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1character2025-09-23 10:19 pm
trillingstar) wrote in 1character2025-09-23 10:19 pm
A Dollop of Murder (Fifty Sentences for Agatha Raisin)
Title: A Dollop of Murder | on DW | on AO3
Character: Agatha Raisin
Fandom: Agatha Raisin (TV)
Theme Set: Alpha
Rating: Teen
Word Count: ~1600
Warnings: Brief, non-explicit mentions of murder, kink, and canonical minor character death.
Summary: Fifty unordered sentences centred on title character Agatha Raisin.
speak
The number of times that Agatha chose not to speak her mind when it came to solving a murder could be counted on one hand alone.
touch
It was at funeral receptions and wakes that she employed a lighter touch — though, if she hasn't gotten the information by the second pass of crudités, something's seriously wrong, or she's been kidnapped.
memory
The Cotswolds have changed a bit over the years, but as soon as Agatha spots Elm Cottage up for sale, she experiences the same strong twist of desire she'd first felt to live here, in peaceful community amid pastoral English countryside.
vanilla
Carefully, Agatha leaned out over the brimming bathtub, blowing lightly at the scented bubbles gathering near the victim's knee that obscured an object further submerged.
chocolate
It had been a true, real-life emergency, and anyway, Roy swept through the duty-free all the time now, so it'd be a snap for him to restock the boxes of Belgian truffles he'd stashed in her pantry.
ways and means
Agatha used a portion of the money from the sale of her PR agency on the necessary renos, giving the old building a desperately-needed makeover for its new life as her detective agency.
belief
Finders keepers, she'd gotten there first, possession was nine-tenths of the law or something like that — or was that only in America?
linger
Her bags were packed and stowed, and there was no reason to linger over a wistful daydream in the doorway of Charles Fraith's Dembley cottage, but it proved maddeningly difficult to let go.
luminance
When the old trunk's rusty lock finally broke open under their assault, Agatha had to close her eyes against the glare emanating from within — "this's just like Pulp Fiction," from Roy in a stage-whisper to her left — and she immediately reached inside.
ornament
"You look like an extra in My Fair Lady," James groused; Agatha shot back, "And you look like an extra on Doctor Who," knowing he'd puzzle over that comparison all afternoon.
coup de foudre
Agatha trailed her fingertips along Marilyn's side, admiring the bright aqua paint job that James had paid extra for, a lot extra, just for her.
archway
Agatha dallied on the steps and again in the archway of the old church, both excited for and dreading tonight's bell ringing practice.
fate
Agatha stomped on the accelerator pedal and the little rental did its best, pitching forward into the stream of traffic careening around the roundabout.
pulse
She'd never seen Charlie looking so debonair, and Agatha felt like licking her lips, the proverbial pussycat with the saucerful of cream.
envelope
Agatha stared numbly at the elasticated folder on her coffee table containing all of the worldly documents with regard to Jimmy Raisin, RIP.
cold
Pulling up the hot pink faux fur-lined hood on her short quilted jacket, Agatha shivered, wishing for a hot toddy to cup in her hands as she huddled against the stone wall, waiting for her suspect to emerge from the mausoleum.
need
"Listen, Bill, I need to know when the body was discovered, not when the call came through to your mobile, no one cares about that!"
drunk
At Roy's blowout birthday bash, as she stumbled along the hall toward the loo, Agatha unexpectedly caught a glimpse of Charles passionately snogging James, just inside the darkened kitchen.
mask
Holding the bundle of black ostrich feathers in a very particular way, Agatha stepped out onto the stage, instantly drawn to the spotlight.
rose
Agatha squinted at the brunch menu, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
two
Suddenly, a second Colin Firth-styled-as-Mister-Darcy appeared, stepping gracefully out of Gemma's machine.
fresh
Outside, the day bloomed fresh around her, the sun shone warmly on her shoulders, the daffodils jostled in a friendly manner as she strode confidently down the driveway, eyes trained on the postbox: the mail-order video starring Roy's rebound shag naked yoga instructor man was to arrive today.
bribe
"Roy, darlingest of darlings, I need you to— a favour, we'll call it— yes, I know all too well that you are no longer my treasured assistant— but instead you are my treasured fri— it won't take a minute, find out all you can as soon as you can, and get right back to m— wha— come on, don't you think that's— oh, all right, fine, yes, I said yes!"
error
"I may have made an eensy mistake," Agatha told Sarah as they crouched behind the now-open sarcophagus.
appetite
To think how close she'd come to sticking the fork in her mouth to carry it from drawer to sofa, her hands otherwise occupied with the cake plate and a glass of champagne: Agatha shivered as she read through the toxicology report.
refrain
Widening her eyes innocently and letting her voice rise, Agatha blustered at Wilkes, "Entirely coincidental, a chance fluke, utterly preposterous, and no reason to think anything else — I only happened to be walking past, and now I merely want to get on my way, not think about a murder!"
family
Sighing, Agatha turned her pointed-toe patent leather cheetah print stilettos towards home.
grieve
Sometimes the only way out is through, Agatha thought, remembering her conversation about widows with Amanda Ballard, whilst perched atop a pony, but sometimes through drops into a ditch.
vapor
Risking a covert glance at James, Agatha turned to the wild-haired scientist, her chest tight with excitement, "So you're saying that it's possible to — vaporize a living, a living, uh, thing... yes, theoretically, but it — it's possible."
tea
Head pounding, with a deep pillow crease across her cheek, Agatha staggered down the front stairs, pre-emptively squinting against any of the day's brightness in her quest for the kitchen and the kettle.
medicine
Grabbing her magnifying glass, Agatha studied the residue dried on the chemist's pipette, careful not to touch it.
moth
With a wistful sigh, Agatha fingered a small hole in one of her favourite cashmere sweaters, but Hodge lived there too, and having him around was more than a trade off.
perfect
She'd loved her time in PR, being the boss and giving the orders, but she'd be the boss here, too, and this felt right: poring over details, studying human nature, solving puzzles, maybe even saving lives.
rope
Agatha watched while Gemma fruitlessly rubbed her bound wrists together, searching for weaknesses in the frayed bits on the first knot, but Agatha had been practicing.
wind
Agatha wedged her updo under the half-helmet and buckled it tightly under her chin, then yanked up one side of her dress to slide one leg over the tooled leather motorcycle seat.
crossroads
With a shimmer, the demon appeared in response to Agatha's offering, then said, "Ready to deal? Tonight only, half-price for a vengeful go-getter like you. I love an accent and a cute pair of heels."
summer
Mr. Harvey, the grocer, complained at length about people on holiday and he hadn't glanced at her once, what a triumph!
candy
Queued up for the holiday potluck, Agatha spotted Mr. Boggle with one finger jammed in his ear before pawing through all of the ribbon candy, fruit jellies, and foams, a platter she would now avoid.
photograph
"Sarah, our Sarah, nope — I refuse to hear it — 'I haven't always been a vicar's wife,' all right, Frisky Fraith; sounds like the opening lines for a letter to some sleazy magazine."
spoon
Gingerly, Agatha held the tail end of the ladle with the tips of her fingernails, trying to make sense of the inscription without causing any disturbances to the pool of drying blood where it lay.
forest
"Oh James, that innocent little rabbit did not try to 'take a chunk out of you,' the poor thing's scared witless!"
mirror
The lights in the ghost-riddled house flickered ominously; as they strengthened, a framed picture of ol' Missus Whoozit's ancestor fell from the wall, smashing on the floor scant inches from Agatha's toes.
smoke
Excitedly, Agatha scrolled down the website, searching for — and there it was in large font, announcing the annual Firefighter Challenge would be held in the charming village of Carsely, all thanks to the generous support of the Agatha Raisin Detective Agency! — an event that would more than repay the favour she owed to Roy.
shine
Agatha's mouth fell open — she tried to scream, but it was too late — she could only watch in horror as James disappeared into the swirling muck, sucked into the current and swept away forever.
balloon
"Agatha, please stop, I'm very certain you cannot hijack a weather balloon and put it to use reporting on your neighbours, I don't care how many times you've 'nearly caught' Mary Fortune cutting in at the newsstand or 'looking like' she wants to violate Green Cross Code!"
vine
"Top me up, Charlie boy," Agatha cried, holding out her near-empty wine glass.
butterfly
Lazily, Agatha trailed the tips of her fingers up and down Gemma's bare back, tickling over the colourful little tattoo on her shoulder.
gloves
Slowly, devilishly, Agatha drew the leather on, pulling each glove up and over her elbow as smoothly as she could, all the while smiling sharkishly down at Gemma, who lay naked and spread-eagled on their bed.
venom
Flipping through the nature guide, Agatha was at a loss, unable to find a single picture or description matching the spider that dropped from the trees down the back of James' shirt, making him shout out and then silently fall down.
remain
Smiling broadly, Agatha surveyed her new space, filled with all the tools she'd need to solve any crime, and it was her name on the facade, her achievement on display.
Character: Agatha Raisin
Fandom: Agatha Raisin (TV)
Theme Set: Alpha
Rating: Teen
Word Count: ~1600
Warnings: Brief, non-explicit mentions of murder, kink, and canonical minor character death.
Summary: Fifty unordered sentences centred on title character Agatha Raisin.
speak
The number of times that Agatha chose not to speak her mind when it came to solving a murder could be counted on one hand alone.
touch
It was at funeral receptions and wakes that she employed a lighter touch — though, if she hasn't gotten the information by the second pass of crudités, something's seriously wrong, or she's been kidnapped.
memory
The Cotswolds have changed a bit over the years, but as soon as Agatha spots Elm Cottage up for sale, she experiences the same strong twist of desire she'd first felt to live here, in peaceful community amid pastoral English countryside.
vanilla
Carefully, Agatha leaned out over the brimming bathtub, blowing lightly at the scented bubbles gathering near the victim's knee that obscured an object further submerged.
chocolate
It had been a true, real-life emergency, and anyway, Roy swept through the duty-free all the time now, so it'd be a snap for him to restock the boxes of Belgian truffles he'd stashed in her pantry.
ways and means
Agatha used a portion of the money from the sale of her PR agency on the necessary renos, giving the old building a desperately-needed makeover for its new life as her detective agency.
belief
Finders keepers, she'd gotten there first, possession was nine-tenths of the law or something like that — or was that only in America?
linger
Her bags were packed and stowed, and there was no reason to linger over a wistful daydream in the doorway of Charles Fraith's Dembley cottage, but it proved maddeningly difficult to let go.
luminance
When the old trunk's rusty lock finally broke open under their assault, Agatha had to close her eyes against the glare emanating from within — "this's just like Pulp Fiction," from Roy in a stage-whisper to her left — and she immediately reached inside.
ornament
"You look like an extra in My Fair Lady," James groused; Agatha shot back, "And you look like an extra on Doctor Who," knowing he'd puzzle over that comparison all afternoon.
coup de foudre
Agatha trailed her fingertips along Marilyn's side, admiring the bright aqua paint job that James had paid extra for, a lot extra, just for her.
archway
Agatha dallied on the steps and again in the archway of the old church, both excited for and dreading tonight's bell ringing practice.
fate
Agatha stomped on the accelerator pedal and the little rental did its best, pitching forward into the stream of traffic careening around the roundabout.
pulse
She'd never seen Charlie looking so debonair, and Agatha felt like licking her lips, the proverbial pussycat with the saucerful of cream.
envelope
Agatha stared numbly at the elasticated folder on her coffee table containing all of the worldly documents with regard to Jimmy Raisin, RIP.
cold
Pulling up the hot pink faux fur-lined hood on her short quilted jacket, Agatha shivered, wishing for a hot toddy to cup in her hands as she huddled against the stone wall, waiting for her suspect to emerge from the mausoleum.
need
"Listen, Bill, I need to know when the body was discovered, not when the call came through to your mobile, no one cares about that!"
drunk
At Roy's blowout birthday bash, as she stumbled along the hall toward the loo, Agatha unexpectedly caught a glimpse of Charles passionately snogging James, just inside the darkened kitchen.
mask
Holding the bundle of black ostrich feathers in a very particular way, Agatha stepped out onto the stage, instantly drawn to the spotlight.
rose
Agatha squinted at the brunch menu, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
two
Suddenly, a second Colin Firth-styled-as-Mister-Darcy appeared, stepping gracefully out of Gemma's machine.
fresh
Outside, the day bloomed fresh around her, the sun shone warmly on her shoulders, the daffodils jostled in a friendly manner as she strode confidently down the driveway, eyes trained on the postbox: the mail-order video starring Roy's rebound shag naked yoga instructor man was to arrive today.
bribe
"Roy, darlingest of darlings, I need you to— a favour, we'll call it— yes, I know all too well that you are no longer my treasured assistant— but instead you are my treasured fri— it won't take a minute, find out all you can as soon as you can, and get right back to m— wha— come on, don't you think that's— oh, all right, fine, yes, I said yes!"
error
"I may have made an eensy mistake," Agatha told Sarah as they crouched behind the now-open sarcophagus.
appetite
To think how close she'd come to sticking the fork in her mouth to carry it from drawer to sofa, her hands otherwise occupied with the cake plate and a glass of champagne: Agatha shivered as she read through the toxicology report.
refrain
Widening her eyes innocently and letting her voice rise, Agatha blustered at Wilkes, "Entirely coincidental, a chance fluke, utterly preposterous, and no reason to think anything else — I only happened to be walking past, and now I merely want to get on my way, not think about a murder!"
family
Sighing, Agatha turned her pointed-toe patent leather cheetah print stilettos towards home.
grieve
Sometimes the only way out is through, Agatha thought, remembering her conversation about widows with Amanda Ballard, whilst perched atop a pony, but sometimes through drops into a ditch.
vapor
Risking a covert glance at James, Agatha turned to the wild-haired scientist, her chest tight with excitement, "So you're saying that it's possible to — vaporize a living, a living, uh, thing... yes, theoretically, but it — it's possible."
tea
Head pounding, with a deep pillow crease across her cheek, Agatha staggered down the front stairs, pre-emptively squinting against any of the day's brightness in her quest for the kitchen and the kettle.
medicine
Grabbing her magnifying glass, Agatha studied the residue dried on the chemist's pipette, careful not to touch it.
moth
With a wistful sigh, Agatha fingered a small hole in one of her favourite cashmere sweaters, but Hodge lived there too, and having him around was more than a trade off.
perfect
She'd loved her time in PR, being the boss and giving the orders, but she'd be the boss here, too, and this felt right: poring over details, studying human nature, solving puzzles, maybe even saving lives.
rope
Agatha watched while Gemma fruitlessly rubbed her bound wrists together, searching for weaknesses in the frayed bits on the first knot, but Agatha had been practicing.
wind
Agatha wedged her updo under the half-helmet and buckled it tightly under her chin, then yanked up one side of her dress to slide one leg over the tooled leather motorcycle seat.
crossroads
With a shimmer, the demon appeared in response to Agatha's offering, then said, "Ready to deal? Tonight only, half-price for a vengeful go-getter like you. I love an accent and a cute pair of heels."
summer
Mr. Harvey, the grocer, complained at length about people on holiday and he hadn't glanced at her once, what a triumph!
candy
Queued up for the holiday potluck, Agatha spotted Mr. Boggle with one finger jammed in his ear before pawing through all of the ribbon candy, fruit jellies, and foams, a platter she would now avoid.
photograph
"Sarah, our Sarah, nope — I refuse to hear it — 'I haven't always been a vicar's wife,' all right, Frisky Fraith; sounds like the opening lines for a letter to some sleazy magazine."
spoon
Gingerly, Agatha held the tail end of the ladle with the tips of her fingernails, trying to make sense of the inscription without causing any disturbances to the pool of drying blood where it lay.
forest
"Oh James, that innocent little rabbit did not try to 'take a chunk out of you,' the poor thing's scared witless!"
mirror
The lights in the ghost-riddled house flickered ominously; as they strengthened, a framed picture of ol' Missus Whoozit's ancestor fell from the wall, smashing on the floor scant inches from Agatha's toes.
smoke
Excitedly, Agatha scrolled down the website, searching for — and there it was in large font, announcing the annual Firefighter Challenge would be held in the charming village of Carsely, all thanks to the generous support of the Agatha Raisin Detective Agency! — an event that would more than repay the favour she owed to Roy.
shine
Agatha's mouth fell open — she tried to scream, but it was too late — she could only watch in horror as James disappeared into the swirling muck, sucked into the current and swept away forever.
balloon
"Agatha, please stop, I'm very certain you cannot hijack a weather balloon and put it to use reporting on your neighbours, I don't care how many times you've 'nearly caught' Mary Fortune cutting in at the newsstand or 'looking like' she wants to violate Green Cross Code!"
vine
"Top me up, Charlie boy," Agatha cried, holding out her near-empty wine glass.
butterfly
Lazily, Agatha trailed the tips of her fingers up and down Gemma's bare back, tickling over the colourful little tattoo on her shoulder.
gloves
Slowly, devilishly, Agatha drew the leather on, pulling each glove up and over her elbow as smoothly as she could, all the while smiling sharkishly down at Gemma, who lay naked and spread-eagled on their bed.
venom
Flipping through the nature guide, Agatha was at a loss, unable to find a single picture or description matching the spider that dropped from the trees down the back of James' shirt, making him shout out and then silently fall down.
remain
Smiling broadly, Agatha surveyed her new space, filled with all the tools she'd need to solve any crime, and it was her name on the facade, her achievement on display.