Another Manic Reader-Insert Blog

Update: Temporarily closed for requests, babes

Update Update: I will explain in further detail sometime soon, hopefully, when I’m able, but tldr: ya girl hit her head again, have been on hiatus while healing, thank you for your kind messages ❤️

General Masterlist (multifandom)

Doctor Who Masterlist

WIP Wednesday Masterlist (Doctor Who drabbles)

Essentially these are prompts for drabble length fics that I take throughout the week, and I cheerfully pick a few that feel fun and write them live on Wednesday nights (sound exciting? it is 10% less exciting than you’re thinking). I am closed to all other requests, unless I’ve specified otherwise.

Rules for Requests (these still apply to WIP Wed!)

Tags I use: #not a fic (if you’re only here for fic, this is the one to filter out, babes), #wip wednesday, #kisstherainreading (fic reblogs)

Note for any new followers who found me through a writing advice post: I’m so glad something resonated with you!! But heads-up that this is unabashedly a DW fanfic blog that sometimes gives writing tips when asked, and that writing advice is not at all my primary content.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: None atm, eventually future language and suggestive content (wink). Reader is roped into f/m plots in future parts due to some messy Wanda matchmaking, but there won’t be any actual f/m reader content, so should be fun for everyone

Summary: Agatha comes face to face with an Avenger, but not the one she expects. And the reveal’s even more delicious when she realizes one of Earth’s mightiest heroes has been cast as Vision’s unlucky-in-love secretary. 

“As I was saying, dear, the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper peels, spices, cuts, rices, skins, and dices, all at the lowest prices!” Agatha had to shout over the gadget spinning out of control on Wanda’s kitchen table. She kept up that ten watt grin as the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper mangled a potato. “Now if I could just get it to flip Ralph over when he snores!”

Another day, another desaturated shenanigan. The Handy-Dandy kitchen thing had seemed a bit bottom of the barrel in terms of clever ideas, but Wanda Maximoff responded well to not-so-subtle homage, and Agatha was beginning to run out of gags. It felt like weeks, but the passage of time wasn’t right, wasn’t consistent. When she went down to her basement, everything would readjust, like pupils dilating at a sudden light. And then she could tell that only a day, tops, had passed since she’d first entered Wanda’s spell.

It was all very impressive, the way that time and space had warped around that tiny finger. She just needed to know how, and she wasn’t above ripping off Lucille Ball to do it. Every time Wanda had to cast a spell and prevent a bite of chaos, every time that chipper veneer was chipped at, Agatha came a little closer to understanding the breadth and width of what was going on in Westview.

And so when a potato peel hit Wanda on the face, Agatha did not cackle, she didn’t snort, she just took a slim notebook from her purse and tapped a fountain pen against her tongue.

“I just have to sell ten of these, and I’ll be entered into a drawing for a nearly-new convertible. Can I put you down for three?”

The doorbell rang.

Wanda looked relieved. “Sorry, Agnes,” she said. Peeling the potato from her cheek, she stood to retreat to the living room. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course, hon!” With a rattle, Agatha switched off the Handy-Dandy Kitchen Helper. She called after Wanda, “Don’t forget to ask them if they could use America’s fastest-selling kitchen utensil!”

When the kitchen door swung shut, Agatha quickly followed, holding up a glass to the door and pressing her ear to it. She frowned; she didn’t remember picking up the cup, much less where it had come from. Maybe the nosy neighbor routine was getting too instinctive.  

She heard the door open and Wanda’s surprised: “Oh, Y/N! How are you?”

The applause of the invisible audience echoed into the kitchen. 

Agatha adjusted the glass. It began to shimmer violet as she did her best to amplify the volume.

“Perfectly miserable, Wanda; the world is absolutely coming to an end, nothing has meaning anymore, and there’s no point in going on.” A voice rang out—a new voice—in one big dramatic sigh. A sympathetic ‘Aw!' rose up over the audience’s laughter. “Also Vision forgot some paperwork."

“Well, you know my husband,” Wanda replied, in the lull between laughs. “He’d forget his head if it weren’t screwed on right.”

The new voice said something Agatha couldn’t quite hear. She tutted. Then she straightened her dress, fixed her grin, pushed through the kitchen door—

And found herself face to face with an Avenger.

But not the one she’d been expecting.

When did you get here?

Your name was on the tip of her tongue… Y/N something. One of the, ah, second-string ones. Middle of the roster. But you were cute—the approachable kind that was good for PR; she’d seen you plastered up on posters next to the A-listers. No magic in you, nothing like that. Maybe you were one of the radioactive bug ones. Or maybe you’d tripped into a vat of toxic waste. She vaguely remembered a newsbite of you… flipping a car? Turning invisible? Shooting sparks out of your ears? Something anyway, something Super™ and too far afield for her to have cared very much at the time.

And here you were, a sweet wool skirt swishing around your calves, a big sepia pout puckering your lips. Agatha barely suppressed a snort.  

Phew. Just, like, phew.

I really didn’t mean to ghost y’all for, uh, 2+ months, that hiatus was not planned. I just sort of crashed and burned. It was pretty rough. And I just needed to take a step back from basically everything and just have a good solid meltdown. And once I regrouped, I decided it would be helpful for me, time management and emotional-energy wise, to stay offline for a bit. And it’s been a mixed bag, tbh. I’ve been doing more art, and I’ve started writing my own book again. I’m getting shit done. And I’ve really, really missed y’all. 

I’m doing a lot better, and I’ve been poking around with fic writing again, but this blog won’t reach the sheer amount of content being spat out per week that I was managing at the beginning of the pandemic, when I was hyperfixated and nostalgic and bored and desperate for some semblance of structure. And honestly, slowing down will be a good, normal, healthy thing (like this is fic, and in retrospect I had zero chill about it). Also, heads up, I am (mostly because Wandavision’s Agatha Harkness exists and I grew up in a vintage sitcom household, so Marvel did the One Thing that could bring me back into the fold) planning on branching out from Doctor Who and (occasionally) adding a few more fandoms to the mix

TLDR: I’m back, but like, we’re reaching the first year anniversary of this blog (time isn’t REAL), and being back means dialing it down some and occasionally shaking things up. TBD on WIP Weds, that might be a summer thing only or an every few weeks thing; I’m still figuring out what taking requests will be like, and I’ve decided not to put myself on any sort of schedule right now. So excited to catch up with y’all, sorry sorry sorry to everyone I’ve left on read, and to any new readers, hi!!

Thank you for the tag, @startrekkingaroundasgard! 💖 I didn’t technically get to this before the end of 2020, but it was fun to look back on what I’ve written, pick my faves, and let myself feel a bit proud :)

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works <3

1. A Not-So-Modest Proposal (Missy x Reader x 13th Doctor) - Reformed-Lite Missy just might be my favorite character to write, and I loved writing her interacting with Thirteen. And I think in the end I managed a decent balance of goofy shenanigans and genuine, difficult-to-navigate feelings? Anyway, this is the story I had the most fun writing this year, hands down. And I go back and reread comments on NSMP when I'm feeling less than stellar

2. Lights Out (10th Doctor x Reader) - Even though I've been on hiatus for a ridiculously long time on the final part (😬), I still really love this series. I like that it’s a little spooky. And I basically never do original characters in fic, but I had so much fun cobbling together the tour group. And I'm pretty proud of the pacing/episode vibes, and I liked the setting I developed. Love a macabre tourist trap. Aaaand one day I'll finish it :)

3. Why Can't I Be You? (Missy x Reader) - I had to include one of the Trial!Companion Reader/Missy pretending to be the Doctor on a test mission fics. Both were SO much fun to write. This beat out Being Good™ for me because of the prop comedy, tbh. I just really like the idea of Missy lugging around her own statue's decapitated head. Also: hair pulling

4. Matchmaker, Matchmaker (Donna Noble x Reader) - I don't even think my writing in this one is particularly stellar, but 1) I will just keep flinging Donna fics into the doctor who x reader tag with wild abandon; 2) I love writing Donna + Doctor bickering; and 3) It really did feel kind of full-circle for me. The very first dw fics that I wrote ages ago on my old account were matchmaker Donna fics with Ten. If you’d told then-closeted me I’d eventually write Donna x reader for people who genuinely wanted to read it, I would’ve been really excited (and maybe a little pleasantly confused)

5. Glow Up (13th Doctor x Reader) - The first Thirteenth Doctor fic that I ever wrote, technically. Like, it's just another 12 regenerates into 13 fic, but I really like the softness of the ending. I think it's one of my favorite kiss scenes that I've written, and that's why I've decided to include it :)

And, like, cheating a little to include a sort-of-sixth item, but it’s not my usual fare and I’m genuinely proud of it: I actually really liked how the Reader Companion Theme (13th Doctor x Reader) that I composed turned out

I do not know why this vaguely has a plot, but I hope you like it, hon 🎄

“Is this—is this an office party?” you asked, after the third person you’d bumped into had nodded deferentially to River Song and greeted her as ‘Doctor.’

River inclined her head toward yet another stuffy-looking academic. Her earrings caught the light and glittered against her cheek. “Departmental Christmas party.”

 You looked around the room—stuffy, packed with stern, wrinkled old faces and paisley ties–and tried very hard not to whine. Self-consciously, you tugged at the hem of your dress. You’d been a little proud of how slinky it was earlier, but now— “River, you didn’t tell me this was a work thing.”

 She gave you a dimpled smile over her champagne flute. “If I had, you wouldn’t have agreed to come.”

 “That’s not true,” you protested. She quirked an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, that’s maybe a little true. But when you said ‘you, me: holiday party at eight; wear something sexy and be ready to run,’ I really didn’t picture a room full of archeologists.”

 River’s fingers laced through yours, her thumb rubbing the top of your hand. She gave you a warm smirk, one that was just a little bit sly. “Come on, love. It’ll be fun, I promise. Things’ll liven up.”

 “What, is Dave over there going to get drunk and start a sing-song?”

 “That’s Todd, and no. He’s a recovering alcoholic.” When you grimaced, River burst into a low chuckle. “Kidding, sweetheart. I don’t know even him. Must be someone’s spouse.”

 “You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” you grumbled. And she was: in a deep gold dress with green embroidery, she looked unreal against the sea of tweed. Her hair was coiled into a loose bun, her lips painted a dark red. You thought there was some tinsel coiled within her curls.

 “What if your coworkers don’t like me?” you asked, after taking a long sip of your drink. “You’re kind of throwing me to the wolves.”

 “Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re all terrible snobs, very set in their ways. Not an ounce of empathy among them. There’s no real chance of them liking you.”

 You watched her pop a canapé in her mouth and gaped at her. “Then why are we here?”

 “To stir up a little excitement, sweetheart.” River tapped your chin closed, then pressed it up a little higher. “Look up.”

 Mistletoe. In the arch of the doorway, right over your head. 

You started to scoff, but River guided your face closer, murmured in your ear: “Merry Christmas, darling.”

 And then she was kissing you, champagne still on her tongue. Your face flushed, and a very embarrassed part of you wanted to jerk your head away. These were her colleagues. But her lips were soft and insistent, and no one in the universe could coax out a kiss quite like River Song could, and by the end of it, you had to remind yourself where you were, remind yourself not to weave your fingers through her curls and tug them loose.

 When River pulled back, she flashed you a quick grin, then announced—to the room, the whole room at large— “Now, then. You know me, off to do something very clever.” Your eyes narrowed, but before you could question her, she pulled out her sonic screwdriver and added, “You’ll fill in the blanks for these good people, won’t you?”

 River then disappeared into the hallway.

 Still under the mistletoe, you slowly turned to face the room. A dozen pairs of eyes met yours.