PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@timewlnds
#𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐥𝐍𝐃𝐒: : independent, private & mutually exclusive writing blog for 𝙻𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙰 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚄 of m.arvels agatha all along — canon adjacent with headcanon influences — DNI if you're under the age of 21 or a personal blog . . . . ( as penned by daphne, she / her, twenty⁹, gmt ) 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 → ¹ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃. ² 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗. ³ 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒
okay, i’m going to be moving lilia over to my multi, i just don’t have the time for two blogs at the moment, so if you’d still like to write with lilia, she’ll be over at @covenstrue 💛
wives™
AGATHA ALL ALONG 1.03
happy holidays <3, i hope you have an amazing day however you do or don’t celebrate, love you all 💛
Past and Present
@timewlnds
It had only been a week since the events that took the makeshift coven down a Road that wasn't supposed to be real, and all but Alice and Mrs. Hart made it out. Agatha had been struggling with everything since then, and surprisingly found herself at Lilia's door. In a way, the woman had started to feel like a mother to her, the way her own never had.
When the familiar face opened the door, Agatha raised her hand in front of the other's face, trying to keep her from saying anything. She didn't need any snide remarks right now. She just needed someone who could understand that the Road and her encounter with Rio had brought some deep feelings up. Feelings she didn't like.
"Just let me in."
It wasn't a command, nor a demand, but rather an admittance to needing the other. An understanding she needed help from someone. She knew she couldn't keep sitting in her grief and pretending like it was okay.
𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 to a lifetime. the minutes dragged into hours which in turn crawled into days. & truthfully, she was still processing everything that had happened down there. that fact that she was 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 was a miracle in & of itself. she'd fallen, willingly fallen to her supposed death, giving her coven a chance to 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 — instead no blade had greeted her. only the cold, damp air of westview as she crawled back to the surface. & whilst her mind was far more at peace than it had been in 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, something continued to feel off. perhaps it was the fresh trauma or perhaps it was merely the 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 of trauma she had yet to deal with previously.
her shop had been closed since she'd left that afternoon for the road, so the knocking at her door had torn her from the deep recesses of her mind, only to find agatha harkness, herself standing there. & no comment was made upon her 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭, simply stepping aside & allowing the other inside. ❛ what are you doing here, agatha ? ❜ question came with far 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 tones than had greeted the other witch the last time they'd found themselves in this particular situation.
𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 , 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!
bold whatever applies , italicize what sometimes applies , strike what never applies.
𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫. / gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. southern europe. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books.
𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫. / black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. alcohol in glass decanters. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. driving at night. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. paranoia. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the american south. the american northeast. england. analog cameras.
𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬. / bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. suburbia. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. household objects turned into improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. character masks. scrunchies. queerness. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.
𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫. / malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. curses. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. mausoleums. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at something you can’t see. black ooze. old photographs. faces you can swear you’ve seen before but can’t for the life of you figure out where. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.
𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝 & 𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫. / aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw-marks. bite-marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabelled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking / backpacking.
𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬. / daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. asylums. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms with no one inside them. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. suspicion. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.
PROUD — the word unfurled through her chest, like a gentle bird spreading its wings joyfully. she had always felt like she was the complete opposite: a disappointment. even agatha had been able to see through the mask after knowing her for barely a couple of hours. but this —coming from another witch, one with her experience, in that soft & soothing tone— was enough to turn on the waterworks. fuck…
the road had made her eyeliner run more times than she would have wanted and they weren’t even close to being done with its many twists and trials. ❛ well, for what is worth, i’d be honored to count you as part of my CHOSEN FAMILY… ❜ she said, wiping a dark tear from her cheek. the protection witch then placed a hand on the other woman’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. ❛ …beyond the road, but only if that's something you think you might want. ❜
𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 was almost foreign to the divination witch now. & it wasn't that she didn't wish for one, she'd 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 her family, her former coven, it's that's reason she kept away from finding another. losing them had hurt her in ways that she was still yet to 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 & she wasn't certain she could face that again. alas, this small group of covenless witches was pulling her in the longer they were on the road. 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 — one that lilia was finding it harder & harder to keep her emotional distance from ( even agatha had wormed her way closer in a way that even she hadn't seen coming. )
❛ oh, alice, ❜ words were barely above a whisper, almost inaudible above the crackling of the fire, but they were heavy with the 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 that she hadn't allowed herself to feel for 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. & in turn, her own hand rose, coming to a rest atop the one placed against her shoulder, watery smile finding her countenance. ❛ i — well, i believe that it'd be me who'd be honoured for you to consider me such, ❜ she continued finally, blinking away the tears that stung her own dark gaze.
the fact that we live in a time where i could have a very plausible vampire!lilia au and i’ve done nothing with that fact is a travesty
We're so light-footed we could dance on eggs
PATTI LUPONE and KRISTIN CHENOWETH in Candide (2005)
" oh , i don't believe that asking questions is a sign of intelligence . if someone's so clever , shouldn't they already know the answer ? " &. @timewlnds
𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ‚ gaze rising. ❛ but asking questions IS how people learn, ❜ lilia began, a masked 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 lacing through her tones as she spoke. ❛ not one person alive knows everything, no matter how 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 they claim to be. ❜
Solitude had made her secretive—self-manipulated. Years of haunting had dulled her in ways you wouldn't believe and sharpened her in ways you wouldn't believe either.
Toni Morrison, excerpt from Beloved
@timewlnds: maybe i wouldn't let myself forget . accepting.
AGATHA KNEW DEATH LONG BEFORE IT WORE THE FORM OF RIO VIDAL. salem in the 17th century was rife with it: fever, the childbed, witch trials. she recognizes the look of someone who has seen it firsthand. with lilia's age, it's only expected ― one cannot be a witch well into your prime and not witness those who fall around them. but it's the tune of sorrow in her voice that knocks something loose inside her chest, already teetering from those who have fallen in such a short time. it's ridden with guilt. piece by piece, the mystery of lilia calderu is unraveling before them and agatha finds that it settles a little too close to home.
memory can keep people alive, letting them haunt you forever. a stinging shard of glass you hold onto just to feel close to them. in lilia's case, a shattered mosaic or stained glass window. agatha's hands twist together, grappling with the discomforting familiarity of it in the dwindling embers of the fire. “ sometimes, the horror is all we have left. ” her voice dips softer than she intends, a beat of quiet contemplation holding her gaze somewhere beyond the other witch ― and then it hardens just slightly, her words finding strong pillars whilst she flourishes the stick pinched in her fingers in lilia's direction. “ but surviving is not something we feel guilty for. ”
we, witches. a rare camaraderie agatha has . . . frankly, never indulged in. not truly. she meets lilia's gaze, a strange accord settling in the cage of her sternum. “ it is just something we do. ”
&, 𝐎𝐇, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 still haunted her. every time she closed her eyes a different would replay, never allowing her to 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 it. the curse of a long life or the curse of being a witch, both of which had contributed to the trauma that she held, that they all held in one way or another. & walking the road, it had only brought it further to the forefront . . . all that she attempted to 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 only threatening to resurface the longer that they were down here. ( the hallucinations, the oven, the flooding, the fire — all reminders of the people she'd lost. ) & despite it all, the nightmares, the memories, the horror — she wouldn't 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 herself to forget, because forgetting meant losing them all over again & she didn't believe she could bear it twice.
agatha's reaction, however, surprised her, expecting a smart remark in response, but just as she'd seen after her 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, the other witch did appear to have a softer side. one that she wasn't prepared for other people to see, kept it hidden because bearing it for the world to see would make her far too 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. maybe they were similar in that regard.
❛ sometimes the horror is all we've ever had, all we've ever known, ❜ the divination witch murmured, flames flickering, illuminating her dark gaze as she turned her head toward the other. & she knew agatha had suffered — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ‚ heartbreak . . . sorrow & grief. she'd seen it in the moment teen had lay there nearing death, maybe she was one of the very few who'd ever seen it. she didn't know & she wasn't going to push, for that kind of 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 is rarely something to be pressed upon without permission & contrary to belief, lilia didn't dislike the other witch, she was merely wary of her.
her surprise now, however, was evidently written atop her features, at the glimpse of the person beneath the façade the purple witch presented to the world. but despite her affirmation, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 was always something lilia would hold close to her chest. she'd survived, she was living, she was still here & they weren't. they'd died, they'd been hunted, whether by disease or by the uneducated, the prejudiced & the 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. & she'd come close, but she'd evaded death so often that she felt she knew her personally. & all she wanted to ask is why she'd spared her so often, why was she left alive to feel this guilt, this pain ? what was it all for ?
❛ you don't feel guilt for any of it ? ❜ came her question, gaze never once leaving agatha's own, truly feeling this was the first time the other had, had the opportunity to be 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 in a long time. ❛ for being here when they aren't ? for livng the life they could have had ? ❜ & maybe in truth, this was the first time in just as long that she, too, was being honest, at least with herself.
"Is that our way out?"
IT IS SATISFYINGLY EASY to curry sympathy in this way: the response is expected and it puts agatha on surer footing, the tension in her shoulders more for show now than borne of any genuine concern for her safety. [ oh, you poor thing. it rankles but it is useful, this conception of her as a young, helpless creature - a fawn on shaking legs. she bows her head, playing into the part. ]
" agatha, madam. " she looks up at the older witch through her lashes, hands twisting in the fabric of her tattered dress. " and yours? you are part of no coven i yet know. "
𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍, 𝐇𝐔𝐇 ? she hadn't been a part of a coven in centuries, a fact she had little desire to change anytime soon. being alone, well, it kept her safe, despite the many towns she'd been run out of. for if it was only her, she had no one to lose, no 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 to break should something inevitably go wrong like it so often did.
❛ true, i am a part of no coven, ❜ explanation came with a step forward, the 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, almost akin to 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 instinct driving her decision. something she'd never truly experienced before. protectiveness, of course, but motherly, well, it had never been on the cards for herself. ❛ tell me, agatha, do you have a place to stay ? somewhere 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 ? ❜ lilia paused momentarily, shiver running through her, shawl twined tighter around her shoulders in turn. ❛ you'll catch your death out here, you know ? ❜
Stephanie Foo, What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma
SHE HAS PATIENCE FOR THOSE WHO AWAIT HER, for those who meet her with acceptance instead of rebuttal. lilia has lived many centuries long captivated by the fear rooted in rio's inevitable arrival.
& yet now that they are here, there is so little fanfare, such gentle acquaintance in its stead.
" no, " is all rio says in reply. she had been somber, snagged by the situational bemusement in alice's departure, summoned by sharon davis' regrettable demise. there is always another body trailing behind agatha's boots & this time, lilia has come to her in a self-sacrificed offering. an act of heroism. " it's rare, you know, " rio adds, wry smile cresting across her lips. " to do what you did. you gave yourself up for them. " a pause. " why? "
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 & 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, looking down at the image of your own death . . . but she'd known it was coming, she'd been ready — she'd 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 it. & for once in her life, she'd stopped running from it. alas, seeing her corporeal form laying there, pink staining crimson where it had met with the silver of the swords blade, it was peculiar to say the least. rio's question, however, tore her gaze away from the scene splayed before her, the faintest of smiles adorning her countenance, a saddened expression, but currently it was all the divination witch could muster.
❛ because i couldn't save them before, ❜ she answered simply, dark gaze rising to meet death's own, 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 laden throughout her words. nearly 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 years later & the guilt of surviving, the guilt of seeing her former coven die, not once, but 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐄, had never left her. it was an image she saw every time she closed her eyes, she couldn't bear that burden again. ❛ i had the chance this time, so i took it, ❜ & that truly was all there was to it, she wouldn't lose another coven when she had the chance to save them & her 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 had been a price she'd happily paid.
