#the ghosts of the past are here. they are present.

[harringroveobsessed]

Prompt - Moon for @harringrovemicroficandart.

Billy had been here for hours now just watching as the blue faded fast giving way to vibrant oranges and dusky pinks until the only light illuminating the quarry came from the full moon. He stubbed out yet another cigarette as he lay back against the hood of the car allowing his mind to wander, nights like these always brought back memories of his mom. Billy snorted softly to himself pondering how even now he could recite every phase of the moon she ever taught him.

Billy always knew Maria Hargrove was different than the other kids Mom’s even from a young age. While his classmates would share weekend tales of being allowed to stay up past 10pm to watch movies, Billy spent his weekends holding hands with his Mom, rings on each of her fingers combing the streets by moonlight looking for treasures.

Treasures, Billy learned could be anything from a shard of beach glass in a pretty shade of turquoise, a delicate stemmed flower just waiting to be pressed and preserved or dainty little seashells that glimmered cheerfully when they catch the light.

Looking for treasures became such an important part of the time he spent with his Mom that even now, despite the ever present pang in his heart Billy finds himself scanning the floor of the quarry, absentmindedly looking for anything his Mom would declare special enough to keep with the small collection in his glovebox.

Maria Hargrove fancied herself something of a moon child, an astronomer tracking the cycles of the moon each month and teaching him constellations before he could even tell the time. She taught him how the moon turns the tides, how each moon phase lasts only around a week orbiting around the sun before moving and bringing with it a new meaning each time.

He can’t help the small hitch in his breath as he remembers standing in this exact spot almost two weeks earlier gazing up at the First Quarter Moon; the memory of his Mom’s melodic voice ghosting in his ear. “This phase is time for manifestation Bee, it gives you time to reassess, make adjustments in your life, remove what is in your way and move forward with determination”

He supposes she did just that back then; she made adjustments and moved forward without him.

It’s quiet up here at night, not many people bother with the drive once the temperature starts to drop but Billy likes the peace, the quiet crashing of the water below him and only the moon to cast her critical eye over him – he’d prefer the cosmos itself rather than his Dad. He’s sighs heavily about to crawl into his backseat and call it a night when he hears a car climbing up the hill; the sound of the approach he knows particularly well. Unlike the sound of his Dad’s truck, which growing up he came to memorise in order to expect oncoming pain, the tires currently crunching across the gravel ground bring him something else entirely.

“Drove by your house, you weren’t answering your walkie” Steve murmured over the sound of his door slipping closed, the sound of gravel crunching again as he moved towards the Camaro.

“Neil found it” Billy said, shoulders hunching self consciously “wanted to know why I had a stupid kids toy, had to pretend it was Max’s. She’s probably turned it off to be safe. Sorry.”

Billy didn’t even have to turn his head to feel big Bambi eyes full of worry burning a hole into the side of his face.

“Billy, are you hurt? Why didn’t you come to me, you know you can always come to me. I want you to come to me.” Steve said sounding almost pained.

Billy didn’t respond, feeling guilty yet not even sure what the hell for and continued to stare resolutely up at the full moon.

When Billy let the moment drag on without a response Steve huffed loudly pushing himself off the hood and bullied his way in between Billy’s legs. Leaning forward to place both of his hands softly on Billy’s knees, Steve ducked his head trying to catch Billy’s eyes with a concerned expression.

“What are you doing out here Blue?” Steve whispered. Billy took a breath and let it out slowly as he inclined his head to give Steve the eye contact he was striving for.

“’s a full moon is all pretty boy, I’m not hiding from you or anything I-I just… it’s nice out. Stars are out you know, reminds me of home and my Mom I guess”

Steve smiled softly and finally tore his eyes away from Billy’s and set his gaze up to the sky. Billy watched on intently as the reflection of the full moon shone bright in Steve’s hazel eyes; like the world itself knew that seeing the moon through Steve Harrington’s eyes was the only way to view it.

Billy felt his heart clench as he bit his lip and tipped forward to rest his forehead on his boyfriend’s chest.

Steve knew about his Mom and her draw to the cosmos, had pulled it out of Billy with weed and kisses when he found him up here the last time. Billy had expected him to scoff or laugh like the kids did when he was younger, but Steve surprised him, kissed him on the forehead, took his hand and asked Billy to show him the constellations.

Billy really should have learned by now to stop being surprised by Steve Harrington, half of the collection lovingly stored in his glovebox came from Steve. Pretty stones he found that shimmered in the sun, a blue gem Steve found he said reminded him of Billy’s eyes, a red rose from their first date.

Steve draws away for only a minute and returns with a blanket holding out his hand to Billy, they huddle together on the frozen ground of the quarry as Steve kisses his forehead just like last time.

“Tell me about the full moon Blue”

I'm sorry the word count got a way from me a little but this is the first thing I've written in YEARS and I hope someone enjoys it even a little. Apologies for any grammar mistakes, high school was a long time ago.

For @intothedysphoria and @dragonflylady77 who both have encouraged me once upon a time to pick up writing again!

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business - FINALE

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: As time flowed within HQ, the relentless pace of the outside world slowed, revealing a quiet intensity that enveloped you and the 141 Mafia. Unspoken glances and lingering touches hinted at deeper feelings, transforming your connections into something more profound—a family forged through shared struggles and intimacy.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 5 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9

Part 10: Heartbeats in the Darkness

Time, once a relentless force driving the missions and battles of the 141 Mafia, began to take on a different shape as the days bled into weeks and weeks into months. It moved slower now, but not in the sense of dragging. Rather, it felt fuller, richer. Moments that had once been fleeting—brushed aside in the wake of the next operation—now lingered, drawing out a quiet intensity that none of you could deny. Something had changed within HQ, within the walls that had once been built on duty and discipline alone. There was a shift in the air, subtle at first, but unmistakable.

It began with glances—those lingering moments when you’d catch one of them looking at you a second too long, their gaze softening in a way that made your heart stutter. There was no immediate acknowledgment, no spoken words, but the energy between you all had shifted. The way Soap’s laugh would light up a room, but now it felt like it was meant just for you. The way Ghost, ever so silent and distant, would sit closer during those quiet evenings, the shadows of his past retreating just a little under the warmth of your presence. The way Gaz’s eyes would track your movements with something deeper than just friendship, a quiet admiration woven with something more. Even Price, the stoic leader, seemed to soften around you, his words holding a certain tenderness when he spoke your name.

It was a crush, undeniable and unspoken, but it was more than that. This wasn’t just the flicker of attraction that might come and go with time—it was something stronger, something born from shared struggles, from bonds that went deeper than the surface. Each of them carried scars, hidden battles they rarely let anyone see, but with you, those walls had begun to crumble. You had become the light in their dark world, and in return, they became yours.

Each moment with them was charged with an intensity that made your heart race. It was in the smallest of things—the brush of Ghost’s gloved hand against yours as he passed you in the hallway, the way Soap’s shoulder would linger just a fraction too long against yours as you sat side by side, laughing about something insignificant. Gaz would often stand a little too close when you worked together, his quiet presence a steady force beside you. And Price… there was a warmth in the way he spoke to you, a protective edge that felt different now, not just as a leader looking out for a teammate, but as something more.

At first, you had brushed it off as a natural closeness, a bond formed in the heat of battle and forged in the fires of shared experience. But as the moments stretched on, the truth became harder to ignore. There was something unspoken between all of you, something that had grown beyond camaraderie. It was a connection, an intimacy that you hadn’t expected but now found yourself welcoming with an open heart.

Your heart, once heavy with the burden of your past, began to quicken at the thought of them—not just as comrades or friends, but as something more. Each of them had their own light, their own shadowed histories that they carried silently, and somehow, you had found yourself becoming the anchor that tethered them to the present. They had given you a family, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you had needed until you were wrapped in it.

And maybe, just maybe, you had come to love them—each in their own way.

Ghost, with his quiet intensity, had shown you a vulnerability that no one else had ever glimpsed. Beneath the mask, behind the hardened exterior, was a man who had borne the weight of too many secrets, too many losses. But with you, he had let down his guard, if only just enough to show you that he still had a heart, beating and bruised but alive. His silence spoke volumes, and when he lingered in the room with you, it was as though he found peace in your presence—a peace he hadn’t known in years.

Soap, ever the joker, had become something more than just the loud, rambunctious soldier you had first met. He had shown you a softness behind the laughter, a boyish charm that hid the deeper layers of a man who had seen too much, who used humor to shield himself from the pain. With you, his laughter was real, but so was the way his eyes would linger on yours a little longer, his touch a little more tender. He had found joy in you, and in turn, you had found joy in him.

Gaz, always the steady one, had become your constant. His admiration for you was no longer something quiet and distant—it was something you could feel in every shared glance, every moment you worked side by side. He admired your strength, your resilience, but more than that, he saw you. He saw the parts of you that you kept hidden from the world, and he cherished them. His respect for you had grown into something deeper, something that neither of you needed to say out loud.

And Price… Price had always been a leader, a father figure of sorts, but with you, it had shifted. He saw in you not just a teammate, not just someone to protect, but someone who gave him something to fight for beyond the next mission. You had brought warmth to his world, a sense of family that he had lost long ago. In you, he found comfort, a quiet sense of belonging that he hadn’t realized he had needed. And in his presence, you found a safety you hadn’t known before, a reassurance that no matter what came next, he would be there to guide you through it.

As the days stretched on, the unspoken feelings between you all deepened. It wasn’t something that needed to be rushed or defined. There was beauty in the lingering glances, in the brushes of fingers and the stolen moments in the quiet corners of HQ. It was a love that transcended words, a connection that had been forged in the fires of your shared pasts and now blossomed in the light of the present.

You had become the light in their lives, and in turn, they had illuminated yours. You, who had once been lost in the shadows of your past, had found a new kind of freedom—a freedom in the love you shared with these men, each of them warriors in their own right, each of them carrying their own hidden battles. Together, you had faced the darkness, and together, you had found the light.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough. Enough to know that in this world, where chaos reigned and battles were fought in the shadows, you had found a family, a love that went beyond the surface, a connection that would stand the test of time. Together, in the darkness, your heartbeats had found a rhythm, a song of survival, of hope, and of love.

And now, you were finally ready to embrace it.

In the warmth of HQ, the bonds between you deepened, each heartbeat echoing a connection built on love and trust. Together, you had become each other’s light in the darkness, united by resilience and hope. Ready to embrace the future, you found strength in the unbreakable rhythm of your shared lives.

Thank you for reading this far in the series! This is the ending of this story, but there will always be more to come for you to enjoy!

Tag List:

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@rafaelacallinybbay

@stormy-stardust

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list lovely!

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[wiinestories]

Agatha listened in silence, her heart caught somewhere between understanding and the sharp pang of insecurity. She could see the torment in Cade’s eyes, the weight of his past clawing its way back into their present. Her own heart twisted at the thought of everything he’d suffered, all those dark nights and years of wondering, grieving someone he’d once loved. But the idea of her…of Alma…being overshadowed by that ghost, even briefly, was hard to swallow. She didn’t want to hold this against him—she understood why he needed answers, truly, she did. But it didn't make the ache any less real. She took a deep breath, letting his hand steady her as he pressed those soft kisses to her knuckles. “Cade,” she murmured, her voice gentler than she felt, “I know how much you’ve been through. And if I were in your shoes, I’d be searching for answers too. It’s not wrong to want to close that chapter for good, especially after everything she put you through.” She squeezed his hand, meeting his gaze with a fierce, unwavering look. “But please, please remember what we’ve built here. What we have now, with Alma. You promised me she’d come first—and I trust you. I do. But it scares me to think of you going back down that road, even if it’s just to find closure.”

Her other hand lifted to his face, thumb tracing his cheek as she softened, her own walls slowly lowering. “I love you, Cade. And I know you love me, I do. But I need you to see me, to see us, and not let her shadow pull you away from what’s right here.” She paused, letting her words sink in, her thumb still brushing tenderly across his skin. The concern over what Sophie's return could bring gnawed at her, fuelling her protective instincts. “So go find your answers if that’s what you need, but don’t get lost in them. Promise me you’ll come back whole.”

"No I know, I know that I just... I've got a lot of questions y'know? A lot." he ran a hand up through his dark, short hair. Something e only did when he felt inwardly stressed or a sudden spike in emotions that he wasn't even sure how to process. "I don't want her to ruin anythin', not for me, not for you and not for Alma." it was the way he breathed slowly through flared nostrils, that idea that the irritation wasn't going to leave him because of this confusion she'd planted in him. There was a guilt too, a guilt that wished she'd just stayed gone and let him live under the belief that she was dead. He felt like it was the better way for him to live after all this time, continue believing something he'd comes to terms with rather than let him know that the past few years of his life... well all that pain he'd felt? All the turmoil and anguish, he could've felt none of it. He could've saved himself so many nightmares, laid dreaming of what had happened to her, images of her body, broken and mangled beyond repair, abandoned in some grotty ditch or desolate middle of nowhere pit. It turned his stomach even now and that wasn't fair because cade was, at the base of it all, happy. He'd finally found his peace, his joy... and that guilt strived, buried away in how much he wanted to keep it exactly as it'd been before he'd noticed her stood there.

"Not lettin' her get to me, you know that is easier said than done.. you know that and you know how long I spent tryin' to find her just to know she wasn't dead so for all that time wasted, well don't I deserve answers for that? I won't let Alma grow up thinkin' her daddy was half here and half somewhere else, that 'aint fair on her and it 'aint fair on you, I get that and I don't plan on running to her but Agatha, sweetheart, can't you see why I'd want answers?" Cade sighed. "None of this is easy, fuckin' none of it. None of it is fair either 'coz I feel like no matter what I do, I'm gonna end up wronging someone either way. I can promise you that she comes first to me, always." his little bundle of joy really, he'd adored Alma so quickly. "I love you, you do know that right? Whatever I had for er died, when she let me believe a million terrible things. Anything I felt for her, well that went. I'll care because I knew her, but I don't care for who she is now, that make sense?" Stupidly enough he was trying to say the right thing. "I loved her once, but I love you now and always." Cade reached for her hand, just so he could take it and lift it to his lips, placing light and tender kisses along her knuckles.

[laviefantasie]

[ Red In My Ledger ]

Pairings: Iron Man! Gojo Satoru x Black Widow! Reader

Summary: You could never truly forget your past, nor the blood that tainted your skin, but maybe you could learn to live in the present and look towards the future. Maybe you could if he rayed right beside you through it all.

The Avengers Tower was eerily quiet. The usual hum of activity that filled the corridors was replaced with a heavy silence as the team assembled in the war room. The threat that had brought them here was familiar to one person in particular—you—the Black Widow. You stood by the table, arms crossed tightly over your chest, as the rest of the Avengers discussed their next move.

In front of them were the holographic schematics of a highly secured building, its underground chambers filled with secrets—secrets from the past, and some that were better left buried. The remnants of the Red Room program had resurfaced. It wasn’t just a small, isolated group—it was global, with new recruits, experiments, and far more dangerous technology than before.

But for you, it wasn’t just another mission. It was your past, your deepest fear. The Red Room was where they had turned you into a weapon, a killing machine. The place that stole not only your childhood, but your ability to ever feel truly free again. The same place that stole your humanity, and now, they were back.

Beside you, Satoru, the Jujutsu Sorcerer who was far more than just an ally, tapped his fingers against the table. The sleek, white and black armor of his modern Iron Man suit reflected the dim light from above. His usual confident, carefree demeanor was gone. In its place, a quiet intensity you rarely saw. He knew what this meant for you. They all did.

“We can’t let them continue this. We need to finish this once and for all” he stated.

You didn’t speak at first, your gaze flicking from the holographic map to the faces of the other Avengers. They were all willing to fight. But only you knew what this really meant—what it would do to you to face this, to revisit the ghosts of your past. The fear of what they might find. The fear of what you might have to relive.

“I’m in. Let’s finish it”

Your voice was steady, but the words tasted bitter, like metal on your tongue.

Hours passed as the team geared up for the mission. Satoru worked tirelessly in the lab, fine-tuning his suit’s cursed energy filters to counteract any new enhancements the Red Room had created. He occasionally shot glances in your direction, but you kept herself busy, methodically checking your gear. You were preparing yourself for the fight ahead, but you were also preparing for something far more difficult—the emotional battle you would face when they entered the Red Room’s facility.

They had learned that the Red Room had merged with some darker jujutsu practices. Their experiments were more than just genetic manipulation—they were blending curses with human enhancement, creating twisted soldiers. Satoru had encountered similar experiments in his past, but even he didn’t know what to expect from these new creations.

“You’re quiet tonight”, his voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed the concern he felt. He glanced at you over the workbench, trying to gauge your mood.

You didn’t respond immediately. You were inspecting your guns, running your fingers over the cold metal as if the sensation could ground you. The sound of your fingers tracing the edges filled the space between them.

“You know I can’t let you do this alone, right? Whatever’s inside that place, I’m with you. You’re not facing it by yourself”

Your fingers stopped, the slight clink of the gun's mechanism now louder than ever in the silence.

“I don’t need anyone to fight for me. I can handle this” your words were clipped, defensive.

But they were a lie. You didn’t need someone to fight for you—but you needed someone to understand. To see you as more than just the weapon you had been trained to be.

Satoru didn’t push you further. He understood. You had never been one to ask for help. You had learned long ago that to rely on others was dangerous. That’s what they taught you in the Red Room: trust no one, not even yourself.

Instead, Satoru walked over to you, standing just behind you. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, a quiet gesture that was more for his reassurance than yours.

“You don’t have to say it. I already know”, his voice was warm, the softest you had heard it in a long while, “We don’t have to talk about it. But when this is over… when we’re done with all of this… I’ll be here. For whatever comes next”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure if you could let him in, if you were ready to show him how deeply broken you still were. How much of you was still locked inside that cold room, buried in blood and shame.

The operation was swift. They infiltrated the building, using stealth and precision. But the deeper they went into the Red Room’s facility, the more dangerous the situation became. The soldiers they encountered weren’t normal. They had been enhanced with cursed energy—monsters that fought with vicious, uncontrollable power. The deeper they went, the more the place began to feel like a labyrinth of nightmares.

“We need to get to the core of this place, quickly. The longer we stay here, the harder it’s going to be to get out” Satoru said, his voice echoing through the comms, focused as always, but his attention kept drifting back to you.

You were moving with a precision that only someone with your training could manage, but Satoru could see the cracks. Your eyes weren’t just watching the enemies—they were scanning the walls, the hallways, the shadows. They were looking for something else. Something more terrifying.

You knew this building. You knew the traps, the layouts, the hallways. They had been your prison for too long. The stench of it still clung to you, no matter how many years had passed. It made your skin crawl, made you feel like you were still the broken girl they had molded you into. A weapon. Nothing more. The mission was clear, but the emotional weight of it was unbearable.

As they reached the heart of the facility, they found themselves facing the Red Room’s last remaining operatives—monstrous soldiers enhanced with both cursed energy and the Black Widow’s own training. Your eyes narrowed. This was the final test. Not just for your body, but for your mind.

The battle erupted in a fury.

Satoru was everywhere at once, his cursed energy flowing through the air, creating barriers, manipulating space. He took down enemies with ease, but his eyes never strayed far from you. He watched every movement you made, his instincts as sharp as ever, but there was a worry in his expression that wasn’t typical for him.

You were unstoppable. You were fluid, a killing machine honed by years of torment. But even as you fought, there was something raw in you—the fear, the trauma. Every punch, every kick, was a reminder of what you had endured.

A soldier lunged at you, a blur of cursed energy and desperation, and for the briefest moment, your mind flashed back to the Red Room—the blood, the chains, the pain.

You are nothing. You are just a weapon.

But this time, when the soldier’s hand reached for your throat, you didn’t freeze. You didn’t flinch. Your body moved like instinct, fluid and unstoppable, and you broke the soldier’s neck with a swift motion.

But it was the aftermath that hit you. The weight of the body crumpling at your feet, the taste of blood in your mouth, and the sudden, overwhelming pressure in your chest.

Satoru reacted swiftly, “Hey, hey, you okay?”

His voice cut through the fog in your mind, but you couldn’t answer. You couldn’t speak. The walls of the Red Room were closing in again.

You were nothing but a weapon.

But Satoru was there, right by your side, his presence grounding you like an anchor. He knew you better than anyone, and even though you couldn’t admit it, he understood the ghosts you carried.

He caught your wrist gently, pulling you back as the battle raged around them.

“You’re not that person anymore. You’re not a weapon. I’ll never let you be that again”

His words were more than just reassurance—they were a lifeline. A promise.

And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it.

The battle was over. The Red Room was dismantled. Or at least the majority of it, after all they were a pest ever growing in the shadows. But for now it was over.

For you, though, the real fight had just begun. As the Avengers cleaned up, dismantling the remains of the Red Room’s operations, Satoru stayed close to you.

You both were alone now, walking down the dark corridor of the destroyed facility. The quiet was oppressive, and you felt the weight of the years you had spent running from yourself catch up to you. You hadn’t said a word since the battle ended.

Satoru stopped walking, turning to face you. There was no one else around now—no mission, no enemies, no distractions. Just the two of you, standing in the ruins of what had once been your prison.

“I know it’s not over for you. This doesn’t magically fix everything”, his voice was low, almost gentle.

There was no pressure, no urgency. Just a quiet understanding.

“I don’t know how to move past this. How to be… normal. How to feel anything other than pain”

“You don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to fix everything in one night” he reminded you, “But I’ll be here. Whenever you need me. And when you’re ready, I’ll help you carry it”

Your heart thundered in your chest. The walls around you—those walls you had built for years—felt like they were crumbling. But for the first time in so long, you didn’t feel scared. You didn’t feel like a weapon.

You were just… yourself.

“Thank you”, your voice was quiet, the weight of your gratitude heavy.

Satoru didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply reached out, placing a hand gently on you shoulder.

And for the first time, you didn’t pull away.

[d-z20]

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 8

Summary: Agatha returns to her old coven, but time is running out to discover who's following her before it's too late. Agatha and and Rio’s angst comes to a head ;)

Warnings: death

Words: 2.9k

A/N: there may or may not be an agathario kiss in this chapter…

For all my AO3 people out there

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The Hunter’s Moon/A Kiss With Death

Agatha hadn’t expected to return here, to the place where everything began. The remains of her old coven’s grounds loomed before her, shrouded in a mist that clung to the earth like a veil of memories. She hesitated on the edge of the clearing, the familiar chill of the forest creeping into her bones. It was a haunted, hollow shell of what it once was.

The moon hung high and full above her, casting a cold, silvery light that made the shadows stretch and twist like dark fingers reaching for her. The Hunter’s Moon. It seemed almost ironic—here she was, both hunter and hunted, stepping back into the past she’d tried so desperately to leave behind. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a pungent reminder of the lives that had been lost here and of her own hand in their destruction.

She told herself she’d returned out of necessity. The strange occurrences, the sightings of the fox, the crow, the snake—they weren’t random. They were signs of something much darker. And her old hollow, once the heart of her power, was the best place to search for answers. It was here, in the ruins of her past, that she hoped to find clarity amid the chaos. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just logic that brought her back. It was the pull. The same magnetic draw she felt towards Rio, an unshakeable tether that had her chasing after ghosts she couldn’t quite let go of.

And so that is how she ended up visiting her old coven’s clearing before the hollow, wanting to remember Rio’s presence in the room. As she wandered the crumbling halls, her footsteps echoed, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. The memories here were sharp and bitter, like the taste of ash on her tongue. Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, grounding herself in the present. But the chill in the air was different this time—colder, heavier, laced with the unmistakable feeling of eyes on her. It was the same sensation she’d had at the cottage when the fox had watched her from the treeline.

A crow’s cry pierced the stillness, harsh and discordant, sending a shiver down her spine. Agatha turned sharply, catching a glimpse of movement. A shadow flitting away into the fog. Her pulse quickened, an anxious mix of dread and anticipation. It wasn’t just a trick of the light; she was certain now. Something was following her.

The fox appeared again, its fur a flash of russet against the gray stone. It watched her with its gleaming eyes, unblinking, before disappearing into the shadows. Agatha’s breath hitched. This wasn’t a coincidence. She could feel the presence closing in around her, a circle tightening with every passing moment. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all connected to Rio—that this was just another one of her twisted games.

Having spent eighteen years of her life here, Agatha knew the place like the back of her hand, which is why she noticed that the drawers at the back of the room were out of place with a floorboard sticking up. The hollow floorboards creaked beneath her as she knelt, prying up a loose plank with a sharp pull. Underneath was a space just small enough to fit the book hidden away there; its leather cover cracked with age. Picking it up, she realised it was her mother’s grimoire. She opened it, but something was wrong—a page had been ripped out. Her pulse quickened as she dug deeper, finding a half-burnt piece of parchment shoved between the boards, as if someone had tried to destroy it but faltered at the last moment.

The charred writing spoke of a hive mind—a dark magic that bound its users into a single consciousness, like a pulse shared by many hearts. It hinted at omens of their arrival; unfortunately, the next part had been burnt out. So Agatha continued reading: -ats are symbols of the hive, harbingers of a group that can control and even become these cr-. The rest of the paper had been completely destroyed by flames. 

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. This wasn’t just a group of witches working together. It was a hive mind, each member bound to the others, sharing one consciousness that pulsed like a singular heartbeat. It made them stronger, more unpredictable, and far more dangerous than anything she’d ever seen.

Agatha’s blood ran cold as the implications settled in. Her mother had known about this and had dabbled in learning about the kind of magic she’d always warned against. The hypocrisy stung like a fresh wound.

She stumbled outside, the revelation weighing heavily on her chest. She sank onto a log, gulping in the cold night air. It wasn’t just the dark magic that troubled her. It was the realisation that her mother had kept this hidden, accusing her daughter of the same thing she had done, making Agatha’s entire childhood a misery while she went unpunished.

Agatha felt a shift in the air, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. 

It wasn’t the ominous, supernatural sensation she’d come to expect; it was something more mundane, laced with malice but entirely human. She turned abruptly, meeting the eyes of a burly man stepping out of the shadows. He was dressed in tattered clothes, his face twisted into a sneer. She recognised him vaguely—one of the locals from the village, a man she’d seen frequenting the tavern more than any other building. He’d always been trouble, his eyes too quick to flash with anger, his hands too quick to swing.

“You’re trespassing on cursed ground, witch," he spat, raising his hand, a blade glinting in the moonlight. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk alone at night? There are some people out here who would kill you. And others that would make you wish they had.”

Agatha didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, her own expression cold and unyielding. “You should have stayed in the shadows,” she replied calmly. “I suggest you leave while you still can.”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re just a woman, and a mad one at that,” he taunted, lunging forward with his knife.

In an instant, Agatha’s magic surged, her hand snapping out. She didn’t even have to touch him—she simply twisted her fingers in the air, and his body contorted violently, the knife clattering to the ground as he choked, clutching his throat. She watched him struggle, a dark satisfaction settling in her chest as she squeezed. Agatha’s lips curled into a smile as she felt his last breath leave his body.

She watched the lifeless form of the man crumple to the ground, the last of his breath dissipating into the cold night air. Her own breathing was ragged, her heart pounding as the rush of raw magic ebbed away, leaving a hollow echo in its wake. The thrill of the kill had been brief, nothing like when she had drained her coven’s power, but it left her senses heightened, every nerve alight with a familiar, dangerous energy. It was then that she felt it—an oppressive silence that settled over the clearing, pressing down on her like a weight.

The mist seemed to thicken, coiling around her ankles as if it were alive. The shadows lengthened, and from their depths, figures began to emerge. At first, it was hard to distinguish them from the darkness itself—twisting shapes that flickered at the edges of her vision. Agatha’s fingers twitched, magic crackling at her fingertips, but she held back. This wasn’t an ordinary ambush; it was something far more sinister. It was a reckoning.

They stepped forward as one, moving in unison like a single entity. Their forms shifted and glided unnaturally; limbs contorted and twisted in ways that defied anatomy. It was as if the very fabric of their bodies had been stretched and reshaped by something dark and ancient. They were cloaked in black, their faces obscured by masks, each one different but eerily reminiscent of the animals she had seen haunting her steps: a crow, a snake, a fox, an owl, a rat, and a coyote. The last figure, standing slightly ahead of the others, bore a mask that swirled with patterns, dizzying and hypnotic.

Agatha’s pulse quickened as she took in the surreal, unsettling sight. The hive moved closer, their steps soundless despite the crunch of leaves beneath them. They didn’t speak at first, only watched her, titling their heads in unison, like predators sizing up prey. A crow cawed in the distance, and then Agatha realised with a sickening jolt that it wasn’t distant at all—it was perched on the shoulder of one of the figures, its black eyes glinting with malice.

“Did you think we would forget what you did? Or forgive you because you spared us?” One of them hissed, the voice dissonant, layered as though multiple voices were speaking at once. “Sparing us was a mistake, Agatha Harkness.”

The realisation hit her hard. She recognised Vertigo’s voice beneath it all. It was them—the children of her first victims, the remnants of her former coven. Twisted by grief and rage, their spirits had fused into this monstrous hive, something far darker than she could have imagined. She had spared them, distracted by Rio’s sudden appearance and blinded by her own arrogance, dismissing them as harmless since they had not attacked her. Now she understood the depth of her mistake, and she knew there would be no escaping the consequences; they wanted revenge for what she did. Mercy was overrated.

Agatha squared her shoulders, forcing herself to appear calm even as her magic buzzed beneath her skin, ready to lash out. “I didn’t think you’d come crawling back,” she said, her voice steady despite the cold fear gnawing at her resolve. “What do you want?”

The Seven moved closer, figures shifting and flickering. For a moment, Agatha could swear she saw the owl’s mask twist into the sharp, hooked beak of an actual bird, its eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Then it was a mask again, the illusion so fluid she wasn’t sure where the human ended and the creature began.

“To remind you,” another voice said, this one softer, almost mocking. “Of what you abandoned. Of the power you once wielded here—and the betrayal you thought time would erase.”

Agatha’s magic flared instinctively, a shimmering barrier forming around her as the Seven began to circle her, their voices merging into a low, unified whisper. It was like the wind rustling through the trees, but far more sinister, filled with a dark kind of glee.

“We are stronger now,” a figure hissed, the edges of its form blurring and twisting into the shape of a snake. It slithered across the ground before rising up into a humanoid silhouette once more. “Your magic is frayed, your power diluted by... distractions.” The word spat out like venom, thick with insinuation. Agatha flinched, a flicker of pain crossing her face. The echo of her old coven’s warnings—their voices telling her that attachments, love, and her desire for women were distractions that would weaken her. And here it was again, thrown back in her face, this time as a weapon.

She clenched her fists, electricity sparking in the air. “You know nothing about me,” she retorted, her voice sharp.

Vertigo stepped forward, lifting their mask just enough to reveal a sliver of a smile, cold and knowing. “Oh, but we do. She told us where to find you,” they whispered, leaning in close enough that Agatha could see the glint of their eyes through the shadows. “She thought you might enjoy the chase.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped. The implication hit her like a punch in the gut. Rio. This had her fingerprints all over it—a twisted game, a test she hadn’t agreed to play but had no choice but to engage in. Before she could respond, the Seven began to dissolve into the mist, their forms shifting back into animal shapes: a crow taking flight, a fox darting through the underbrush, a snake slithering away. Only Vertigo lingered a moment longer, their smile widening.

“We’ll be seeing you, Agatha,” they whispered before melting into the darkness.

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Agatha let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and fury. Her heart raced as the realisation set in. This wasn’t just a confrontation; it was a warning.

As the mist began to thin, another shape emerged from the shadows, but this time it was one she knew all too well. Rio stepped into the clearing, her expression amused as she glanced at the crumpled body on the ground.

“You’ve been busy, sweetheart,” she said, her tone light and almost playful. “Did you miss me that much?”

Agatha’s chest heaved, her emotions a chaotic swirl of anger and longing. “You said you would find me,” she snapped, taking a step closer, her magic crackling between them like static. “Not send your pets after me.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Oh, darling, I never said how I’d find you. I thought you might enjoy a little excitement first.” She glanced down at the body again, her eyes glinting with a strange, unreadable light. “And it seems I arrived just in time.”

Agatha’s fury boiled over, but it was laced with something deeper, something she couldn’t admit even to herself. “You’re using them. You’re using me,” she accused, her voice hoarse.

Rio stepped closer, so close that Agatha could feel the warmth of her breath on her skin. “I wanted to see you, Agatha,” she muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind Agatha’s ear with an infuriatingly gentle touch. “And you didn’t disappoint.”

The little space left between them grew heavier, charged with a palpable tension that made Agatha’s breath catch in her throat. It was like the static before a lightning strike. The kind of charged anticipation that left her skin tingling. She could feel it—feel Rio’s eyes flickering to her lips, the almost imperceptible lick of her own in response, as if drawn in by an invisible force. Desire hung thickly in the space between them, unspoken yet undeniable, a fire simmering just beneath the surface. They were close enough now that she could feel Rio’s breath on her cheek, warm and intoxicating. Her own pulse raced, each beat urging her forward, closer, into the storm that was Rio.

Agatha’s resolve crumbled. She grabbed Rio by the collar, pulling her into a fierce, desperate kiss. It was all teeth and fury, a clash of power and raw emotion. Rio met her with equal intensity, her hands sliding up to cup Agatha’s face, fingers threading through her hair. The air around them seemed to spark and crackle as their magic tangled, an electric current that mirrored the frantic rhythm of their kiss.

Rio bit down on Agatha’s lower lip, eliciting a low, throaty groan that sent a shiver down her spine. Agatha’s fingers dug into Rio’s shoulders, pulling her closer, as if she could fuse their bodies together through sheer force of will. She kissed her back harder, tasting her blood and feeling the sharp sting where Rio’s teeth had broken the skin, but she didn’t care. It only spurred her on, a primal need driving her to take more, to claim Rio as her own.

Their kisses grew frenzied, messy, and all-consuming. Agatha gasped as Rio’s lips trailed along her jawline, her breath hot and ragged in her ear. She responded in kind, nipping at the curve of Rio’s throat, relishing the way it made Rio’s breath hitch. The sound was intoxicating—a low moan of desire that filled the clearing, echoing in the silence of the night. Agatha wanted to drown in it, to lose herself completely in this heady, forbidden moment they had both waited months for.

When they finally pulled apart, it was as though they had emerged from a storm. Both were breathing heavily, chests heaving, their lips swollen and tinged red from the force of their kiss. Agatha’s hands were still fisted in the fabric of Rio’s cloak, as if she were afraid to let go, while Rio’s fingers lingered at her cheek, tracing the path her lips had just left.

Rio smirked, the expression softened by the lingering flush on her cheeks. She traced Agatha’s lip with her thumb, brushing over the spot where she’d bitten her. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she whispered, her voice low and filled with a mixture of amusement and warning.

Agatha’s eyes darkened, a smile curling her lips, defiant and hungry. “Maybe I like dangerous.”

Rio took a step back, her gaze never leaving Agatha’s, the connection between them like a taught thread, ready to snap. She lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable, before fading into the shadows with a final, lingering look. “Until next time, my darling.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving Agatha along in the clearing yet again, her heart pounding in her chest. The taste of Rio still lingered on her lips, a heady mix of blood and desire—a reminder of the twisted game she’d been drawn into. The Hunter’s Moon cast its cold light over the scene, watching silently as Agatha struggled to catch her breath, realising just how deeply ensnared she was. Knowing this was far from over.

Next Chapter > coming soon

Remember to reblog if you're enjoying the story so far and want to see more Agathario kisses :D

[protagonistscum]

bnha curse be upon the

[swornoffofeggs]

@ofdropeggsonher

I get it. {I simply said with a nod. I didn't get it. Jesse's perspective on this didn't make sense to me. Yes, there was a time I thought the sun rose and set with Finn. I was fully convinced that he was everything I wanted in life... Things changed though. Maybe had he married me back at graduation, things would have worked out between us, and maybe not. I had no way of knowing either way. Looking back on it now though, everything changed the moment Finn forced me onto that train bound for New York. He decided to end things between us... He decided to go off and into the military, and then ghost me even after his brief stint with the military ended. Even after he showed up in New York, I could see a wall had been built up between us. Maybe a part of him was hoping my dreams of New York hadn't turned out like I hoped they would, and that I'd decide to return to Lima with him, as a result since he was dead set against giving NYC a chance. I don't know. Honestly, I don't know about any of it. Sure, in my heart the hopeless romantic wanted to believe that some day when I've made all of my dreams of success and star power came true, I'd return to Lima so Finn and I could get married and start a family... Truth was though, I had no way of knowing. Would I ever want to step away from the spotlight? Would that dream ever pass? Or at least get me to a point that I'd want to return to a small town like Lima? Were we just too different for it to ever work? I think deep down I knew Finn would have found a girl who was more his fit. A small town girl who was content with a simple life there... Not one who had big dreams that she wasn't willing to let go of. Either way though, Finn was gone, so I'd never know what may or may not have come between us} Truth is, Finn is gone, so I have no way of knowing what, if anything, would have happened between Finn and I down the line. Deep down though, I think the reason Finn and I broke up and went our separate ways is because we realized we were on the path for two entirely different directions and dreams. {I shrugged slightly and sipped on my beverage} I can't focus on the past or the what if's in life though. I need to keep my eyes on the future... The here and now. Jesse, I don't know if we'll be in each other's present and future lives, but just know, I'm open to it. As far as I'm concerned, there's always a hope for us, should the timing and paths go in that direction. {Leaving it at that since I didn't know what more to say. I couldn't fairly answer Jesse's question because I had no way of knowing what may or may not have happened between Finn and I down the line. Finn was gone, and as much as I'll always miss him, I can't focus on the could have been's or the what if's}

Continued

@swornoffofeggs

As teenagers you always believe you have your priorities planned out. You always think the big dreams are going to fall into place. Jesse can admit he was selfish, he was the guy that only looked out for himself. He was the star of vocal adrenaline, he only wanted to be the best. And that meant hurting others he never planned on caring about in the process. He saw it as a game; he knew of Rachel when he not so accidentally ran into her in that music store, it was a plan one Shelbey and him had orchestrated. He needed Rachel to fall for him, be distracted, she was his only real competition. And even to this day he knew it had stopped being a game the more he got to know her; the way he saw her smile when he held her hand. When she laughed at his lame jokes when we watched grease. But he was in too deep; and the only way out was for Rachel to hate him. To believe it was all a game, to believe he never liked her. She was annoying, selfish but the truth was she was the one that he fell hard for. 

Each time he found a way to end up back in Lima; he wanted to see her. She had big ambitious dreams, and he wanted her to achieve everything she wanted. It fell right into her lap, the performing arts school; with his aid of course. But that was a story for another time. And Funny Girl; she was the youngest star in the making; and he felt proud of her. It was rare he’d ever admit someone was just as talented as him but Rachel lit the candle. It was a shame the stars weren’t lining up for the pair. 

His passion, his everyday work was in London; we opened shows in a few weeks, and he never expected to feel this strongly upon seeing her again. Upon hearing her voice, it made goosebumps form on his arms. To hold her in his arms again, he felt the racing of his chest as we swayed to the music. I heard it in her voice, she was happy for me, just as I was for her. But there was a hint of sadness realizing whatever we attempted to start tonight; and in the next few days was pointless. But the ache in my heart formed at the thought of not taking my shot. I was here for her; I wanted to hold her hand; tell her how remarkable talented she was as long as I could. The night was young; once we escaped this party the night was ours. 

A smile hinted at the corners of his lips as he dropped his hand from around her waist, the one he still had wrapped around her smaller palm. “ Well the reviews are out on that one. We open in a few weeks, and I’d hate to bail just because I found a better offer.” A tease written in his voice. As he glanced down to meet her gaze. Brief before he tugged the brunette through the mountains of crowded people. Bodies pushed up against us until we pushed through the swinging doors. The slight breeze hitting my face as we landed outside. Cars lined up against the curbs. The people chatting as they crossed streets; some attempting to march into the after party; not that I cared. I got away from prying eyes, I got away from the judgy looks. Now it was only us; me being the trouble in this situation. 

Hands dropping to my side, I kept my fingers locked in hers; letting Rachel decide if she wanted to let go. Tilting his head down narrowing eyes on her. “ As much as I love you having your own driver on the wait for us, I think walking would be best.” Pausing as he leaned down until lips were inches from her ear. “ Besides I’d rather have you to myself Berry.” A whisper against her ear before he lifted his head up with a smirk landing on bare lips. 

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[michelle-jacksons-art-blog]

To be loved is to be changed.

[torchstelechos]

Hey guys, are the ghosts from the Ghost event actually Siffrin's ghosts or are they Loop's? It's been bugging me for a while how the party described the Siffrin ghost, cause in the back of my mind I was wondering why Siffrin smiled as if they hadn't seen the party for a long time and then I was like. Oh wait. Siffrin isn't the only person in the game who looked like that. So...yaknow??

[tortoisesshells]

(ds: 39, 45, 85, 126.)

[invidiatechdemo]

lot of 'what if xehanort never had his joker arc' stuff has him too normal.

I need this guy to be dressing up as guys he half-remembers from visions he had in his sleep and characters being deeply concerned as to why he's cosplaying as their grandpa but are too afraid to ask + I need him to larp as his OWN grandpa until he's 80. do you understand.

historical reenactor (cutesey but still offputting, if he still teaches ven it's still a deeply alienating and troubling experience for ven) instead of Historical Reenactor (scary, literally summoning the evil moon into the sky)

[alien-enjoyer]

I think if I had found jacksepticeyes playthrough of detroit become human either 6 months earlier or later than i did i would be insufferable about it . instead i am normal, although sometimes when i see fanart of it i am bashed in the head with the ghost of hyperfixation that could’ve been

[zippityzap]

Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future 🎄

[moe-broey]

I think every transmasc should have a girl blorbo

Delve deep into her writing/character and expand on it and extrapolate ESP if the source material Does Not do her justice or doesn't give her the things she deserves. Find your pain in her pain and find her pain in yours and give her the things you will never have. Whether it was taken, starcrossed, or never meant for you. It could be for her. It could be.

Bestow upon her a gift, what remains of a life never lived. Leftover love of things that never fit right, never suited you, never were meant for you. Things you learned to love anyway, a love both real and manufactured out of necessity and survival.

And bestow upon her another gift, of love that has nowhere to go, of doors you've had to lock shut, doors you know go nowhere for you. Give her the key. Take up your pencil. Draw her in an adorable outfit. Draw her surrounded by loved ones, who love her so dearly back. Every drawing, a wish. That she can have a kinder life than mine. That I could give that to her. A parting gift, from me to someone who I can no longer host, that can now live on peacefully within her and lead an even better life than it ever could have within me. It was in the wrong house I had to rehome it.

Something adjacent to Gandalf Big Naturals ect ect

[fwuitgummyy]

I know I've been a Haejoon and Eunyung relationship doubter, but when I remember moments like when Haejoon stayed at the abandoned dorms so Eunyung wouldn't be by himself, or when Eunyung saved Haejoons life when he saw his dead mother's ghost... I remember the two of them are rlly good kids. While they might never be on the same page, but for better or for worse, they always have eachother. Because God knows that no one else is going to be there for them during the worst of it lollll