#the process is what makes the craft worth it

[krawdad]

The secret to making art that feels real is to go out and look at some real stuff and figure out what makes it look real

[bandgie]

what would stray kids' "we shouldn’t be doing this" sex situation be??

MDNI 18+ | step/incest themes (individual warnings), age gap, oral (f!), fem!reader, I prolly missed some tbh

chan! (tw: step)

something about him screams step-dad. you're not home too much cuz you're already older by the time your mom remarries, but whenever you do swing by, your step dad is more than eager to cook, to clean, to show that he's a good husband...for your mom ofc. but the air thickens and you both start growing more bold. you come more often, making sure to bend lower enough for chan to catch a sight of your panties. he never makes a move though, not until the inevitable divorce papers are served. then he's a little more receptive to your advances, but ofc, he has some morals left

"Wait! I know your mom and I are getting a divorce, but that doesn't mean-" Chan shuts up real quick at the feel of your hand lowering, cupping his bugle and kissing his neck. "Shh, weren't you trying so hard to be my daddy before? You can be that now."

minho! (tw: age gap)

dad's best friend. older, hotter, flirty. he honestly has little to no shame when it comes to teasing you. if anything, it's you telling him that you can't do this, that it's wrong, but gosh it just feels so good. your friends tell you about the sexual experience older men have and it only tempts you more to give into Minho's advances. the furthest you've gone is light touching, his gentle kisses to your bare shoulder when you get out of the pool. but honestly, he's just so charming, it's only a matter of time before you're under him

If you don't get his cock soon, you think you'll cum just from his fingers. Minho's got two digits fucking into you, his thumb swirling your clit while he lavishes your nipple with his tongue. You whine, throwing your head back and arching upwards. "Minho! Minho, my dad-" but a harsh bite on your swollen bud makes you yelp. Minho briefly picks up his head, "You're dad's downstairs. You should be quiet before he hears us."

changbin!

he's your ex. you come across him at one the parties your university throws and you swore to yourself that you'd never get involved with frat boys again, but he just looks so good. big arms crossing his chest, black jeans on his thick thighs (and thick cock) with a red solo cup in his hand. you keep reminding yourself that he's not worth it. it would be so stereotypical to hook up in a someone's house you don't know, but once he sees you it's pretty much settled.

"Come on, you know you miss it," his words are like butter, and truthfully you do miss it. You miss how his thick fingers wrapped around your neck, how his fat cock stretched your pussy. But still, you're prideful, "As if. I shouldn't even doing this shit with you." Rather than his little smirk disappearing, it widens. "Who are you tryna convince? Me or you?"

hyunjin!

you're his art teacher. he's super talented, super dedicated to his craft and you constantly praise him for it. as true as that is, you also love seeing his smile and dimples. you have yet to admit that you find your student attractive, but you can at least acknowledge that he makes your job a little bit better. it's when he comes in for your office hours that you finally have to come to terms with your true emotions. you think you can keep professional, but hyunjin's set on letting you know how he feels.

"Hyunjin...you know we can't," but your words fall on deaf ears. Hyunjin pushes a loose strand from your face, cupping your cheek in the process. "Why not? Is there something wrong with me?" He sounds so desperate, so sincere. You have to swallow your desires but you can't push his hand away. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with you." He leans past you, brushing his plump lips over the shell of your ear. "Then let me touch you one time. Let me show you how much you mean to me just once."

han! (tw:incest)

icky brother for sure. older brother to be specific. you always thought it was normal for siblings to be as close as you are, to kiss when either of you are stressed, to go on outings that usually end in more kissing on the ride back home. but, of course, you realize that his affection is twisted, and you cut off contact with him and the rest of your family. even then...it's really hard to move on, especially when he shows up to your master's graduation.

"I said I never want to see you again." You try to sound strong, but your voice shakes. He's crying too, as if he isn't the reason you guys can't have a normal relationship. More tears fall, more apologies are spoken, but you can't say no when he begs for those little kisses that always make you guys feel better. You can't say no when you finally give your body to your brother like a good little sister.

felix!

brother's best-friends trope. you grew up besides him and you've always had a little thing for him, but he hardly noticed. you guys age, and you've totally given up on your little crush. but when felix is invited to an overnight cabin with your family, it's hard to ignore that reignited flame in your stomach. ignoring him is probably your best plan, but felix is just too friendly to really understand that you don't want to talk to him. you decide you should show him exactly why you should stay away

Felix's eyes are wide, filled with uncertainty, fear, but he can't help the excitement that bubbles in his stomach when you rip your shirt off. "I- I don't think this is a good idea! Your family's upstairs and your brother will kill me." You can practically see his heart jumping from his chest. To calm him, you crawl on the bed to where he is and place a gentle, but firm kiss to his lips. He whines, shaking as he cups your face in his small hands. "And if you don't fuck me," you pull away to look into his eyes. "I'll kill you."

seungmin!

he's your boss, and you're his secretary. since you're pretty much forced to be with him at all times, you know how he handles his anger when the company isn't doing as well as he wants. It usually involves drinking and working overtime, but this particular night has him restless. since your a great worker, you stay overtime with him, helping on what you can and making sure his coffee is always filled. but when the lack of sleep starts to get to his head, he starts acting a little...weird.

Mr. Kim hasn't dismissed you yet. If anything, he beckons you closer with a finger. You obey, following his every instruction until you're bent over his desk, skirt lifted up with your panties to the side as his warm tongue licks up your pussy. "The cameras," you moan out. "We'll get caught. Mr. Kim, you'll get fired." But he doesn't care. He's so stressed, too tired that he needs something to keep him awake. You can't help but feel pity, so you lay pliant on the desk while he laps your cunt.

jeongin!

he's an idol helping out the trainees. he's super professional, a great dancer, and an amazing teacher. really supportive and gives helpful feedback. it's super dumb, but totally expected for a trainee to fall for their instructor, or in this case, an idol. you know better of course, his image matters a lot. you don't want to risk anything for him. but it's hard to not feel anything when he stays extra hours with you to get a routine down. both of you are tired, both of you are exhausted. neither of you are thinking clearly when jeongin grabs your hips as a means to help your posture, but it leads to something totally different

The practice room is filled with wet slapping and messy kisses. Jeongin eyes are hooded, a darkness covering him as he looks down at you. Your breasts bounce at the force of his thrusts and you grab them for support. "Jeongin. Innie, the sun's gonna come up. Your leader-" But he covers your mouth with his large palm. He's chasing his high, coxing an intense orgasm that he can't bother to care about your worries. "Just shut up and let me finish."

my fav's seungmins tbh (and maybe hannie :p)

[sillywizardman]

HI!!! After finishing Disco Elysium I wanted to read Sacred and Terrible Air, but there were two issues:

1. It’s not officially released in English

2. I don’t like staring at pdfs!

So I did what any sane person would do. That is take three days of my life printing and binding it.

TRANSLATION (“thank you Group Ibex” we all say in unison!):

PROCESS PICS:

I apologize in advance for anyone who has experience in this sort of thing this is so botched.

I have NEVER done anything like this before, I don’t even read books on my own volition, but if the Disco fixation wants me to learn how to sew and bookbind I’ll do that.

Four of the signatures above. There were nine total, eight of them with 8 sheets/32 pages and the last was five sheets I think. Threw the pdf into adobe acrobat and went straight to printing with those settings and the “booklet” option enabled.

Pricked holes through each signature! Used thumbtacks and a piece of foam I scavenged from my room, worked out great. It’s probably also worth mentioning I do not have a bone folder, book press, or any of the other fancy schmancy bookbinding tools. Flattened the pages with a pencil and pressed with D&D books…

SEWING TIME. I have never sewn in my life. My success in this regard can be majorly attributed to Sea Lemon on youtube, particularly this tutorial:

The process from printing to finishing sewing the signatures took ~8 hours. Now we hit our first roadblock, I had no glue for the spine! After going to sleep and waiting what felt like ages (literally 10 hours or so) before I was free to visit a craft store, I tried to find PVA glue because that’s what you’re supposed to use I think?? Yeah. They were out of PVA glue and my impatient ass got mod podge.

‘Tis glued! As you can see I added cardstock to the ends. Joyous day.

Also, you see that sketchbook in the pic? Yeah? You see that lovely cardboard?

It is now the cover. Rest in piss bristol sketchpad backing.

———

EDIT: I see a bunch of people want to attempt this so here’s a video on how to make the hardcover: https://youtu.be/Av_rU-yOPd4?si=7T5zgVJGAfPFBxn-

I didn’t use any measurements or advice from it but it’s a good reference for when it comes to assembling the cover from ~3:50 onwards. The boards are same size as your text block pages and spine, I think I made the cover width a bit longer just in case it doesn’t cover the text block though. Do not do this with the spine, I regret it.

And note, this is NOT a tutorial, it is the process of someone who got a bit too silly and decided to bind a book, obviously do your own research lol. Don’t be afraid to try it though, it’s surprisingly simple!

———

… So, now that’s done! I swore to myself I wouldn’t start reading SATA/PJÕL until I finished this project completely, meaning I’ll be doing that now yippee :]

[yandereunsolved]

ꨄ︎ — Yandere Sidon — ꨄ︎

"Mmm~ My pearl, it's good to see you once again in my domain. I have a surprise for my closest hylian friend."

"Sidon! What is it? I have to know."

"Since you always insist on traveling out into the dangerous lands of Hyrule, I made you a set of armor. It's made so that you're able to travel up waterfalls and be protected from harsh downpours. The armor is specifically tailored to your body specifications."

Silly little Hylian. I understand you aren't too keen on Zora customs. Now, we are dutifully courted. The process is underway. No other Zora would dare go against their king or his lover.

"Wow, it's absolutely breath-taking."

"Who says Kings can't craft? It was worth every hour it took to make. I did it just for you. Only for you."

You won't be able to leave here after your next excursion. I'll be following you until you leave Zoras Domain. It will make my heart ache until you return to me. However, I must wait until you use the suit once before we are properly courted. Then, you will be all mine. 

[purplephloxpress]

Another year, another Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day!!!! If you are a writer of fanfic, please know just how appreciated you are!! Fandom would be such a different space without your creativity and labors of love. 💜

Holidays are all about making traditions, and the bookbinding friends with @renegadeguild once again came together to bind copies of fics for their authors as a show of our appreciation. This year I had the absolute joy of binding Emergency Help Wanted by the wonderful @piyo-13 and even got to collaborate with her on some of the design elements! It's a Modern AU Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen fic that starts with a "help wanted" ad.

EMERGENCY HELP WANTED

I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

Ok. So. I may have gone a little feral with this one. Online "help wanted" ad spiraled into loading wheel scene dividers, spiraled into fake Google search result headers, spiraled into FULLY committing to those authentic looking text messages. In full color. (There are so many. I typeset in MS Word. It was SO worth it, but god what a struggle at some points.) And don't forget the "recent searches" title page! Or the computer cutout on the cover! (It's bluescreening, just like Lan Xichen through this entire fic!) Also that cover/title page image that I just kept adding details to. (It's supposed to be Lan Xichen's desk, so it simply didn't feel right until it had sticky notes on the computer, #1 dad on the mug, scissors and measuring tape, scribbles on the sticky notes) Did I have a ton of fun designing this one? Perhaps. Couldn't say. Maybe just a tad. (This is a lie I had an ABSOLUTE BLAST!)

Historically, I've waited until I finish at least the typeset before reaching out to the author, but not so with this one! I got the idea for the fake google search results from Piyo's authors notes, teasing the contents of the next chapter. But! Those didn't start until about chapter 4! So I reached out and asked if we could collaborate and I'm forever glad I did! Not only does this have teasers for each chapter, I also got to bounce design ideas off of her, including what shade of blue and purple for the text messages. Because my friends, that is a serious matter and changed SEVERAL times throughout the process.

Also shoutout to all my Renegade friends who gave input and encouragement over the past year while I worked on this (what endpages to use? how to make this shade of green perfectly Nie Huaisang? how do we feel about this text message design? or how about this one?) - I love you all dearly and appreciate you so much for putting up with my nonsense at all times.

Binding details below the cut!

Fandom: The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi

Pairing: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin / Lan Huan | Lan Xichen

Bookcloth: Aqua/Purple Dubletta from Colophon Book Arts

Endpapers: Craft Consortium Ink Drops - Ocean pack

Textblock paper: short grain cream from Church Paper

Titling: We R Memory Keepers foil quill

Endbands: leather cording core, DMC embroidery floss for the bands

Body Font: EB Garamond

Title Font: Berlin Sans FB

Text Messages: Roboto

Additional fonts: Times New Roman, Kunstler Script, Magis Authentic

Title page image from Rawpixel and designed in Canva

Various computer graphics from The Noun Project

Tumblr insists on eating and doubling text in this section at its own whim, so if there's something missing that you're curious about, feel free to DM me an ask!

[solxamber]

Could I request Ace, Deuce, and Silver with a reader who enjoys doing arts and crafts and giving them to people as gifts?

But, whenever they want to gift them something, reader always makes something extra special and elaborate. For example, a mini glass statue or an origami flower bouquet.

Ace, Deuce, Silver with an artistic reader

that's so cute! thanks for the request <3

Ace Trappola

You had always loved doing arts and crafts, and nothing made you happier than giving your creations to the people you cared about. But when it came to Ace, you couldn’t just make something simple. Oh no, you had to go above and beyond. So when you handed him a mini basketball hoop made out of glass—complete with tiny, crystal-clear basketballs—you couldn’t help but grin at his stunned expression.

“Woah, what’s this?” Ace asked, holding the delicate piece in his hands. The little basketballs gleamed in the light, and the hoop looked just like the one on Night Raven’s court, except way fancier.

“I know you love basketball, so I made you a little reminder for when you can’t play,” you said with a smirk.

Ace blinked at you, clearly trying to process how you’d made something so elaborate. “This is… this is crazy. It’s awesome, but how do you even make this stuff?”

You shrugged like it was no big deal. “Eh, just a little patience and a lot of glue gun burns.”

Ace laughed, but there was a soft look in his eyes as he carefully set the glass hoop down, suddenly treating it like it was the most precious thing in the world. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Of course! You’re worth the effort,” you teased with a wink.

Ace felt his face heat up at your words, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. “Well, if you keep giving me cool stuff like this, I might just have to start showing off.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if you don’t already.”

But Ace couldn’t hide the way his heart skipped a beat, knowing that you had made something so thoughtful and personal just for him.

Deuce Spade

You’d made countless gifts for your friends, but with Deuce, you always put in a little extra heart. So when you presented him with an origami bouquet, each flower folded with such precision it could’ve been made by a machine, Deuce’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“Wait, you made this?” Deuce gaped, staring at the intricate roses and lilies, all in shades of blue that matched his dorm colors.

You nodded, pleased with how it turned out. “Yep! All by hand. I thought it’d be nice to give you something a little more… you know, permanent than real flowers.”

Deuce blinked, still dumbfounded. “But how do you even—this is… so cool!” He held up one of the origami flowers like it was the most delicate thing in the world.

“Glad you like it. It’s for good luck, you know, for when you’re working hard to keep that ‘honor student’ title,” you teased lightly, knowing how serious he was about proving himself.

Deuce flushed at your thoughtfulness, his heart thumping in his chest. “I—I really appreciate this. You’re always making me such amazing stuff.”

“Well, you’re worth the effort,” you said with a smile, echoing something you knew would make him feel proud.

Deuce scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a little bashful. “You really think so? I mean, I still mess up sometimes…”

You reached out and lightly tapped one of the origami flowers. “But you always keep going. That’s what makes you special, Deuce.”

He looked at you, wide-eyed, your words sinking deep. For someone who always doubted his worth, hearing it from you made his heart swell. “I’ll keep these with me, then. You know, to remind me.”

“Just don’t try to ‘fix’ them by turning them into actual flowers,” you joked, and Deuce laughed, feeling his cheeks warm at how sweet you were.

Silver

Silver was hard to surprise, mostly because he was always so calm and composed. But when you handed him a tiny, hand-painted sculpture of a knight on horseback—crafted with incredible detail and care—he stared at it like it was a rare treasure.

“This… you made this?” he asked softly, turning the miniature knight over in his hands. The armor gleamed with silver paint, and the tiny horse had an expression of quiet dignity, just like his own steed.

“Yeah! It reminded me of you,” you explained with a playful smile. “You’re like a knight, always looking out for everyone.”

Silver’s eyes softened as he examined the little figurine, noticing the care you’d put into each detail. “It’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

You chuckled lightly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just keep it on your desk or something so you can remember to take a break every once in a while.”

He blinked at you. “You made this to remind me to… take a break?”

“Well, yeah. You’re always overworking yourself, Silver. Someone’s gotta look out for you, too,” you teased gently.

For once, Silver was at a loss for words. He had never been one to think much about himself, but here you were, creating something with him in mind, caring for him in a way that went beyond words. He felt his heart squeeze in a way that was unfamiliar yet comforting.

“You’re always so thoughtful,” he murmured, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “Thank you.”

“I’ll treasure this,” he said earnestly, and you could tell he meant it.

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through you as Silver continued to admire your gift. There was something so sweet about seeing him so touched, and it made all the effort worth it.

Masterlist

[rubra-wav]

May I Request a part 2 to Dealbreaker!Reader (same characters) but it’s the characters reactions to the reader surprisingly breaking their deal? I loved what you wrote!

Angel, Husk and Alastor with a dealbreaker S/O pt. 2

[ Part 1 ] < > [ More lore on DBs ]

A/N Thank you so much, I'm glad you liked it, I loved writing this and the last one. Dealbreaker lore brainrot fr.

With how dealbreaking usually goes, it's not instantly a happy ending, unfortunately. These are all pretty happy endings, though.

Fairly long reads for all of these, but it's worth it, I promise 🙏

!(MY REQUESTS ARE NOT OPEN RN. THIS IS JUST LEFT OVER FROM WHEN THEY LAST WERE.)!

Cw: SFW, depictions of violence, mentions of murder, Husk and Angel's is romantic, Alastor's is platonic, gn reader, male reader in mind for Angel's (forgot to add this aaaages back omg)

**Alastor's is written under the assumption that the Lilith owning his soul theory is real + is making a great big assumptions about Lilith + the nature of her deal that will likely be disproven.

She's a great big mystery, I'm just heavily leaning into pure theory in that one.

Angel

- When you break his contract, Angel is overwhelmed with a potent mixture of relief and gratitude.

- The path this far had been fairly easy as far as the process of actually breaking the contract goes.

- The chains on him were poorly crafted and the format was extremely simple with a lot of loopholes to bust the contract wide open.

- It was honestly much harder to fully knock Angel out of the all-encompassing fear-rooted belief that he was doing something incredibly wrong after years of Val's manipulation and control over every part of him.

- It didn't take long to make the counter-contract, just a few minutes referencing the draft as you quickly wrote everything down upon the page pressed against the filthy bench you were sitting at. Angel hovered over you anxiously wringing his hands as he watched you work.

- The lock on his prison cell was quickly broken, along with the actual collar around his neck.

- You cheered as you threw your arms around the disbelieving man next to you. Angel cracked a smile, giddy as he realised that you had done it.

- This peace was short-lived, however.

- You now had to deal with the consequences of actually breaking Angel's deal. Valentino does not take kindly to people taking his toys away from him, especially not one of his top money-makers and favourite souls.

- You had, of course, crafted the counter-contract that was now clutched in your palm in some random location far away from the hotel so Val wouldn't be knocking at the front door knowing it was done then and there.

- However, you two still needed to run.

- Hand in hand, you run away from the approaching sound of distant but loudly approaching cars with the sound of gunshots echoing, legs and lungs burning with exertion.

- As a contrast to your very evident worry, Angel is laughing joyously and more boisterously then he thinks he ever has as the feeling of the heavy sensation of the collar that has been weighing on him is lifts alongside the inability to speak his real name without choking on it.

- The feeling of his newfound freedom and adrenaline mixes in his body, making his blood sing out in his veins like a symphony. An indescribably rich sensation of being alive that he thought he'd never be able to feel again while sober.

- "So long, you overly tall rat bastard! I've found something that's better then anything you could ever fucking give me!" Angel yells out into the warm air of the night as he flips off the general direction of the sound of the gunshots, laughing all the way as you get to the getaway car.

- You're panting as you crank the car into gear, speeding away and putting the glowing counter-contract on the back seat.

- As the distant sounds of gunshots fades into the distance behind you, you turn to the passenger side of the car to make absolutely sure Angel is really okay as he calms down from the high of the chase.

- Your boyfriend is absolutely beaming next to you, glowing with a sense of natural light you'd never before seen in your time being together. It's a beautiful contrast to the artificial sense of life you are so used to seeing broadcast within the studio and his films.

- He looks so different, and not only due to the disguise he had decided upon to lay low until shit calmed down a bit.

- As you make it to your destination - a small house youd been allowed to stay at courtesy of Charlie - you put the car into park and sit there for a for a few seconds.

- "Holy shit. I did it. I actually freed you. And we're not dead." You said, stunned.

- Angel snickered, unbuckling his seat belt and leaning over to you to kiss you on the cheek. "Never doubted you for a second, baby."

- You laugh, relieved, turning to him and gently pull his face close to yours, kissing him deeply. You chuckle at the feeling of the giant smile on Angel's face.

- As you move to settle in to live in the small house for a couple of weeks, you regret turning on the television.

- Angel's face flashes across the screen with text quickly scrolling past a smiling but seemingly close to tweaking Vox on the screen, the man looking like he's about to absolutely lose his shit if one more mild inconvenience happens. The Video Star's eye twitches sightly as if hearing something irritating as he speaks.

- "There is a hefty reward for anyone who can find Angel Dust and the dealbreaker who has interfered with his contract. Any useful information will be welcome. To give us tips, go to the website listed below or call-" You switch the TV off, unplugging it as well just in case.

- If Vox got well and truly involved in this situation to attempt to placate Valentino as soon as possible, this would be even more difficult of a situation. You hadn't much considered the rest of the vees getting involved, assuming they would stsy in their own lanes while Valentino stopped being pissy.

- You shake your head, and move to go to the room where Angel is unpacking. The outside world could wait until later. All that shit could wait until later.

- Angel smiles at you as you walk into the room, such a lightness in it that makes your heart burn.

- You hug him tightly and then fall down on your side into the bed, both of you laughing joyously and filling the empty house with life.

- The road ahead would not be easy, but you were finally on the road to starting your life with him.

- Your life with him as Anothony, not Angel Dust.

Husk

- The road to forming a counter-contract was hard as all hell.

- Alastor's deals are absolutely air tight, crafted with the uptmost skill and attention to detail, so you finding a vague clause to dig your claws into to get it rolling after weeks of arduously reviewing it again and again was a goddamn miracle.

- When he saw that you had made progress, he's shocked as can be. Has a 'well I'll be' moment as you point it out to him after another sleepless night as he wanders up to you.

- Feels bad for fully doubting you after that. He's still pessimistic about your chances of actually succeeding in the counter-contract, but the flame of hope inside of him sparks to embers as you manage to do what nobody has managed to even remotely succeed to do in centuries.

- When you make further progress, he becomes deeply afraid for your safety. If Alastor ever found out you'd been able to get this far, you'd be toast.

- Never in a million years would Alastor allow someone who's managed to undermine his skills to this degree to live. When you say that you've got it covered when he brings it up, he's incredibly skeptical and is even more concerned when you say you can't tell him 'just in case'.

- Is in utter disbelief when you insist you just stay in the hotel as you actually write the counter-contract to break the deal while Alastor is out doing some shenanigans.

- When you say that you don't, in fact, have a death wish, he's extremely stressed and sweating bullets as you begin to write what you'd been drafting for weeks.

- The lights flash and then go out as you're about halfway through writing the contract. Unnatural green light fills the room and Alastor casts a great big shadow on the wall as he materialises out of nowhere.

- Husk feels dread sink into every part of himself.

- The ground shakes as Alastor physically shows up, much larger then usual and snarling. "What do you think you're doing."

- His voice is dripping with malice and static which hurts your ears greatly, but the movement of your pen on the page doesn't stop even though you can feel your heart thudding in terror and your vision is becoming blurry.

- Husk feels nauseous as Alastor looks down at you, growing all the more aggressive the more he feels his hold on Husk slipping.

- Husk fights a panicked yell as Alastor's neck snaps to the side loudly, now looking directly at him with an absolutely vile grin on his face. He cannot make it in time as Alastor's hand moves to crush you, and he fears the absolute worst as you are no longer in his sights.

- His deep despair is interrupted however, as from underneath Alastor's palm great big rose briers grow from underneath and pry it backwards, revealing you still writing - albeit looking extremely stressed - and the figure of Rosie who looks rather angry at Al.

- Alastor's eyes widen in shock and disbelief that one of his oldest friends are currently blocking him from destroying the one trying to take his property.

- Husk hardly hears the back and forth and stalling that goes on between the two overlords as he's running to you to try and pull you the hell out of here.

- He stops in place as he feels it, and hears Alastor let out a terrifying frustrated growling noise. The green collar and chain around his throat appears, and then it breaks with a loud snapping sound. You've succeeded.

- You actually fucking did it.

- The next few moment are a blur as Husk is rendered motionless and speechless, eyes wide and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as if he's about to wake up from this moment.

- He slowly walks towards you, looking to the side blankly as Alastor shrinks back to his normal size and is escorted out of the hotel with a look of pure bewilderment on his face by a now smiling and laughing Rosie. The leader of the cannibals winks at you and gives you a thumbs up as she leaves.

- You turn to Husk and grin at him wearily, still sweating nervously with clear relief on your face. You literally could have just died.

- Husk sinks to his knees beside you from where you sit on the ground, having fallen from your chair as Alastor tried to crush you.

- Husk grips your face in his shaking hands as he looks up at you. He can now see that one of your eyes is black with a deal you've made yourself but for now he doesn't address it.

- "Thank you." His voice is hoarse, low. Tears stream down his face for the first time in a long long time.

- Your face crumples as you allow your brave face to fall to bits. Your heart is still racing and you are still getting over the fear you felt.

- Husk pulls your crying face to his, leaning his forehead against yours as he wraps his arms tightly around you. "Thank you so much." Husk says, closing his eyes and causing more tears to roll down his cheeks.

- "If you ever do something that fucking stupid again, I'll not be humouring you." He added after the wonderful moment stretched out for a couple of seconds.

- You laugh softly, and nuzzle into his cheek as you kiss it. "You're welcome, Husker my love."

- Husk hums in fake annoyance, but he cannot even hide how much lighter he feels.

- The bonds which had kept him trapped for decades had been broken down all at once, leaving him free.

- He had no idea what kind of deal you made with Rosie, but he sure hoped it kept Alastor the fuck away from you and him for the rest of your lives.

- And, for your sake, he desperately hopes it is not the type of deal you will regret making later.

Alastor

- The path to dealbreaking Alastor's is bar fucking none with difficulty, mostly because he doesn't want your help.

- Hurts his his ego so much to see that even though his consistent efforts to tell you to get lost have failed. He's opted to scaring you off multiple times and yet you're still relentless.

- After yet another time of him growing into that massive form and snarling down at you, you snap.

- "Maybe I'm 'overestimating my abilities', but what if I'm not? What if a fresh pair of eyes are what you need rather than you just pissing off to your radio tower and staring at everything until you have a mental breakdown over it!" You yell at him weakly as he turns his back to leave. Blood is dripping from the corner of your mouth, and you're only just regaining your vision from the former static, which blacked it out.

- Alastor stops in his tracks, startled that you know about that too.

- "Maybe I don't have as much experience as you, but I have a different mind and way of looking at things! What if that's exactly why you can't break it? What if whoever it is knows how you think so they've designed this thing so you can't do this alone?"

- You can't see Alastor's face, but he's standing there still not saying anything. One of his ears is pointed backwards in your direction. He's actually listening.

- You gulp, and stand up shakily. "What if they knew that you would never seek assistance, so they've done things which won't be visible to you and only you. If you just give me a chance." You're no longer shouting, rather speaking in a tone you're trying to keep even despite how afraid you are.

- Alastor grits his teeth, ears twitching as he considers it. He's pissed off because you're actually making a good point.

- It goes against every instinct in his body, but suddenly, he's right in front of you, holding out his hand to you as he glares menacingly at you. "A week, and if you find nothing, you will never fucking approach this with me again, or share what you have seen and heard about my deal with anybody."

- You gulp audibly. It's a ridiculously slim deadline for this kind of business, but it's more than nothing. As you accept the deal, he utters a single word you're shocked to hear.

- "Lilith."

- Without any further words, he disappears, leaving a glowing copy of the contract at your feet.

- The week of reviewing the contract was utter fucking hell.

- it's not just that the contract was super air tight, it's just that it was so ridiculously complicated and hard to understand that you could hardly fucking comprehend what you were reading most of the time. It was utterly maddening.

- Your breakthrough, however, came not through solely just reading the words, but from actually talking to Lucifer himself about Lilith when he came to visit the hotel while Alastor left.

- As per the deal, you didn't share anything about the contract, but you did ask about her in private with him and he was actually surprisingly happy to discuss her.

- So that's, how on the last day of the deadline, you cracked the contract wide open with a counter-contract draft you had written in a few hours.

- Alastor almost screams out in pure unadulterated fury when he sees what you've written and hears the explanation behind it.

- Lilith wasn't some skilled dealmaker hellbent on controlling demons. She was a broken down dreamer who had no idea what she was actually doing in the contract, but being Lilith, her words held so much weight that they'd chained him despite that.

- It actually takes every bone in your body to not burst out laughing with how utterly humiliated he looks.

- His ears are pressed forward on his head, and he's making an odd high-pitched audio feedback kind of sound as his face is hidden in his hands.

- He'd been stressing over this thing for years as a skilled dealmaker looking at it, and yet that was exactly why he couldn't do it.

- Couldn't do what you did in a fucking week.

- "So, do you want me to undo this thing now or-?"

- You startle as suddenly he's in front of you, both hands on either one of your shoulders.

- you try so hard to not snicker as you see his expression finally, but fail. He's pressing his still ever-smiling mouth into a crooked line, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed. Dark flush covers his cheeks and neck.

- "Yes. Please." He says those words as if they are poison in his mouth. "I'm.. Sorry. That I underestimated you." Alastor opens his eyes to look at you as he begins to regain his composure a bit more, the hard part of this interaction being over with.

- Fortunately, and also infuriatingly, Alastor had not had his soul contract used once. Lilith simply had him in her back pocket and didn't lift a finger whenever she felt him try to break it again and again. It's like she didn't even give a fuck that she literally owned him.

- This fact burnt hot embarrassment and frustration into him as it destroyed his ego, but now it was a relief as she would most likely not try and come after him. Or you for that matter.

- His claws grip painfully into your shoulders as you fail to stop snickering loudly in disbelief that he actually apologised. Admitted losing essentially.

- "S-sorry! I just can't believe I'm seeing you like this." You apologised.

- Alastor gritted his teeth. "Don't get used to it." He growls before his mask slips right back on like it never happened. "I'm simply admitting my mistake in assuming you could not do this, darling! It turns out you truly can't teach an old dog new tricks. Or deer, in this case." He clears his throat, straightening up.

- You smile up at him, heavy bags under your eyes from where you've barely slept for the past week pouring over this.

- "If it makes you feel any better, it makes sense why you couldn't solve this thing. It's utter bullshit nonsense." You shake your head at the contract.

- The deal was undone embarrassingly quickly after that using the draft you had written. No pushback at all on it.

- Alastor feels his collar slacken and break to bits as you write the counter-contract and sighs with extreme relief as he watches the other contract disintegrate, feeling the power which had been stolen coming back as it turns to dust. It doesn't cure the utter humiliation that still sits heavy upon his shoulders however.

- After everything, he would threaten to kill you if you tell anyone about what went on or how he had fallen apart. Though, it would be a lie to say you two don't grow significantly closer.

- Alastor is still hesitant to fully let his guard down around you, however the massive wake that existed between you two even as fairly good friends has now significantly closed.

- He's still a lying, scheming asshole, but he'll be much more inclined to not be so much with you considering you've kept multiple giant blows to his ego fully secret.

This was a lot longer than what I usually write for requests holy moly, but I absolutely loved writing these. I hope I fulfilled your vision anon 🙏

You get through Angel's and Husk's, which are really emotional and sweet, then you get to Alastor's 💀

Masterlist

[fadedtoneverland]

hello I hope you are well, could you write Mingi x male reader who is androgynous and biracial, the reader is a soloist and his music style is city pop fluff and suggestive please 🫶

“pretty city boy” | s.mg

❤︎ synopsis — just some fluff headcanons of mingi with his amazing bf <3

pairing: idol!mingi x soloist!male!reader

theme: fluff ✿ , suggestive ❤︎

a/n: more ateez !! and with a male reader too! ugh, i love my male readers 🫶🫶 we need more of them in the fanfic space.

cw: suggestive jokes. innuendos (because it’s mingi). teasing from woosansang

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before the relationship

when you first joined the industry, you had no idea what to really expect.

making a fan base and career out of being a kpop soloist was scary, especially because you didn’t have a group prior to debuting to gain traction from

so of course, you were scared

but thanks to your amazing company and staff, they promoted you well enough to make your name known throughout all of korea, and even worldwide.

and of course, when fame comes, other idols start naturally hearing about you.

one of them being song mingi from ateez

as a musician himself, mingi had very high respect for the pretty boy with amazing vocals and stunning, unique visuals.

that pretty boy being you, of course.

so naturally, he got invested

mingi learned more about your company, and also the songs you wrote. he really liked the city pop melodies you’d incorporate, and some of the heavy themes you’d sing about in your songs.

so after diving into your discography, he begged hongjoong to get tickets to one of your seoul concerts

it took a lot of convincing, but joong eventually gave in

so now him, hongjoong, seonghwa and san all went together to watch your concert, and get the full experience of your performances

and it was totally worth draining the captain’s wallet

as a performance heavy idol, mingi takes live performances very seriously. his craft is impeccable, and here he was, starstruck by how easily you dominated the stage

you were made to be a star. it’s like god crafted your very being to make the whole world fall in love with you and scream your name

just like how mingi did in this moment

he was so in awe, that san took notice of this, and even waved a hand in front of mingi’s face during the intermission, trying to get his attention.

not like mingi cared, he still processing the adrenaline high from that insane performance. and it was only the first act

when mingi met you at send off, you were just as sweet as you seemed on stage. polite and courteous, even thanking your sunbaenims for attending your concert

to be honest, you were also fanboying a little upon finding out half of ateez was at your concert. you admired their work a lot, and were very happy to know they enjoyed your performance

safe to say, that wouldn’t be the last time you saw mingi. you kept seeing ateez throughout various award shows and promotions, and of course, you’d talk with mingi every chance you got

he was the member that captivated you the most. tall, handsome, charismatic, talented. just everything a guy should be.

and also he was like totally your type too but let’s not talk too much about that

one day after an award show and during an after party, you gave mingi your number, and soon you both started talking more

and of course, that blossomed into something more

during the relationship

mingi first confessed to you, and over text as well

he’s a busy man, so he never had the chance to do anything romantic as a confession

luckily, you accepted, and you both lived for this secret relationship you guys had.

obviously mingi told ateez, and they’re all very supportive

especially the hyungs, hongjoong and seonghwa. they do their best to assure that they support this, and will do anything to protect his relationship

kq also goes extra lengths to keep his relationship private, as does your record label.

the relationship itself is so cute

mingi likes to act all tough and hardcore, with his dude-bro shades n’ all

but the minute you’re around, he softens up like a puppy

you give him the princess treatment he deserves. surprisingly, you’re the one that pampers mingi more in the relationship, and he doesn’t mind at all.

more hugs and kisses from you, please and thank you.

he calls you his pretty boy

emphasis on the “his”, mingi is lowkey very possessive, and does not want to share his lover.

yeosang, wooyoung and san tease mingi endlessly for acting like such a simp around you.

like one minute, he’ll be arguing with wooyoung about who ate the last pack of ramyeon, but the minute he gets a call from you, he stops the argument and is like “hiii babyyy!! :33”

leaving wooyoung dumbfounded, and mocking mingi in the background with his other two besties

“ewwww look at the simp.” “gay behavior smh.” “get a room you guys”

those are some cool phrases from the trio

your dates consist of composing songs together and visiting cafes

the idol life is demanding and hectic, so your downtime is spent with nice, calming activities

whenever mingi’s stressing about something or experiencing bad anxiety, you kiss his knuckles to make him feel better

and following it by peppering his face with a bunch of kisses to let him know he’s loved <33

mingi’s love language is physical affection.

whenever you’re over at the ateez dorms, which is not often, he’ll take it upon himself to throw his body over you, and cuddle you all day.

mingi will also slap your ass a lot

like, a lot. and you can’t do anything to stop it.

sometimes he’ll straight up grab your ass from behind and whisper not so pg-13 things in your ear

“y’know it’d be really easy for me to just bend you over right now on this kitchen counter.” “mingi i swear to god-“

he’s a shameless little fucker whenever it’s just the two of you.

mingi is not the most horny guy in the world, but damn does he know how to keep you screaming all night

one particular night you guys went at it a little too hard in the ateez dorms… and accidentally kept a few people awake.

the next morning, you limped into the kitchen to see a very… very agitated choi san, with his arms crossed and bloodshot eyes

you would’ve been terrified if he didn’t look so goofy in the moment.

“.. pfft— hey san-“ don’t talk to me.”

you apologized to him of course, and san forgave you.

mingi then later walked in the kitchen with visible hickeys on his neck, and shot a smug ass grin to san. a grin that basically said “yep. i bagged that pretty boy.”

overall, the relationship is very sweet and loving, and you couldn’t be happier to have a man like mingi <3

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fadedtoneverland © 2024 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[familyabolisher]

you said that you don’t take lines of questioning / thought about “romanticizing” dark topics (SA, incest, etc.) seriously. would you mind elaborating on that? what does it mean, if anything, to romanticize? i think i get why it’s a fundamentally reactionary (or just silly?) thing to be concerned about, but would you mind elaborating on why?

thanks! your posts have been very illuminating on this sort of thing.

okay so let's talk about "romanticise" as a literary discourse for a second because there are a handful of things happening with its usage:

is the assumption that there exists a state of non-'romantic' discursive matter from which something 'romantic' is being created, and the content of the text in question is the process by which that creation is happening;

is the use of 'romantic' to describe something that appears to the viewer as desirable and attractive, thus obscuring the ways in which it is harmful/abusive/violent/&c.;

is the idea that this 'romantic' state represents something morally odious due to the ideas it might impress upon the audience about the nature of the discursive matter made 'romantic' in question.

i think it's worth breaking each of these assumptions down because i don't believe that any of them actually hold water, and i find that they in fact telegraph some pretty reactionary paradigms around literary criticism.

first is the idea that there exists discursive matter that is not "romantic," here to mean suffused with cultural narratives that render it desirable, and that the matter in question only takes on these desirable qualities after undergoing this process of "romanticisation." by this logic, the matter is in fact prediscursive; the onus of constructing a “romantic” discourse lies solely with the cultural response. when in practice, normative cultural assumptions and the media that interacts with them exist in a feedback loop relative to one another, and it surely makes more productive sense to engage with the apparently objectionable material not as an object that creates or even necessarily reifies a normative cultural standard, but that interfaces with that standard in what could potentially be any number of variant forms. this widens the scope of our response as an audience—we might well say that a depiction of XYZ was tasteless, clichéd, voyeuristic, lacked interest in the interiority of its subjects, &c. &c., just as easily as we might say that it engaged with extant cultural narratives in compelling, thoughtful, meaningful ways. we're not taking the cultural object as the didactic “creation” of a social norm—we're situating it within the norms from which it already emerged.

the second is the idea that this ‘romantic,’ aesthetically desirable construction must necessarily obscure the ways in which the subject matter is harmful (however we define ‘harmful’). i find this position v condescending, towards creator and audience alike—one way of crafting horror that can be really exceptional when done right is the total sealing-off of the narrative from any didactic intervention, any suggestion that what's being depicted is morally “wrong.” the dissonance between subject matter and audience—and/or between subject matter and creator—can be brilliant when you can have faith that that dissonance exists. audiences aren't little babies who learn our morals from our media; we're prepared to critically engage with and respond to a discourse presented to us. as i said above, doing away with this whole “romantic” sheen as an obfuscator of violence opens us up to new, more precise, more compelling readings.

the third – and imo, the most damnatory – is the suggestion that the narrative itself represents a potential site of harm due to the underlying ideology that it imposes on those who engage with it. like, we're still adopting this approach whereby we construct and engage with narratives for instructive purposes; if we see a depiction of sexual abuse that renders the abuse pleasurable, aesthetically pleasing, desirable, then we absorb this idea that sexual abuse is pleasurable and aesthetically pleasing and desirable and thus covet the position of the subject in question. i don't think this is necessarily true! i'm obviously not suggesting that we don't absorb and reproduce our cultural narratives in media – as i said in the first point, there exists a feedback loop between the two – but i think we as audiences and critics ought to think more highly of ourselves than to imagine that we are incapable of seeing some fucked up shit given an aesthetic gloss without asking why the aesthetic gloss is being used, how the creator is making use of perspective, how we might respond to it, etc. and i just don't think narratives ought to be instructive or didactic; nor do i think creators bear responsibility for how their work is received to the extent that they are obliged to orient their discourse towards a presumed impressionable individual for whom every action or aesthetic contrivance is a categorical imperative. this is the oldest and honestly the most boring debate in the book; the question of "moralism" in fiction has been done half to death by now, and i don't see any use in rehashing it to any significant extent. suffice it to say that the “moralist” approach is stultified and limited and intellectually dull.

note that nowhere in this did i say that there are never narratives that ought to be called into question for their depiction of X, Y, or Z; just that i think we need better, more precise language to defer to do when we do so. simply put, i think it's possible to make a piece of art that holds these “romantic” qualities, and doesn't have a guy walk in midway through and go “by the way, abuse is Bad/age gaps are Problematic/mental illness is Unsexy,” &c., and still greatly compel me wrt its subject matter. & that is a statement which exists in straightforward contradiction to the idea that the term “romanticise” communicates anything necessarily and inherently condemnatory about a text, so, i don't use it.

[crystaldivination]

“𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠?”

Thιs ιs ᥲ ᥣᥱttᥱr/tᥱxt from ყoᥙr most dᥱsιrᥱd ρᥱrsoᥒ

Hᥱყ bᥲbᥱs! It’s bᥱᥱᥒ ᥲ ᥕhιᥣᥱ, ᥲ qᥙιtᥱ ᥣoᥒg ᥕhιᥣᥱ bᥙt ᥒoᥕ I’m hᥱrᥱ ᥕιth ᥲ ᥒᥱᥕ ριᥴk-ᥲ-ᥴᥲrd rᥱᥲdιᥒg. Todᥲყ I brιᥒg ყoᥙ ᥲᥒothᥱr romᥲᥒᥴᥱ toριᥴ. I oρtᥱd for somᥱthιᥒg I kᥒoᥕ ყoᥙ’d ᥣιkᥱ ᥲᥒd somᥱthιᥒg thᥲt’d rᥲdιᥲtᥱ ᥣovιᥒg ᥱᥒᥱrgყ to ᥱvᥱrყoᥒᥱ ᥕho fιᥒds thιs. I hoρᥱ ყoᥙ ᥲᥣᥣ fιᥒd ιt ᥱᥒjoყᥲbᥣᥱ! Lᥱt mᥱ kᥒoᥕ hoᥕ ιt rᥱsoᥒᥲtᥱs.

⣷ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⣷ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 ⣷ 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 & 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

How to choose your pile? As always meditate or close your eyes before looking at each picture. Trust your intuition and pick out a picture you feel the most drawn to.

The piles

both rows from left -> right

© 2023 crystaldivination ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited.

1 🖤

—mყ oᥒᥱ

You! Yes, you. What are you doing? Letting your life passing by you like that… don’t make a habit of attempting to give up without even trying. Don’t you dare waste your precious time. It’s time to wake up my little honey bear. I don’t wanna see you like that. You got your passion to go after, a so amazing future ahead of you waiting for you to embrace.

Don’t you think you’re worth it? Worth your effort trying to make what you truly want happen even if you don’t know the outcome now? Because I think you are. I’m right here even if you can’t see me. You would know how frustrated I can be when you’re being so stubborn and fearful. That’s so not you, you know that *chuckle*. Where did the little fiery spirit go, hm? I get that, things are not that easy… everything used to be easier, dot dot dot but don’t you see that you’re just making it harder than it looks? What do you have to lose if you just make the first step, huh? Try it, right now! No one is standing in your way but yourself. I can speak from experience.

A not so good result? Chin up. Try it again! And again until you got the hang of it. It’s better than just living in dissatisfaction and getting by right? Master your bravery until you master your craft. Now take my hand and trust in the process. Believe in yourself and what you can. I’m always watching you from above. Don’t make me feel sad about not being able to guide you. I want you to enjoy yourself and your life. You got this! There’s nothing to worry about. Open your heart and your mind then you’ll see the magic happening right in front of you. Make a difference first and all will follow. I’m always beside you, loving and supporting you. We will find each other again. I’m the light at the end of the tunnel, always guiding you home. You’ve never lost me. You belong with me. If you miss me, look deep in your heart and you’ll see me there. Have hope my love.

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2 🖤

—sᥱᥲsoᥒ ᥴhᥲᥒgᥱ

It’s hard for me to say something or anything at all. I don’t know… I’m in pain right now. The darkest feelings from memories that I’ve always wanted to escape from are catching up to me. I can’t take this excruciating pain and agony anymore. People are cruel. Sometimes I ask myself if love really is out there, if it’s kind enough to wait for me to give me its sincere and beautiful magic like how they called it at all or if there’s nothing like that because if there is, would it betray me like this? What does it all mean? Is everything just love? What is love? Is it just a journey one must go to find themself again? It’s hard, it’s painful. I feel like losing myself. Why does one have to go through pain?

I can’t get these bitter feelings off of me. My world is falling apart with nothing to hold on to. You’re the one i want to avoid the most but at the end of the day I somehow always find myself holding on to you again. You’re the only one I can remember, the only one I can hold onto even if I don’t want it. The only thing I can do is to deny it so I won’t believe it but I know that’s not the truth. You’re keeping me from collapsing completely. I know it’s selfish if I say I want you to ease my pain, to take my pain away but right now you’re the only safe haven I have.

I want to be a sweet and friendly person for you but there’s all this anxiety. The horror and the fear from the past are holding me back. I’m scared. I’m scared to scare you. I’m triggered when I see your face. You need to stay out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you. I fear to make this mistake again. To trust and then being let down again. Loving you feel like a dream but I’m too unstable. What if I can’t ever get out of that dream although it’d be a beautiful thought but I’m scared to mess up. I used to have everything but you and now I have nothing but you to hold onto. Isn’t that sad or just a cliché? I do want to give you a love so pure and I want love you unconditionally but maybe love is not in it for me, maybe i just need to focus on myself. I’m just unlucky I guess, for a lack of a better word.

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3 🖤

—mooᥒᥣιght

I’ve been looking for you for way too long. We belong together, you and I. We're soulmates, I just know it. I know you’re right there. You’re just waiting for me like I am for you. It’s reassuring to know we both sit under the same sky looking at the same moon right? I can’t wait to meet you. I think we’re alike. You’re exactly what I’m looking for. Let me be the perfect missing puzzle to your picture and you can be the light that is shining on me. You’re my beautiful dream fever. You drive me wild and crazy.

Under the moonlight let me adore you. I can imagine your eyes sparkling when admiring the stars while I’m the one who’s admiring your beauty. Looking into your eyes must be magical. I don’t have to see through rose-colored glasses to recognize how you are the rosé world embellished with flower petals yourself that I seek. You’re a fascination to me. I can’t figure you out yet but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know you more. I don’t actually know you but I feel like I do regardless. I don’t need to know the truth. My heart knows you’re perfect either way.

Your skin, the softness that you carry in you. I want to inhale your scent like it's some kind of drug I can’t get used to with its intensity but won’t be able to stop. You speak and understand me with all your body and soul, I know you do, thus this is why day by day I dive into you with my soul. Although my mortal eyes show and tell me something else it doesn’t matter. As long as I have you in my heart I know you’re already here with me and always. They say you’re a rare diamond that I, as an ordinary human, have no chance to earn but let me, a humble one, find you and treat you the way you’ve always deserved because you’re worthy of all good. You can decide once you see and know me if I’m worthy of your attention and love. I want to claim you as mine but not out of fear, instead I want you to claim me as yours as well.

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4 🖤

—thᥱ soᥙᥒd of ყoᥙ

Why are you so ridiculously beautiful? You’re so stunningly beautiful. You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you. I care for you so much. You’re the softest sound from the most perfect lullaby I’ve ever known of but can’t seem to believe actually exists. I dream of you. I want to see you smile and make you happy.

Come here. I’m right here, sweetheart. I need you to stop beating yourself up. You won’t hurt yourself. You won’t give up. You can overcome anything because you’re strong. You can do it for yourself and me. Be happy and live your life to the fullest. You deserve it my little darling. You don’t know how special you are so don’t you dare lose your light because of anything or anyone trying to dim that light. Stay positive and be brave. I know you can.

Most of the times I don’t even know why my heart is longing for you. It’s like there’s an invisible draw that is pulling me towards you. A call for my other half. An important half that I feel is missing in me. Is there a chance that I’ve known you before because I feel like knowing you without knowing you before. You open up memories in me that I’ve never seen before but they are telling me they exist deep in my mind and were forgotten for a very long time. Do you believe in destiny? I don’t but I might get convinced.

With me you don’t have to be tough all the time or pretend to be. I can love you for who you are with all your strengths and weaknesses. If you’re really the right one for me and that can only my heart tells, I’ll love you with all that my heart can offer. And I promise you, I will stick around as long as I can. I won’t let you down.

Now wait for you? I can do that. Even if the world ends tomorrow my will would stay strong. I want to be able to see and touch you. I’m confused but this is somehow a good feeling. What do you say? I think I’m not ready for our union yet but I might get surprised by the universe by what it is conspiring for us, I guess?

♡ PS. to my followers who participated in my latest game — due to personal matters i won’t be able to answer your asks any time soon but I’ll try to queue them whenever I can. I apologize for the delay.

— you’ve reached the end of this post, thanks for reading!

signed, crystal.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1312

Chapter 37:

When you walked into the Iron Maiden and climbed the first two steps, you did not expect to hear Jen shouting for anyone other than herself.

"Lilla! Lilia!"

Her shouts echoed across the stone walls, and you let Agatha continue up ahead as you turned and chose to check what was going in.

Yet when you found her hitting her fists against a dirt wall, shouting the name of a certain witch that was not amongst you... you realized.

Your lips pressed against one another, forming a flat line and momentarily you closed your eyes; offering a silent prayer and a moment of respectful peace for the brave witch.

Lilia was not close to you, and the way she often stared at you made you keep your distance from her. But in the end, she cared for the coven; more than anyone.

In the end, she sacrificed herself so the rest of you could move forward; one trial closer in reaching the end of the road and the much needed prize.

A prize, one would start questioning if it was worth it, after all the mental and physical torture... and the losses.

Jen needed a moment to recover, tears being wiped by the back of her hand before she sat down by the steps; trying to process yet another loss.

One that she truly felt this time.

Teen joined her while you stood close. You could have left them behind, go find Agatha, but you chose not to. They needed to mourn, to process everything before being able to continue.

Agatha would be fine, for she was not stupid enough to walk away. Yet you could not help but have this feeling... that something was not right.

"Rio." Jen started, unsure where to start. "Green Witch with a capital G. She told us who she was in the very beginning." She continued, earning Billy's attention, who was not catching up.

"Green Craft is about the cycle of all living things. Growth and decay in constant flow." You chose to enlighten him, leaning against the stone wall with hands folded in front of your chest.

At least you were out of that dress, which was perhaps the only positive thing you could think of right now. That and the fact that you were alive, one trial closer in getting out of this helish road.

Billy looked at you, not surprised you knew. He had come to realise, with your past related to Agatha, that you knew far more than the rest of the coven members.

"So Agatha's ex is Death." He concluded, trying to wrap his head around the idea that death was a woman; one capable of faling in love from the looks of it. "Well, one of her exes." he looked at you again.

You kept your lips pressed to one another. "Pretty much,"

"That makes sense," he commuted. Somehow, it did make sense; though by now, he did question his sanity and mind.

"You knew, didn't you?" Jen asked next, her gaze on your form.

This time, though, she was too tired to judge. Too tired to throw any sparky remarks. She just wanted some more answers. She deserved to know after all the trials she had been through with the coven.

You sighed. "I did."

"And you didn't tell us."

In honour of her grief and Lilia's sacrifice, you chose not to react to her words. "You didn't ask me, not her, not anyone," you replied calmly.

It was Jen's turn to sigh. "No, we didn't." she placed the back of her head against the wall.

Silence enveloped the group of three, no one truly knowing what to say. Some were even hesitant to move, trying to savour as much as they could, this little moment of peace.

Who knew what they would face next? How quick will the next trial come meet them?

As you three sat there, it was then that your fellow witches took notice that someone was missing.

"Where is Agatha?" Jen questioned, looking around but finding no sign of the magicless witch.

"Up ahead. She should be waiting for us, " you informed, one thumb pointing over your shoulder towards the way the steps were leading.

Jen scoffed. "Yeah, right?"

"She knows alone won't do her any good in the trials," you reminded Jen as you offered your hand to pull her up on your feet. "The Road needs us together. It's the only way."

Defeated, she accepted your hand and let you pull her up; surprised by your strength. You definitely did not look that strong...and yet again, you did not look a lot of things if she were to be frank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Path led you back to the forest, unsure if it was the same place you had started of further down the Road. Everything looked the same, but you did not trail back to question. There was no need.

As you three walked in a line, you could not help but start a conversation. Though the topic was not much to your liking.

"I mean, how did they even meet?" Billy wondered.

"Um, over corpses, I imagine." Jen answered before the duo looked at you.

You sighed. "I am afraid you are asking the wrong witch," you confessed.

"But you were first, right? You knew Agatha before Rio, didn't you?" She asked you next, remembering what Evanora's ghost was saying in the cabin.

Though Jen was still puzzled by that interaction. Evanora hated you, and Jen suspected it was because you had chosen Agatha in the end. But something was telling her there was something more.

Pieces of your puzzle were missing, making it harder to get a good image of who you truly are and what your past is.

"I was," you answered simply, clearly not wishing to continue this discussion.

It was not easy for you either. Your feelings mixed about the topic and you needed time, to finally make a decision about it... to make peace with it.

"You must have really hurt her if her next ex ended up being Death itself."

You took a deep breath at Jen's words. You had chosen not to react so far, simply as a respect to her grief, but even you had limits to your patience.

Billy took notice, and he did not really like how that topic had changed to focus on you and your rather cryptic relationship with Agatha.

And it was not right talking about Agatha behind her back, as if she was not going to show up any time soon.

"Well... I don't care," he joined the conversation. "It simply shows more proof that Agatha has feelings."

His words made you smile faintly, but you hid it from Jen, who you didn't have to look to feel her disagreement rising.

"That was your takeaway?" She scoffed. "I do not understand your loyalty to her. Hers, I understand, but not you. "

"It's not loyalty. It's analysis." Billy quickly defended himself.

"Oh, look who grew up."

"I'm fully aware that Agatha Harkness can never be anything but a coven-less witch."

You did not manage to hide your expression at those words, which seemed to sting you as much as they would Agatha.

Yet before you could ask anything, someone else beat you to it.

"Ouch!" Agatha exclaimed as she came from behind some plans.

Your eyes locked, and you could once again see right through her. You could see that something was odd, something had taken place but you were not sure what.

A part of you told you it had to do with Rio, but you wouldn't put your hand in the fire of it.

One thing was certain, though.

Agatha's mask was back on. Any moments of true humility, humanity, and empathy long gone by now. She had locked them all away once again.

Chapter 38

[cyberstudious]

✨ 📖 ✏️ studyblr masterpost jam ✏️ 📖 ✨

📌 what is this?

this is a masterpost jam, like a game jam or a hackathon or a writing challenge, but for creating masterposts! the goal is to share knowledge and resources, as well as connect with other cool folks on tumblr! this challenge was born out of the studyblr community, but anyone who loves learning is welcome to participate. each day, share a masterpost following the prompts below and tag your posts with the hashtag #studyblrmasterpostjam so we can all reblog them and share the love <3

🗓️ when is this happening?

the main challenge will run August 12th through August 18th, although you're welcome to participate on your own timeline :)

✨ everyone is encouraged to participate in whatever way is comfortable!

you don't have to be an academic or a professional! tell us about your special interest, a favorite hobby or craft, or something else that you like learning about!

even if you're a beginner, you still have a valuable perspective that's worth sharing (and writing posts for this challenge is a great way to do some research and learn!).

you don't have to do all of the days or share posts on the "right" day! pick and choose your faves if you want, combine things, and take as long as you need to put them together.

you don't have to make super long posts! if you have a single resource or tip to share, please do and we will appreciate it all the same <3

if you don't want to write any posts, you can still participate by reading posts that other people make and reblogging them so we can all learn from each other!

please feel free to interpret the prompts below in your own way and expand upon them! there are so many different topics out there and the questions I've written probably don't make sense for some of them, so take what makes sense and use the rest as inspiration!

✏️ prompts

[monday, august 12th] an intro to your topic or field of study

how would you describe this topic to someone who has never heard of it? what careers are available? what professional organizations/conferences are big? what journals do academics publish in? what are the big questions, goals, or challenges? what are the sub-fields/sub-topics/areas of specialization? what are some resources for learning about the field itself?

2. [tuesday, august 13th] books

textbooks, fiction that relates to the field, inspiring memoirs, biographies, art books, graphic novels, audiobooks… anything that you think is relevant to your topic and helpful!

3. [wednesday, august 14th] free resources

online things! resources that you might be able to get from your library! and and all ways to learn/study/practice that don't require money - feel free to get creative here and come up with some cool ideas beyond just links to websites!

4. [thursday, august 15th] notable figures

who has made important contributions to the field? is there anyone who made big contributions in the past that are now outdated or incorrect? who has done great things but been overlooked because of racism/sexism/ableism/etc.? who is making interesting contributions today? is there anyone in the field that you look up to? this is a great time to do some research if you don't already have some notable figures in mind!

5. [friday, august 16th] study tips

what are your favorite tips and ways to study this topic? are there lots of things you need to memorize or tricky concepts that are hard to understand at first? is there a skill that requires lots of practice? tell us about it and how you approach it!

6. [saturday, august 17th] tools of the trade

do you work with software? lab equipment? art supplies? your favorite pen and notebook? certain analysis frameworks or processes? tell us about them!

7. [sunday, august 18th] beginner's guide

what resources were most helpful when you were a beginner? what are the important concepts/techniques to start with? are there any prerequisite skills? also, include links to your previous masterposts!

remember to tag your posts with #studyblrmasterpostjam! if you want to participate, feel free to reblog this to spread the word. I'll see y'all on August 12th for the first masterpost!

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP6-EP7: "You think I'd go on living if you died?"

I'm sure everyone is still wiping away the snot from their face thanks to Episode 6's brutal ending. I want to talk about how next week's preview shows we're leading into the best invitation for reconciliation as far as Bison and Kant are concerned. Let me explain.

In the wake of Bison being confronted with the awful truth, he will likely assume (in the immediate instance) that everything - every single thing Kant has said and done was a total lie - a strategically crafted fabrication to get him hooked, including Kant's feelings. That Kant never loved him at all, it was all an act. We as an audience know that's not true but Bison doesn't.

With Bison getting shot next episode, this forces Kant to drop his mask in the most revealing way possible. In the face of losing Bison, this becomes the catalyst for Kant turning the tables, and proves twofold:

Kant's panic over Bison possibly dying indicates he genuinely cares about him. His entire demeanour during this incident will be under the eyes of everyone present including Fadel and Style. If there was any doubt about Kant's feelings, there won't be now.

Kant can no longer lie to himself. He can't live without Bison (by his own later admission). Throughout EP6, Kant's been trying to assure Style he will move on once this whole situation has blown over, but Kant's simply telling his best friend what he wished he could convince himself of. He tries to believe that he can give up Bison and be okay, that it will all be worth it if it means protecting Babe. But deep down he knows he won't be. This confirms it.

So firstly, Bison will witness just how much Kant cares about him. It doesn't deny the fact that Kant lied to him, but the truth is Kant has also undoubtedly fallen in love with him. The man sits by Bison's bedside sobbing and inconsolable, and I anticipate Kant may well confess why he did what he did whilst Bison is 'unconscious', who may recall some or all of what he says when he wakes.

Secondly, Kant will decide that he can no longer put Bison in any kind of jeopardy and that means: 'fuck the mission'. He's going to have to turn on Chris, and aid Bison and Fadel to escape the pursuit from the police that he helped them gain progress with. Chris already suspects that Kant has fallen for Bison which makes him a huge liability. Sealed by either by his own active choices to defy the police, or in Chris' eyes, Kant has effectively chosen to put a huge target on his back. By extension Babe is no longer safe either.

In the preview, we also see Bison disappear from the hospital, just as Chris plans to apprehend him. It's likely that the next time they meet, Bison has been in hiding (probably watching Kant from the shadows) before he intervenes to help. It could be that Kant is being hunted down by the cops or Mother. For Bison to do this shows he's already on the road towards forgiveness, having observed Kant and processed what he now knows. It's far more complicated than he first assumed, and he's willing to hear Kant out. They're ready to start the path to reconciliation and face what's to come together.

On a final note, I've been speculating who may be the ones leading the attack at the bowling alley. The obvious guess would be the police. But for some reason, I have a wild feeling it could be Keen. (I remember Pepper being on set when these four were filming for this scene). It's possible for example that Mother finds out it's Kant and Style who are the informants and Keen tries to score some brownie points by taking them out. In the heat of the moment, Bison protects Kant on instinct and gets shot. Now that would make this all the more heart-wrenching wouldn't it?

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[soniaknox]

10 Ways to Craft an Ending That Leaves Readers Satisfied (and Haunted)

To avoid making your story ending disappointing, you need to create an ending that feels earned, meaningful, and resonant. Here’s how you can achieve that:

1. Fulfill the Promise of the Story

• Setup and Payoff: Make sure that your ending resolves the central conflict or answers the key question posed at the beginning. If you’ve set up big mysteries, themes, or emotional stakes, the ending must address them meaningfully.

• Genre Expectations: A horror story should leave readers disturbed, unsettled, or haunted. A romance should offer closure to the love story (happy or tragic). Honor the genre you’re working in while still aiming for originality.

2. Avoid Deus Ex Machina

• Don’t introduce sudden solutions, characters, or twists that haven’t been set up earlier in the story. The ending should arise organically from the events, choices, and themes you’ve established.

3. Ensure Character Arcs are Complete

• Your protagonist (and key supporting characters) should have gone through meaningful change. Their transformation—whether growth, failure, or stagnation—should resonate with the reader.

• Ask yourself:

• Has the protagonist learned something?

• Have they made a choice that reflects who they’ve become?

• Do the events of the story matter to their journey?

4. Avoid Rushing the Ending

• A rushed ending often feels abrupt or hollow. Give the resolution enough space for emotional weight to sink in. Readers need time to process the climax and see the consequences of the story’s events.

5. Embrace Emotional Resolution

• Beyond plot resolution, your ending should strike an emotional chord. Even in horror, readers crave some form of catharsis—be it dread, unease, sadness, or even a glimmer of hope.

• Show Aftermath: Highlight how the events affected your characters or world. This helps ground the stakes and reinforces the emotional impact.

6. Surprise, but Satisfy

• A good ending doesn’t need to be predictable, but it must make sense in retrospect. Twists should feel clever, not cheap. Readers should be able to look back and see that the clues were there all along.

• Subvert Expectations Thoughtfully: Surprises should align with your story’s themes and tone. Avoid shocking readers just for the sake of it.

7. Thematic Resonance

• Your ending should tie back to the themes you’ve explored. If your story is about the destructive nature of obsession, your ending could reflect that theme in an unexpected but inevitable way.

• Ask: What do I want my reader to feel or think as they close the book? Leave them with something to ponder.

8. Test the Ending

• Read it aloud to see how it flows emotionally and structurally.

• Beta Readers: Ask readers if the ending felt satisfying, earned, and true to the story. If they’re left feeling underwhelmed, find out why.

9. Be Honest About Your Story’s Tone

• Don’t force a “happy” or “tidy” ending if it doesn’t fit your story. For horror, ambiguity, tragedy, or lingering questions can often make for the most powerful endings.

• Consider the following types of endings:

• Closed Ending: All questions answered, full resolution.

• Open Ending: Some questions remain, but the main arc feels resolved.

• Bittersweet Ending: A mix of triumph and loss.

• Circular Ending: The story ends where it began but with deeper meaning.

10. Craft a Memorable Final Image or Line

• End with a powerful visual, thought, or action that lingers. In horror, the final moment can leave readers unsettled, questioning reality, or haunted by what’s to come.

Reflective Questions for Yourself:

• Does the ending feel earned, or does it come out of nowhere?

• Will readers feel that the time they invested in the story was worth it?

• What emotional impact do I want the ending to have?

[sircantus]

Oh oh oh what is "Rich boy rich boy whatcha gonna do"?

THAT one is a dark sbi au kinda where struggling artist wilbur gets caught up in the influence and the attention of Technoblade who is like, the eldest son of the Craft family, who is super rich and somewhat famous with Phil being a famous person and Tommy being a spoiled child. Its a little funny bc its like wilbur constantly wanting to shake Techno for being such a rich kid (ex. techno has never had cheap pizza bc he’s had literal chefs making his meals all the time) and they get into funny little shenanigans with Techno constantly dragging wilbur into Rich Events (wilbur shows up to a ball with a shirt that has food stains and Techno has to wrangle him into the next room to put on something Presentable, bc we have a reputation, WIL-!) but its also meant to be a slow horror where Techno goes from seeming like a down to earth person to someone who will actually do anything to make sure he gets what he wants. (And he wants Wilbur to be his Friend. his friend. No one elses, thank you!)

Its- ahhhh i wanna ramble on but i dont wanna too much but anyhow one detail i like in the au is that theres a contrast between Tommy and Techno in how they act bc Tommy acts like a typical rich kid who gets all pissy when hes denied something and Techno and Wilbur tend to be like “wow he’s throwing a tantrum again lol” and Wilbur thinks that its just Tommy whos got some issues but then later on Techno has something go wrong with his 77 step plan to befriend Wilbur and he gets so upset about it that he snaps and tears apart his whole room in a fit of rage, which is such a MOMENT bc then its a reveal that Techno isnt any better, hes just better at keeping it behind closed doors. And PHIL is also just as bad as them bc he’s entirely justifies the damage and is like “ahh its going fine techno its not all lost but i can arrange for someone to go missing if you want”

Also also Techno is technically?? A fashion designer?? In the fic yeah i think that was the thing Phil is like a big name and Techno takes after him and theres also the detail of Techno constantly trying to have Wilbur wear his pieces and Wilbur is like “there is no occasion where i need to wear something thats worth more than my car” “well we do have this charity event next week-“ “who is WE??”

GOSH its all so much its such a fic and it does get really dark at some bits (wilbur ends up trying to murder techno lmao) but ehh its a wip who knows if ill ever post it haha

Also its called rich boy rich boy whatcha gonna do bc the rich boy is techno and whatcha gonna do is wilburs mental process when he realizes how deep in trouble he is

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: Agatha sneaks into your house, and an already risky plan takes an unexpected, and even riskier, turn.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I know this update took forever and I am so sorry, work and life in general have been crazy lately. Writing has been such a slow process, and finding the time to sit down and focus has been hella hard.

That said, I’m so grateful for your patience and support—it truly means the world to me. Every comment, like, and bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to push through, even when things feel overwhelming. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed crafting it.

Thank you for sticking with me through this journey. Your love for this story keeps me going 💜

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

It feels like you’ve been hiding in the shadows of your garden for hours. You have no idea how much time has passed or how long Agatha has been inside.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been waiting an eternity.

The night grows colder and heavier with each passing second, the chill creeps through your dress, your eyes fixed on the darkened windows above. The faint glow of the kitchen light spills onto the ground, a subtle but constant reminder of your mother’s presence inside.

You clench your hands into fists at your sides, trying to still the growing unease coiling in your chest. The plan had seemed straightforward at the time: get Agatha inside, have her pretend to be you, and wait for her to open the window. But now, as you stand in the biting cold, the enormity of the risks begins to gnaw at you.

Agatha doesn’t know your mother. Not the way you do. 

She doesn’t know the sharp edge to her voice, the way her words cut deeper than her glares. She doesn’t know the little tells, the moments when her mood shifts and it’s better to stay quiet than risk provoking her. And most importantly, Agatha doesn’t know the intricate, tense dance you’ve perfected over years of enduring her.

The weight of it all suddenly feels crushing. You shift uneasily, your breathing shallow as your thoughts spiral. What if your mother notices something’s off? What if Agatha hesitates or says the wrong thing? What if she tries to talk her way out of something and slips up? 

You bite down on your lip, forcing yourself to breathe slower, deeper. But the thoughts don’t stop. 

What if your mother catches her before she even reaches your room? What if she figures out the truth? What would she do - to Agatha, to you - if she realized the extent of this betrayal? Your mind conjures up a dozen worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

A sharp gust of wind pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, and you glance down instinctively at the small bundle of fur near your feet. The rabbit, Agatha’s rabbit, sits quietly in the shadows beside you, its nose twitching as it sniffs the night air. Its presence is steady, calm, almost indifferent to the storm raging in your head.

You crouch down slightly, your fingers brushing against the creature’s soft fur. It doesn’t flinch, simply shifts closer as if it senses your unease. There’s something grounding about the animal, something simple and reassuring. Agatha had brought it here with her, and for some reason, the thought that something she clearly cares for is by your side soothes the sharp edges of your panic.

You take another breath, steadier this time. The faint glow from the kitchen is still there, unchanging, and the stillness of the house seems both unnerving and hopeful. 

She’s inside. She’ll make it.

And then, finally, you hear the faint creak of the window above. 

Your head snaps up, your pulse quickening as you watch it ease open. Your own face peers out from the shadowed wooden frame, tense and searching the garden below. It takes you a second to remember that it’s actually Agatha.

The sight pulls at something strange in your chest. You know the spell you cast has served its purpose, that she’s safe now. That realization settles over you like a wave, and you exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

Closing your eyes, you draw on the lingering energy of the spell, your magic buzzing faintly under your skin. You picture her, not as a reflection of yourself, but as she truly is: darker, undeniably powerful, magnetic. With a flick of your wrist and a soft breath, you send the magic out, releasing it.

When you open your eyes, the figure leaning out of the window has changed. Her true form has returned: wild, dark hair framing her face, sharp cheekbones catching the faintest glow of the night.

Agatha’s gaze catches yours, steady and knowing, as if she’s fully aware of what you’ve just done. She tilts her head slightly in acknowledgment, a silent signal to come up. 

The tension in your chest doesn’t fully ease, but you let yourself glance at the towering tree at the center of the garden, its ancient branches stretching out in every direction like a great, unmoving sentinel. The bark is thick and weathered, furrowed with deep grooves that speak of countless seasons endured. 

Its lowest branches bow slightly under their own weight, but higher up, the limbs grow stronger, sprawling outward with a defiant strength. One of its largest branches curves close to your window, not enough to block the view from your room but near enough to serve as your path inside.

The tree has always been there, a quiet companion through your childhood. Back then, its lower limbs had felt like a sanctuary, their rough surfaces welcoming and steady beneath your hands. You’d scramble up effortlessly, laughing as you dangled your legs and let the world blur into your own imagined wilderness. 

But tonight, the tree looms above you, its branches no longer inviting but daunting, like a puzzle demanding perfect precision. Your gaze fixes on the thick branch that leads toward your window, and doubt creeps in uninvited.

You exhale, trying to calm the knot of nerves twisting in your stomach. The branches look sturdy, thicker than they seemed when you were younger, but you know they’ll need to hold more than they ever have before.

You step closer to the tree as you prepare to hoist yourself up. But as you look upward, plotting your path, reality snaps into focus. 

One of your hands is clutching the rabbit, its small body shifting slightly against your palm, leaving the other useless for climbing. Both hands will be needed to grip the bark and the branches, to steady yourself as you ascend.

You can’t climb like this.

Your jaw tightens as you glance down at the animal, then over your shoulder at the satchel pulling against your back. The weight of both feels suddenly oppressive, a barrier between you and the safety of the window above.

Your breath is clouding in the cold air as you glance up at the towering tree again. For a moment, you stand frozen, your mind racing for a solution.

Then, an idea comes to you. Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s all you’ve got, and it’ll have to do.

Kneeling carefully, you place the rabbit gently on the ground beneath the tree. 

“Stay.” you whisper softly, as the small creature sniffs the grass, its twitching nose brushing against a fallen leaf. You shrug the satchel off your back, unfastening the flap with fingers that tremble slightly from the cold.

You glance down at the contents of the bag and let out a soft sigh of relief. Agatha, it seems, is a light packer. There’s enough space, you think, and without hesitation, you scoop up the rabbit again, cradling its small body close for a moment. 

“Alright, you’re going in.” you whisper, angling the bag carefully to create a safe, snug space.

The rabbit shifts, its ears flicking in mild protest, but it doesn’t wriggle too much as you tuck it in among the folds of Agatha’s clothing. You adjust the fabric gently, making sure it’s secure, and offer a quiet, almost reassuring murmur. “See? Not so bad.”

You hope the familiar scent will keep it calm during the climb. For a moment, the faint smell reaches you as well - earthy yet sweet, rich and layered - and it stops you in your tracks. The briefest flicker of distraction pulls at you before you shake it off, focusing on closing the satchel and readying yourself for the climb.

You glance up at the window to check for any sign from Agatha, but what you see halts you. She’s leaning out of the darkened window, her features clear despite the shadows, and her expression… well, if looks could kill, you’d be flat on the ground.

Her glare is direct and unmistakable, her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It doesn’t take much to realize why. 

She’s staring straight at the satchel slung over your shoulder and the rabbit inside it. You’re frozen, caught mid-motion, her piercing gaze making you feel oddly small, like a child caught red-handed. Your irritation flares before you can stop it, the sharp edge of it cutting through your nerves. 

‘What exactly does she expect me to do?’ you think, sarcasm practically spilling over. ‘Carry it in my teeth?!’

You bite back a laugh at your own thoughts, the absurdity of the situation tugging at the corners of your mouth. You glance away from the window, shaking your head with a mix of annoyance and amusement. 

“As if she’d have a better idea.” you mutter quietly to yourself, the words more a release of tension than anything else.

The bark digs into your palms as you grip the trunk, pulling yourself up onto the first branch. It creaks faintly under your weight, but it holds, as it always has. Your breath comes slow and deliberate, each movement measured as you reach for the next handhold.

Even so, the awareness of Agatha’s eyes on you gnaws at the edge of your focus. Her gaze feels like a weight on your back, amplifying every misstep and every slight tremble in your limbs. The idea of her judging your clumsy climb, silently critiquing each slip of your footing, sends another wave of irritation coursing through you.

And yet… there’s something oddly reassuring about it too. As if her presence, no matter how frustrating, guarantees that someone will catch you if you fall. Not literally, of course, but the thought lingers, steadying you more than you’d care to admit.

You shift your weight carefully, reaching for the next branch. The satchel presses against your back, its weight a constant reminder of your responsibility, and of the sharp eyes above you. You resist the urge to glance up briefly, focusing instead on the climb.

You move cautiously, gripping the bark tightly as you climb higher. The tree groans faintly under your weight, and you freeze, holding your breath. 

The sound seems impossibly loud in the stillness of the night, a sharp contrast to the quiet hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. For a moment, you glance toward the kitchen window, half-expecting to see your mother’s silhouette appear, but the glow remains steady, undisturbed.

You grit your teeth, focusing on your balance, careful to distribute your weight evenly. Every move feels agonizingly slow, the need for silence making each step a deliberate act of precision.

As you near the branch that curves toward your window, you reach out with one hand, your fingers brushing the rough bark. It’s close, close enough that you can almost imagine the feel of the window frame beneath your palm. 

But as you shift your weight to make the final stretch, your foot slips against the trunk, the bark giving way beneath your boot.

Your stomach lurches as your balance wavers, your free hand scrabbling desperately for a hold. The satchel shifts sharply, throwing you further off balance, and for a terrifying moment, you’re certain you’ll fall. Your breath catches in your throat, panic blooming in your chest.

From her vantage point at the window, Agatha tenses instantly. Her eyes widen, and for a split second, she shifts forward slightly in a reflexive, almost involuntary motion, as if she could somehow close the unbridgeable distance and reach you. Concern flickers across her face as her hands grip the windowsill tightly, knuckles paling with the pressure.

But then your hand finds purchase, gripping a knot in the bark just in time to steady yourself. 

You hang there for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears, your body frozen as the satchel settles back into place. The rabbit stirs faintly inside, and you murmur a soft reassurance under your breath, though it’s as much for yourself as for the animal.

The faint creak of the tree subsides, and the night seems to hold its breath along with you. You force yourself to exhale slowly, the tension in your chest loosening as you steady your footing once more. Carefully, you reach out again, this time gripping the branch firmly before pulling yourself up onto it.

The window is finally within reach, a threshold to safety. 

As you glance up, Agatha is there, her figure sharp and still against the faint shadows of the room. She’s waiting, her presence a silent promise that the plan is almost complete. The sight steadies you and, for the first time since the climb began, relief flickers at the edges of your thoughts, fragile but real.

As you near the window, Agatha leans out further, her gaze flicking to the satchel slung over your shoulder. She lifts a hand, gesturing for it with a slight wave of her fingers, her expression calm and maddeningly smug.

You pause, blinking at her. 

“Really?” you mutter under your breath, incredulity practically dripping from your tone. 

She tilts her head slightly, arching a single brow, her smugness somehow amplifying as she gestures again, clearly waiting.

For a moment, you consider ignoring her, but then you glance at the satchel. She has a point, giving her the bag would mean the rabbit is safer, and, without the extra weight on your back, you’ll have an easier time pulling yourself through the window.

With a dramatic sigh, you shrug the satchel off your shoulder, the strap sliding down your arm before you lift it toward her. She stretches downward, her fingers brushing the edge of the leather before she grips it firmly and pulls it from your grasp. 

For a moment, you watch her, half expecting her to disappear entirely now that the bag is secure in her hands.

And that’s exactly what she does. Agatha retreats, vanishing from the window’s edge with the satchel in tow. You roll your eyes, your mind instantly jumping to the conclusion that she’s probably fussing over the rabbit. 

The thought irritates and amuses you in equal measure, but you shake your head and steady yourself for the final push. 

The ledge is close, and with the satchel gone, the climb feels marginally easier. You stretch your arms upward, gripping the edge of the window frame as you shift your weight onto the thick branch beneath you. 

Carefully, you pull yourself higher, your knees brushing the frame as you begin to hoist yourself inside.

For a moment, it seems like you’ve done it. Your body halfway through the window, balance steady enough to keep going.

And then your foot catches on the edge of the frame.

The jolt sends you stumbling forward, your grip slipping as the momentum drags you into a clumsy, uncontrolled tumble.

Agatha moves instantly, appearing as if out of nowhere, her reflexes instinctive and precise.

You barely register the sudden shift before her silhouette is in front of you. One of her hands darts out, gripping your arm with surprising strength, but it’s not enough to counter the force of your fall. Her other hand slides to your waist, firm and steady, trying to catch you, but the momentum is too much.

There’s no time for either of you to adjust. The pull of gravity drags you forward, and you both tumble into the room in a chaotic, ungraceful heap. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and you land tangled together. 

Agatha is half-sprawled over you, her weight pinning you to the floor, grounding and overwhelming all at once. The world seems to fade, narrowing to the soft rustle of leaves in the night and the rhythm of her breathing. 

Her face is unbearably close, so close that her breath brushes against your cheek, warm and uneven. Untamed hair spilling over her shoulder and grazing your arm, strands scattered haphazardly from the fall.

There’s a stillness to her expression, but the faint parting of her lips reveals a hitch in her breathing, as though the shock of the tumble hasn’t fully left her.

Both of her hands remain where they caught you, one curled tightly around your arm, the other pressed firmly against your waist. The heat of her touch burns through the fabric of your dress, rooting you in place even as your pulse races wildly.

Those sharp blue eyes, piercing even in the dim light, are locked on yours. The intensity of her gaze makes your breath catch, as if she’s not only seeing through you but searching for something at the same time.

For a moment, nothing else exists. Your chest tightens and your pulse hammers in your ears as the space between you feels impossibly thin, a fragile thread stretched taut and trembling. 

And then, fleetingly - so quickly you almost think you imagined it - her gaze drops, flickering to your lips. The motion is so subtle, so brief, that it vanishes almost as soon as it happens. But the imprint of it remains, sharp and electric, making you shudder.

Your mind scrambles for something, anything, to say, but the words won’t come. All you can do is stare back at her, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to make sense of the moment.

The silence stretches, thick and almost suffocating, until Agatha breaks it. Her voice is low, threaded with dry amusement but carrying an almost daring undertone that sets your nerves alight. 

“Are you always this dramatic,” she murmurs, “or am I just special?”

The words pull you out of your daze, and your cheeks burn instantly, the heat rushing to your face. 

“I— I didn’t—” you stammer, scrambling to find words, but every coherent thought scatters.

Agatha exhales sharply, her lips twitching as if she’s about to say something else, but instead, she pushes herself up abruptly. 

The cool night air rushes in as her warmth leaves, and you’re left on the floor, heart still pounding in your ears.

She brushes off her skirts with deliberate ease, her expression once again smug and composed, though there’s a flicker of tension in her movements. She extends a hand to you, her sharp gaze watching you carefully.

“Come on, get up.” she whispers, her tone calm but firm. “Your mother might have heard that.”

You glare up at her, your pride stinging, but you take her hand anyway, letting her pull you to your feet. Her grip is firm, steady, and as she helps you up, her fingers linger just a second too long before she steps back.

The sensation is fleeting but familiar, a ghost of what had happened only hours earlier by the lake. She’d done the same after you healed her burns, offering her hand with that same deliberate calm, as though her touch carried no weight. But it had lingered then too, just like now, and the memory ignites a warm spark in your chest. 

As you rise to your feet, your balance feels oddly unsteady, not from the fall but from the moment itself. You linger there, caught between embarrassment and something heavier. Your fingers twitch at your sides, as though still feeling the echo of her grip, and your gaze follows her as she moves away.

She crosses the room, moving toward the satchel she’d placed on the floor earlier and crouching down. 

You turn toward the window, reaching for the frame to shut it. The cool night air still drifts into the room, carrying the faint scent of the garden below. Your fingers curl around the wood, and just as you push it closed, a sound freezes you in place.

A creak. Faint, but unmistakable.

Your heart stops, and you glance at Agatha, who has gone still beside the satchel, her hand hovering over the flap. Her sharp eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you breathes.

Another creak follows, heavier this time, accompanied by the low groan of the wooden stairs shifting.

Panic flashes between you in a silent exchange, the weight of the moment sinking in with brutal clarity. Agatha straightens slowly, her hand dropping from the satchel as her gaze darts toward the door.

Well, shit. Your mother definitely heard.