out a laugh, nudging a kiss to his ear as she asks him, “Exactly how much time do you think we have?”

“Enough,” he says, and lowers her onto his sweatshirt.

He kneels over her, nosing her shirt out of the way as he deposits open-mouthed kisses up her bare stomach. He pauses over her belly button, circling his tongue there. She tenses all over with a sigh of content before shrugging her top off and tossing it to the side.

He licks a trail up her body, feeling the hitch in her breath as he reaches her rib cage. When she clasps his shoulders, he goes willingly, rising and settling himself over her. Their mouths meet, lips parting instantly, deepening the kiss.

“Mm—” Karen moves her hips into his, chasing the friction between them. She’s in a thin pair of leggings, his erection pressed up against the junction of her thighs. He can feel the heat of her, even through his sweatpants, and it only fuels his arousal, has him aching to be inside her right now.

He groans a little, breaking the kiss for a moment. There’s a few breathless seconds of them fumbling with each other’s clothes, of Frank’s vision tunneling out when she reaches down and grasps him.

Christ.

He pumps himself in and out of her hand, bending over to kiss her again. Their tongues slide together, and he swallows the sound of her cry as he slips two fingers down, feeling how wet she is for him.

His mouth falls to her neck, sucking kisses to her pulse point as he replaces her hand with his. He strokes himself before rubbing the full length of his dick up against her, pressing down into her clit with each pass back and forth.

She arches against him with a throaty little sigh. He loves this kind of foreplay with her—the liquid heat of anticipation, the throbbing ache of that sweet almost just on the other side of this moment.

And fuck does he love watching her this way, too. The soft, breathy exhales, the swell of her breasts as she writhes beneath him. The way she bites her lip, and moans.

“Can you come like this?” he asks her, voice roughened with desire. He knows he won’t last long inside her, and he wants her to finish for him at least once.

“Yes.” She’s moving her hips in tandem with his, finding just the angle she likes, the right press and release to send her over the edge into orgasm. “Yes—oh, Frank—yes—mmm—”

She shudders beneath him, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth falls open in a silent, rapturous oh.

He kisses gently up and down her throat as she descends from her high, slowly relaxing back into him. Frank’s trying to breathe through his own need for release when she threads her fingers through his hair, coaxing his mouth back to hers.

He slides into her slowly, the air between them going shallow as they take a moment to adjust. In some ways, entering her is always going to feel like it’s the very first time, new and yet so familiar. Like the act of loving this woman comes from a place that goes deeper than memory.

Their mouths move together, unhurried, as he pulls out and sinks back in. She clutches his shoulders, pulling him closer. Each thrust of his hips has his body shifting up against hers, and he savors every inch of it, the feel of skin on skin. He cradles an arm around her head, moving his other down to slide a hand up the back of her thigh.

It has him going deeper, and she clenches around him, spine arching back. Fuck. Fuck, she feels incredible, like some kind of fever dream. Her mouth is so very warm on his, their tongues entwined, their kisses splintering apart on a gasp before they’re coming back together.

For these few blissed out moments, this is all that there is. The two of them wrapped into each other, all that soft, pale skin beneath his hands, the little moans she’s letting out as he pounds and pounds into her. It’s rougher than usual, but she only pulls him closer, hooking a leg around his waist and rolling her hips up to meet his.

Heat unfurls down low in his belly, pleasure clenching up his spine. “Karen—fuck, I—” He buries his face into the crook of her neck, trying to hold off for her as long as he can.

She turns into him, mouth finding his ear. “I’m close,” she breathes. “I’m close. It’s okay. Just—ooh—”

She cranes her head back with a soft, keening sound, and he wraps his hand over the side of her neck, kissing up her jawline. He rides her through her second orgasm, and then his own pleasure builds to his breaking point, and he’s coming apart.

Karen’s arms are around him when the strongest waves have subsided, leaving behind the small, lingering shivers. He finally collapses against her, boneless and spent, simply breathing her in for long seconds.

“Fuck.” He brushes his mouth over her shoulder, nudging her bra strap back in place. “That was…” He grunts a little as she turns them onto their side, draping a leg over his waist.

“It was,” she agrees. She looks even softer in the sunlight from this angle, and Frank inches closer, threading his fingers through the golden glow of her hair. “Guess we should head back soon. Before they call an official search party on us.”

“Guess so,” says Frank. He tightens his arms around her, and she snuggles into him, neither of them making any real attempt to move. She gives him a kiss, long, and sweet, and so indescribably tender that he could put down roots into this moment, never let it go.

Finally, with a small sigh of concession, Karen shifts up onto her elbow. She reaches behind him for something, retrieving the bottle she’d brought with her.

She bends down to kiss the crease between his brows, and smiles. “Water?”

…

They walk back to the campsite hand in hand.

Sarah’s cleaning up from breakfast, a thermos of coffee and a full plate of bacon, eggs and toast set aside for them.

“David took the kids down to the lake,” she tells them without turning her head. “They wanted to wait for you, but I told them you’d see them when you got back.”

“’Course,” says Frank, feeling a little pink in the ears. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you stay behind for us.”

“It was no trouble,” Sarah says breezily. Then, still with her back turned to them, she adds, inscrutable, “Better me than David, I will tell you that.”

She’s still stacking some plates, so Frank sneaks a last kiss to Karen’s temple before he releases her, making his way over to some much-needed coffee. He takes a long drag as Karen goes to help Sarah, the two of them falling into easy conversation about Leo, her writing ambitions, how absorbed she’d been around the campfire last night.

He doesn’t interrupt them, except to come over with the plate of food for Karen. Predictably, she reaches for the coffee instead. “I’ll have something in a bit,” she says, “promise,” and he gives her a look, but decides not to press the issue with Sarah standing so shrewdly nearby.

At one point, he glances up from a piece of bacon just as Sarah reaches over, and plucks part of a leaf from Karen’s hair. Sarah lets it go without so much as a comment, simply continuing on wherever they’d left off.

Later, Sarah passes by Frank as they’re getting ready to leave. “I think there are grass stains on the back of your sweater,” she mentions to him, almost conversationally, and he hesitates a moment before grabbing a hoodie to change into.

He pulls out the sandwich he’d made from their breakfast and passes it over to Karen on the walk, in exchange for the thermos of coffee. His hand instinctively finds the small of her back every time a rock or large root juts up into their path, and after Karen’s done eating she takes his hand instead, twining their fingers together.

If Sarah’s feeling smug about it, she doesn’t let it show—much.

Leo tackles them both as soon as they’ve made it to the lake. “Hey, Pete!” Then, as if she can’t hold it in any longer, she brandishes a notebook and says, “Karen, I have the best idea for a story tonight.”

“Honey,” Sarah starts, with an amused kind of warning in her tone.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” says Leo, looking confident. “This one’s not nearly as scary.”

“Tell me,” says Karen, unable to suppress a smile.

Leo starts to tug her away when she pivots back on her heel a little, and says to Frank matter-of-factly, “By the way, you probably don’t want Zach to see you two holding hands.” She looks meaningfully out onto the water, where Zach and their dad are focused enough on their lines not to have noticed them all there yet.

“Leo Lieberman,” Sarah scolds gently as Frank exchanges a bemused look with Karen.

“He’s too young to find out what heartbreak feels like,” says Leo sagely. “Sorry, Mom. I know you told him she’s already been spoken for. But as his big sister, it’s my job to look out for him.”

“Fair enough,” says Karen, giving Sarah a wink. There’s a wistful quality to her smile now, her gaze soft on his when Frank squeezes her hand. She clears her throat, and gestures down at Leo’s notebook. “Now let’s see what we’re working with here.”

…

Their tent isn’t quite big enough to fit them in lengthwise, so they’re turned slightly sideways, Frank spooning her as they drift off to sleep. He’s hard against her rear in the morning, but they both do their best to live with it, Karen pressing a chaste little kiss to the corner of his mouth as they’re getting dressed.

David’s on coffee duty, and Frank lends a hand as Karen folds herself up in a chair and reads to them the morning headlines on her phone.

It’s slow, and quiet, and so easy that Frank almost forgets they’re not home. Karen hums out a thank you when he brings her some coffee, stooping down to brush a kiss to her forehead.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

And it’s like any other morning, except this one has David staring at them like he can’t decide what has just happened, and just how long it’s been happening for.

“Blanket?” Karen offers, trying not to look too amused, as Frank drags a chair close to hers. She tosses it over them, and he takes her hand before leaning over to steal a sip of her coffee.

“Did you know about this?” David whispers urgently to his wife when she steps out.

“Know about what, honey?” asks Sarah, kissing his cheek as he frowns at her. “Why, did you see something?”

“You mean other than the obvious?” He gestures at Frank, who’s leaning in to whisper something to Karen. In his periphery, a look of recognition is dawning on David’s face with almost comical slowness. “Shit. You’re right. It was really obvious, wasn’t it.”

Sarah pats him on the shoulder. “So, what are we doing for breakfast today?”

And just like any other morning, Frank feels everything outside of this moment fade, his world narrowing to the small, private things—the warmth of Karen’s hand in his, the glances they steal at each other, and the way she bites her lip when she’s trying not to smile.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #thanks anon for the prompt!#and for waiting *checks watch*#2 months too long for me to finally get around to posting this #also there are no zombies here #though i will get around to finishing my walker au someday #!

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hyperbali · 3 years

Text

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Alright. Finally had to sit down and write my way out of this quiet, internal temper tantrum, and a few people were interested in seeing what I had to say, so I present to you:

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Disclaimer: MASSIVE spoilers for the entirety of WandaVision, and I am not nice about it.

I’ll start off by saying that, for all its foibles, WandaVision was genuinely a good example of a property within the MCU/Disney umbrella that stepped out of the usual ‘good guys fight bad guys action extravaganza’ in a way that pushed the envelope. The pseudo-horror aspect of the first few episodes is something I would really love to see engaged with on a more thoughtful basis in future projects.

I would say that it proved to be more than a vehicle to promote toys, but… well…

Yeah. Anyway.

I’ll assume that you watched WandaVision if you’re reading this, but quick recap: In the aftermath of ‘the Blip,’ Wanda is left broken and alone with no one in her corner. Her biggest mentor willingly abandoned his team to get his own ‘happy’ ending (do not get me started on Steve, that’s a document in and of itself), her other biggest mentor is probably off enjoying his family while ignoring the incredibly racist killing spree he’s been on for the past five years, and her lover is dead. When she goes to claim the body, she’s told nuh-uh, that’s government property, please leave.

So she goes to a plot of land in the middle of some nowhere town in New Jersey, which Vision apparently bought despite the fact they were living a pretty decently comfortable life in Scotland, where she looks at the deed that Vision drew a heart on and wrote ‘To Grow Old In’. Very sweet. Kind of weird, considering nothing of this caliber had ever been suggested for either of their characters and they’d been actively running from specifically the U.S. authorities? But sweet.

She has a breakdown and, in her grief, contains the entire town of Westview and all 3,892 of the people in it in her own personal paradise, where nothing bad ever happens beyond sitcom hijinks, no one dies, and every problem is tied up and neatly dealt with by the end of an ‘episode’. Except we learn that this is only paradise to Wanda, who apparently shares the aspect of having to relate everything to her favourite pop culture with Tony, because everyone else in Westview is more or less being psychologically tortured by the incredible amount of pain she’s in, forced to be puppeted actors to make her happy.

Bear in mind, Westview might have been bigger at some point - we have no idea how many people survived the Blip, or how many have been brought back to life within the past few weeks of the current setting. Either way, this is a town that has already dealt with a lot of trauma being dragged into yet another awful, much more specific kind of emotional damage, thanks to ‘the heroes’. Nice.

Agatha Harkness, a witch who’s been up to who-knows-what in the 340 years since she drained the coven that tried to kill her for getting a little too ambitious into jerky, feels the massive expenditure of magical power and decides to investigate. All the while, she carefully uses her own magic to try and peek into Wanda’s psyche, her motivations, all while keeping up appearances and not letting slip that anything is amiss.

I’ll point out that she’s no saint here, either - she specifically keeps one Westview resident at her mercy, and knows what’s happening to the rest of them, but doesn’t attempt to stop it. I’ll chalk that up to her pragmatism; their ‘sacrifice’ was fine to her as long as she could figure out how Wanda could have done something so unheard of in terms of power.

What we come to learn over the course of the show is that, given everything that happened, Wanda didn’t mean to take over an entire town and tool it into her own personal slice of heaven. She very quickly became aware of it; we know that she knows it’s her own personal bubble as soon as episode three, when she’s confronting Monica about how the latter could possibly know about Ultron. Wanda is made further aware of how much damage this is inflicting on others in episode five, when Vision himself tells her that these people are scared. But still, she has everything handled! It’s okay! The outside world is worse, trust her!

Her handling of the question, ‘where are all the children of Westview,’ is one that bears some thinking - and, y’know, kind of more than a little concern. They’re allowed to walk around as part of the ‘Halloween special,’ but as Vision walks further and further out towards the edges of town where Wanda doesn’t have as much full control, people are just frozen in place, or conducting the same few seconds of action over and over. And fully aware of being trapped.

How are they being sustained? Eating, sleeping? If someone isn’t part of her storyline, is she just locking them down into a coma? What made Wanda decide that keeping the children ‘out of the way’ was somehow kinder than involving them, especially given her later argument that she’s been trying to keep the entire town safe and happy?

The fact of the matter is, she only actually starts to feel remorse for any of this after she’s confronted with the fact that, after weeks of being at her mercy, the townspeople of Westview would rather be dead than endure another moment of having to play nice for her enjoyment. She finally opens the ‘bubble’ to let them out - which leads to the ‘epic’ finale of three different entities trying to take down Wanda and her happy family: the S.W.O.R.D. military led by Hayward, the White Vision, and Agatha.

Winding back to how we got here: after Agatha uses her own trapped resident, Ralph Bohner (who, given his casting and the props in place during the last episode, I’m willing to bet is actually the missing witness protection person Jimmy was looking for) in an attempt to lure out Wanda’s reasoning - and fails - she’s pretty much done pretending. She tricks Wanda into her basement, nullifies her powers, and makes her face her own past to get to the truth of the matter.

Not going to lie, favourite moment of the show. Kathryn Hahn killed Agatha’s slightly-amused-slightly-irritated observations about Wanda’s coping mechanisms, and the whole arrangement was extremely meta. I would have paid real money dollars to see her do the same thing to the likes of Tony, Strange, and Loki. Hell, even just having her meet the rest of the Avengers? Augh. If wishes were fishes.

When Agatha comes to the conclusion that Wanda is the vaunted, nigh-indestructible force of nature that she’s literally spent her entire life reading about is the ultimate source of chaos magic and will likely bring about the end of the world, she’s pretty understandably taken aback. To that matter, the fact that Wanda… has very little control over any of it, and is using what she does understand to play housemaker? After how long Agatha has spent learning control, hiding in plain sight, just to be child’s play compared to what Wanda has at her fingertips? I’d be pretty pissed off, too!

The way that WandaVision handled both of the major ‘fights’ - Vision versus White Vision ending in philosophy, and Wanda ending up beating Agatha at her own game of deception - is excellent. A little grating that they had to go with the beat down angle before they got there, but this is MCU; punches and thrown cars had to get shoved in somewhere. And, given that this series very much played with the idea of grey morality, I was sort of hopeful that Agatha would end up in a not-quite stalemate arrangement with Wanda. She’s not as powerful as the Scarlet Witch, but she has the know-how that Wanda sorely lacks; in recompense for her own deeds, she would be able to teach what she knows while also kind of scheming on her own time.

Y’know, like what they did with rehabilitating Loki?

Except that Wanda, who has just gone through the entire rigamarole of coming to terms with the fact that she trapped thousands of people into a nightmare scenario against their will, rendering them helpless to her mercy… traps Agatha into a nightmare scenario against her will, rendering her helpless to Wanda’s mercy.

That moment actually shook me. Oh, my god. We’re supposed to still look at Wanda as a good guy after this?

This isn’t even covering the incredibly awful confrontation with her and Vision where she tries to gaslight him into believing that everything is A-OK, or the fact that the person she gets most violent with (apart from Agatha) is Monica Rambeau, a black woman who spends most of the show bending over backwards trying to say that what Wanda is doing is understandable, justified, and just needs a gentle touch to be dealt with.

That could be its own document, too - how Monica, much as she’s incredible and definitely looks to be a really exciting addition to the MCU roster, more or less gets used as the Good One to absolve and enable Wanda’s actions. One of her last lines to Wanda, after seeing how the people of Westview (rightfully) look at Wanda like she’s monstrous, is “they’ll never know what you sacrificed.”

Sacrificed what? The fake husband and fake kids she made out of her own compulsion to pretend that everything is okay? None of that would have existed if she’d been given the proper resources to actually cope with how much loss she’s had to deal with. None of that would have existed if she hadn’t caused this problem in the first place.

In the end, Wanda flies off in her fancy new gear before the FBI shows up, avoiding any real consequences to her actions - which has pretty much been the running theme of her character ever since she was introduced to the MCU in Age of Ultron. The worst kind of direct consequence she’s ever gotten was being grounded to her room for a while, then kept in the Raft for, like, maybe a day - and both times, she was broken out post-haste.

Meanwhile, she worsened the issues in Sokovia (which, I will say upfront, was Tony’s fault to begin with), unleashed the Hulk on Johannesburg, got a pretty significant amount of civilians killed as bystanders in Lagos (hey, how come Wanda keeps turning a lot of black people into casualties?), and stood back in Wakanda to let their people try to fight off Thanos from getting to Vision until it was clear that there was no other option than for her to get involved.

Great Power Comes With No Responsibility At All, Actually.

Wanda, in the several years she has maintained her identity as an Avenger, has proven time and time again that she takes on innumerable risks without any full understanding of what they mean, allows others to take on the brunt of the fallout for her, and looks sad until she’s forgiven and moves on to the next problem. She has no business casually throwing around the kind of power that being the Scarlet Witch entails, not until she’s actually made any kind of headway into making reparations for what she’s done and tried, really tried, to get a handle on what she’s capable of.

Which she’s apparently doing in the last post-credits scene, astral reading the literal Book of the Damned on her lonesome in the mountains, but… without anyone to guide her, or give her any kind of boundary?

[I ran out of images I could post, but you know exactly what image I am referring to here]

Agatha Harkness was right. And that should terrify everybody that has to deal with Wanda in the future.

(P.S. Do we know if she actually even killed that dog? We never see her holding anything but a blanket, and characters go in and out of that show all the time. Granted, she wasn’t great with the cicada-turned-bird... hmm.)

Additional Notes:

“Well, you’re a Tony Stan, of course you think Wanda’s a villain”

I like Tony because he’s such an awful mess, and the narrative isn’t exactly kind about telling him what a piece of shit he can be! He reaped a lot of problems, created practically half the villains in the MCU, and ended up dying a martyred hero. Thanks to being the tent pole by which this franchise hoisted itself into a cultural powerhouse, he will always be their golden savior. If you want to read about how he’s the true villain of this entire affair, feel free to look up any number of takedown pieces about him that are out there. He’s a dick. I will never “uwu sad baby who did nothing wrong ever 🥺” him the way people do about Wanda.

“Why are you so pressed about this”

Because something as good in concept as WandaVision could and should have been about anyone other than the whitewashed, antisemitic take on Wanda Maximoff that MCU brought upon us. They put crucifixes on her wall in Civil War, for fuck’s sake!

“Weren’t you mad about them not including Aaron Taylor-Johnson”

At this point, I am almost kind of relieved the real Pietro wasn’t resurrected for this, because god knows they probably would have killed him all over again just to inflict that much more pain on his sister.

“Anything else you’d like to tell us, turbo nerd”

This was literally itching at me all weekend to write, so it’s more or less just to get it off my chest. If you powered your way through it, uh… thanks? Sorry if I yucked your yums, but I tried to be as clear with the disclaimer as I could. 🤷‍♂️

#blah blah #long post #marvel #mcu #wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision critical #anti wanda maximoff

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itsallagatha · 3 years

Text

Part 2

Agnes(Agatha) x OFC

wc: 1,792

warnings: none? memory loss?

This one is bit long and angsty lol -brie 💜

Ella found herself sitting on a couch of the ever intriguing woman who had seemingly for lack of a better word “kidnapped” her.

Since running into her outside, Elara hadn’t left Agnes’s side. They had chatted about Westview, the new couple across the street, the pecking order amongst the women in town, and anything else Agnes felt was necessary she know.

When they sat down for dinner, Elara hadn’t expected anything extraordinary. After all, this arrangement had only happened a few hours prior. But Agnes had gone out of her way to make it the most spectacular, dare Ella say, romantic, dinner she has ever taken part of. Maybe it was just the candlelight, but Agnes seemed to be glowing as they talked. She was absolutely stunning in every way, Ella couldn’t keep her eyes off of her, something Agnes ended up pointing out a few times to which Ella would avert her gaze and deny with a soft blush.

Ella knew without a doubt she was hastily falling head over heels for the nice woman with the boisterous personality and sparkly smile. She could hope (though she had many doubts) that Agnes would feel the same one day.

After dinner, Agnes had stepped away to clean up the dishes, insisting she do them herself, leaving Ella with a rare moment to herself. She began to truly look around for the first time. Getting up, she began to walk around the cozy sitting room. What first caught her eye was the wall full of stocked bookshelves.

Reading

She remembered sitting in front of a fireplace wrapped up in someone’s arms with a good book. She couldn’t remember who though, or when for that matter. Honestly it felt more like a dream than a memory.

Meanwhile Agatha was brewing a special pot of tea in the kitchen. Hoping a little bit of truth serum would help get to the bottom of all her questions. Of course she could always easily force her way into Elara’s head, but the side effects were...less than desirable.

Picking up her tea tray, Agatha made her way back into her sitting room. About to announce her presence, however a certain sight made her pause. Her eyes landed on Elara who looked blissfully lost in a book, unaware of the world outside the pages.

A wave of sadness flooded Agatha’s mind as she quietly watched her from the doorway. She missed her wife. It hadn’t been particularly easy the past few days watching Wanda and Vision live out their newlywed fantasies while she was isolated from her own partner. It was in that moment that Elara felt so close yet so far out of reach. It was frustrating.

Agatha cleared her throat before announcing herself. “Sorry about the wait, dear! Why don’t you join me?”

Ella jumped slightly, startled out her daydream. (Agatha most definitely noticed how timid her wife seemed to be acting since arriving in Westview, but tucked away that tidbit of observations for a later date). She slid the book into place on the shelf and made her way back to the couch, watching Agnes carefully set out her tea set.

Agatha patted the cushion next to her, “Come on, don’t be shy, I don’t bite! Unless you ask nicely first.” She chuckled a bit after that, reveling in the way it made Elara blush as she took her seat.

“Well-I...You’ve been so kind to me today, I just want to express my gratitude, Agnes, truly!”

“Don’t even mention it! Here.” Agatha handed her a cup of tea, then grabbed her own and once again started rattling on about everything and nothing all at once.

It didn’t take long for Elara to begin to feel the effects of the doctored tea. Her eyelids started drooping of their own accord and suddenly her teacup felt much too heavy to hold. Grasping the back of the couch with her free hand, Elara tried to steady herself, but to no avail.

“Agnes…”

Agatha quickly grabbed one of Elara’s shoulders as she set her own cup down, then took Elara’s and placed it with her own. “Steady there! Are you feeling alright?”

“I don’t-I…” Elara’s eyes were filled with worry as she struggled to feel even slightly present. It was like all her thoughts simply...vanished.

“Good.” Agatha used her now free hand to gently hold her wife’s waist, occasionally nudging her swaying figure to keep her sitting upright. “Now look back at me dear, I just have a few questions I'd like to ask you.” She gently reached for Elara’s chin, turning her face to look at her own. “Is that okay?”

Ella, now completely under the influence of the spelled tea, merely flashed a dopey smile in response. “You-you’re very pretty…”

“Aren’t you precious,” Agatha cooed while softly stroking her thumb across Elara’s cheek in an attempt to ground her. Feeling her lean into the touch, Agatha decided to move forward with her questions. “Who are you?”

“Ella.”

“Your real name?”

Frowning slightly, Ella began pulling away from Agnes’s touch. “I think I would know my own name.”

Agatha let her hands fall into her lap. “I have reason to believe you don’t.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Women’s intuition, perhaps? Now, riddle me this: how did you get here? To Westview?” Agatha’s eyes wandered all across Elara, hoping to pick up any conclusions from her body language. Elara had bit her lip and was frowning as if trying to concentrate or remember something. Agatha could tell she was beginning to get frustrated.

Elara inhaled rather sharply before stuttering out a response. “I don’t-I...I don’t know.”

“Now you and I both know this particular piece of information is buried somewhere in that pretty little head of yours. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not! I promise!” Elara pleaded. “I truly don’t know!” The reality of her situation was finally caving in on Elara. The fact that she truly couldn’t remember anything about herself prior to the past few hours was unsettling to say the least.

Agatha was also beginning to look concerned. She saw the panic begin to set into her wife’s features. She was all big eyes and shaky hands. Agatha didn’t want to upset her this much, but it seemed like the best point of action: the intensity of Elara’s emotions paired with the effects of the tea should be just the distraction her mind needs to break free of the hex.

Tears started to form in the corners of Elara’s eyes. “I’m not lying, Agnes! I-I really have absolutely no idea how I got here or what any of this is supposed to be! I know I must sound out of my mind.” Elara leaned forward a bit too quickly in an attempt to grab one of Agatha’s hands and almost fell over in the process, but Agatha reached out to grab her side before she could.

“Careful dear-“

“You have to believe me!”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Why not? I’m telling the truth!” Elara reached out a hand, aiming for Agatha’s knee as a way to appeal to her but ended up missing and landing much higher up her thigh.

Agatha faked a gasp at the contact and quickly removed Elara’s hand. “Now now, seduction will get you nowhere, dear.”

“I didn’t-I’m not…” Elara huffed in frustration, the tears now steadily falling down her face. She had probably ruined any chance she might have had with Agnes. The last thing she wanted was for Agnes thinking she was trying to come onto her. She wasn’t. And she didn’t have any of the answers Agnes wanted and she didn’t understand why she was being so emotional either. Not to mention, she truly had no idea where she was. Nothing made sense anymore and it was starting to get to her head.

Clearly Elara was overwhelmed. That was more than obvious to Agatha. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pressing her, or if she wanted to for that matter. Agatha herself was beginning to get upset at Elara’s current state, so she gently grasped her chin in one hand and pulled a kerchief out of her pocket with the other and began carefully wiping away Elara’s tears.

“There now, I know you weren’t darling. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” Elara started apologizing, but Agatha cut her off. “No need to apologize. You’re doing just fine!”

Ella took a deep breath and leaned into Agnes’s touch. She couldn’t help but think about what a terrible first impression she was making. Agnes was so captivating to Ella. She didn’t know what she would do with herself if they never spoke again. She had already lost her once, she couldn’t loose her again.

Wait.

Loose her again?

“Why are you here, darling? Think you can at least tell me that?”

Ella merely stared curiously at Agnes, lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear the question.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Shaking her head, Ella moved Agnes’s hand off her cheek, holding it tightly in her own. “I’ve been looking for you. I lost you...how do I know that? How is that even possible? I just met you today.”

Agatha froze. Had she finally gotten through to her? “I assure you, it’s much more than possible.”

One last single tear fell down Elara’s face. “I’m scared, Agnes.”

Wrapping her arms around Elara’s shaking form, Agatha pulled her into a tight embrace, tucking her blonde head of hair under her chin. “I know, dear. Believe me, I know.”

Before either could speak again, there was a knock at the door. Both women turned around as a female voice called out for Agnes.

Agatha grimaced. Wanda just had to have impeccable timing. Glancing between the door and her wife, Agatha knew she had to make a quick decision. If Wanda saw Elara like this, she’d know something was wrong and possibly banish her from Westview. She was unwilling to lose the progress they had made on Elara’s memory, but was more unwilling to lose her all together.

With a flick of her wrist, purple smoke filled the room then dissipated. The tea set disappeared and Elara was returned completely to her Westview self with no recollection of their post dinner conversation.

Wanda knocked on the door and called out for Agnes once more.

Ella blinked, her vision clearing revealing Agnes staring carefully into her eyes.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?”

Ella frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Agnes shook her head. “Nothing. Just...checking in on my lovely house guest.” With that, she got up, leaving Ella alone, as she went to answer the door. Hopefully Wanda wouldn’t sense anything amiss.

At least not yet.

#agatha harkness x reader #Agatha Harkness x OC #agnes x reader #agatha harkness #agnes wandavision #honestly I rewrote this part about 4 times #but I think I’m happy with it now

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padfootagain · 4 years

Text

The King And You (IX)

Part 9: Up To The Skies

Here comes a new chapter for my Caspian series!! It's gonna be soooo cute!! Honestly though, I am making my own self blush and go 'hiiiiiiiiii' because it is so damn cute!

I hope you like this chapter!

Word Count : 2658

Caspian should have felt guilty.

Guilty for enjoying his time in your world. Guilty for forgetting the tolls of his people during his absence. Guilty for how his mind focused only on how beautiful this world was and so… large. Buildings were rising much higher than any tower he could have dreamt to build, and parks were almost woods, and there were so many people everywhere. It was overwhelming, in a magical kind of way. But it was no excuse to not think about his people, not to him.

He also should have felt guilty about the way he dreamt of you that night. Guilty for the flutter of his heart when he saw your smile. Guilty for how he considered taking your hand on the Brooklyn Bridge. Guilty for even thinking of how gentle you were. Guilty for losing track of time while he talked with you. Guilty for getting trapped into your eyes. Guilty for noticing how the sun hugged your silhouette.

And sometimes, throughout the afternoon, he did feel the sharp pinch of guilt, right there, in his chest. But then you would tell him something that made him laugh, or you would just look at him, or smile, or say anything at all, and the feeling in his chest would disappear altogether, like petals carried away by a breeze in the sweet warmth of spring.

He just felt… such a strange feeling when he was with you. Calm. Safe. Reassured. Vulnerable. He didn't know how to describe it, but he felt different, a good kind of different.

"So, this is the Empire State Building."

Caspian looked up with awe painted all over his features. By now, as the sun was about to set on New York City, leaving the moon to take its place. You reckoned you should be used to seeing this look on his face. After all, he seemed awestruck by every place you had shown him during the afternoon. Still, you couldn't refrain a content smile as you looked at his mesmerized expression.

"Shall we go up?" you invited him, and he accepted your offer with a grin.

Caspian was not used to elevators yet. He felt a little trapped in them, nervous, almost claustrophobic. You had explained to him the basic notions, and he had to admit that he was not happy at the thought of being suspended by a tiny string in a metal box, climbing so many meters up. But you were calm, and so he forced himself to seem just as calm as you.

The tiny box you were in was cramped with people, and he found himself forced to be pressed against you. His chest brushed your back, fabric against fabric, but you didn't seem to mind, while he could feel his palms turn wet, and his heart racing to a dangerously high rate, and his throat tightening to a point where he wondered how he could breathe altogether. But no one in the elevator reacted to this extreme promiscuity, and so he guessed that it had to be nothing out of the ordinary for this world. It didn't mean anything. It didn't change the fact that his head was starting to spin as you shifted though, making your arm collide with his.

Finally, the ding of the end of the climb, and this strange feeling in his chest as the elevator came to a stop. He followed you into a hall, and towards the patio.

His first thought was that he had never been so high above the ground before, and it made him a little uneasy. But then he turned to you and saw your grin as your eyes fell on the city splayed at your feet, and he knew that everything would be alright.

Eventually, you made your way to the bannister, and he looked down at the sea of buildings before him, vast, almost unending. The sun was setting, starting to colour the western horizon with paler, almost golden hues while the east darkened to deeper shades of blue. And in between an ocean of concrete, and bricks, and metal, pulsing with life and shaken by an everlasting whisper. Distant sounds of traffic and lives he would never come to know buzzed in his ears while the wind blew colder, making him tighten his collar around his neck. The first lights were alit in the buildings, and he could almost guess the darker shadows of their inhabitants. Strange thoughts crossed his mind about lives in this world, mothers and fathers and children and workers, until he thought of his people again.

From Cair Paravel, he could either see the ocean or the forest, depending on which direction he chose to face. He pictured trees to replace tall buildings, and the sound of waves instead of honking cars.

And for the first time that afternoon, he felt sad.

You noticed the change in his expression: a little more serious, a stray frown passing like a cloud hiding a distant star. He seemed lost in thought. He seemed… homesick.

"What is it like?"

He turned to you again, and it seemed like the redder sun bent to Earth to kiss your eyelashes.

"What is your home like?" you asked again as Caspian was remaining silent.

He hesitated for a moment longer. Where to begin? Would you believe him?

Did it matter though, whether you believed in Narnia or not?

"Wilder," he answered with a smile. "I live in Cair Paravel, it's a… a castle, a fortress."

"Cause you're a king."

"Yes, I am."

You nodded, but didn't seem to be mocking or questioning him. Instead you waited for him to continue.

"It is built on a cliff, right on the edge of the sea. At this time of year, the waters become more agitated, many boats stay ashore. But then spring will come back, calmer, more welcoming, and many will go back to travelling across the waves. I was supposed to travel to the Lone Islands next spring."

"You seem to like the sea. It's dangerous, though."

"Anything worth living has the power to break you. Whether it is because of its nature or how much of yourself you pour into it. In the end, the things that give your life meaning make you the most vulnerable."

You gave him a smile.

"That's kind of true. What else is there in your castle?"

"Gardens. You would like them, I reckon. They are not as large as your Central Park, but… they are filled with music and fountains, and people laughing all year round. And they hold the most beautiful flowers. In spring, when they are in full bloom, their smell travels even to the shores. And beyond the forest stretches for miles. Just… trees till the edge of the horizon. It feels like the castle is trapped between two kinds of oceans."

He was smiling by now, clearly happy to talk about his world with you. And you reckoned that there was no harm in forgetting for a little while that none of the places he spoke of could be real.

"Tell me more."

You exchanged a smile, and he told you of his home and the places he had explored, while day became twilight and finally night, skyscrapers imitating twinkling stars to match a reflection of the firmament, and you didn't drive him back to Agatha's before the building closed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

You went home with a smile on your face that evening. You didn't think about questioning Caspian's stories, he seemed to believe in them too much, and for a while, you decided to play along, and believe in them a little as well.

After that first day of visit, you took Caspian to the Metropolitan Museum.

A third day and he had seen the Statue of Liberty.

One more afternoon, and he had gotten lost in the crowd on Broadway.

Fifth day and you had decided to take him to the cinema, where they showed Notting Hill again.

You thought it was a cute movie, that would probably not have him as confused as Star Wars and would make you both relax. Caspian let you choose the seats and tasted pop corn for the first time.

"It tastes very good," he nodded, taking a third handful of candies.

"I'm glad you like it," you chuckled.

"Have you seen this movie before?"

"Yes, I love it. I watch it every time I feel sad."

"Do you feel sad now?"

You shrugged, considering the question. You reckoned that your life could be easier. Alex kept on calling you now and again, mostly when drunk and in the middle of the night. You had been distracted and had not painted much for the past few days. And of course, there was all the general mess that Caspian had dragged you into. Yet, at that moment, sitting next to him in a theatre, about to watch a movie you loved, you reckoned that the adjective that would fit you best was 'happy'.

"No, no, I'm not sad," you smiled up at him, and he returned the gesture.

Along the previous afternoons, you had spent a lot of time talking, sharing facts about your lives, and the more you looked into his heart, the more you liked what you saw. You just didn't know that he felt the same way about you.

You guessed that you were becoming friends.

Sometimes, when he talked of Narnia, you considered that it was an elaborated game to which you had to play along, and you pictured his imaginary world. Some other times you felt like he was too earnest for it not to be the truth. You weren't sure about that yet, but what you had grown certain of was that Caspian was a good man. And for now, it was enough.

The lights went low, slowly fading as the film began. And Caspian laughed at the jokes, and he wished that these two characters would stay together, and he was touched by their declarations. But it was not what he focused on the most.

While Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts played 'love me, love me not', Caspian's eyes often left the screen in favour of your face.

Sometimes you whispered under your breath the lines you knew by heart. Sometimes you laughed. Sometimes you wore a dreamy smile. Sometimes you were close to tears. The light from the screen gave your features something ethereal. If he had been in Narnia, he would have thought you were a spirit, or maybe just a figure in one of his dreams, perhaps a star. Although, he knew you were real, tangible beside him, and every time you smiled, or laughed, or spoke the words before the actors could, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. He tried to understand his gesture as he noticed it, about halfway through the movie. You were not even looking at him, too immerged in the movie you had watched a hundred times, and yet, his heart skipped a beat every time he turned to you. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way simply because another person sat next to him. The thought of how close the two of you were passed through his mind, a hurricane shaking his whole frame, the realization stirring something deep inside his chest, something dangerous and yet wanted. He finally noticed how your hand rested on the cushioned arm of your seat, right between the two of you. Inches away, yet it felt like it was so far away… unbelievably far… unbearably far. He wished he could reach for it.

But he couldn't, could he?

He spent a minute staring at your hand, considering his thought, trying to figure out if it was a good idea.

In Narnia, him taking the hand of a woman would have been outrageous. Would you consider it the same here?

He looked up to your face again, the changing light drawing moving shadows across your features, and he decided against it. It was too lovely a moment to risk breaking it by a silly impulse. For it was all it could be, after all, or so Caspian guessed, at least. A moment of drifting thoughts settling on a ridiculous idea. It couldn't be just because he longed to hold your hand…

Eventually, the credits rolled up the screen, and the lights were turned on again. You turned to him with a large smile on your face.

"Did you like the movie?"

"I did," Caspian nodded.

"Great, cause I don't think I could be friends with someone who doesn't like it."

While you exited the room, Caspian thought about your words more carefully.

Friends. Was it what you were now? Yes, yes he reckoned you were.

The thought made him smile, yet, he couldn't help but notice that he wasn't as happy as he should have been.

To finish the afternoon, you decided to take a walk to Central Park. You bought vanilla ice creams, and kept on talking about everything and nothing, but there was a lot of laughing involved either way.

Caspian made you feel silly. Happy. A little light-headed. Dizzy like drinking a little too much wine. You felt safe by his side, free to be yourself without caring about him judging you. It was refreshing, in a world where one's image could be so used and distorted. You didn't care. And when you thought about the fact that he claimed to be a King, you guessed that you shouldn't feel that way. Maybe it was because you didn't really believe in the Kingdom Caspian was supposed to lead, or perhaps it was simply because of who he was, in any way, you didn't think about that fact at all. You felt like yourself when you were with him, and that feeling was closer to happiness than you had ever felt.

And Caspian had a similar feeling around you. He was more lost than you, and a bit confused by everything surrounding him, but he felt safe for as long as you smiled. Like no matter what could happen, it would end up being alright. It was so different, spending time with you, learning to know you. For once, he could be himself, without the pressures of the throne, or etiquette, or worry about how you might see him only as the King instead of Caspian. And that feeling of being himself, he reckoned it was very close to feeling happy.

The wind blew stronger all of a sudden, shaking the branches above your two heads, lifting skeleton leaves to twist and fly up all the way to the skies. A tourbillon pushed the leaves around you, making you laugh as they got caught in your jacket, and you looked up to see them fly as if to join the branches they had been forced to leave. And while he watched you like this, walking with colourful leaves flying around you, your eyes set to the tall trees and a laugh on your lips, Caspian's whole frame was shaken by a tidal wave of what he could only describe as tenderness. He just felt so… fond of you. A warm, radiant, almost aching feeling that swallowed his heart whole. When your eyes fell upon him again, he thought the sensation would wane, just a blink, a delicate moment to be remembered, but nothing more. On the contrary though, when his eyes met yours, he found that the feeling refused to leave. Instead, it settled down right there, under his ribcage, consuming his whole heart in mere seconds and claiming it all.

And finally, he realized why he felt so happy whenever he was with you. Why he longed to see you again as soon as you parted. Why it seemed now as if his heart wasn't really his anymore, as if it belonged to someone else, as if it belonged to…

Oh.

Oh, no…

*******************************************************************************

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#Caspian #Caspian X #caspian x reader #King Caspian #caspian fanfic #caspian imagine #narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia imagine #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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savannah-lim · 3 years

Text

The Faellen || Chloe & Savannah

Timing: Current Location: The hospital Parties: @savannah-lim and @chloeinbetween Content: Discussion of abuse, illness, trauma, kidnapping Summary: Savannah pays a visit to Chloe at the hospital to discuss what happened to her and see if she can help in the investigation.

Savannah could scarcely believe it when she heard the news. She was no stranger to awful things happening in White Crest. She’d witnessed many of them with her own eyes. This was something else though. It wasn’t as simple as a quick death at the hands of a mere monster. The actions of Lydia Griffin had been calculated, deliberate, sustained. She left scars more deep than simple physical wounds. Guiltily, she was glad she had another case to look into, one more excuse to remain in White Crest while she conducted more investigations. She just really, really wished it hadn’t been this.

Nevertheless, Savannah would do her duty. Griffin might still be out there, and she had all her wealth and resources to help her disappear. If they didn’t act quickly, they might lose her for good. The receptionist at the hospital directed her to the right room. The doctors were reluctant to allow visitors, but an FBI badge did wonders to grant Savannah access to places. She knocked gently, then entered. “Chloe?” she greeted, offering whatever sort of smile she could manage, a pained and subtle one. She wanted Chloe to feel comfortable, to feel safe, but she had experience in cases like this. She knew it likely wouldn’t be an option for this poor woman for some time. “I’m Agent Lim, FBI.” She held out her badge, placing it on the hospital tray for Chloe to inspect, if she wanted. “I know it’s been a long couple of days, but I wondered if you might be able to talk to me.”

Chloe’s hands had been trembling all morning. She wasn’t really sure why, whether it was a side effect of her medical treatments or a side effect of the poison still in her system, but no matter what she did, the trembling wouldn’t stop. She’d turned on the TV news earlier, to try and catch up with what had been happening over the last four years, but the news didn’t really do recaps, as it turned out, and she was the news right now. Chloe had taken one look at the live footage from Lydia’s home, and turned off the TV with an ache in her stomach. She looked up at the door when it opened, tensing up at the sight of a stranger that wasn’t a doctor. She swallowed, her smile even weaker and more fleeting that Savannah’s. "Agent Lim," Chloe repeated slowly, picking it up off the hospital tray and reading the name on it, before setting it down on the tray before she dropped it. "I honestly wouldn't be able to tell if this is fake or not." If Savannah was using a disguise to come here and threaten her or kill her, Chloe just hoped it would be quick. She shifted in her bed, rubbing the rash that had spread up her neck yesterday morning. "I, uhh, yeah, sure. I, um, I've already talked to Detective Agatha Keen. But fire away.”

“You can call me Savannah, okay?” Savannah had enough years under her belt that she wasn’t precious about her title, especially with someone who in all likelihood needed to feel like they were talking to a friend right now, not some government official with their own motives. Savannah did have a motive. It was to see Lydia Griffin brought to justice. She hoped she and Chloe at least had that in common, but experience and a look at the case file had told her this wouldn’t be easy. “Detective Keen is good at what she does. I’ve worked with her.” If Chloe had already bonded with Agatha over being one of the first on the scene, the last thing she wanted was to make her feel like Savannah was coming in and stomping all over her. “In cases like this, it’s quite common for a larger agency to offer assistance. Do you need anything before we get started? A drink or water, some food, some tissues?”

“She’s great. She brought me chocolates. Feel free to help yourself,” Chloe said, pointing at the box of chocolates on her bednight stand, barely touched since Agatha had brought them in. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate them, it was just how little appetite she had right now, even when the alternative was hospital Jello. “I’ve already got water and tissues. Um, haven’t really been in the mood to eat. And um, you should know that there are things… there are things I can’t talk about. I’m not- I’m not protecting her, I just… I just can’t talk about it.” Because her tongue would swell up and choke her if she tried, because the thought of betraying Lydia was still impossibly painful. “Should I be nervous?”

Of course Agatha had brought chocolates. Somehow that was so… Agatha. Savannah couldn’t help but smile at that. “Well if you need anyone to help catch you up on pop culture, she’s your girl.” Savannah took a seat by the bed, pulling out her notebook and pen. She did her best not to make things personal, to get too invested in her cases, but when she found herself face to face with people like Chloe, it was impossible. “That’s okay. We’ll talk about the things you can talk about.” Chloe’s next question broke Savannah’s heart. “Nervous?” she repeated. “Of me? No. I’m going to investigate as fairly and thoroughly as I can. I know talking might be difficult, but the more we know, the better chance we have to bring Lydia to justice.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Chloe said. “All I have at the moment is daytime soaps.” She gestured at the tv in the corner of her room. She watched apprehensively as Savannah pulled out her notebook, settling into starting her case. She was kind, but then, Lydia had been kind sometimes. It was hard to trust the intentions she was given. “It’s a reasonable question,” Chloe defended herself with a wry chuckle. “I’m kinda new at the whole talking to the FBI about being held against my will thing.” That flash of personality faded as she looked away, her chest aching sharply. “This is going to sound fucked up, but… I don’t want to approach this from a justice angle. Or a doing anything to Lydia angle.” She was gone. She wasn’t coming back. But, whispered the loudest voice in her head, if she did, she wouldn’t have wanted you involved in any kind of justice against her. You can’t just betray her like this. Shouldn’t you be loyal? Then the quieter, unpoisoned part of her mind chimed in: Look what happened to Sammy when he betrayed her. “It’s easier-” Chloe started sharply, as if interrupting her own thoughts, “It’s easier if we talk about this in the context of just… telling the truth. Being honest. But, um, ask whatever you like.”

Savannah nodded solemnly. After all this time, the hold Lydia had on her would be difficult to break. She might have been out of the basement, but in so many ways, she was still held captive. That fear and anguish would be with her likely for the rest of her life, but Savannah hoped to help her quiet it. "Talking to the FBI about being held captive isn't a life experience many people go through, thankfully.” But she appreciated Chloe’s offer of honesty, her candor. She knew there were things Chloe would be too scarred to reveal, but Savannah would gather as much information as she could to bring that awful woman who’d done this to her to justice. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, it was difficult to know where to begin. “Do you know where Lydia might be now?”

“Yeah I heard it’s a hard one to get off the old bucket list.” It wasn’t funny anymore. It might not have ever been funny to begin with. Chloe looked back at Savannah, weighing the question in her mind. Without me. I wasn’t good enough. Chloe squeezed her sheets in her fist, breathing deeply. She waited. The pain had begun to dull, slowly, until she could unglue her mouth. “No,” Chloe replied, huffing in thought. “She could be anywhere. Peru, Argentina or Ireland. But probably dead. She wouldn’t leave this much evidence behind if she was alive. She’s gotten close to being caught before, I’ve heard. If this was an escape, then I wouldn’t still be here talking with you.”

"She never spoke about where she might go if she had to escape the authorities? Nothing like that?" Savannah asked, trying to be simultaneously direct, yet gentle. She wasn't sure whether she hoped Chloe was right about Lydia being dead or not. In many ways, it would be easier, but she was an agent of the law. She wasn't supposed to think like that. Savannah had been doing many things she wasn't supposed to recently. It was becoming almost easy. "I'm sorry," Savannah said, because she felt she was supposed to apologise at the thought of that awful woman killing her captives before fleeing. "That's the only reason you think she might be dead? Did you hear her mention anyone who might be out to harm her? If she's done this before, I'm sure she made enemies."

“She had that all figured out years before I showed up on her doorstep,” Chloe replied, shaking her head. She ran her fingers over the bandage on her left arm, tracing over where the bandage glue itched most. That was a much easier pain and ache to feel. “Please don’t apologise,” Chloe said eventually, picking at the threads of the bandage. “If you apologise that I might start thinking about what I should be feeling sorry about, and I really don’t want to do that. She’s been doing this for longer than you would believe. So many people knew. People who agreed and people who didn’t, so. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

"Yeah, she seems as if she was a very intelligent woman," Savannah said, her tone making it clear that in this instance, the words weren't a compliment. She scribbled down a few more words in her notebook. "Noted," she replied as Chloe told her not to apologize. "But you don't need to be sorry for anything, okay?" Savannah said directly. Chloe didn't seem the type to want to be treated with kid gloves, which was for the best, considering Savannah was far more comfortable simply being even-toned and neutral. "You say she's been doing this for a long time. Can you tell me anything about people she might have hurt before and what happened to them? If we know their names, we can at least let their families know."

“Agatha Keen found their IDs,” Chloe remembered, from when she’d been pressed up against the corner of Lydia’s office, trembling in fear as Agatha had searched the room. “Everyone Lydia has ever had. I know Sammy Metz was shot dead on September 30th, and Lydia killed Anneliese Vandergroot in like… April or May, but I think she was autopsied. Then before that, like summer of last year, a kid called Guillaume. There were more, but I don’t remember much of them.”

Of course, the names on the IDs appeared in the police file Agatha had started, but Savannah felt it was important to get the information from Chloe directly. Chloe could reveal more information than the mere names on little plastic cards could. “Do you know why she did this? What her motivation was?” Savannah asked. “Was it just so she could steal your work or was there another reason?” Besides being a fucking sicko, Savannah thought, but opted against saying out loud. Chloe didn’t need to hear it.

“Would you believe me if I said she was eating us?” Chloe chuckled bitterly, subconsciously touching her fingers against her lips. So much of her was gone. So much of her was missing. Most of her life force ripped away from her. A few years ago, Chloe hadn’t even known what that meant, but now she felt it in every muscle ache and stiff movement. No one was going to believe her. The doctors had been slowly trying to characterise all her illness, but they couldn’t work out how so much had gone sideways inside her body in those four years. Chloe winced. “Which I… also accidentally said to someone I thought was part of the paramedic team but turned out was just some rando, so now the news coverage also includes pictures from Hannibal Lecter. So. Oops.”

“I… heard something about that. We didn’t find any charred bones or cooked remains or--” Savannah narrowed her eyes in thought. She had seen so many strange things recently. The reports didn’t make sense, just like her Javier case. Lydia was in her forties, but the evidence of captives being held went back for over fifty years. “I hate that sensationalist crap,” she sighed, then immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t professional.” She lowered her voice and looked around, as if trying to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard in spite of there not being anyone else in the room. “There are things in this town that don’t make sense. I don’t know how much of what happened outside that house you know about, but… if I told you the things I’d seen, you’d think I was crazy. So when I say you can tell me the truth, I really, really mean it, okay?”

Chloe did fully shudder at the mental image of Lydia slowly cutting through Sammy’s body like one would a joint of meat, cringing away from the bed in apparent discomfort. “Well, you wouldn’t have,” she agreed quietly. What point was there in telling the truth when the truth was this? But Chloe couldn’t be fucked to work out a half truth that explained it just as well. “Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve spent four years being held captive by an evil fairy who is so beautiful that no piece of art could ever fully capture it which is why we’re always compulsively making pieces of art as she drains away our life force, because that’s what she eats? No, I didn’t think so.”

Savannah was quiet and sombre for a moment as Chloe explained. She was grateful to be wearing a blazer, because the hair on the backs of her arms stood on end, stomach tightening itself into knots. Yes, she did believe. She’d seen them with her own eyes. Was this what would have happened to her if that beast from the mushroom ring had got her? If Deidre hadn’t stepped in, would she even have made it as long as Chloe? “I think I’ve seen something like the creature you’re describing before,” she admitted, voice low. She’d seen not just the beasts in the forest, but Regan too. Was Regan capable of something like this? Savannah couldn’t believe that. Surely if all humans were different, all fae were different too. “Did she have wings?”

Chloe had already settled into a distant state, waiting for the gentle dismissal she’d already had from the psychiatrist, the nurses, the doctor. Sometimes we make new realities to process traumatic situations, they said. Especially considering the possibility of drugs. No one, of course, could decide what drugs, but they were sure there had been some. Which wasn’t… inaccurate. Being away from Lydia was worse than any hangover or any set of withdrawal symptoms. Worse than the basement. She was jarred out of her thoughts by Savannah’s admission. “You have?” Chloe repeated in utter disbelief. “Yeah. Like a beetle. But she was like 5 foot tall, not five inches." She weighed this new information with a frown. “Are you like… the real version of the X-Files?”

Savannah narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at the description. Like a beetle. She wasn't exactly familiar with the insect world, but that tracked with what she'd seen of Regan's wings, and, from a distance, the fae that had chased her and Deidre. "Are you asking if I'm Mulder?" she asked with a small laugh. "Not exactly. My superiors don't know about the type of things that come up in my investigations. I have to make it palatable for them. But I believe you, Chloe.” She had continued making notes only for her own benefit, but the details would have to change when she typed it up, She’d have to indicate Chloe was having a reaction to her trauma and of course fairies who kidnap people aren’t real. The medical reports should have her up. It was sad how easy it was to dismiss the truth. “Do you know where you're going to go after you're discharged? Do you have somewhere to stay?"

“I don’t know, Area 51 could all actually be a fairy cover up instead of an alien conspiracy for all I know.” Chloe chuckled beside himself. “You could be here to Men In Black me with the light pen.” Wouldn’t that be nice? Just… forget the last four years had happened, wake up to a life a mystery agency had already fixed for her. Much easier than the long way around. Remembering all of it and living with it every day for however long she had left. It was terrifying, exhilarating. It was also impossible not to include Lydia in the future her mind held. “Yeah, yeah. My brother’s coming to pick me up in a few days, I’m going home with him. There’s just… well, apparently, the last four years fucked up my body. They’re monitoring some last things, because for a while I kept getting worse.”

“Hmm, nope, don’t have one of those,” Savannah said, her tone even, but a tiny smile barely touching the corners of her mouth; an attempt at comfort. “What I know about them, which is unfortunately not a lot, is that they can do things with their words. That they control you. I can’t begin to understand what happened, but I’ll try and figure out something to write in this report that.. that can make sense to them.” Funny how she didn’t really consider herself a ‘normal’ person any more. She’d seen way too much for that. “Where is home for you?” she asked.

“You should get one. I think it would make you look cooler. Not that you need much help with that,” Chloe chuckled drily, her spirit not quite in the tease. Savannah made her feel calmer than she had all week, but that really didn’t say much at all. It was a relief, not to have to lie about her experiences to someone in a position to help her, even if she had no idea what Savannah really knew. “Well, uh, good luck with that. My brother should understand, but I don’t know about the rest of my family.” One bridge at a time. When she could feel the unbridled hate of Lydia that she should, then she could think about explaining. “New Jersey. So quite a distance.”

“Of all the odd things I’ve found, the Men In Black memory wiping pen isn’t one of them, sadly.” It was good that Chloe was trying to laugh, trying to joke, trying to have some semblance of a normal conversation in spite of there being nothing normal about this. Savannah gave Chloe a small nod, reaching into her blazer pocket and pulling out a card with her contact information on it. “I hope you find peace after all this, Chloe. I’m sure we’ll speak again, but call me if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s just to talk about how bad the Game of Thrones finale was.”

#paras #with: chloe #abuse tw #trauma tw #kidnapping tw #illness tw

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dirthavarens · 4 years

Text

Preparation (Dragatha)

Fandom: Dracula (2020) Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Rating: Explicit Warnings: None Word Count: 4324 Summary: “And what use would I have for a bride when the perfect wife stands so beautifully before me?” he hummed before placing another punishing kiss to her neck. “If you’re to go out again tonight, you need to settle your nerves. Use me.” Another condition is added to their ever growing list of tasks.

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Agatha closed her journal with a sense of finality, a sigh leaving her lips as she slumped further into her chair. She brought a hand to her head, rubbing her temples in small, repetitive circles. Hunger was burning into her, impatience that she hadn’t known for years, and she knew it was his influence. The thirst for competition, for conquest, for him, manifested in the form of baser desires.

When she was human, it was the form of destruction, for finality. The last light flickering out of a man who had lived for too long. A devil banished back to Hell and her faith was restored if from vanity alone. Her baser purpose had been served, but her intellectual mind had been stimulated as well. Dracula had crawled into the darkest parts of her and pulled every string he could. He tightened his claws around curiosity and purpose, and pulled relentlessly at them, heightening every part of her.

And that’s why she chose to drink on her first night. That’s why they fucked like feral dogs in heat. That’s why she drank from his vein and took his promise with fervor. Her curiosity was driven entirely by him. Her life’s work was in her hands and she could not dare to part with that, with him.

Now, her baser instinct was to feed, to find flesh and tear it apart. Destructive to the point of unspeakable. No resolution in the finality of the lives she takes. Not in Mathieu de la Fontaine, not in Anna Sparelli, and certainly not the others in which she had imbibed. They had all died without purpose, without reason beyond her own hunger. It sickened her to her core, but she could not resist the pull regardless of her efforts.

The sound of the latch unhitching behind her went unnoticed as her thoughts consumed her mind, too loud to ignore. Nor had she heard the steps approaching her with such lightness, one should question if his feet had ever touched the ground.

Only when his hand was at her shoulder did she take note of him, shooting upright, and tensed under him. Her body was rigid in the chair, not breathing, not moving.

“Beast,” she spat as a curse. Admittedly, she was relieved for his intrusion, regardless of what it would bring. He could not know that. “Have you no respect for privacy?”

“A husband and wife should never have secrets, Agatha,” he toyed back. She could almost see the coy grin crawling along his lips as he placed far too much emphasis on husband and wife. “I’m hungry and I want you to join me for a proper dinner. You said it yourself that you wanted to study me. This is your opportunity.”

Dracula took a step back so she could rise and face him, as if knowing she would want to size him up somehow.

She stood and turned around, the palms of her hands resting easily on the desk. A decisive action, naturally. He could not be faced on uneven terrain, the battlefield had to be plain and they had to know the other as a true contender.

She would hate to disappoint.

“I have seen you feast, Count,” she started dismissively. “And it is no sight to behold. You feed as a wanton beast.”

“I’m not the one who tore a still-beating heart from a girl’s chest, Agatha.” His return was curt and without emotion. Part of her was wounded, another was understanding and conceded to the truth of his words.

“A result of your hunger. You said so yourself.” That did not mean she was going to concede to him.

Dracula smiled as he took a calculated step nearer to her. Her breath caught when he brought his hand to caress her face. His grin spread wider before he recomposed himself. “I didn’t make a mess of you, did I?”

She gave a breath and pushed herself from the desk, standing before him plainly as she considered his proposal. He had taken the greatest of care when he had fed from her and by Jonathan Harker’s own account, Dracula hadn’t marked him beyond his neck. His actions on the Demeter and in the convent seemed to have been for theatrics. Of course. He had to be the center of attention, even in murder.

“Well?”

“I will accompany you under the condition that no more lives are lost tonight,” Agatha sighed and stepped from his hold. So much for a night to collect herself.

She walked into her bedroom and moved to her closet opposite the bed, not bothering to turn the light on. As she searched for something to wear, Agatha could feel his eyes on her from the doorway.

“Either come in or go downstairs. It’s impolite to lurk, despite it being one of your habits,” she huffed and immediately felt him press against her. A gasp sounded from her lips as he held her close to him, a hand around her abdomen while the other held at her throat.

“I didn’t say right now, Agatha. While I am most definitely starving, I do have other appetites that need tending,” he growled in her ear. “I know you’re not wearing undergarments.”

She smiled and pried herself easily from his hold, despite the rush of heat that spilled in her core. How he had looked earlier, hair slicked, half-erect, in nothing more than a towel, played in her mind and she bit at her lip as she shoved the memory into the recesses of her mind.

“Perhaps not. But you said that this was my opportunity and so you shall feed, Count Dracula, and I shall observe you. No deaths. No killing. No brides,” she instructed as she pulled the nightdress from her body, leaving her nude before him.

Agatha grabbed a simple gown that she could easily pull over her frame, but found herself clutching at the fabric when he pressed a hard kiss to her shoulder. He had his fingers at her breast and teased the nipple to hardness, turning the supple flesh between his thumb and index.

“And what use would I have for a bride when the perfect wife stands so beautifully before me?” he hummed before placing another punishing kiss to her neck. “If you’re to go out again tonight, you need to settle your nerves. Use me.”

The dress fell from her hand to the floor below as she turned around. His reluctant fingers pulled at her nipple as he released it and drew a soft whine from her. When she looked up at him, she figured out what he was doing. His current offer was not entirely for his own pleasure. She knew that sex was a natural stress reliever, human or vampire, and he was offering himself as way for her to relax.

“Then I want you to listen to me,” she started as she searched his mind for any ulterior motive. Nothing. “Undress.”

“As you wish, Countess,” he purred, the term causing her core to ache. She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, her inner lip caught between her teeth as he exposed his furred chest to her. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit at her lip to keep her smug grin from spreading. His pants came off just as quickly and he stood naked and half erect before her, all for her.

“Kneel.”

He descended to both knees, never breaking eye contact with her, amusement in his gaze but obedience in his movements. “Am I to pray?”

“With your tongue,” she entreated as she moved forward, her thighs on either side of his face as he lifted her in the air. Agatha curled forward, fingers twisting into the sheets. The grip of her thighs should have broken his neck as he lapped mercilessly between her folds. He worked her over with tongue and teeth, drinking her in as she came, once, twice, thrice… A second and an eternity meshed as one as ceaseless waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Only when her legs were shaking and her clit ached did he stop, kissing the oversensitive skin of her thighs as he held to her. Dracula lifted her, turned her, and set her on the bed. She spread her legs, releasing him, and looked up when he loomed over her.

“Might I make a suggestion?” His lips were glistening in the darkness of the room and as she glanced down between them, she saw his cock hard and ready. Thoughts heady with new lust, no longer on the thirst for blood, Agatha returned her gaze to him.

“You may.”

A depraved grin spread on his face before he leaned down and claimed her lips in a painfully slow kiss. Her mouth opened under his kiss, allowing him entrance that he had yet to ask for, and delighted in the way his tongue slipped easily along her own. A growl sounded in his chest, primal, lascivious, his intent clear as he pulled away.

“I think a lesson in restraint is needed,” he purred wickedly as he sank off the bed.

Agatha watched as he moved to the window, cock bouncing tightly against his abdomen as he paused, taking in the sight of the neighborhood around them. If anyone were to look into her bedroom window at that moment, they would be greeted by the furred chest and quite noticeable erection of an unabashed four hundred and fifty year old vampire.

“Is that supposed to be a joke? Restraint, coming from you?” she quipped as she watched him remove the tiebacks from the curtains, the long ropes in his hands quieting her defiant nature and raising curiosity. The room fell into complete darkness, but she watched as he tested the binding of the threads as though it were the middle of the day. “And what do you plan on doing with those?”

“Ah, my dear, I think you are quite aware of what I’m going to be doing with these.”

He crossed over to her, grabbed at her wrist, knelt beside the bed, and quickly tied it to the post that supported her headboard. Dracula repeated the process with her other wrist and stood with a very satisfied expression crossing his face.

“Beautiful. Absolutely marvelous,” he breathed softly, the heat of his arousal drowning his words. “I much prefer rope around you like this.”

“Keep that in mind the next time you feel it necessary to hang me,” Agatha shot back as she flexed her fingers and wrists against the bindings. She knew she could easily break free if she truly wanted to, but was content to leave them. “So this is your suggestion? To tie me up and have your way with me?”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times in disapproval. “I’ve told you before, Agatha. I have no interest in claiming you when you don’t want me to. I’m only giving you what you need. A countess must know when to contain herself.”

She shifted as best she could, lifting her head as his weight settled onto the mattress at her feet, and looked questioningly at him. What could she possibly need that involved tying her to a mattress and fucking her?

“A literal interpretation of restraint is underwhelming, don’t you think? Fifty years of rest and you’ve come out no cleverer,” she maintained doing little to mask her amusement as his smirk faded into feigned offense. “You’ll have to do better than that, Count.”

“Restraining you was only the start. Did you think I’d be so mundane?” he asked rhetorically and stood once more. She watched as he moved to the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”

In the solitary darkness of her bedroom, Agatha pondered his intentions. Count Dracula was known for playing games, at least with her, to sate his amusement and endless curiosity. He made it a point to always raise the stakes with her. The bargaining for Mina Murray’s life, playing chess in her dreams, having her strung up by the neck before crew and passengers, allowing her to drink from his vein, claiming her as his wife before they ever reached shore…

The Count did anything to give himself an edge over her and yet he stumbled every time. He fell victim to her unintended wiles and indulged in her with human fervor, a tether to reality that neither of them knew he could have. His reverence for her was Agatha’s undoing and together they arrived at the same crossroads each time they came together. The warmth she found in his chilling embrace could not be replicated by anything known to her; not blood, not her research, and certainly not the church.

Whatever he had waiting in the wings, she would devise a way to be prepared to push against him simply because she knew he enjoyed the competition. Agatha was starting to understand him more than she thought she would ever have the chance to. She had access to his entire life if she wished to recall it, but she preferred to learn through experience. The legwork required to know a vampire could take a lifetime, and lucky for her, she had several at her disposal.

Despite her wandering mind, Agatha caught the sound of him on the staircase and turned her head to catch him as he walked into the bedroom. He had two glasses in one hand, the smell of blood taking over her interest in his presence. She pulled against the restraints as her comfort diminished. Her hunger, while not intolerable, returned from the shadowy recesses of her mind.

“Ah-ah,” he sounded and approached her, setting one the glasses on the nightstand beside them. He raised his glass to his lips and took a slow sip before the glass joined hers on the small table. “This is for later. First, you have to prove that you can behave.”

Agatha scoffed indignantly and turned her head from him. She trained her sights on the open closet in front of her and crossed her legs tightly together. If he thought blood from a bag was enough to ruin her resolve, he was mistaken.

“I thought you were at my disposal. It seems you can’t stand staying out of the spotlight for a night. A narcissist even in privacy.”

“No, I said I was going to give you what you needed. If you don’t want it, then I can stop,” he explained and lifted his other hand to reveal the longer tie-backs from the living area windows. Dracula moved to the foot of the bed and sighed at her closed legs. “It’s up to you, of course. I am a man of my word, Agatha, and if you don’t want to continue, all you have to do is say. Think of it as preparation for dinner.”

“Foreplay is hardly meal preparation,” she returned as he tugged at her ankle. Agatha complied and separated her legs, spreading out for him once again. He muttered his thanks and made quick work of fully restraining her. She felt as though she was going to be drawn and quartered, the taut pressure overtaking her body. “What exactly is it that I need?”

He knelt before her on the bed, stretched upwards, and gently grasped her hips. His breath was hot against the slick, glistening wetness of her entrance; his shallow pants making clear his desire. Dracula’s teeth grazed along her inner thigh, the jagged edges pricking the skin as he trailed down to her knee. One of his hands left her hips as he placed a kiss to the top of her thigh. Agatha drew in a breath when his middle finger traced around her clit, still sore from his mouth, and easily sank into her warmth.

“You need to listen to others,” he dictated, being sure to necessitate ‘listen’ as though she were a pet.

Agatha began to protest but he curled his digit up inside of her and ran the pad of his finger over her sweet spot. Her breath hitched in response and she tried to move her hand to nestle in his hair. The binding held her firmly in place and she thought about tearing it off.

“If anyone needs a lesson on social etiquette, it’s you, Count Dracula. Times have changed and you can’t d--”

He plunged another finger into her, caring not for tact or being delicate, and silenced her with a few hard thrusts. The fabric constraints pulled tightly as she twisted and writhed against them. Through heavy-lidded eyes, Agatha caught a grin on his face, smug as he watched her drown in sinful divinity with each of his ministrations.

“I can’t do what, now, my dear? You’ll have to speak up. I’m afraid I can’t quite hear you,” he taunted as he moved up on the bed, his fingers still working inside of her. Their rhythm slowed and he withdrew one. “The bedroom is no place for etiquette, Countess. Not between a beast in rut and his bitch in heat. Stay quiet, listen to my instructions, and I promise to give you release enough to quell any appetite you may have.”

She could have spat in his face for calling her a bitch, his bitch, but the flames that engulfed her were of a different nature. Agatha’s jaw tightened as she worked it, trying not to betray the heat splintering throughout her body as lightning spreads through the sky. His eyes shone in the dark, glowing like headlights approaching in the dead of night, and he looked down at her with amusement.

She leaned up to face him, as close as her bindings would allow, and stared him in the eye. “Try again.”

Dracula withdrew his hand from her entrance and gripped her throat, his fingers carefully placed, a habit from a human life long forgotten. A noise between a snarl and a gasp erupted from her as he pushed her back to the pillow beneath her.

“Humor me,” he insisted, his face so close to hers she couldn’t help but strain against his hand to kiss him. He met her halfway, their lips and teeth colliding with a heat she hadn’t known since their first night. When he pulled away he slid his cock along her glistening folds, her entrance contracting at the contact, and Agatha shivered at the sight of him watching her.

“Stay quiet or I’ll stop. Can you do that for me?” he inquired as he pushed inside of her, a grunt sounding in the thick of his throat as she enveloped his cockhead.

Agatha reached up and grabbed his shoulder, holding to him as he stretched her further than what his fingers had amounted to. She felt his cock nearly slide out of her as he withdrew his hips before slamming back into her, filling her in an instant. Remembering his words, Agatha made no attempt to withhold the groan that sounded in her throat.

He withdrew his hand and cock from her completely, kneeling back on the bed, his erection glistening with her juices. She smirked down at him, her dark tresses a mess around her face, and went to pull at one of her restraints. However, Dracula was there to stop her, grabbing at her lower leg with one hand and lifting her at the small of her back with the other.

The pressure of the bindings as she stretched made her twitch, or maybe it was the tip of his erection teasing at her entrance once more when he repositioned himself.

“Stay. Quiet.”

Agatha pushed her head into the pillow beneath her as he thrust into her, the sound of his skin slapping against hers echoing in the dark with discordant harmony. She bit into her lip, focusing on how his cock seemed to go deeper and deeper with each motion. Her walls grasped at his erection, constricting as her orgasm built just where the tip of his cock touched within her.

When she pierced her own skin from trying to maintain control, Agatha cried out. Unintentionally this time as she was too focused on her release. His hips stuttered to a halt and he pulled out of her, panting as he dropped her back to the mattress below. Her body twitched in protest, her hips grinding upwards for contact, and her eyes snapped open.

“Defiant to the last, aren’t you? Tsk, tsk, a shame, really. I could feel how close you were,” he shook his head. “Now, what will I do with you? Maybe sate a different appetite, hmm?”

Before she could reply, he leaned forward and grabbed the full glass, the blood within as steady as his hand. “Just a taste. What do you say?”

Agatha felt her agitation swell within her and took the opportunity to free her hands while he was occupied. She had allowed him to call her a bitch, let him tease her, let him deny her, but she would accept nothing more. This was her show and she would burn before she let him play ringmaster. As she tugged her legs free, Dracula used his spare hand to hold her steady, placing it between her breasts.

“I say you’re losing your grip, Count Dracula. Indulging yourself too much in any pleasure you can in the moment. You’ve said so yourself,” Agatha returned sharply, her hand covering his around the glass, careful not to squeeze lest it break.

“I haven’t had nearly enough of you for it to be too much, Agatha.” He dipped his finger into the glass and held it in front of her, an invitation, a truce, a promise.

She took his finger into her mouth, carefully sucking at it, and pushed him onto the mattress. The contents of the glass came spilling out, covering Dracula in blood from head to chest. A smirk ran the length of her lips as she shifted so she was seated on his abdomen. Being covered in blood suited him, befitting the beast he was.

She lifted her hips into the air, grabbed his cock, and guided it inside of her as she rolled her hips downward. Slowly, she took him inch by inch, humming at the sensation of being filled again. Her eyes never left his as she rolled her hips again, taking him to the hilt and stifling a groan when his cock pressed so far into her.

Agatha bent down as she found a rhythm and traced her tongue along his collarbone, indulging in the taste of blood while his claws dug into her hips as he steadied her. The glass tumbled to the floor, ringing clear as it shattered against the hardwood below. At last, control had returned to her.

Her fingers twisted into his ebony hair as his hips bucked upward to meet her, thrusting deeper into her, evoking a moan that splayed across his neck. Teeth like razors, she scraped against his flesh, tasted the human blood there, was overwhelmed by the scent of him and that which he was covered in.

With his hands planted firmly at her hips, he rolled them, placing Agatha back onto the mattress. She held to him as he chased her orgasm, finding each spot to hit by every breath and noise she would make. Agatha found purchase at his back, dug into his shoulder blades, as her back arched against him, her hips rocking as he fucked into her.

With breath stolen, she gasped as Dracula thrust hard against her, pushing her over the proverbial edge and sending her into glorious oblivion. He stilled himself inside of her as she came around him, holding to him and spewing curses as though they were prayer. She felt him smile against her cheek as he started again but chose to indulge the sensation between her legs rather than the one in her chest. Her walls clenched his cock, squeezing it as he pumped into her until his seed shot inside of her. Dracula gave a few extra soft thrusts for good measure before he pulled out of her.

He fell to the bed beside her, chest rising and falling as though the exertion had some effect on him. Admittedly, she found herself breathless in the best of ways. No matter how she looked at the situation, there was only one conclusion she could draw. Perhaps, Count Dracula could control himself, if only under certain conditions. Perhaps that condition was her.

“Your hypocrisy of my egoism is damning, Agatha. I simply enjoy you,” he stated plainly, although the lie was transparent. He was saying such things for posterity’s sake.

Even saying that he simply enjoyed her was an understatement. The way the product of their sex spilled out of her as she shifted on the mattress was evidence enough. The way he looked at her now, rolled onto his side, clearly fighting the urge to place his hand at her cheek…

There was something more behind his eyes and she knew it was reflected in her own, but the rules of their game had never allowed for such things. They would play for a little longer.

“Was this not a way to sate certain hungers so you could show me how you feed in a controlled environment?” she inquired pointedly and turned towards him, ignoring the now uncomfortable slickness between her legs. “You said it was for my benefit, yet you seem just as satisfied.”

“I’ve satisfied you?” His grin could not have been wider or more wicked than it was in that moment as he leaned in and brushed his nose against hers.

Although she reactively returned the gesture, she shook her head dismissively immediately afterwards. “Do not get sidetracked, Count. We have a task to complete.”

A disapproving huff was his response as he sat up. “At least you’ll learn something about being a vampire tonight.”

#vampire!agatha #dragatha #my writing #bbc dracula #dracula 2020 #dracula #count dracula #agatha van helsing #lmao here's some smut

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devourer--of--books · 4 years

Text

Something obvious I noticed about Agatha

Context:

I’m doing a small side-collection of my favorite scenes from WSF that I had to cut off, because just editing them out was making me sad. The first one of those (which should be up soon on AO3, under the name of ‘every memory of the sweet sunshine’) is a scene in which I have Sophie doing a bit of introspection on Agatha’s so-called ‘goodness’.

I cut off the scene for the sake of length (why, why do I always write stuff no asked for, no cares why Agatha has no car in WSF, literally no one asked) and because I didn’t want to mess with Sophie and Agatha’s arc in the fic by making her too self-aware or highlight her opinion on Agatha’s compulsive need to help other people too explicitly just yet.

But then, it occurs to me that Agatha’s behavior is not something exclusive from my fic. In fact, is something that is classical Agatha, noticeble during the entire book 1, TLEA, and even a during QFG (I’m sure it comes up during AWWP too, but I haven't picked that one up in years so I can’t speak for it). It’s a vital part of her character and I think we all know this, but it still made me kinda sad once I started to think about it.

Agatha has low-key (high-key) savior complex

So, I am not a phycologist. I don’t claim to be one either. But I’ve been doing some reading and my google skills pointed towards white knight syndrome? I’m linking the main sources I used bellow).

Hear me out,

- Let’s start with book 1 and Sophie, because I feel like that is the basis of this analysis.

- During most of book 1, we get many reasons as to why Agatha feels the need to go home. She has good reasons, Agatha knows the school is dangerous. Naturally you’d wanna go home, back to safety and bring your only friend (we’ll talk about this in a minute) with you, so they’d be safe too, right? Nothing wrong here.

- But one of the most frequent criticisms of book1!Agatha is that she is very persistent in getting Sophie to go back home with her. Very, with like, major V. Numerous times we see Sophie brush off Agatha’s attempts to help her (in Agatha’s point of view, helping her is getting her home), and it just frustrates her and makes her try harder, despite Sophie’s clear wishes for her to just leave it alone.

- When you read this, didn’t it make you feel tired for Agatha? Burnout and angry at Sophie for not listening to her friend who clearly has her best interests in mind?

- I don’t think we need to highlight every instance in which Sophie was an absolutely horrible friend and trash person to Agatha in book 1, and she just… Took that shit, because ‘they were friends’ and continued to help her (including helping her get with Tedros in service of saving her) because she’s good and the good forgive everything?

- Because good believes no one, not even Sophie, 100% evil, is beyond redemption? Because that’s how normal friendship works? I mean, sounds fake, but okay.

- Agatha literally almost dies a couple of times when Sophie goes psycho-witch on her, but we still see her feel like she needs to save Sophie. Notice that I say needs, and not only wants.

- If you don’t think Agatha and Sophie had a toxic codependent friendship during most of TSY, I don’t think we read the same books?? Their codepency tends to be a major plot point in all books??

- Very rarely do we see dynamics in which one person is 100% toxic by herself. This one is no exception. It’s easy to point out Sophie’s selfish narcissistic (borderline sociopathic) behavior as toxic, because it’s so loud and in our faces, but I don’t think we talk about how Agatha contributes to this dynamic as often as we should.

- We joke about how Agatha lets Sophie get away with everything. How annoying it can be. But why does she let Sophie get away with everything? Why does she enable Sophie’s behavior (through positive reinforcement)? Especially if the goal is to help Sophie, shouldn’t she be more incisive in ‘teaching’ Sophie that her actions have consequences?

- I mostly attributed this to Agatha’s cripplingly low self-esteem. But now that I thought a bit more, I think it’s a bit more than that. Agatha’s endless empathy for Sophie is part of why their friendship ‘works’. But for something to ‘work’, it goes both ways. We know what Sophie gets out of their dynamic: she gets to be chaotic, have Agatha clean up after her and access to bottom-less empathy and love from her. What does Agatha get?

- Mostly, Agatha gets a semi-good-ish friend. Which she thinks is the type of friendship she deserves. But she also gets to serve a purpose. Her life’s work is to save Sophie, solve Sophie’s problems. In fact we don’t see Agatha try to solve any of her own problems until Sophie pushes her away. I think Agatha needs to help Sophie because she envisions Sophie as her one redeeming quality, and linked her own self-worth to how well she can take care of her friend.

- Which is why she always feels so anxious and exhausted all the time. Agatha sacrifices her own well-being in favor of saving Sophie from the consequences of her own actions, even after Sophie tells her not to, because she believes it’s her job. If she’s not saving Sophie, than why is she here at all?

- What Agatha gets out of their dynamic is the emotional high of playing savior. She gets to be in control of something. She feels powerless and frustrated at her own issues, so she has the compulsive need to ‘fix’ others (in this case, Sophie, because Sophie is her only friend).

- Think of how Agatha tells Sophie the reason why she always let her in is because Sophie looks lonely. I don’t think this is entirely true, but there’s some truth to it. Sophie is the ‘perfect fit’ for Agatha because they’re both lonely and vulnerable. Sophie needs a getaway car from her own chaos (instead of facing it head on) and Agatha needs a purpose bigger than herself so she can feel complete.

- This is also partly why I believe she got so defensive and furious when Tedros accuses her of ‘not being able to make Sophie feel loved like he does’. Saving Sophie is a fundamental part of how Agatha defines herself so when he says this, it cuts her deeply.

- Because being Sophie’s friend and savior is directly tied to her own sense of who she is.

- Now, lets move on to how Tedros fits in this, by observing exemples during TLEA and QFG, as well as the end of book 1.

- As soon as Tedros becomes important to Agatha, we see a shift in her behavior. She now needs to protect him. But their dynamic differs from the one between Sophie and Agatha because Tedros not only rejects her help; instead, he wants to be her white knight.

- It confuses Agatha, because so far, being a savior was just her modus operandi and not at all mutual. I think there’s a line in AWWP (I know there’s a comic, so I’m not sure if it’s from that book, but I think it is, if it isn’t ignore this point) where Tedros asks Agatha what she saw in him, and she says something along the lines of him needing someone to protect him the way he protected the people he cared about.

- Tedros’ unconcious wish for someone to take care of him is what draws Agatha in, much like Sophie’s. But Tedros wants a mutual relationship, where Sophie was pretty much one-sided most the time.

- Which is why I think Agatha and Tedros clash so much, but at the same time, why they make a good pair. They’re two idiots trying to save each other. And their relationship’s life work is to figure out how to listen to what the other actually needs, not what they think the other needs. Communication is key, as usual.

- Numerous times in TLEA we hear Tedros complaining that Agatha doesn’t know how to play ‘the princess’, how she bosses him around and treats him like he’s an idiot. That, I believe, is because that is the only way she knows how to express her love: she tries to fix as many of his problems as she can, ignoring what he wants.

- She tells him she has no idea how to be anything else. Because this is all she has ever known. She saves people, they don’t save her. But Tedros wants to save her anyway. So, conflict is created.

- During part two of TLEA, we see perhaps the best example of how Agatha applies this savior narrative to benefit herself.

- When we fall back into an old habit, we don’t usually do it because it feels good. We do it because it feels familiar. And there is comfort in familiarity, especially in familiar pain.

- Agatha is having problems with communicating with Tedros, with sorting out their dynamic and with who she thinks she’s supposed to be without Sophie. So when Sophie crashes in and asks Agatha to give him up in order to fix her problems as well as the entire Woods, Agatha jumps at the chance to play the martyr, because that way she doesn’t have to fix her own problems. Like a get-out-of-jail-free card.

- Pretty sure there’s even a quote from Sophie in TLEA where she points out she could never play Good’s savior. It’s implicit that she thinks this role has always been Agatha’s. It’s what Agatha herself thinks.

- As soon as Tedros is out of the picture, we see Sophie and Agatha’s friendship restored to their codepency glory (that scene where they’re riding and the frog and scorpion analogy, was it a frog, I can’t remember, but you know the one I’m talking about). But somewhere in her mind, Agatha knows this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, because of what Tedros has showed her, and not only Tedros, but also Hester.

- I’ll save Agatha and Hester’s relationship for another dive, as this is already very long, but yeah, not toxic at all, just friends being actual good friends. In fact, most of the time Hester is the one saving Agatha. We’ll see to this later. Anyway, back to my ranting.

- Then we have the wish-fish scene, in my opinion the best Hort-scene in all the books. Hort goes ahead and calls Agatha out on her shit. Shit that she wasn’t even completely conscious she was doing (someone get these kids a therapist omg).

- We get to see tagatha make up, working out their communication issues (!!!!). “You catch me and I catch you” it’s literally the realization that Agatha finally can trust someone enough to ask for help when she needs it and that she can trust him to come to her if he needs her help. That she has finally understood that it’s not her job to save everyone and only Sophie can save herself.

- Why, why did it not end here.

- I’m gonna spare you the QFG bashing (see my other post for that content, lol), but that book did Agatha dirty. I liked that they didn’t erase her progress with Sophie, how they learned to be better friends for each other, but wtf tagatha

- This is an entire book of Agatha feeling like she needs to save Tedros all over again. There’s even an introspective moment in which she explicitly says that in the end of the day, she trusts no one but herself (why, why did you undo the ending of TLEA, why) that breaks my heart.

- Tedros pushing her away, her going behind his back, the internal dialogue Agatha has with herself… Look, I love chapter 6. Chapter 6? Great content. Tedros belatedly noticing he needs to let Agatha in (six months bitch I just-) and asking for her help. Agatha’s savior complex comes full force and she convinces Tedros to let her fix everything. Tedros ends up allowing her to do so because he is desperate. Lots of kissing and touching. My favorite chapter of QFG.

- But since the follow-up is basically Agatha noticing what she’s doing and doing it anyway (contrary to TLEA, in which as soon as she could no longer deny what she was doing she gets her shit together) it just feels like she’s regressing? Her self-worth is no longer tied to saving Sophie from herself after 3 books, only for it to be tied to saving Tedros?

- Anyway, thank you for attending my TEDtalk.

Sources:

https://amenteemaravilhosa.com.br/complexo-de-salvador/

https://www.healthline.com/health/savior-complex#how-it-affects-you

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/complexo-de-salvador-como-ele-pode-impactar-sua-vida-pessoal

https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/sociopath

https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-stop-being-codependent

#school for good and evil #the school for good and evil #sge #the last ever after #quests for glory #Agatha of Woods Beyond #Sophie of Woods Beyond #tedros of camelot #Tagatha

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Mirabile Visu

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapter: 10 (Part One)/?

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you so much everyone who read and left a review for this chapter! It means the world! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Stay safe and healthy!

Chapter Ten (Part One)

Dracula Residence

Present Time

“Sunny, you can’t just waltz into the Harker Foundation and demand that they let your parents go without there being repercussions,” Jack tried to explain as Sorina angrily paced back and forth. “You’ll get killed!”

“I’m immortal,” she shot back. “I can’t die!”

“That’s far from the truth,” Zoe frowned, her niece not even meeting her stare. “Sorina, just because someone is immortal doesn’t mean they can’t be killed. And the fact that the Foundation was able to bring both of your parents in with,” she glanced around. “What seems to be little of a struggle is a great concern.”

“Then how exactly do you propose we get in?!” Sorina exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “Your key card has been cancelled and I’m sure soon enough Jack’s will be too. The longer we wait, who knows what they’ll do to them! And it’s not like I’m equipped with any skills in martial arts.” She caught a quick glimpse of a look of surprise on the young man’s face. “I was locked up for decades, Jack, the only thing anyone ever taught me was how to hide and be unnoticed. Stealth. Basically, a useless trait!” She paused. “My agility is enhanced, but like I said, I’ve never been in hand to hand combat.”

“We’d need to think creatively on this one to get in,” Zoe replied, cutting through Sorina’s tirade. “And how to defend ourselves. You both know well enough that the Foundation is known for being armed and heavily guarded. Jack, I don’t suppose you have any hidden talents that may help?”

The young man paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’m good with a bat.” Both women blinked, and Jack found himself awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. “I played baseball as a kid. Was pretty good at it too.”

“Great,” Sorina’s exhaled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “So we’re bringing ourselves and a bat to a gunfight. Brilliant. Let me go grab my butter knife and we’ll be good to go!”

She collapsed on the couch, her head resting in her hands. This was her own doing. Maybe if she hadn’t fought with her dad. Maybe if she had spent the night here. Maybe then they’d both be safe. Sorina sucked in a breath, trying to hold back tears of anger and remorse. Jack sat down beside her, putting an arm around her. Zoe watched quietly, contemplating her next move.

“I have a handgun.”

Sorina looked up from the floor and at the doctor curiously. “What?”

“I have a handgun,” she repeated. “In my dresser drawer for safety measures. Anyway, that’s beside the point.” Zoe ran a hand through her hair. “If we’re going to do this now, we best prepare how we can. This won’t be an easy feat.”

The Jonathan Harker Foundation

The last time Agatha stepped foot in a hospital was in 1870 during the fourth Cholera outbreak pandemic. She was but a child, eleven, when her mother fell victim to the illness. To this day, she could still visualize the crowded room of the sick and dying. The moans. Pleading. Putrid smells. But where she was now made that a distant memory. Clean. Pristine. A dirty, yellowed mattress replaced by a gleaming metal table. Her wrists and ankles bound by restraints that, no matter how hard she tugged, wouldn’t come undone.

“There’s absolutely no reason to struggle, Agatha. I promise you it’ll get you nowhere.”

Dr. Bloxham entered the room, followed by two other individuals wearing matching lab coats. One pulled a strange device by their side that the vampire didn’t recognize. She stiffened, eyes locked on the doctor’s as the woman leaned over her.

“You’ve missed over a century’s worth of technology,” the scientist explained, turning around to fiddle with the object. “Medical science has come so far from 1900. It’s incredible how humans can advance,” she paused, smirking. “We are, after all, the superior species-unlike your husband, I’m sure, would beg to differ.”

“Yet, one might wager that both can be equally as cruel,” Agatha interjected, watching as Bloxham removed a probe-like device. “This Foundation, I knew Mina personally, I doubt she ever intended it to be like this.”

“What she desired and the outcome no longer matter,” the woman said simply, pulling up the fabric of Agatha’s clothes to reveal her bare abdomen. “Anyway, the vile nature of your kind was proven when Dracula took the liberty of removing my thumb.” Bloxham, not diverting her attention away from the former nun, addressed one of the scientists. “Lubrication gel.”

The substance was cold the moment it touched the vampire’s skin. Agatha’s fingers dug into her palms as the transducer was pressed hard against her stomach. If her heart could, it’d be pumping right now. She stared darkly at Bloxham as the woman moved the object across her flesh. Suddenly, an odd swishing sound filled the room and Bloxham paused immediately.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she exhaled, mouth curving into an unsettling grin. “It has a heartbeat.” Her eyes flickered over to Agatha’s. “Like sister, like sibling. Things just became a lot more interesting…”

Jack Seward’s Residence

Sorina sat curled up in the passenger seat, glancing out the window as Jack came hurrying out of his flat. It had been hours since the realization that her parents had been abducted and though she would’ve loved nothing more to immediately go in full force, Zoe had insisted they wait several hours until the next nightfall.

“Are we ready?” Jack inquired as he slipped into the back seat, his bat resting on the floor.

It was a load questioned. They were far from ready. Far from being well equipped. Hell, dawn would be making its appearance in a few hours. Time was indeed slipping away from them and Sorina could feel it like sand in an hourglass.

“We’re going to have to find a way in,” Zoe said quietly, restarting her car as they drove down the mostly empty road. “I’m sure both Jack’s and my key cards have been cancelled out.”

Sorina paused. “There’s an opening towards the top of the left wing side of the building. It feeds into the air ducts.”

“But there isn’t a ladder we can use to reach it,” the young man countered. “And even if we did, who knows if it could hold our weight.”

“I can do it.”

Both Zoe and Jack looked to Sorina, who eyed them both solemnly. Maybe she couldn’t turn into a bat or could run at an inhuman speed, but she was agile. Far more than any person she knew. If anyone could get up there, it was her.

“But what if…”

“It won’t,” she interrupted, cutting him off. “I’ll climb in and once I’m inside, I’ll figure out how to open the entrance.” Sorina offered a wry smile. “Like I’ve said before, I know the place like it’s the back of my hand.”

The Jonathan Harker Foundation

It felt odd. Viewing the stone building in a different light. Sorina essentially grew up within the walls of the Foundation. It had been a second home in a sense. But now that she stood outside of it, staring up at the pipe opening along with Zoe and Jack, another feeling deep within her rose. Resentment.

“I’ll send you a text when I’m in,” Sorina exhaled, looking over her shoulder. “Be ready to go. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep it open.”

As she stepped forward, fingers pressed against the icy rock, she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, Sorina met Zoe’s eyes, a small glint of concern flickering within them.

“Be careful,” her aunt warned. “Promise me.”

The halfling nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to reply. Swallowing hard, she gazed upwards. With all of the confidence she could muster, she hugged the wall and began to shimmy upwards. She dared not look down, the idea of seeing how far from the ground she was made her dizzy. But in no time, she made it to the large, metal opening. Taking in a deep gulp of air, she made her way inside, darkness cloaking the atmosphere around her.

Sorina wasn’t afraid of the dark. She’d grown up in its silent embrace. She knew not of the sun, nor the light it carried. Just pictures of it. Images on television and movies. So as she made her way through the maze of pipes, she didn’t fear it. Even if she had, the determination to save her parents was far greater than a worry such as that. And it was with that ease, she found the entrance way, slipping through the grate in the ceiling and gracefully landing on the floor.

“Code,” she mumbled to herself. “Code, code, code…”

Her fingers danced on the keypad, trying not to focus on the surprise that there weren’t any guards nearby. With a satisfying click, the main entrance creaked open and she was immediately greeted to the sight of Zoe and Jack.

“You’re brilliant, Sunny,” Jack beamed.

“We’ll have time to congratulate later,” Zoe whispered. “Come on, the clock is ticking.” Sorina eyed the gun in her aunt’s hand, but said nothing. “The prison is way down the hall. Christ knows how many people are guarding it. We need to stay focused.”

As they began to make their way deeper into the bowels of the Foundation, Sorina heard the muffled sound of a discussion coming from a room nearby. Something about it made her stop, much to the alarm of Zoe. The halfling turned as her aunt hissed and crept towards the open door. Her eyes went wide at the sight. There, strapped down, guarded by two men, was her mother.

“Mum-”

A hand clamped over her mouth and Zoe yanked the girl out of plain sight as the men began to turn. Sorina struggled, finally breaking free. Her eyes were wild as she pointed towards the room.

“They have my Mum in there,” she whispered. “We have to go…”

“You can’t just run in there like that,” the doctor hissed. “You can’t be stupid about this, Sorina!”

“Then what do you suppose we do then?!” The halfling exclaimed, eyes beginning to brim with tears. “We can’t just leave her. We can’t-”

“I’ll cause a distraction,” Jack said quietly, causing both women to look at him. “I’ll distract them somehow and you go and get Agatha out.”

“Jack,” Sorina breathed. “You…”

“I’ll be fine, Sunny,” he said, offering her a small smile. “Trust me.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Jack said he had a plan for distracting the two guards who had her mother. But when he slipped away and the distant sound of a bat being struck across a wall, if she wasn’t so hellbent on saving her parents, perhaps it’d be almost comedical. Watching the enterance hopeful and relieved to see the two men actually exit, she and Zoe made a dash for the examination room.

“Mum!” Sorina cried out, hurrying to the bond woman’s side.

“Sorina?” Agatha gasped, a mixture of shock and worry on her face. “How did you…why are you here?!”

“We’re going to get you out,” her daughter promised, yanking at the restraints. “Are you hurt?! Where’s Dad?!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Agatha scolded, sitting up as Zoe managed to figure out how to undo the locks. “It’s too dangerous.” She paused, glancing towards the door. “I’m fine. Your father was still in the cell last time I checked. Sorina, you need to leave right now.”

“No!” The halfing exclaimed, fury manifesting in her tone. “Not without you and Dad!” Sorina’s breathing was ragged and try as she might, her emotions were getting the better of her. “I’m not losing you two again!”

The sound of footsteps pounding on the marble floor caused all three women to grow silent. Suddenly, and much to everyone’s relief, it was only Jack who appeared. His hair was windswept, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“We need to get out of here,” he panted. “They’re coming.”

“I’m not leaving without my Dad,” Sorina insisted, gaze turning to her mother. “Mum…”

Agatha was silent for a moment. “I can hold them off,” she stated. “But I don’t know for how long. If things go awry,” her stare locked on Sorina. “You leave. All three of you. Do you understand?”

“But Mum, I…”

“Sorina,” she repeated, firmer this time. “I need you to listen to me. If I tell you to run, you run.”

The girl reluctantly nodded. “Okay.” As much as she hated the idea, she knew if it came down to it, she’d be forced to. “Okay.”

Sorina, Jack, Zoe, and Agatha stood side by side, the sound of shouting and hurried footsteps growing closer and closer. The halfling felt something light brush against her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Jack was watching her. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. It was now or never. Her eyes narrowed, knees bent, and for the first time in her life, Sorina felt the blood of a vampire rush through her veins. The call of Dracula’s daughter.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula on Netflix #Agatha Van Helsing #Dragatha #Dracula x Agatha #Mirabile Visu

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edensgalore · 3 years

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and i know no asked but i will say more about this and how it reminds me of elta even if i just feel like i’m screaming to the void at this point

you see, ivan and elta’s hatred for each other is not sorely based on the fact that they feel like their losing mal to the other. though mainly, it goes beyond that. i’ve always headcanon that elta’s brother and twin sister died because ivan of all people killed them. this was in effect to them trying to protect a clone at the time. which landed them in cosima’s blacklist and if that wasn’t all -- they were also rebels so therefor already targets to cosima and ivan.

so we got that. we also get that though she didn’t die with her siblings, she was supposed to and simply for being lucky enough and managing to escape she didn’t. which of course, is bad because out of the three siblings that were supposed to die, only two did.

then there isn’t an encounter between the two for years until mal is like hey ivan ya want to meet this girl i fell in love with and the reason i’m breaking the rules from the garden? and to his surprise is no other than elta. and to her very horrendous surprise, this person mal talked about as if he was the best thing to ever exist is no other than her siblings’ killer.

[ i pictured that the jacobs were killed before mal joined the army. the records of their death would not be something that he has access to and so therefor wouldn’t know much of elta. also i believe elta would’ve lied about her name which fits into the whole my wife is a stranger narrative for mal which is why he eventually leaves elta. and though elta also knew who malacai was when she fell for him, she wasn’t expecting for his best friend to be no other than kozak ]

i feel like that first time talking to each other would’ve been bad. really bad. and mal takes this as if ivan was worried that he was breaking the rules (which in retrospect, he also was) and that elta is just wary because they are after all, cosima’s right hand. so he reassures elta that they won’t ever do any harm to her and to ivan that he’ll be careful not to get caught.

then cue ivan and elta being alone and him asking her if mal knows who she really is. and saying things like, i could take you back to cosima. back to the garden... that way you’ll finally be with your siblings. which... low blow kozak. but the only reason i feel like he wouldn’t have at the time, is because elta pulls the i am malacai’s soulmate. card which would be a very much of a surprise since mal never told him about it. and then you know, he is aware that whatever happens to elta will also happen to malacai. which means that if elta were to be taken back to garden and punished / tortured / or hurt in any other way, he’d feel it... and yes, he cares about mal enough not to want him to go through with that because after centuries, he still very much remembers what it felt like when olga died.

but then we have the eight years after that moment filled with tension and them wanting to kill each other at all times. nothing more than a few smiles and a polite laugh for the sake of mal if he’s in the room with them, otherwise elta would’ve always been wanting to kill him. after all, ivan did killed her siblings. then is worst with feeling like mal cares more about ivan than her. and then ivan having that sense of being betrayed and feeling like mal will change his life and leave everything for elta (which he does.)

and i have hcs of various instances where elta is talking about it with mal and cue an argument breaks out because she just doesn’t understand what is so good about ivan. while mal not understanding why she dislikes ivan so much. then the same thing happens between mal and ivan, but mostly just ivan wanting for mal to know the truth that elta is a rebel but not having the hear to just tell him and he ends up saying things like are you sure she is who she says she is or other things like what would you do if she turned out to be a rebel. but never really explaining where those questions and doubts come frome.

then we fast-forward to the year mal dies and the moment ivan betrayed him and how he told cosima everything he knew. and then cosima sends ivan and a group of soldiers to retrieve elta and to get her back to the garden and just imagine, a very pregnant elta opening the door to her home. first thing she sees is ivan, though never enjoying seeing him around because it really makes her want to punch him and throw up at the same time, she is first scared. thinking like something happened to mal. then she notices the way he is carrying that i’m about to fuck shit up smile and before she can do anything, there are other four soldiers going into her house and restraining her and she knows, she knows ivan gave them up.

and that is a painful moment on its own, with the fact that she is nine months pregnant, about to give birth. hurting because her husband left three months ago to go back to the garden and she hasn’t heard anything from him and these people don’t give a crap for it. i’m pretty sure one hits her at the back of her head to get her to comply and just not giving a fuck that she’s pregnant and ivan would just stand there and tell her like i told you i’d get you back there one day.

and if he tried to move closer to help her up and get her out, then something like the gifset above would happen. and yes, she’d be hurt but not for herself but for mal. because she knows ivan is more than capable of being the worst person ever. but she thought that at least, at the very least he cared about malacai enough to not give them up. but she was wrong about that too.

after that we fast forward to another two months after that moment after she was left for them and later rescued by other rebels, and how every single time elta was more than willing to die fighting ivan but ivan would not give in and just like push her aside and just go. because she was at best (for lack of better words) suicidal after both mal and her daughter died. and she knows that taking on ivan with her bare hands is just as well as a suicide mission but ivan refused to engage on that. because despite the fact that he doesn’t like her, can’t stand her. he pities her. especially with the whole losing a spouse and a child within the same day because he’s been there too. and he knows what she feels like and is going through.

but elta’s hatred towards him never goes away and if anything it grows. yeah, she blames herself for mal’s suicide but she also blames ivan for it. because they both kept things from him but ultimately ivan was the one who betrayed malacai by telling cosima everything. and even mal when he is cloned and brought back thinks so too, and he says it like my wife lying to me was painful. but nothing hurt having the only person i thought i had left betrayed me like that. (that being the fact that ivan knew mal’s brother was alive, that he knew who elta was and on top of that, telling cosima everything and having elta brought back to the garden to be tortured).

and if that wasn’t enough, elta later learns that ivan did not only knew aggie was alive, he rescued her and kept her safe for the last ten years? before aggie finds her. and that only enrages her more, and she’d throw that at as his face like you talk about knowing my pain. understanding what i went through? that’s bullshit! had you known anything about that hurt, that heartbreak of losing one’s child and spouse you would have given her back to me!!! and is something she hates the most, even more than ivan killing her siblings. because ivan saw her during that time lapse, he knew how elta had been hurting and grieving and looking for her lost daughter and he never said anything.

and then she hates him all that more because even then, even then agatha seems him as a father figure. and yes it is because he saved her and protected her. but aggie was supposed to be with elta all this time and it didn’t happened just because ivan never allowed it. which all goes back to elta questioning what’s so good about him anyways? like he killed my brother and sister, he was the reason my husband committed suicide and the reason my daughter was taken from me in the first place and then after he saved her, he kept her hidden from me. tell me, how is he the good guy? and the answer is... he isn’t

#info dump

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elizadoolittlethings · 4 years

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Dracula uncovered: We talk to cocreator Mark Gatiss about that episode two twist

{x}

As the BBC’s blood-draining drama concludes tonight, we talk to the show’s cocreator about the two episodes so far: how they originally planned to set the second episode in the Seventies, how Dracula could make a second-series comeback, and that twist...

GQ: First, congratulations on the on the huge success of Dracula so far. You must be thrilled with the reception...

Mark Gatiss: Yes, well, I don’t honestly read reviews. But I’ve seen it’s got five stars and so on, so I don’t have to! What I like more than anything is getting a sense of a buzz, a lovely sense of something happening, which is always nice.

GQ: So the big twist at the end of the second episode is that, after the period setting of the first two episodes, the third is set in the present day. Dracula AD 2020, if you will...

MG: [Laughs.] Everyone’s saying that!

GQ: Was that always going to be the case?

MG: Yes, it was. Steven [Moffat, cocreator] sent me a picture the other day – it was one of those Timehop pictures – and it was actually three years since we went out for lunch to literally start thrashing it out. Our very earliest idea was to do episode one and was sort of a very tight, 90-minute version of the novel. Episode two would be something like Dracula at 1972 – sort of period but modernised. And three would be completely modern day. But then we talked about how it would be a shame to feel like we got through Bram Stoker in one episode and that maybe the best way to look at it was to try to do the book in three episodes. But do each one very distinct. The idea came with doing [second episode] "Blood Vessel" based entirely on four pages of the book, just expanding this this marvellous idea [of Dracula sailing to England], and then we can have this twist which no one would see coming. And incredibly we got away with it. I really thought it would leak. But no one saw it coming and I'm so pleased, as we live in such a spoilery age.

GQ: The second episode is almost like Snakes On A Plane, only Dracula On A Boat...

MG: [Laughs.] That was the working title...

GQ: But also a bit Murder On The Orient Express. Again, on a boat...

MG: Well, the problem was, and in the first draft actually, he [Dracula] was more hidden, literally hiding in the box and appearing nightly to knock people off. And we can't do this. We've promised ourselves to foreground the character more. So what if he was just hiding in plain sight? What if he was just one of the passengers, and as soon as you do that, then it becomes a list of potential suspects. Except it's like Colombo – we know who the murderer is! And yet he’s also like the detective.

GQ: Very quickly, I really want to know who wrote the very funny line from the first episode, “You should never rush a nun”?

MG: I think that was one of Steven’s. Yes, definitely one of Steven’s.

GQ: So, naturally I don’t want you to give anything away that would count as a spoiler, but can you give us any idea of how the time leap happens from the ship going down at the end of the second episode to Dracula arriving on the coast in the modern day? I trust he hasn’t been just walking on the seabed really slowly all that time...

MG: [Laughs.] No, no, he's just been in the box longer than he thought.

GQ: A really terrifying element of the first episode was the undead victims of Dracula nailed into wooden boxes for eternity. How did you come upon that particularly nightmarish scenario?

MG: It was partly inspired by The Hunger, a fantastic Tony Scott horror film with Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie. It’s not quite the same idea but her lovers all reach a point after several hundred years where they start to decay and she doesn't. And so she puts them away in the attic. It’s very moving, a wonderful film. With Dracula, there's some sadness to it. But it came from our initial discussion. Why is Dracula special? What are the rules of the beast? That’s why the episode is called that. You know, there's so many things... he’s simultaneously all powerful and also vulnerable to practically anything. You know, I don’t know how he gets out of bed. He can’t cross running water, he can’t touch hawthorn, sunlight, crucifixes... so we just had to figure out just what our rules are. And then that became a very exciting thing, with Agatha [the nun] saying why can’t he come in uninvited? Maybe there’s more to it... And so part of that is that he’s different, he’s the best of them, he chooses people very carefully and literally absorbs their talent.

GQ: As you say, you have, with these rules, a kind of fun with this idea of these were seemingly disconnected things in the first episode where you have to start with the idea of: are they all part of the same thing? You know that all these things that seemed to be not connected at all. But are they? Do you get to the bottom of that in the final episode?

MG: Yes.

GQ: I’m guessing you’re not going to tell me any more...

MG: No…

GQ: Fair enough. I know Dracula doesn’t exactly lend itself to an ongoing Sherlock-like series. But does that necessarily mean that there couldn't be another three films later on down the line?

MG: Well, Dracula tends to come back, doesn’t he? I mean, certainly, it's interesting. It's not what Stoker ever had in mind. Well, actually, the truth is, Dracula was a success. But the book was not the sort of success we imagine it to be until after he died. If he'd known how much of a success it [would] be [he'd have] definitely written a sequel! But Dracula is a strange book. It's very haphazard. The first third is extremely good but the rest is uneven. There’s an interview he [Stoker] gave to an American paper where he vaguely talks about a sequel set in America, interestingly... And in the series of films he does come back a lot.

GQ: It’s quite graphic. People get beheaded, a baby gets turned into one of the undead at one point... Was there any part you got pushback from the BBC on?

MG: The baby in the carpet bag is actually in the novel. It’s a ghastly little moment and it’s not done very often [in adaptations]. Dracula had brought it as a little tit-bit for his bride. We had a lot of discussions but there wasn't much pushback really about gore. Really, I was thrilled with how much we got away with. But it's funny, isn't it? The thing that caused most people sleepless nights was the fingernails falling off. And no one is going to send a memo saying, “I'm afraid we can't have people pulling their fingernails off at nine o’clock on BBC One”, because it’s not the most horrific thing in it. And yet it is, isn’t it? But we wanted to make it properly scary. My favourite bit of episode one is where Harker uncovers the vampires in the boxes and is chased into Dracula’s tomb and then Dracula rises up from it. It’s pure Hammer Horror.

#dracula #mark gatiss #uncovered #second episode #plot twist #interview #the man behind the genius #all things MG #haven't seen #hope to #tonight

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yeah-oh-shit · 4 years

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so im still trying to figure out wtf dracula was all about and if there is a deeper meaning at all. i compiled a list of all my observations - especially places where it might relate to sherlock, things that seem odd/out of place, important thematic moments, anything that is unexplained. idk if i will come back to this to try to piece it together more, but i needed to get it all down so i could look at it in its wholeness. in case you are interested, here is my commentary, any “points of interest,” i found, below the cut.

episode 1:

vampirism is a contagion, sister agatha asks harker if he had “sexual intercourse” with dracula right away - aids

flies everywhere, on windows, the camera lens, one flies into harker’s eye

why did dracula let himself become such an old man? no one good to eat? (i’ve been telling everyone for years that you are what you eat)

story told by harker w/sister agatha interviewing him, almost leading him on

harker’s written account is unreliable

woman in disguise - mina (reminds me of mary)

rainbow lighting

spiral candles match spiral bedpost

sister agatha mentions a “point of interest”

dracula calls jonathan johnny (john mirror?)

inconsistencies: picture of mina changes from right to left, harker says no one calls him johnny (but mina later shows that she does - johnny blue eyes)

THERE IS NO BABY

dates - 12th, 19th, and 29th (!!)

scene very similar to the fall - “you are me,” dracula tries to get harker on his side but harker refuses

dracula says he will “destroy everyone and everything you love” in england

harker is found by sailors and said to be a drowned man walking/talking after he falls from castle dracula

lots of queer coding and it’s during the parts where dracula is shown as the most monstrous and coercive

sister agatha taunts dracula, calls him a beast (rules of the beast), he is indeed shown as beastly

dracula licks a knife in a suggestive way (moriarty)

inviting dracula in leads to death

harker doesn’t remember what happened to him (doesn’t know he is dead)

harker doesn’t know what mina’s face looks like

mina says a line much like mary’s (“i decide who you are”)

sister agatha mentions having a detective acquaintance in london (!!)

dracula is an old man for most of the episode, doesn’t come off as flirty or sexy to me, just seems coercive, controlling, and creepy. we barely get any time w/harker and dracula together, doesn’t seem like they have much chemistry

jonathan in and out of dream, weakened, coerced

he keeps going deeper into the castle and eventually discovers dracula’s undead and even dracula’s crypt itself but can’t find the person who wrote him a note

castle is a maze but jonathan discovers the map (hiding behind a portrait, deduces this in a way that makes pretty much no sense)

sun is equated to lover’s face

dracula never seems to lie, just says things in a truthful way that is obfuscated (except for when he knocks the mirror over and claims to being clumsy)

dracula wants to go to england bc he thinks the most cultured and rich people live there (aristocratic bullshit) but it is reinforced so many times that somehow him being choosy has helped him to live a long time .. confusing

episode 2:

starts w/dracula and agatha talking in his castle. dracula talks about how a story has to be interesting from the beginning, the contract between author and reader, “quality of time”

“there’s a game in progress” “a knight is menacing a queen” “whose knight, whose queen?” “Who’s black, who’s white”

ship in a bottle

whole episode takes place on a big ship

sokolov (anderson) is captain (steering the ship)

mind palace/dreaming (sr. agatha and dracula) in castle but actually in room 9 on ship

mr balaur (dragon - dracula) brought all these people together

7 passengers on the ship (unusual, stated multiple times, i don’t think we are ever told significance?)

one sick - captain is only one allowed in

piotr isn’t who he says he is

dracula kills dorabella (very flirty with her) talks about mirrors showing the truth - “one can always find a mirror if one tries” “mirrors are a deeper and more dangerous magic than most people understand. mirrors can give us space to imagine or worse, show us the truth”

“this marriage is a necessary evil”

confirmed gay couple (lord ruthven and adisa) - lord ruthven talks about sleeping with his wife in front of adisa constantly (cruel), adisa is disguised as a servant, adisa seems to really love ruthven

many people jump ship when everyone starts dying

lord ruthven is both very gay and very mean - and into dracula

dracula and agatha play chess

“the purpose of an alias seems to have alluded you” (mr. balaur means dragon means dracula, a disguise is “always a self portrait”)

dracula says he is choosy (so does agatha) but also recognizes that he is an addict (agatha’s word) - claims to be choosy and to be like everything in same breath

dracula called a beast, acts very animal around blood - can’t control himself

agatha loses time during chess, notices dracula is winning now, is also drinking blood out of a glass

he tells her to “forget about the chess and concentrate on the game”

dracula frames agatha, almost kills her via hanging (despite trying to “savor” her)

sister agatha claims she is a vampire and then tries to prove dracula is one

lord ruthven wants to be “partners” with dracula

somehow dracula appears out of nowhere in the cabin of dr. sharma

vampire’s kiss is an opiate - makes people dream

emphasis on the fact that the daughter can see (eyes!), her father has a scar over his right eye

dracula flirts with everyone

no one suspects dracula even though its really obvious it is him?? he is being hella suspicious?

daughter (who sees dracula killing) doesn’t tell anyone, later kills herself by drinking a potion to avoid becoming infected

sister agatha is infected/dying, losing fingernails (like harker)

dracula will die without his soil

captain sokolov stays behind in ship w/agatha, piotr and cook escape

agatha discovers extra soil in dracula’s bed, realizes the fire didn’t kill him

dracula attacks sokolov but somehow he doesn’t die and can’t walk even though his wound is in his neck but still is able to DRAG himself?

dracula explains fear of cross as fear of oppression that he has inherited from eating peasants (but he is very choosy with his diet?)

ship sinks, sister agatha dies (implied, which is confusing bc harker also goes into the sea and doesn’t die.. maybe it has to do with the fact that she doesn’t have any soil? but neither did harker? vampire lore seems convoluted and confusing) dracula finds his soil (in the water)

dracula wakes up, goes ashore, its modern day and helicopters, a spot light, police cars, and modern day sister agatha greet him

episode 3:

weird vibe generally.. almost reminds me of tfp w/lighting and how it feels so off from the rest

dracula shows us that what he sees in the mirror is who he truly is (at least that is what is implied) an old ugly man

dracula is weird and kinda cute when he is amazed by modern times

we learn that agatha apparently died even though she was just in water and harker survived and was a “drowned man walking and talking” ?

jack (another john mirror?) is in love with lucy, there are a lot of scenes in a club ?, lucy gets engaged to a texan named quincy (who was apparently a main character in the original book and is an asshole in this). all these characters kind of suck

jonathan harker keeps calling jack, we are supposed to think he saved the jonathan harker foundation’s phone number in his phone as just “jonathan harker”? seems weird

jonathan harker foundation was started by mina, supported by agatha’s family

lots of allusions to jonathan harker foundation getting money from a “bad” source - too much money to just be about science

mercenaries - one has a tattoo like assassin in sherlock

there is a moving clock on the floor of dracula’s cell/cage

dracula asks why he has a toilet when he is a vampire and we never get an answer

dracula’s cage looks like silence of the lambs (like A LOT)

blood is LIVES, dracula helps zoe get a sample of his blood by cutting his wrist with his fingernail - tells her “you have everything you need to know” when she takes his blood (dracula tells zoe, she drinks his blood)

“women don’t have rights, no one has rights” “dracula has rights” ???

zoe starts hallucinating/communicating w/agatha

zoe is agatha’s great niece apparently

dracula does a weird deduction thing about people from smelling or tasting their blood

dracula can’t drink zoe’s blood bc she has cancer and he can’t drink blood of the dying (which seems weird but ok)

renfield (mark) is dracula’s lawyer and seems to become obsessed with him

dracula identifies as a “warlord”

renfield is helping dracula w/“world domination”

dracula is on dating apps, renfield tries to find him people to eat, but he seems dissatisfied

dracula works out (like mycroft)

dracula (d) texts lucy uses vampire emoji

lots of gay/bi/purple lighting

dracula becomes obsessed w/lucy bc she is not afraid of him (or anything) and seems “almost in love with death”

lucy is shown as shallow and obsessed with her looks, but also seems to not like always being seen/watched bc she is beautiful

dracula and lucy are meeting up and she is letting him drink her blood

they meet up and he talks about liking having her “consent” because no one has ever given it before, but also says that it doesn’t really matter and that he doesn’t love her and will never love her

lucy likes the dreams dracula gives her - no one can see her

9 graves of undead

dracula tells lucy not to be cremated because its painful

“boofer lady”- beautiful lady - undead child follows lucy home

renfield sits in a car during their meeting and eats a fly

dracula kills lucy so she can become a vampire, she can’t move but the mirror shows that she is still alive?

we see dracula’s old man face in the mirror multiple times

lucy is burned, and for some reason keeps seeing herself as beautiful in mirrors

agatha (in zoe’s head) talks about the money coming from a bad place again but says she “can’t see it” because zoe doesn’t like to think about it

lucy, jack, zoe, and dracula all meet in dracula’s house

lucy flirts w/jack and he seems disgusted, they force her to take a selfie and see herself as she really is

lucy freaks the fuck out about being ugly and burned and seems to be more obsessed with her beauty after dying which is weird because she seemed to be almost bitter about it when she was alive (didn’t care about or fear anything)

dracula says she will always be burned (why? jonathan survived being drowned, etc. dracula survived fire?) and that he doesn’t care

jack says he will always want to kiss her (even though he was just freaked out by her like 20 seconds ago) kisses her and kills her (at her request)

dracula seems unfazed? even though she was his “greatest bride” ?

zoe has been taken over by agatha? and realizes what the one thing is that dracula fears (the thing that ties together the sun, cross, and needing an invitation - apparently the soil thing doesn’t matter anymore..)

“only one thing in this world you are truly afraid of” - she knows, he doesn’t

he cannot bear to look in a mirror, won’t stand revealed in the sun, needs an invitation to come in - not real things, he has internalized the legends

zoe/agatha says that he was a warrior and so was his entire family (all his relatives, father, brothers, sons, were war heroes who died on the battlefield but not him)

he is the warlord who “skulks in the shadows and steals the lives of others” and is “unwelcome everywhere” “sleeps in a box of dirt but dreams of a warriors grave”

he fears death the most - the cross represents going willingly to death to him, somehow the sun represents this too? (possibly he is afraid to seeing himself/the truth, same as the mirror)

it is never explained how the invitation thing is tied in.. assuming its because he feels “unwelcome everywhere” ?

she pulls the curtain and he doesn’t burn in the sun, shows him it was his fear of death and his shame all along

can’t conquer death until you face it without fear - “the game is over, you lose, you will live forever in shame”

dracula steps into sun, faces his shame

he faces his fear of death by drinking agatha’s blood, thus dying by suicide (which we were already told vampires can’t do)

gross fiery sex scene with agatha and dracula, he gives her a dream so she will have a nice death

“after all this time did you think I’d let it hurt?” ???

they are in a burning sun and are naked together in a circle, we see dracula’s butt again

it ends with the sun

#bbc dracula #wtf #bbc dracula spoilers #sherlock connections? maybe? IDK #basically a plot summery w/annotations bc i don't know what else to do rn

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