#I feel like making your own spell jars

[travelingthief]

You don’t have to have fancy crystals and herbs for spell jars btw. You can use sugar, coffee grounds, leaves, acorns, etc. Don’t fall victim to witchcraft consumerism.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY EDITION - THE SENSUAL APPEAL OF THE NAKSHATRAS

Hey, so I've been more focused on the nakshatras lately.. and love getting into how sensual, flirtatious, raw and powerful some of the nakshatras could be. I may start this off with just the nakshatras itself, focusing on the sign and its energy as opposed to the planets in each of these naks. So yeah. Lets get into it ;)

So first is up, Hasta. There the ones who really inspired me to do this so here we go.

Hasta - Delicate. Refined. Opened Hearts. Very sensual beings who know how to ease you into to their souls. They have a replenishing auras that could fulfill the desires of another. Oop, did I say that? They are indeed the temptress, the ones that will make you fall in love with, as they know you will never get anything from the in return. Having been hurt in the past, they usually carry themselves with a tight armor, only this time they know they wont have to... Because someone will always take the bait ;)

Hastas are truly amazing at crafting their hearts into the desires that they want. So much so, they'll utilize their sex appeal in order to get what they want. Very smart, coi and productive... Their like the jaguar you dont see coming. They always get what they want, because others are more than likely to give to the hastanian babe whenever they please.

Rohini - Ooooooh! They are sooo seductive. They have a quiet temper that is aroused when the right soul meets into their arms. They're only lovers for the plot. If it gets too deep and on the wrong foot then their outta here. Sorry busta!If you don't give it to them the right way, then they won't be here for long. They are only here for one purpose, and that is to fulfill their desires in more ways than one. Like their hasta friends, they know how to go for what they want, and they'll get it by any means necessary.

There temptress powers they carry can attract an audience if they let it. There touch can last for hours, penetrating into the skin like magic. They are the doorway to salvation. Pleasure is their profound language. It is a blessing and a curse to be this type of delight. A special occasion, they keep anyone anyway who is not deserving of their love.

Anuradha - I feel like this one deserves a round of applause ONLY because they do not share these gifts so easily. The people could want more but that isn't enough. Once they get a hold of your tempting magic people will definitely try and take you to the pits of hell. So its kept in a jar, locked away for a while until the anuradha babe is ready to go for the kill. When she wants it, she will. And when mama's hungry, shes gonna eat ;) Siren-like eyes that can penetrate into your soul. It can spook you ;) But all the Anuradha wants is to entice, it is how she gets what she desires. She has a flow that is naturally pulling like the Jyestha, we don't know what it is but its powerful, convincing, and its rare. The anuradha is the type to pull yu in, to the point that when she catches you in her spell.. she will eat you alive. Its better to stay away if you dont want to be bit, but her allure is just so damn powerful. It'll have you begging for more.

Krittikas - Their raw sexuality will pour into your skin, and before you know it.. they've already gotten you into their mini web. Darling.. the ones who where this nakshatra on their sleeves use every bit of their power to seduce the right one.. sometimes it catches others too. There striking presence keeps the others wondering where have they been all of their life. The one who moves to the beat of their own drum, tameless. It is why so many try to focus on wooing you in order to make you into what THEY want you to be.. and you beat em at their game every time. The seductive prowess they carry show a reflective force from the moon down to the sun, with its rays being so powerful it has everyone looking at them.. waiting to explore what is deep inside the krittika, only to be found later in their dungeon. Taking their souls, and never to be heard of again.

Shravana - They have a very powerful aura that pushes the narrative about themselves. They have the gift that keeps on giving. They know what to do with their seduction, its the one that gets them the highest bidder! What shapes you, is the power of the mind, the soul and the spirit. So they do themselves the diligence to create from within, and not without. They are hungry to learn more about their presence as their gifts connect to the souls of thousands.. What I mean is that these babes have a gift of opening up the godlike force that many try to emulate.. but many can't do. There seductive prowess inspires thousands to watch them as they watch to the shravana native, craving for their affection.. As they can be so very giving, but with a price. It all comes down to them wanting to be at the top, and they'll whatever they can to get it. It comes with a sense of ease, and they'll choose their favorite worshiper to teach ;)

Mula - HOT HOT HOT!!!!!! They don't even know how deep this goes.. but they penetrate into your skin with no effort. There gift is in spiking you with their mind, and leading you in with their heart.. They know how to entice you into doing for them and fitting to their needs.. You wont even blink an eye and yet wont even care. You'll just be glad to be in their presence is all. They have a special aura that most find pretty enchanting, and their souls spark a conversation one what makes them so unique.. because most people are mystified by them and begin to take notes.. but they will never know what that is to be exact. Which is what makes their seductive prowess just that damn good. It exists for them and them alone.. if they decide to share this with you consider yourself LUCKY.. Because they like you more than the rest, and who they are and how they carry themselves is a gift you when they want to share it.. Whew.. they'll really touch you in ways you won't forget.

I will post on the rest of them soon. Let me know in the comments how you feel about the nakshatras !!

[witch-of-snow-and-stars]

How to Make a Charm Necklace Magic-Style

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩‧⁺⋆⁺‧₊☽✧☾₊‧⁺⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

So in a recent post I talked about having a set of charms that I wear whenever I leave the house. I thought it might be a fun tutorial to detail how someone could make a similar thing for themselves! The post is a long one, so the rest of the guide is under the cut!

Step 1: Lay out all of your perspective charms and see what speaks to you and what you might want to put together. When you're choosing pieces, try to think of your goal and intent while you're putting your charms together (i.e. mine is for general day-to-day so I mostly focus the charms around safety, ease of way, and good fortune. Tailor yours to what you need). You don't have to make a necklace, just make sure that whatever you're attaching your charms to and the jump ring(s) connecting everything are sturdy enough to hold the charms' weight.

I have a 'main' components and 'auxiliary' components with the main components being the anchor points and foundation of what I'm working towards (i.e. I have my locket with sigils and my key charms as main components and I'll switch out the other parts as desired). Listed below are some ideas for options that you can combine, but use whatever feels best to you:

Lockets- I HIGHLY RECOMMEND that a locket is part of your configuration. You can fit a slip of paper with spells/sigils written on it AND if it's a scent locket you can add a bit of fabric with a perfume oil or a spell oil that would be safe to wear (check the spell oil ingredients if you're going to use a spell oil).

Bottle/Vial Charm Pendants- these are really good for wearable spell jars (you'd just have to careful about breaking them). You can buy pre-made bottle spell charms (there are a lot of options available) OR you can buy a vial pendant and do a working of your own choosing depending on your preferences/needs (there are also many options for empty vial charms you can buy). You could also keep spell powders/dusts in a vial charm (also usable for on-the-go workings).

Crystal Pendants- If you are someone who utilizes crystals in your practice, having some complementary crystals or crystals that you tend to favor can really add a kick.

Religious pendants/charms- Pentacles/crosses/saint pendants/deity pendants/etc. are all good options for this sort of configuration if they're something that features in your practice or you have a specific figure you want to invoke.

Symbol/Icon charms- similarly to the option above, charms that have animals/flowers/symbols/ whatever else you may want to invoke the properties/help of can be a good addition as well

Bells- bells have traditionally been used in different cultures for sound cleansing and to ward off negative spirits/entities. If that's something you might want (and are ok with making some noise) adding a bell might be a nice touch.

Keys- keys are useful magically for unblocking roads, gaining access, and invoking magic/energy relating to crossroads. Keys/key charms can be pretty easy to get too, so it might be worth trying to have one in your configuration.

Other meaningful charms: as it says on the tin, if it's important to you or you want to keep it on you, try it out in your configuration see if it will work well with it. In the picture above of my own pendant collection alongside more standard pieces there's an antique pen knife that can be worn as a pendant. Put whatever you want on these configurations is my point.

Tip! Some pendants like the pendant on the right have a paste/textured back that you can write on. If that's something you'd want to do, aim for something that looks like the pendant on the right. It's a solid way to hide sigil magic in your jewelry.

Step 2: Prepare the individual charms that you're going to be putting together. Clean/cleanse* everything appropriately (use mundane and magical methods), get sigils written out, anoint anything that you want to anoint, charge/enchant anything that needs it- whatever workings you need to do to the individual components of your charm necklace, do them now.

*If you're using metal pieces (especially if they're old/antique) there's a decent chance you may need to clean those pieces periodically with a metal cleaner/polish. When you clean the metal, do maintenance work for the rest of the configuration by charging/re-enchanting the other charms.

Step 3: Put your charms together and test out your configuration. Sometimes things won't work together as well together or a different component will work better in your configuration.

Ending Notes & Tips

If you put something like this on an object, make sure you focus on how you need/want to effect the object. Like, I have another variation of this on a chain on my bag, and that working is more focused on security and being unobtrusive more than anything else.

Generally I would consider how fragile your individual charms/items are and how likely breakages are to occur. You don't want to be scattering any broken glass/sharp bits and you definitely don't want to cut yourself on anything in the event of any broken charms.

Other considerations should be if individual parts are safe to wear. As previously mentioned, select for spell oils that are safe to wear and for crystal pendants that won't interact with water/skin oils/body products (i.e. selenite melts in water and pyrite will create sulfuric acid when exposed to water). Basically make sure that having this on your skin isn't going to cause any problems for you.

It can be a a good idea to change up individual charms in your configuration to tweak things to your daily needs. Using my usual configuration as an example, I'll switch out my crystal pendants or other charms if I have specific needs/events for a day (like maybe if I'm traveling I'd add more protection/safe travel oriented charms or if I had a date on I'd choose one of my love/attraction charms).

I hope this gave you some ideas for your own practice, thanks for reading💜

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩‧⁺⋆⁺‧₊☽✧☾₊‧⁺⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[astridthevalkyrie]

xavier thinks you're cruel when you smile. everything about you is different, to the point where it feels like you're just a whole different person sharing the same face as the woman he knew. but then, when he met you as a lightseeker, he'd thought the same thing, that you were nothing like his best friend who didn't have any grand dreams of becoming a grandis knight, and only thought of living today to the fullest because she knew she would not see tomorrow. and then he'd fallen for the woman sacrificing her blood, sweat and tears just so that she could be claimed as his. and as predicted, he's fallen for you for the third time now, and he realizes that your personality could change a million times over a million lives, and he will love you more and more each time he meets you. because no matter what you do and no matter what you are trying to be, your smile blinds him each and every time. and that is what he finds cruel, because it must be cruel to make him fall for that smile again and again and again, and surely there is a limit to how many people one man can fall in love with. perhaps he's the exception, or perhaps it doesn't count because you are still one person. either way, it is torture, torture in its sweetest form that he could never hate you for, because you are not actually cruel, you are far kinder than he deserves.

"mister deepspace hunter," you sing, poking his cheek with a chicken plushie, "you can't sleep, we've only seen two movies."

"how many more are there?"

"three more in this series, and then we start the next fantasy series."

"you're insane," he says sweetly, burrowing further under your favorite blanket.

with a giggle, you lay your head down on his lap, hair splayed out on what he deems is your rightful pillow. "it's not a movie night if we don't stay up the whole night."

he's about to tell you that both of you need sleep, that it's not healthy to stay up this late or to pull all-nighters, but then he gazes down to where you're grinning up at him, and his heart stops for a second, because you are so, so, so beautiful, and he's gone.

sleep can wait another day.

zayne thinks you're cruel when you speak. you are reserved around him, and while he never thinks you should limit yourself, least of all on his behalf, maybe this is the most merciful path you can take. because once you do start speaking, once you place your hand over his across whichever table at whichever restaurant to go off on an excited ramble about your latest endeavor, everything else fades way. and it is cruel, to make him lose control all of all senses aside from sound. it is cruel to metaphorically force him on his knees to bend and dance to the sound of your voice and your voice alone. it leaves him vulnerable, to pain, to betrayal, to any and every harmful thing that could possibly be surrounding him, when he cannot observe, when he cannot fight, when he cannot be, while you are speaking. when every individual word you speak has its own unique significance, and he would not be able to kill anyone who interrupts you because he would not even realize it happened, too entranced by the spell you cast. he is not his own in those moments, he only belongs to you. and thankfully, nothing does befall him, because you are not actually cruel, you are far kinder than he deserves.

"what do you think?"

he pauses, hand in yours as the two of you walk, blinking at you a few times. "what do i think?"

"yeah, you, doctor," you tease, squeezing his fingers. "what do you think? i've been talking your head off for five minutes."

he is not jarred because he hadn't been paying attention, on the contrary he'd been hanging off your every word. his opinion simply does not matter as much in his eyes.

"i agree with you," he says, enjoying the way you beam at his concurrence, "but what did you think about the other article?"

predictably, you take the bait and launch into another long rant, and he wills this topic to last forever.

rafayel thinks you're cruel when you sleep. so, so soundly you sleep, sometimes in his own bed because he offers it to you like a fool. you look beautiful when you sleep, which is half the problem, and he knows that it is all sorts of wrong to find you beautiful when he's also paralyzed because of how similar your appearance is to death. from a distance, he could never tell the difference. it is only when he is next to you, holding your slack wrist in his hands, that he can breathe easier by pressing his fingers to your pulse. and he is terrified that one day he won't feel it, because it has happened before. one moment you were there, alive and well and his, and the next you were in his arms, lifeless and limp and somehow still beautiful. so there is no way for him to calm his racing heart when he sees you asleep, and the reason it's cruel is because he knows he cannot disturb you. not you, who works so hard and needs your sleep more than anyone else. he cannot ask you to sit up and breathe and laugh and show him that you're still alive. even though he knows you would should he ask, because you are not actually cruel, you are far kinder than he deserves.

"hmm." your eyes are bleary as they blink awake, hardly aware of where you are.

he slides his arms around you from behind, hiding his face in your neck. "you can go back to sleep, was just making sure you were still alive."

a quiet huff escapes you, clearly annoyed at being woken up for such a ludicrous reason. "don't be annoying."

he wasn't trying to be, this time. "okay," he whispers, "sorry."

you turn all of a sudden, shifting in his arms until you're facing him, with a light glare. another apology is on his lips when you crossly tell him, "i was kidding. you're not annoying."

"i can be. sometimes," he admits softly.

"no." you press a deep kiss to his lips, and he understands now why some humans would rather choose to drown under the sea instead of going back to the surface. "you're not annoying. you're never annoying. i love you. okay?"

his voice is choked the next time he speaks, with your face hidden in his neck, soft puffs of air on his neck letting him know that you're still breathing. a tear runs down his cheek.

"okay."

[alyrasturnz]

hear me out. i feel like the triplets would wna keep their relationship private bcz the fandom is just crazy.. so can u write a matt x reader fanfic about illicit affairs by ts and jst make it abt matt wanting to keep his relationship private w/reader but reader is just absolutely fed up

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ILLICIT AFFAIRS

❐ summary » matt, a figure of immense fame, fears the wrath of his fans. he hides y/n away to protect her from their potential scorn, but this veil of privacy leaves y/n feeling unwanted and ashamed, as if matt is embarrassed to acknowledge her as his girlfriend.

❐ pairings » influencer!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » toxic relationship, suggestive at the beginning but no smut, arguments (resolved)

❐ a/n && w/c » double update tn! • 2.81k

your fingers, like delicate tendrils of ivy, were entwined in matt's tousled hair, each strand a silken thread in the fabric of your connection.

your back pressed firmly against the cool, unyielding wall, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. his hands, with a mind of their own, traced a path of desire, finally resting at your waist, anchoring you in the moment, a silent promise of intimacy and unspoken words.

your lips were entwined, a union of fervent longing, as your tongues engaged in a bittersweet dance, swirling together like two celestial bodies caught in an eternal orbit, each movement a symphony of passion and unspoken desire, a delicate balance of tenderness and intensity.

"matt..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, as his lips embarked on a journey down your neck, each kiss a tender exploration, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, a testament to the unspoken bond that tethered your hearts together in that fleeting moment.

"i know, baby, i know," he whispers, his hot breath fanning your neck, sending shivers down your spine and making your insides tingle with a mix of anticipation and longing, each word a caress that resonated deep within your soul.

you let out soft sighs, each one a whisper of your growing desire, feeling your core heat up with an intensity that seemed to ignite every fiber of your being, a slow burn that consumed you from within.

but the fragile moment was abruptly shattered by the intrusive ringing of matt’s phone, a jarring reminder of the outside world that pierced through the delicate cocoon of intimacy you had woven around yourselves.

matt's lips reluctantly departed from your skin, leaving you to groan softly at the sudden, aching void where his touch had once ignited a symphony of sensations.

matt retrieved his phone from his pocket with a swift, almost reluctant motion, bringing it to his ear. "hello?" he uttered, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience, the single word breaking the spell of the moment.

"where are you?" nick's voice crackled with exasperation, each word laced with urgency. "come to the warehouse! you're late," he demanded, the frustration palpable in his tone.

matt's eyes widened in sudden realization, swiftly ending the call and hastily shoving his phone back into his pocket, his movements marked by a frantic urgency.

his eyes met yours, lingering for a fleeting moment before he pressed one final, tender kiss upon your lips.

then, with a reluctant sigh, he turned and walked away, each step echoing the unspoken words left between you.

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you trailed after him, "matt! where are you going?" you called out, your voice a blend of concern and bewilderment.

"i'm sorry, i have to go to the warehouse," matt said hurriedly, his hands fumbling to put on his coat.

you stood there, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, watching as he prepared to leave.

"i can go with you?" you say softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, as he turns to you with an expressionless gaze, his eyes betraying a hint of inner turmoil.

"we both know that you can't," he murmurs gently, his voice barely above a whisper, as he retrieves his phone, the action a silent punctuation to his words.

"why can't i? it doesn't have to always be like th—" you begin to protest, your voice tinged with desperation, but your words are abruptly silenced as he captures your lips in a sudden, fervent kiss.

matt broke apart, his lips lingering just a moment longer before disconnecting from yours. he glanced at his phone one last time, a sigh escaping his lips.

"i'll make it up to you, i swear," he murmured softly, his voice filled with a blend of regret and determination.

with a final, fleeting look, he pivoted and left your apartment, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

you roll your eyes, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you make your way to the couch. with a resigned slump, you plop down onto it, the cushions embracing your weary form.

you stare at the ceiling, your mind a turbulent sea of thoughts racing at breakneck speed, each one colliding and merging into the next in a relentless cascade.

you were good enough to be with him, to share those intimate moments cloaked in secrecy, but not good enough to be seen with him, to be acknowledged in the light of day?

everything about him was a labyrinth of contradictions, each twist and turn leaving you more bewildered. it irritated you to no end.

but you weren't sure if it was his erratic behavior that grated on your nerves, or if it was the haunting realization that you would willingly shatter yourself into a million tiny pieces for him, over and over again.

and you knew, with an unsettling clarity, that he was acutely aware of this truth.

he was the axis around which your world revolved, yet he moved through his existence as if you were but a fleeting shadow, an inconsequential wisp in the vast expanse of his indifference.

you would find yourself ensnared in the labyrinth of his bedsheets throughout the night, only to awaken to the cold, empty expanse where his warmth once lingered, a silent testament to his absence.

he sought the sanctuary of secrecy, believing it to be a fortress shielding you from harm, yet this very concealment has only served to fracture your spirit further, each hidden truth a dagger driving deeper into the chasms of your heart.

»--•--«

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: Hey sweetheart

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: Just got out of my meeting. I’m on my way

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: See you in a few

the doorbell echoed through the house, a resonant chime that seemed to ripple through the very walls, heralding the arrival of matt.

you sprayed on your perfume, the delicate mist swirling and dancing in the air, leaving a fragrant trail that lingered in your room like an ethereal presence. with a graceful motion, you carefully placed the bottle back on your vanity, its glass reflecting the soft light as if capturing the essence of the moment.

you reserve this perfume for the clandestine rendezvous with matt, each spritz a silent oath to the secrecy of your bond. the scent, meticulously chosen, never clings to your clothes, a deliberate act to preserve the veil of mystery that shrouds your relationship.

you gaze into the mirror, eyes tracing the familiar contours of your reflection. with a measured inhale, you draw in the air, feeling it fill your lungs, fortifying your resolve before you rise from your seat.

your heels resonate against the hardwood floor, each clank a rhythmic prelude to your approach. as you reach the door and open it, your eyes meet the sight of matt, casually leaning against the doorway, his presence both familiar and electrifying.

he smiled, his eyes twinkling with a secret understanding, and extended his hand towards you. with a gentle yet deliberate motion, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as you both stepped out of your apartment, the world beyond awaiting your shared journey.

on the descent, matt animatedly recounted the details of his recent meeting, weaving tales of ambitious plans for his channel. yet, as his words flowed around you, your mind drifted to distant realms, consumed by thoughts that lay far beyond the present moment.

you harbored a quiet hope that you could broach the subject of going public with matt, the weight of your unspoken words pressing against your chest as you sought the right moment to voice them.

»--•--«

"alright," matt murmured, his voice tinged with an unspoken melancholy as he gently shifted the car into park. you sat beside him, your gaze lost in the horizon, the distant landscape a silent witness to the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

matt observed your demeanor, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "hey, are you alright? you seem a bit off..." he inquired, his voice laced with a subtle blend of worry and curiosity, as if trying to unravel the intricate tapestry of your thoughts.

you sighed, turning to face him, your eyes reflecting the weight of unspoken burdens. "i'm tired, matt," you confessed, your words cutting through the silence with a raw honesty, laying bare the exhaustion that had settled deep within your soul.

"are you sleepy? i can take you back home and we can just go again tomorrow—" he began, his voice tinged with confusion, but you cut him off before he could finish.

"no matt, i’m exhausted. i'm tired of this clandestine relationship," you declared, your voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "i can't keep being someone you cherish only in the shadows! i want us to be so much more than—than this ambiguous existence!" you finally erupted, each word escalating in fervor, mirroring the depth of your yearning and dissatisfaction.

"y/n..." matt murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a mixture of bewilderment and tenderness.

your eyes searched his for a glimmer of understanding. "i can't keep doing this—concealing our relationship as if it's something to be ashamed of," you confessed, your voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

matt sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "it's not that i'm ashamed of you, y/n. it's just—my fans can be intense. i'm terrified they'll come after you if we go public," he admitted, his voice laden with a mixture of concern and helplessness.

your heart ached at his words, a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside you. "so what? we just keep pretending we're nothing more than friends? i feel like i'm living a lie."

he looked at you, his expression torn. "i'm trying to protect you. you don't understand the kind of backlash that could come your way."

"maybe i don't," you said, your voice rising. "but what i do understand is that i can't keep being your secret. it feels like you're more concerned about your image than our relationship."

matt's face softened, but the conflict in his eyes remained. "it's not about my image. it's about your safety. i care about you too much to see you get hurt."

"and i care about you too," you replied, tears threatening to spill over. "but i need to feel like i'm a part of your life, not just a hidden chapter. if you truly care about me, you'll trust that we can face this together."

the room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging in the air as matt grappled with his fears and your plea for honesty.

your voice steady but filled with sorrow, "i can't keep doing this. i've tried to understand your reasons, but it's tearing me apart." you say as you search for understanding in his eyes

he looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. "y/n, please, you have to understand. i'm doing this to protect you."

you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "i can't live in the shadows anymore. i need to be with someone who isn't afraid to show the world that they love me. i need to feel valued and seen."

matt reached out for your hand, but you pulled away, the pain too much to bear. "i love you, matt, but i can't keep sacrificing my happiness for your fears. if you can't go public with our relationship, then we can't be together."

his face crumpled, and he tried to find the right words, but they never came. with a heavy heart, you stood up, feeling the weight of the decision you had just made.

"goodbye, matt," you whispered, turning away from him and walking out of the car. as you closed the door behind you, a sense of both loss and liberation washed over you, knowing you had chosen to stand up for yourself and your worth.

outside, the night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the tears streaming down your face.

you walked aimlessly, each step feeling heavier than the last. the memories of your time with matt played in your mind like a bittersweet symphony, each note a reminder of what once was and what could never be.

you found yourself at the park where you and matt had shared so many moments of laughter and love.

the bench where you had first confessed your feelings now stood as a silent witness to your heartbreak.

you sat down, the weight of the world pressing on your shoulders, and let the tears flow freely.

the stars above twinkled in the vast expanse of the sky, indifferent to the pain of the earth below. you gazed up at them, searching for some semblance of solace. "why does love have to be so complicated?" you whispered to the night, your voice barely audible.

as the hours passed, the pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve. you knew that this was the right decision, even if it hurt now. you deserved to be with someone who would cherish you openly, without fear or hesitation. and though the path ahead seemed uncertain, you felt a glimmer of hope.

rising from the bench, you took a deep breath and wiped away the last of your tears. the night was still, and the world felt vast and full of possibilities. with a newfound determination, you began to walk back home, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

»--•--«

as the first rays of dawn broke through the horizon, a soft knock echoed through the stillness of your home.

the house, usually so quiet in the early morning, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. groggily, you made your way to the door, curiosity mingling with the remnants of sleep.

the floorboards creaked softly under your feet, each step a gentle reminder of the world waking up around you.

there stood matt, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

the flowers, fresh with morning dew, seemed to glow in the soft light, their petals a vibrant contrast to the dim interior of your home.

his eyes, filled with a mixture of remorse and determination, met yours. they were the eyes of someone who had spent countless nights wrestling with his thoughts, someone who had finally found the courage to confront his fears.

"i couldn't wait any longer," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies. "i needed to see you, to tell you how sorry i am."

he handed you the flowers and chocolates, his hands lingering for a moment as if seeking reassurance. "you are so much more than someone i love in the shadows, y/n," he continued, his voice growing steadier. "you are the light that guides me, the strength that keeps me going. i've been a fool to ask you to hide, but it's never because i'm ashamed of you. it's because i'm terrified of what the world might do to us."

he took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "but you deserve to be cherished openly, without fear. i promise we'll find a way to make this right. together, we'll face whatever comes our way, because you mean everything to me. you're not just a part of my life; you are my life."

he stepped closer, his presence warm and comforting. "i know words alone aren't enough," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "i want to show you, every single day, just how much you mean to me. i want to be the one who stands by your side, no matter what. i want to be the one who holds your hand through the storms and celebrates with you under the sun."

matt's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "you are the reason i wake up with hope in my heart. you are the melody that plays in my soul, the rhythm that keeps me moving forward. without you, everything feels incomplete."

he paused, his voice barely a whisper now. "i don't want to hide anymore, y/n. i want the world to know how incredible you are, how lucky i am to have you. i want to face whatever challenges come our way, hand in hand, heart to heart."

as the morning sun bathed you both in its gentle glow, matt's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. in that moment, you felt the depth of his love, the sincerity of his promise, and the unyielding strength of his commitment. together, you knew you could face anything, because with matt by your side, you were never alone.

[fadingdaggerr]

creatus sanguine (18+, mdni)

pairing: agatha harkness x gn!witch!reader

summary: part two of effuso sanguine | 5.3k

includes: blood magick reader, (not even) borderline obsession tbh

warnings: blood, description of injury, smut, afab reader (no chest description), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), thigh riding (a receiving)

note: blood magick differs from the show’s definition of a “blood witch.” rather than coming from a magical family line, blood mages are more aligned with the physical body and use of what billy would call “analog magick” (sacrifice, blood letting, etc), as well as incantation/spells

April 1749

Your back aches as you rise from your leaf-made mattress, thin blankets falling off like the thin rags they’d become. Heading pounding, you move to pour the last of your water into the small pot over the fire. It had been nearly three weeks since you’d been able to stop to get more food. You’d managed to forage wild flowers for more tea and tree sap to chew on, but the traps you’d set hadn’t proved fruitful.

As the tea steeps, you roll your blankets and shove them into your bag. Transferring the drink to your cup, you throw the pot into the bag as well. Smothering the fire under your boots, you head southeast.

Morning gusts caress your skin as you pass through the forest. The birds chirped through the trees, flying from branch to branch above your head. Rolling up your sleeves, you embrace the warm air. Raised and faded scars litter your skin, some healed cleaner from your growing experience. You made sure none would be as jarring as the one painted across your ribs. It’s taken years for you to be unbothered by their appearance, though the same cannot be said by those you meet.

Removing your attention from your skin, you look to the ground instead. Scanning the grass and leaves, you see impressions of foot prints. Recent enough that the ground still held their mark. Someone has to be close.

Slowing your pace, you try to focus on the sounds around you. Closing your eyes, you hear the birds, squirrels, your own breathing, and the faintest sound of multiple heartbeats. The sound grows, clearer by the moment. Five heartbeats, resting rates sounding human. They are so close, you immediately speed up your pace.

Within minutes, you hear the faint sound of feminine voices. A sigh of relief passes your lips, feeling immediate safety. The crunch of your steps makes all five turn and face you, defensive in stance and expression.

“Good day,” you speak up.

The oldest of the group steps forward, and you match her step. Her hand rises, stopping you from getting closer. Amber eyes scan over you, “only we may enter this space.”

“I meant no offense,” you take a step back, “I only hoped you may know the way to the closest settlement.” Your eyes shift from the woman to the meat on the cutting board behind her. Seeing your stare, the one with an orange skirt moves to stand in front of it.

“And you found us how?” The amber-eyed woman refuses to lose your attention, keeping you from the group. At your silence she speaks again, stressing each word, “how did you find us?”

“I was heading this way before I saw you. I promise I would not harm you, nor your sisters,” you affirm, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. Her brow furrows in disbelief, and you know you cannot pretend with her. You know what she is, she knows what you are. “I am alone, covenless, and entirely out of food. All I require are directions, then I will leave you and yours alone.”

She nods with a hum, eyes moving to partially look behind her. The woman with a soft pink overcoat reaches out, hand grasping your wrist lightly, and tugging you into the protection circle. Forcing you to sit, you watch as they carry on how they were before you arrived. A small plate of turkey and apple slices is placed in your lap.

“This is all we have to spare,” the pink witch says. “I’m Marjorie.”

You give her a soft smile in thanks and your name in return. Listening to their idle conversation, you eat slowly to avoid stomach pains. The ease of their conversation, the way they lean on each other, it’s simply lovely. They speak so surely about their lives and their abilities, even as young as most of them are. With them distracted by one another, you finally take in the space around you.

The protection circle, as even as it was, did little in stopping you. Your fingers twitch with the knowledge that it would never have worked. Despite their efforts, you heard them without their voices. Only the leader knew this, that much was apparent by her apprehension, never trusting the glow of the stones.

You feel the hairs on your neck stand up, eyes going to the source. Eudora, you now know, stares you down with a ferocity. You glance to the stones, then back to her. She nods slowly, warning held within. Nodding back, you eat the last apple slice, standing quickly.

“I thank you kindly for this meal and your generosity,” you never take your eyes off the head witch. “I wish you safety, and may our paths cross again.”

“Perhaps they shouldn’t,” Eudora says strictly. From beside her, Marjorie goes to protest but is silenced by a raised hand, “misery follows one who searches.”

Your brow furrows, confusion and anger twirling on your tongue. Keeping quiet, you back out past their barrier. Nodding one again, thankful to the other members of the coven, you turn away. The hard, angry heartbeat fades as you walk away. Their fates with their leader are nothing, desperation for a coven gave them false security. Misery follows, you think to yourself, amused.

Their green witch, Abigail, had told you of the Plymouth settlement, the best option if you found yourself needing to nab something to eat. If any of them survive that imbecile, you hope it’s her and Marjorie. Following the path given, you hope to get there before sunset.

—⛤—

The sun becomes golden as you finally break the trees to a road. Tracks lead south, and now you do too. Promise of a real bed was so close, perhaps if you had enough, even a drink. Food feels futile now, rest is the real virtue. The entire trek back from the settlements in Rhode Island had been on beds of moss, tree bark, and leaves. A thin pad and blanket without tears will likely make you cry with joy.

Closing in, you finally see the town. Houses, market stalls, and various other buildings cover the area. You rush on sore feet towards what you pray is an inn, the largest structure in the center. 

Almost falling in the door, you’re greeted by an elderly woman at the counter.

“Hello, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she chirps.

You smile, “I’m just here for a few days, hopefully. Is there a chance you’ve got a vacancy?”

“Do you have a way to pay?” She retorts with a cocked brow. You smile at her, digging into the bottom of your satchel. A secret pocket holds coins you’d found in a tavern weeks ago. Offering up most, you look at her with pleading eyes. The woman counts visually, peeking back at you, then counting again. She clears her throat, “this here, this is barely a night. But, I know downtrodden when I see it, so I’ll give you three. But no food, that’s on you. I don’t care how you do it, but no guests here.”

You blink at her incredulously at the insinuation, but thank her anyways. The last room at the end of the hall, tiny with a small bed. A bed. Tears spring to your eyes as you drop onto it, the padded plank feeling like a cloud. Hunger creeps in, but is wholly ignored as you fall into a deep slumber.

When your eyes open, the room is still dark. Sore muscles ache less than the day before as you rise from the bed. Grabbing your things, you step into the hall and go into town. The sunlight nearly blinds your sensitive eyes, glare becoming tolerable as you navigate the space. If careful, you could stretch your money to last these few days. If you are even more careful, you could find something without pinching pennies.

Slumping against a tree, you slice an apple from your bag. Of the many they had, you surely took the only good ones. If the kids hadn’t run back home, you would’ve given them some as a thanks for their distracting of the vendor.

Walking back into the center of town, you hear different speakers going on long rants. Preachers about sin, mothers about sin, a hog farmer about sin, it’s all quite repetitive. Everything sounds like one long drone, it always has. Nearly sixty years and all they had taken out was the focus on witches. Being closer to home than you have been in years felt sickening.

The speeches of hellish sins to be avoided becomes nothing but a monotonous hum behind the rest of the world. The air through the trees, the carts moving over dirt roads, the animals chittering in the pens, it all falls away. Behind it all, a beating. Strong, steady, and there. Your heart starts to beat in time with it, eyes beginning to scan the streets.

Walking quickly, you try to follow the sound. The closer you get, the clearer it becomes. The more familiar it becomes. Moving as fast as you can without drawing attention to yourself, all you can hear is the rhythmic beating. Passing a tavern, you immediately reverse yourself, looking in the open door.

At the counter, a deep purple cloak around her shoulders, sits a woman. Finger resting on her chin, she waits for whatever she ordered. She scans the room, and you feel your face drop, all warmth draining from you.

Angelite eyes land on you, squinting as she feels your stare, but her confident demeanor drops. Scrambling from her seat, she runs from the tavern and crashes into your stiff body. Wordlessly, you stand with your arms at your side, stuck in shock. Leaning back, she looks at you confused.

Prying yourself from her, you grab her arm and drag her towards the inn. Rounding the outside, you find the windows to your room, pushing open the shutters. Climbing over the ledge, you motion for her to follow.

Straightening in front of you, she smiles. It drops at your words, “you are alive.”

“So are you,” she scans you quickly, “and as you were. How?”

“I imagine similarly to your reason,” you answer. “I have spent a near lifetime looking for you. Do not tell me you’ve been here this whole time?”

“Of course not, I only arrived this morning,” she says. Careful hands grab yours, “had I known you were still out here, I would have looked for you.”

You grip her hands tightly, “I was where I told you I would be. Home.”

“Yet you knew I was gone?” She asks, almost knowing.

You pause. It is not the time. “You never showed, it was worrisome. But you were gone, and there they were. I knew what they had done,” you tell her. “I had to find you.”

“And so you did,” she smiles, leaning into you. Her forehead comes to rest on yours, eyes closing. She whispers into the small space between you, “I should never have ran. I should’ve come home to you, my love.”

“Agatha…” you sigh, nose rubbing against hers, “my heart.”

Lips brush against yours softly, testing if she’s still allowed. Pushing into her harder, you press a bruising kiss to her lips. Warm hands side to grasp her face, keeping her as close as possible. Greedily, you run your tongue over her bottom lip, and she quickly lets you in. The moment she does, her hands tighten around your waist, shoving you back into the wall.

Your nails dig into the skin of her neck, letting her take control of the kiss. Fifty-six years of searching, of not knowing, of longing, done with each pass of a masterful tongue. Moaning into you, Agatha’s teeth bare down on your lip. A groan mixed with slight pain and arousal topples into her mouth, body desperate for more of her than you’ll ever get.

Running out of breath, she moves to press wet kisses against the expanse of your throat. The thrumming of your pulse beneath her lips matches her own, each beat falling in tandem.

A shaky breath passes your lips, “Ag-Agatha we can’t, not here at least.”

“I missed you,” she attempts to reason, soundly awfully close to her excuse all those years ago. Then, she spoke for the future, that much is clear now. At this moment, she means it for the present, for the accumulation of time apart.

You gently pull her from her place in your neck, “and I you, more than I’ll ever be able to verbalize. But we are not safe here, you know this.”

“Then we leave. We will find where we may be at peace,” she says, forehead back against yours, “we will make it so, if we must.”

You press your lips against hers, a promise to go with her. All the time you spent, the first ten years, was pure ache. All of it melts away, feeling her with you once again. She feels different, stronger in a way, but time has done the same for you. You’re almost strangers like the day you’d first met in the woods.

—⛤—

December 1749

The candles on the windowsill flicker wildly as you reshelf the books in hand. Sighing, you put the stack back on the table, going to the window to see what the flames do. Out the window, you see the grass parting, a figure racing through. A torch illuminates her face, grinning wide with satisfaction.

Moving to the door, to open it to lean against the frame. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you shout, “Agatha Harkness, it is too cold for this! Hurry it up!”

Shooting through the door, she doubles over in panting breaths, shaking dustings of snow from her hair. Hands on her hips, she stands back up, mouth open to the ceiling as she recovers.

“You best not have anyone behind you,” you say, shutting the door and barring it.

She chuckles, “you know me better than that, my sweet.”

You hum, looking her over. The back of your hand brushes her cheeks, shifting to cup her neck. Shutting your eyes, you feel her heartbeat, quick from her running, but what catches your attention is another sensation.

Eyes shooting open, you rip the thick cloak from her shoulders, tugging the torn material of her dress to the side to expose her shoulder. A long cut across her skin, stretching from the point of her shoulder to just above her breast. Running your finger over the edge, you assess how bad it really is.

“Not too deep,” you murmur, “uneven. Serrated blade?”

Agatha hums, eyes having never left your face since you first touched her, “I hadn’t planned for them to come with weapons over their powers.”

“Perhaps you are too conspicuous, lover.”

She gives you a faux-shocked expression, “why I never! I am nothing if not reserved.”

You try to keep a straight face, but a smile breaks as you break away from her to get a cloth. Knowing the routine by now, she settles on a stool to await your attention. Appearing in front of her, you stand between her legs. Warm water soaks the cloth in your hand, touching it carefully to her wound.

Agatha’s hands creep up your legs, gripping here and there. Trailing up, a hand finds the strings of your shirt, tugging them loose. Your gaze shifts from her shoulder to her face, looking at her through your lashes. Shaking your head, you continue to clean the cut, ever gentle.

Wandering, her other hand slides underneath your loose shirt. Ever so gently, she grazes her fingertips across your skin, feeling every raised mark that you’d healed on your own. It always bothered her how you refused to heal them properly, poultice and bandage, but by your hand. Each mark prominent instead of completely vanished.

Blunt nails pass over your ribs, tracing the harsh, jagged mark there. She pried many times about where it had come from, but you always gave the same answer. They all just blur together.

Agatha is pulled from her mind when you press a kiss to the junction of her neck. Lingering, slow kisses spread, crawling up towards her lips. Finger under your chin, she pulls you into her kiss, short and heavy.

“Never come home hurt again. Do you hear me?” You ask, forehead pressing against hers.

She huffs, “a fluke.”

“Agatha,” you stress, hand curling in her hair, gripping. Pulling her back, you look her in the eye, “I do not make light of harm coming to you. Promise me. I will not allow you to endanger yourself, my heart.”

The hand in her hair holds tighter, forcing her to keep her eyes on you, as if they’d ever looked away. Intensity flickers like fire in your eyes, and Agatha feels frozen in place. A tingling sensation spreads from her shoulder, feeling like hands holding her down.

A heated gleam crosses her eyes, tilting towards you again, “understood, my love.”

“Good,” you whisper, lips falling to hers with intensity. The weight on her shoulders fell, dissipating into a warmth wrapping around her. Free to move again, Agatha stands, tugging you back with her to the bed. Following her, you allow her to take control, sated in your wish to be heard.

Hurried hands work to undress you, lips coming back to yours in bursts as layers fall. Shoving you down on the bed, Agatha tries to straddle your hips, but is stopped by your sitting up. Grabbing her hips, you tug her between your legs, unlacing the front of her dress. Fingers skim over each inch of freshly exposed skin, no matter the rush they are in to take everything off. Before her garments even hit the floor, you’re pulling her on top of you.

Energy twinged every one of her nerves, power absorbed mixing with the molten adoration radiating from you. Your hands drift over her back, attempting to feel every inch of you. Lips drag from your mouth down your chin, nipping as Agatha takes purchase at your neck. Wet, open-mouthed kisses turn to suckling of your skin, teeth grazing over every mark.

Hearing your breaths deepen, she continues down your body. Strong hands take hold of your legs, settling between them. Her pupils dilate at the sight, you glistening before her. A hand buries itself in her hair, scratching her scalp gently. Pressing a kiss to your thigh, Agatha looks up at you through her lashes.

“You don’t know how I adore you,” she says quietly. There’s no second to respond before her mouth descends on you, flat tongue licking up your folds. Small gasps encourage her, stroking more strongly, taking in your taste. Her skillful tongue slides in your entrance, moaning into you as her fingers dig into your thighs. Your free hand goes to your clit, but she smacks you away.

Her tongue slips from you, wrapping her mouth around your bundle of nerves. Moans fall from your mouth, the hand in her hair tugs, the other claws into the blankets. Bucking into her mouth, you try to ride her face, but she anchors you down. Her tongue alternates between suckling and making hard circles against your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, wetter and wetter.

Unclasping a hand from your thigh, it comes to take the place of her tongue on your pearl, harsh, tight circles making you squirm. Her mouth drags down to your slit, tongue making figure-eights through your folds, burying back inside you. With the slightest freedom of only one hand holding you down, you grind against her tongue, desperate for as much of her as possible.

“A… Agatha,” you moan out, gripping tighter in her curls, “please.”

The pressure against your clit grows, tight circles wind the coil in your core more and more. Her tongue greedily takes you in, suckling and stroking, unrelenting in pace. Your hips rut against her, feeling her deeper, feeling her moan. Her own thighs press together, wetness decorating her thighs as she brings you closer to the edge.

Releasing the blanket, your hand grasps her shoulder, keeping her against you. The forceful grip burns, reopening her wound, but it does nothing to deter Agatha. If anything, it makes her work harder, devouring you with a new sense of purpose. More and more, the tightness in your core builds, a single thread still tethering you.

“C’mon, my sweet,” she murmurs, smiling against you, “give me a taste.”

Her words are your undoing, your back arches, warmth spreading through your body as Agatha eagerly licks up your essence. The grip on her hair and shoulder loosen, still holding on to ground yourself. Relaxing back down, you whimper as her tongue still dances against you.

“Lover,” you breathe out, “come here.” Climbing up your body, Agatha’s lips press against your skin. Bringing your hand to her neck, you pull her into your kiss. Wandering, you feel something against your hand, warm, wet. Pulling back from her lips, you see red painting your palm.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You look to blue eyes, barely visible from dilated pupils, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorr-”

“Don’t be,” she says, pressing her lips against yours shortly. Then again. And again, longer, more sound. Her thighs straddle you, hands pressing down on your chest, holding you in place. You can’t help yourself, clinging to her, hand grasping her face. Blood smears across her skin, soaking into yours, hearts beating in time with one another.

Agatha’s hips grind against you, desperate for friction that she can’t find. Shifting slightly, you press your thigh into her, feeling her arousal coating your skin. Whining into your mouth, she grinds more steadily. Your hands slide down to guide her, pushing her harder against the muscle of your thigh. Moans fall from her mouth, kisses growing sloppy and desperate.

You press her harder against you, wanting to feel her, needing to see her fall apart. Husky moans come from her, eyes screwed shut as she grinds needily against you. One hand slides to her back, pulling her closer to lavish her chest. Your lips wrap around her nipple, tongue swirling around the pebbly peak. Every sound she makes is heaven to your ears, the beat of her heart under your touch an addictive sensation.

Her wet cunt against you makes your own arousal pool again, wanting more of her. Always so irresistible. Hauling her closer, you feel her knee press against your heat, moaning against her chest. The hands gripping your shoulders pull you from her breasts, bringing your lips to her own. Her knee moves away, making your whimper, but is replaced by her fingers, toying with your entrance.

One finger, then two, pump into you, matching the tempo of her riding your thigh. A pitchy whine falls from your lips, walls gripping her fingers, the hand on her waist digging in. Teeth bare against your lip as Agatha feels the shockwaves rolling through her, a metallic taste coating her tongue. Pulling back, droplets of blood appear on your bottom lip. The grinding of her hips slows, thumb brushing over, eyes utterly entranced.

You tug her back to your mouth, hand on her waist guiding her faster, chest rattling with both your moans. The fingers inside you curl, thumb pressing to your clit. The pleasure becomes too much, stealing the air from your lungs with every pump of Agatha’s long fingers. Pulling from her lips, you tuck your face into her neck, licking and biting at the expanse of skin.

Agatha’s head lulls back, songs of pleasure falling into open air. Every sound from her, every motion of her fingers, her arousal on your skin– the tight cord snaps. A strangled groan passes your lips as you cum, fingers inside you slowly, but not leaving. Your head rises from her neck, taking in view above you.

Chest heaving, hair stuck to her forehead, brows knitted together in pleasure, Agatha Harkness is a sight to behold. The slice on her shoulder catches your eye, red and aggravated, drops of ichor gliding down pale skin. Leaning forward, you let your tongue drag up, collecting red, until you meet her tender wound. Lapping over it, you feel Agatha grind harder, husky moans turning whiny.

All you can think of is adoring her. Every inch of you, body, mind, and soul, exists for her. She is your life, your purpose. A tingle spreads down from her shoulder to her core, feeling her skin prickle. The sensation isn’t entirely new, but it has never felt like this before. All-consuming, electric, and hot, but underneath it all, it seems to pulse.

The movement of her hips begins to grow sloppy, almost entirely your own effort than hers now. Her breath stutters as your tongue swipes over raw skin, soft lips passing over tenderly. Unadulterated affection mixes with the pleasure that you can’t help but give her, and she crumbles against you. Lazy motions of her hips continue as she comes down, face buried in your neck.

Panting, she pulls back, retracting her fingers from you. Hand splaying over your thigh, she finally looks at you. Your appearances are one in the same. Sweaty, breathless, and littered in marks and your shared blood. A smile stretches across her face, settling in your lap.

“You are everything, my love,” she says quietly, thumb wiping a rogue red drop from your chin.

Your forehead presses to hers, “you, my heart, are the very reason I live.”

Lips press to yours, soft and loving, silent words passing through her actions. Agatha has never been one for her words, always hiding in her riddles. But here, with you, it’s impossible to pretend. You know her, her heartbeat, her mind. Her power never sparks fear in you, unlike every other in her path. They blast her, try to kill her, to deceive her– but not you. Nothing but devotion has ever come from you. Pure and strong, like there was so much love for her inside of you, that it was always moments away from bubbling over.

Laying down, you bring Agatha with you, letting her curl around you. Tracing up and down your ribs, her nails glide over your scars. Circling the prominent one between your ribs, she props her chin on your chest.

Peering down at her, you brush her hair off to one side. Once angry, red, and bloody, the cut down her shoulder was now a fading scar, as if it had been there for years. A small smile crosses your face, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Blue eyes watch your expression, almost reading your mind.

“One scar will not kill me,” she says, a coy grin playing on her lips, “hasn’t killed you.”

Your brows jump, averting your gaze shortly, “I will heal regardless of what I do, I am simply impatient.” Your hand cups her cheek, “any injury to you is an insult. The memory of it is mockery.”

“Dramatic,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to your chest before laying her head down.

Your arms wrap around her, keeping her snug to your body, “you do not understand how I love you. I would dismantle every natural law in order to keep you safe, to give you everything.”

There’s a sureness in your tone, something that tells Agatha you meant this. That you will do this, have done this. Her nose bumps against your jaw, “more with you is all I require, my love.”

—⛤—

January 1750

A cool breeze passes over the river, making a chill creep up your spine. Wiping off red hands in the snow, you stand from the riverside. For the first time in a week, your traps worked. Fortunate for you, however unfortunate for the deer that crossed your path.

Home is so close, you can feel it, but the weight on your shoulders makes time slow.  You can see the candles in the window, calling you home to her. The stiffness of your joints means nothing as you finally reach the packed down path. Releasing the ropes of the sled, you abandon your game in preference of the fire inside.

Head resting in her hands, Agatha sits with a blanket wrapped around her. Her head falls back at the sound of the door opening, eyes watching you. Toeing off your boots and shrugging your coat, you make your way behind the chair. Leaning over her, you take in her appearance.

Dark circles under her eyes worry you, sleep has been avoiding her for weeks. The weak smile on her face does nothing to soothe the worry in your chest.

Rounding the chair, you kneel before her. Your hands go to her thighs, squeezing gently, “how are you feeling?”

“Better than this morning,” she murmurs, “the tea helps.”

A little smile crosses your lips, “that’s good. I’ll make more.”

Pressing a kiss to her knee, you try to stand, but she holds you down, “not now. I just want you.”

Sitting up, you press yourself into her. Arms wrap around her hips, head settling against her stomach. Her own hands come to rest on your back, body practically folding over you. Her heartbeat is strong, breathing steady, she feels healthy. You don’t understand what is wrong, why you can’t see, why you can’t fix it. Burying yourself against her, you just breathe her in, comforted by her presence alone.

Your heart beats in time with hers, always the same. Each beat is a reminder of why you live. Relaxing against her, you close your eyes, just wanting to take her in.

As you stay there, you feel your pulse quicken. You stiffen, listening to Agatha, but hers hasn’t changed. Feeling the tension beneath her hands, she squeezes you in silent question, but is ignored.

“My lo-” she attempts to speak, but you shush her, ear pressing more intently against her abdomen. “What are you doi-” Your hand rises to cover her mouth.

Beneath the familiar beat of your lover’s heart, is a second. Quiet, rapid, but there. Your brows scrunch, listening closer. Your own heart matches the beat, almost aching with its speed. Head rising, you look at Agatha, tears welling. Blue eyes dart between yours, mouth open in disbelief at your reaction.

“My sweet, what is it?”

Blinking rapidly, you just stare at her, “two.”

“Two?” She says confused, brows furrowing, “my love, what is wrong? You are worrying me.”

A watery smile grows across your face, “you have two heartbeats.”

Agatha’s eyes rapidly blink, taking in your words. Staring into you, she silently asks you to help her understand. You move one hand to her stomach, the other going to cup her face. Closing your eyes, you focus on the little heartbeat, letting her hear it too.

A shaky smile appears on her face, lashing fluttering as she pushes back tears. Her hand covers yours on her cheek, “how?”

“If only I knew,” you breath out, “I’ve never known a spell or incantation that allows this.”

Leaning down, Agatha’s lips press to yours, slow, hungry. All the love that bubbled within you pours into her, the feeling overwhelming as you listen to two hearts. Tugging you up, she places you on her lap, knees on either side of her hips. Hands bury themselves in her hair, gently scratching her scalp.

Pulling back, you look into her eyes. All you are, all you have been, has amounted to this. Your love for one another becoming personified, beyond order and law. A second piece of your soul, born from love.

title translation: creatus sanguine, latin - the blood made

as always, feedback is soooo appreciated <3 this is very different from what i’ve written previously and would love to hear from you about continuing this. love u my babies

[astrosouldivinity]

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑬𝒚𝒆: ⁺⋆🧿⋆⁺ (𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎)

𝑬𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑬𝒚𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑷𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑼𝒔𝒆:

1. 𝑬𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒚-𝑺𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 (➖)

• Recruiting Allies: They recruit other people to help with undermining you, knowing they can't succeed alone.

• Obsessive Monitoring: They engage in gang-stalking behavior, fixating on you, plotting and praying on your downfall.

• Controlling Behavior: They nitpick and belittle you, trying to manipulate your emotions and provoke reactions.

• One-Sided Relationships: You invest your energy into them, but they offer nothing in return. Essentially, pouring into an empty cup, leaving you drained and feeling entitled to your energy.

• Deteriorating Health: Their influence can manifest in negative effects on your well-being, leading to visible changes such as decreased vitality, increased illness, and persistent brain fog.

2. 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 👹

• Gaslighting: They make you question your reality through passive-aggressive tactics, engaging in psychological warfare that is truly diabolical. This involves throwing stones and hiding their hands, creating confusion that drives you to doubt your perceptions and feel like you’re going crazy.

• Isolation: Following a smear campaign, you may find yourself ostracized, leaving you vulnerable and unprotected. This isolation is even more distressing if you don’t fully understand what’s happening.

• Existential Neglect: They act as if you don’t exist, undermining your self-worth and causing you to doubt yourself. This behavior pushes you to seek their validation, aiming to disconnect you from your true self.

3. 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖 🪢

• Commitment to Misunderstanding: They are dedicated to misinterpreting you, and people who dislike you will always find faults, fueled by a relentless desire to undermine you.

• Projection: They impose their limiting perceptions on you, trying to box you into a version they can control.

• Stagnation: They resist your growth, attempting to keep you in a state where they had the most control over you, and project their own lack of evolution onto you.

4. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 🪬

1. Wear Protective Crystals: Utilize stones such as black tourmaline, obsidian, and smoky quartz. Wear evil eye jewelry, and incorporate protective practices like spell jars, mantras, and visualization techniques.

• I create evil eye-themed jewelry, crystal jewelry, and spell jars, which will be available for purchase soon. 💟

• 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙹𝚊𝚛𝚜 🌱🫙

2. Pray for Protection: If necessary, consider return-to-sender or freeze spells. However, these are most effective when you know the source of the negativity. Identifying the evil eye source can be challenging, especially in omnipresent situations.

• 𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛/𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕

3. Practice Energetic Detachment: Employ the "grey rock" method—remain unresponsive and stoic. By becoming an emotionless force, you deprive them of the energy they seek to access.

4. Embrace Your Inner Power: Recognize that they are sending negative energy towards you. Channel that energy back to them, transmuting it into your own strength. Remember, these individuals are ultimately weak; their attempts to bring you down are driven by a desire to feel powerful and in control.

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2

𝚃𝚒𝚙 𝙹𝚊𝚛 🫙🙏🏿

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝: @𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 🖤

*✧🧿 *✧･ﾟ🧿✧･ﾟ🧿 *✧･ﾟ🧿✧･ﾟ🧿 *✧･ﾟ🧿✧*

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕 𝚎𝚢𝚎. 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙. 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎; 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢. 😓

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seventeen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation no smut this chapter sorryyyy

Info: the boy is going through it. [diary entries from Ani {dates are odd but I promise it’ll make sense later}] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

September 9th, 11:53 pm

Anakin immediately reacted to your sudden, startled jolt. The gasp you’d inhaled had him momentarily concerned you may have hurt yourself in some way, it sounded pained and although he wasn’t sure what it could’ve been, that didn’t mean he could dismiss the idea entirely.

”You okay babydoll? What happened?” He asked, setting aside his Xbox controller to give you his full attention.

”Yeah!” You squeaked, nodding your head quickly, though your movements were perceived as slow by you. “Yeah, just uh, one of those weird ‘almost asleep but suddenly I’m falling’ things.”

”Oh…” He nodded, relaxing a little bit. “Do you need me to get you some water or something? That kind of thing is stress induced you know.”

”Yes.” You swallowed hard, fighting a lump in your throat that just refused to diminish. “I know, uh I think maybe I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

“Well, alright.” He said, giving you a critical once-over before waving you off and returning to his game.

Scurrying off to the bathroom in the most awkward way you possibly could, you shut the door with a bit more strength than anticipated, causing Anakin to call out and check on you. One forced ‘all good’ later, you were sitting on the closed toilet lid with your head in your hands. The initial panic was beginning to fade now that you’d removed yourself from the situation, making room for fear to frost over your skin and halt your critical thinking.

Ghost could be anyone, logically you know that. So there is no reason to fly off the handle and accuse someone you care deeply about of committing many, many crimes. There isn’t any way for you to peacefully have such a conversation without it feeling like an attack. In the event you are wrong, such an assumption would no doubt spell the end of the one and only stable, loving relationship you’ve ever had.

If you’re right… well.

But you’re not. Of course you’re not, how could Anakin be capable of some of the things, any of the things Ghost has done? He’s a gentle giant, the guy who would rather scoop up spider in his bare hands to set it outside instead of squashing it. He makes you feel special and adored, your moments with him are calm and caring. He’s practically the polar opposite of Ghost.

Ghost has his moments, few and far between, where he is more than the mask. The moments when he’s less grey and more moral. Less animal and more man. He’s what you’d expect a jar of licorice would be like personified. The candy no one likes, the one that gets over looked and outright hated on. But the people who actually like licorice, they defend it until their dying breath and it seems like you’ve become quite fond of the bitter sweetness and the tough to chew exterior. Once you get past it, it’s really not so bad. Just like Ghost.

you shook yourself out of the stupor you were in, standing up to turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, hoping to startle some sense back into yourself. After patting the sensitive skin dry, you pulled out your phone and promptly brought up your own contact info, dialing the number to call Ghost. It rang, once, twice, three times before disconnecting. He had hung up on you.

He had never hung up on you before this moment. While you knew he had every right to ignore you, perhaps never even speak to you again… you couldn’t let this go. So you tried again and again and-

‘What do you want?’ The text chimed through just before you could hit the call button one last time.

‘I think we should talk soon.’

’Why the fuck do you want that? You’re calling me this late for that? You should be groveling for forgiveness.’

‘This is me groveling?’ You audibly huffed at his response, waiting for him to send a follow up or not.

‘You can do better than that. I’ve seen you beg for cock, you know how to grovel.’ He responded.

‘Does it matter?’

’yes.’ Was the simple reply, short and sweet and read in his voice he uses when he snaps at you.

‘Nevermind.’

’fuck off.’

’Really?’ Outwardly scoffing at the text when it popped up on your screen.

‘Oh no, did I hurt the baby’s feelings?’

‘I should be meaner.’

‘But I won’t.’

Three texts in a row, three texts all containing completely different tones. Sarcastic, irritated, and ‘pissed but i still love you’. You thought about replying, started typing out a message but erased it, only to do it again. Finally you decided against replying at all, turning off your sound and putting the phone back into your pocket, flushing the toilet for appearances sake and running the water again.

You planned to head back to the living room, but saw that Anakin was cleaning up… sloppily, but still. He was straightening out the throw pillows and blankets, returning his controller to its spot beside the tv and pushing all the stuff on the coffee to one side, then calling it finished.

“Anakin. Are you alright?” You asked, standing in the entryway to the very short hall.

“Yes.” The word short and clipped.

“You sure?” Your voice was meek, timid, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to sound… nit-picky or anything; it’s just that your cleaning habits seem to have changed and I know how you are about having a clean space.”

“The first thing you say to me after coming back from the worlds longest piss is ‘hey why’s your house messy?’ Really?” He scoffed, his eyes flickering down to your hands, your pockets.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together in a show of frustration. “I’m just worried that’s all, you never leave stuff like this, especially before bed.”

“No, no.” Anakin waved your half-apology off like he didn’t care to hear anymore from you. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get right on it.”

“Hey, it’s late. Don’t-“

“Shut up alright? Just… just go to bed.” Anakin snapped, shooting a glare over his shoulder at you.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” You asked quietly, your face morphing into something resembling disappointment. He’d said that to you jokingly plenty of times, but this time, you knew without a doubt he meant it. The way it was delivered spoke volumes to how he was feeling.

Anakin sighed, turning around to run both hands through his hair and ruffle it up frustratedly. His arms crossing over his chest tightly, clenching his fists with his jaw set firmly, the muscle rolling beneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

“I am sorry.” He said enunciated every syllable, almost looking through you rather than at you.

“Is it because of the pill?” You asked, meaning only to understand the situation better, though causing it to worsen.

“What an astute observation baby!” Anakin sneered, throwing his hands up frustratedly. “Wow. Now if only you could poke your cute little head a bit farther out of your ass. Yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Questioning him didn’t seem like the best option currently, but what else were you supposed to do?

“It… it really doesn’t matter.” He grumbled, spinning away from you to walk toward his kitchenette. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel better if I clean up. I’ve just been so stressed.” He hissed the last word, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Can- will you let me help at least? It’ll get done quicker.” You offered, trying to be helpful might distract him and you from everything else.

“No.” He sighed, his hands laced behind his head, his shirt riding up just a bit as he leaned backward to stretch. “No, I want to do it. Just go to bed. Please?”

“Kisses?” You asked quietly, clasping your hands in front of you awkwardly.

“Yeah, yes of course.” Anakin softened, coming toward you with open arms and an odd expression on his face.

Pretty, clear, sapphire eyes rake over your visibly anxious body. He seemed stuck between barreling past you to lock himself in the bedroom, scooping you up to hold and console you, maybe even smacking you if you spoke a few more tart words.

He did none of those. Instead he gingerly touched your face and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his expression unchanging in an uncomfortable way. His gaze piercing straight through you, burning upon entry and icing over at the exit. The muscles all relaxed save for the few pulling the corners of his mouth downward in a subtle frown. You hated it when he went blank like this, his emotions were completely unreadable, his skin taking on the properties of stone to stay cemented in place. A physical example of someone taking brick and mortar to their heart and mind.

“C’mon. I’ll put you to bed.” He said softly, nodding toward the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open, he led you into the cozy space that you were so hesitant to enter earlier. You braced yourself to have your fear confirmed, thinking you may find a hair band that didn’t belong to you, a false eyelash, the scent of someone new on your pillowcase. But as you walked to your side of the bed, stepping over a few stray clothes in the floor, you surveyed the nightstands, his was uncharacteristically crowded with cups and a collection of gum wrappers, yours was just the way you left it.

Technically, your ‘nightstand’ was really just half of his dresser. What wasn’t occupied by his large and ever growing hoard of shiny chains and oversized jewelry, rings, belts, wrist cuffs and the like; was home to a few of your things. It was mostly just for convenience sake, you did live just across the hall. All you really needed here was a little pink basket with your name sharpied on it that he’d bought for you containing all your ‘girlish possessions’.

Hair bands, bobbi pins, a scrunchie and a large hair clip tucked away in a small, clear plastic case that lay at the bottom of the basket. He even got your brand of mascara, concealer, foundation, blush and lipgloss in a cute heart shaped makeup bag. Among the other items he’d gotten for you were a hair brush, perfume, deodorant, a phone charger, your very own reusable water bottle (so you’d stop crawling over him and chugging his water at 2:00am), and a pink shark plushie that only slept in his bed when you were there.

You’d added your own items of course, your favorite shirt of his, some clean underwear and a pair of shorts and socks. Sometimes you just can’t be bothered to walk across the hall for such trivial things. It’d be nice to have a drawer like he has at your place, but the poor boy has so many clothes the things hardly close at all. So your basket serves you just fine.

After grabbing the charger and scrunchie you climbed in bed, already in pajamas. Already in pajamas. You moved from the mattress like you’d been burned, searing, scorching guilt licking at your palms to make them sweat. Anakin had been to distracted by picking up his dirty clothes and tossing them in the laundry basket tucked inside his closet to notice your knee-jerk reaction to the reminder that you were still in the clothes, still in the panties, that Ghost had lovingly peeled off your lustful flesh.

The panties that still had a little wet spot in the crotch, the ones he’d taken off just before your confession. The ones he threw at you in grieving anguish as he left you behind for the night. Thank the gods for those extra clothes, you grabbed them and swiftly went across the hall, passing a befuddled Anakin who watched you as you walked with purpose to the bathroom.

You couldn’t sleep next to him in that sinned in fabric. Even if he was being a complete ass, he didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. So you freshened up and changed clothes, rolling the dirty ones into a tight ball as if it’d squeeze out some of the shame before you tossed it in his laundry basket. Tying up your hair loosely to keep it out of your face, you brushed your teeth and then returned to the bedroom, opening the closet and dropping the clothes into the laundry basket without a second glance.

Anakin was laying face down across the foot of the bed with his arms limp at his sides, lifting his head to rest his chin on the blankets when he felt your weight subtly pushing down against the soft memory foam. His eyes flickered a shade lighter than before at the sight of you, though they quickly returned to the flat, unfeeling eyes you rarely saw.

“Why’d you change?” He asked, his voice rumbling tiredly in his chest.

“Just… wanted to feel clean before bed I guess.” You answered, looking down at your lap where your hands rested palms up.

“Clean.” He scoffed, nodding his head. “Okay.”

“What?” You snapped at him, irritated by his tone or perhaps feeling a bit agitated by being questioned on such a sensitive topic.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He sighed, giving you a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

You didn’t verbally respond, not pleased with his response or the way it was delivered. Simply pulling up the covers to your chin while Anakin situated himself atop the blankets with an arm tossed over you, groaning because he realized the lamp was still on. So he rolled to his side of the bed, reaching out with his right arm to pull the chain. He audibly hissed as though the movement hurt him, turning your head to watch as he rolled back over with a scowl on his face. Not one of anger, but one of swallowed pain.

“You okay?” You asked softly, shifting to face him as his left hand snuck under the blanket to lace his fingers with yours. There was just enough light filtering through the open bedroom door for you to see the annoyance flash over his features.

“I’m sore.” His tone flat again. “Pulled a muscle or something I think.”

“I can rub your back if you want?” You offered quietly, reaching out to gently feather your fingers over the fabric of his tshirt.

“Appreciate the thought darlin’ but I don’t think it’d help. It hurts to touch.” He said, a genuine appreciation in his voice. It was nice to hear some real emotion from him, it relaxed you, knowing he might be coming out of whatever emotional episode he’d fell into.

“I’ve been putting Arnica on it.” He added, scrunching and wiggling his nose like it itched.

“Arnica? Like the stuff for bruises?” You asked confusedly.

“No.” He said sharply, rolling his eyes. “I mean, yes but no. It helps with swelling too.”

“Oh,” You nodded, taking his word for it to avoid anymore upset. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can’t.” He said. You didn’t take it as a jab, although the words fell hard from his lips, you knew he probably just meant it as a matter of fact statement, so you nodded in acceptance.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over his forearm.

“Once I get everything picked up.” He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Listen… today has been a train wreck, I have been a train wreck. I really am sorry.” He whispered, true emotion finally shining through in both his words and his expression.

“It’s okay. It’s just a bad day. Everyone has bad days.” You said softly, looking at him with sympathy. “I haven’t helped the situation I know.”

“I could’ve handled it better.” He sighed.

You shrugged. “Let’s not play the blame game. No one wins that one.”

“True.” He gave you a small but meaningful smile accompanied by a squeeze of your hand.

“Will you wake me when you come back?” You asked, your eyelids getting heavy after Anakin’s release of emotion, it calmed you, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed upset.

“Sure, why?” His eyebrows knitted together as he smoothed out a loop in your loose ponytail.

“Just cause.” You said quietly, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “I want to know you’re here.”

“Cute.” His voice affectionate as he let out a little chuckle. “I love you too.” He whispered.

“I know.” You nodded, still unable to say it.

You just couldn’t. You couldn’t before, you definitely can’t now. You’d already confessed it to someone else, someone who you probably should’ve ran from, got a restraining order against and begged until they locked him away. But that’s just love isn’t it? It makes you do crazy things.

Crazy things like betraying your dutiful and loyal partner with lustful trysts that should’ve never happened. Wild things like getting railed more times than a two dollar whore in the span of 24 hours by two separate men, one of whom being completely anonymous. Your sister would be appalled if she ever discovered that you were fucked with so little respect that you’d been sliced open and loved every second of it. In actuality, you wouldn’t mind doing it again.

All the things love tricked you into doing, you continued to allow and you would do so until the idolatry buried you alive.

Insanely deranged things like killing a man. Your panicked shooting indirectly causing another’s death by your lover’s hands. Perplexing things like the remorse fading in less than a day, the grief of extracting a human’s soul like that should’ve haunted you for life. But if it weren’t for your fear of being caught, you might’ve forgotten it by now.

Even if you could let those words slip through your soldered lips, you’re not sure that the barbs on your tongue would stop you from confessing more than just your love.

Or is it even that?

What if it’s not love and simply security and a devotion to the stability Anakin provides? What if you’re taking advantage of his kindness and trust in you, using him for the best of his qualities and his unwavering faith in you? Could you be so cruel and callous, is it possible you may feel indebted to him in some way and your heart is misinterpreting that for love?

Maybe it’s your subconscious, your self-preservation trying to crack through the deliberately placed cage in your mind. The dank corner of your mind where you squirrel away unmentionables, undesirables and guilessly horrid thoughts and memories. These days it’s getting fuller and fuller, the barrage of incoming files seemed never ending. The curator inside must be struggling, grasping at the iron bars in hopes to come out with only a few paper cuts. If just one of those bars bend, a flood may come running out and you’re positive that sort of unloading might turn you toward madness.

Diary Entry: September 9th

You’re finally asleep. God I wish I knew about your sleeping pills. Then I could’ve just popped one between those soft lips and you’d have went to sleep so much faster but you haven’t told Anakin you take them. I felt like I had to wait for hours, staring at your pretty face. I loved the view of course, however I didn’t love the way your lip kept twitching like you were upset as you were falling asleep. You’re still upset.

You’re just going to have to get over it. I won’t do it again. It was a moment of weakness and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t take it back anymore than I can’t make the memory of it go away. One pill. That’s all. Forget it.

I cleaned everything up. I even scrubbed the kitchen floor just to get some tension out. I’ve ruined my scrub brush, the bristles are all bent out of shape now.

When I went to check the bathroom and see if anything needed tidied up, I noticed my drawer hadn’t been closed properly, I know I didn’t open it. So it must’ve been you. Nosy bitch.

Well. I need a new hiding spot. Or maybe it’s just time to let that shit go. It’s not like I need twelve pair of panties and the other little trinkets I’ve stolen from you. I can take things and not have to hide it anymore.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 9th continued

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I never knew what i was doing but now i just feel like I’m paddling through shit creek with my bare hands and a wooden barrel for a boat.

My world is falling apart and I have no one to pray to because my goddess is just as rudderless as I am. How did i fuck up so badly and how the hell am I supposed to fix it when I just keep making it worse? I feel like I’m losing it, actually, truly losing it. I need guidance and the one person who has always been able to give me that is more lost than I am. I’m not meant to be a leader.

How can I bring you back from the dark when you are my light?

Is it even possible to atone for the things I’ve done or should I do worse and hope it cancels it out? Obviously I won’t try that because you can’t really get much worse than what I’ve done without doing some truly heinous things. See? I am capable of listening to the voice of reasoning I so often ignore.

You ignore yours too. I know you do or else we never would’ve made it this far. I used to think it was because you’re just a fucking idiot. I’ve come to the understanding that you are willfully ignorant.

I can’t even blame you. I can’t, not when I’m the one who set us up for this. It’s my fault and I’m just waiting for the window of your soul to chop me in half like a guillotine the next time I try to crawl through. You gave me such a slim opening and I was barely able to wrench myself away in time to only lose a few metaphorical fingers. The me inside my mind has yet to staunch the flow from the loss.

I know now why you won’t say it. Because you did say it. Just not to me, not to the me I made for you. I don’t know how to feel… relieved maybe, but I can’t help imagine it’s a bit unhealthy. For you I mean. I’m perfectly fine being the way I am, though I never meant to share the worst parts of me with you. Despite knowing, witnessing, participating in such a thing; you still chose to tell Ghost you loved him before you told Anakin.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

Then, you went and confused me even farther and denied me the only organic opportunity to tell you who I am. I’ve already shown you. That was the whole point of continuing all this. I could’ve stopped when we started dating but I didn’t because I didn’t want to. I realize now, you didn’t want me to either. You’ve seen the me I curated and molded into perfection. The me that you deserve. You’ve always had the option to take him and leave the rest behind but you still haven’t and I can’t foresee a future where you will.

Do you love Ghost because he is real? Is he real? Am I?

Have I always been him and never Anakin? Sometimes I think yes. Others I wholeheartedly believe I made them both just for you. Deep down i know its not true, I know who I am. I am an undeserving man. It doesn’t matter what way you spin it,. It doesn’t matter how many me’s I create, I will never be good enough for you. You know that, don’t you?

Can you tell that it’s a half-truth? Is that why you can’t tell me you love me? You know there’s something missing, it’s an incomplete file. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve known all along that I’m a fraud. You’re the only one. Other than my mother of course and don’t you dare make some sort of Freudian joke, that’s just clichè.

You are the only person I haven’t been able to fool. Further proof you are who I believe you to be. A goddess. They have some sort of ‘all knowing’ ability, yes? I’ve compared you to the Greek’s Artemis and her sister-goddess Diana from Rome, Goddess of the hunt. And hunt you have, even on those wobbly legs of a fawn. You hunted, hungry to learn and grow until you’ve turned into the beautiful, powerful doe I knew you were destined to be. My Doe. My Goddess.

You wanted to see me and you did. So why wouldn’t you let me tell you?

Are you afraid? I am.

I’m so afraid I tried to numb myself. Though like the savior you’ve become so good at being, you saved me from myself again. How is it that you can appear at just the right moment? I would’ve taken that second pill had you not come out to stop me. I might’ve even taken all your sleeping pills. Because I am afraid, and what do cowards do when they are afraid? They take the coward’s way out, it’s called that for a reason.

Diary Entry: September 10th

I hate lying to you. I hate hiding things from you.

I hate myself for doing that. I know I didn’t have to but I felt like I did.

I hate myself.

Diary Entry: September 13th

God I’m so fucking frustrated. Why are you being like this!? I don’t deserve this. You tell me you love me, you stop me from showing you my face, and I got pissed so I left. I gave myself blue balls but I’m going to blame you for it because it’s your fault after all.

We’ve kissed, we’ve touched, you’ve straddled my hips and rubbed your warm, wet panties all over my boxers but you won’t let me fuck you. You won’t let me make love to you. You won’t even let me get a finger beneath those pretty panties that I paid for.

There’s only so much my hand is capable of.

What are you afraid of? Telling me you love me? Probably. Last time you fucked someone it slipped right out. What a shame it would be for you to say it to me again.

Date

September 15th

You scrubbed at yourself in the shower, contemplating the man troubles that have plagued you ever since that night you finally made up with Anakin. He’s been grumpy, overly asshole-ish and so unbearably stubborn for the past few days that he’s on thin ice, holding a heat gun over the weak spot. Nothing you say seems to help but it also doesn’t seem to hurt, so you’ve been in a perpetual game of hot potato. As long as you keep going around the circle you won’t get burned.

Ghost hasn’t spoken to you in over a week and you’re beginning to think he may never make an appearance again. He hasn’t left a message, a note, a gift. He hasn’t even been inside your apartment. Ghost had never ever been so neglectful. It’s to the point that you might call and report him missing if you were certain of who he was.

The cameras in your home had been so well hidden that you didn’t think you’d ever find them, turns out they’re pretty easy to spot when theyre low on battery and the damn thing flashes red while you’re trying to sleep. You had always assumed he had a camera in your room, but to have it confirmed and see that it’s directly above your bed… was one of the more uncomfortable aspects of the odd relationship between you.

It was so tiny you couldn’t believe that it actually functioned as a camera. You plucked it from the hiding spot on your ceiling fan and put it in your jewelry box along with all the other things that Ghost had left for you. It was kind of entertaining, like a weird game of eye-spy to see if you could find the others now that you knew what to expect. You hadn’t found them yet, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for the rest of them to need charging too.

Oddly enough, it made you a little sad to think that he might’ve stopped watching. You always imagined that when or if Ghost ever left your life that you’d be relieved. If you would’ve told the terrified mouse who’d woken up to a stranger with a knife all those months ago… that she’d be sitting in the shower floor mourning the loss, well, she’d send you to the fifth floor without hesitation.

You’d wracked your brain over and over again, grasping at any idea that seemed remotely plausible in hopes that you’d conjure up some elaborate plan to fix everything. No grand scheme had revealed itself yet, aside from faking your death and moving out of the country, but Luke would hold a grudge against your faux corpse. You had promised that he would be allowed to die first because he couldn’t bare the idea he might outlive you.

Luke.

Maybe it was time to tell Luke. You wouldn’t have to share all of it, you could even lie a little, make it less rapey and more romantic. Sans murder and add a dash of sweetness. It’s not like you’ve lived a single day of your life for the past few months without telling a handful of lies a day. What’s a few more?

Maybe you should threaten warn Ghost first. As a courtesy of course. He should know if you’re planning on spilling your guts to your best friend, it’s only fair. What’s Ghost going to do? Roll up to Luke’s apartment and duct tape your mouth shut? No.

You sighed, stepping out of the shower, half expecting to see Ghost sitting on the sink again, unfortunately he was not. Unfortunately.

You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time to mope about, you’re a girl with a job that you neglected for days on end and they were kind enough not to fire you. So long as you were okay with being on probation; you were of course. Finding another stable job in a city like this on such short notice would be nightmarish. Thank the gods you’re their best waitress.

Ever since you returned to work, Sara has forced you to wear a ‘trainee’ badge and all your regulars have bullied you endlessly for it. Those little old men may seem sweet and harmless but the moment they find something to poke fun at they turn into a pack of jackals. Today you’d be back to serving them coffee sans the trainee badge of shame. Unless of course you are late.

Hurriedly dressing in your uniform and fixing yourself up enough to be presentable, you sprinted out the door and down the steps, quick walking to your car. You’d be late if you leisurely walked to The Bluebird like you normally did. You’d made a habit of parking right next to Anakin’s vehicle, so you had to walk past it everytime you climbed in to yours. You’ve not used your car since you returned from your weekend getaway and Anakin’s car hadn’t been there when you arrived.

You hardly glanced at it anymore, being so used to seeing it there. It always looked the same. He always parked it the same, always backing it in to the spot. So you weren’t expecting anything different when you bent down to pick up the quarter next to his driver side door. It must’ve fallen out of the overflowing change cup he kept in the door pocket.

You smiled, seeing it was face up, taking it as a good luck sign. You needed some good luck, so you picked it up. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something different about Anakin’s car. The tire.

Dirt. Real dirt. Not the city street gunk or the sand and gravel mixture in the back parking lot of The Cerulean. It was dark earth and grass, trapped in the grooves of the rubber. Where had he gone that he might’ve needed to drive over actual dirt?

——————————————————————————

“Hey doll.” Anakin’s deep voice appeared suddenly to your left, his hand on your back as he walked past you to take a seat at the counter while you finished up taking your table’s order.

You gave him a smile and trudged off to the kitchen, clipping the order slip to the line above the stovetop. As you came back out of the kitchen, you shoved your pad and pen back into your apron pocket, surveying your tables to make sure everything was as it should be before you stopped to talk with Anakin.

“What’s up Ani?” You asked, leaning on your elbows against the counter.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows, tonguing his labret piercing distractedly while he picked at his nail polish. “Oh, uh I just wanted to come say ‘hi’ before I had to go to work.” He said, giving you a little smile, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

“What’ve you been up to today?” You asked, turning around to get him a Pepsi, watching the liquid pour out and bubble up in the cup.

“What’ve you been doing?” He countered, taking the glass from you hesitantly, looking you over like he was searching for something.

“Just been at home and here.” You frowned, unwrapping a straw and popping it in his drink for him.

“Got plans or anything after work?” He asked, taking a sip through the straw.

“No? Sh-should I? Did I forget something?” You asked worriedly.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head, eyes flicking down to his drink and back up to you. “No I just want you to stay at my place tonight.” He said quietly.

“But you work tonight.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m aware.” He said with a snort, looking at you with a flat affect.

“I- I mean I’ll definitely stay.” You nodded. “I just guess I’m surprised.”

“Why?” He asked, curling up his top lip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at your place when you’ve been at work before.” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“You haven’t.” He confirmed, unfolding a napkin in front of him and laying it flat, ripping off tiny pieces.

“Well, first time for everything then huh?” You smiled, hoping to break him from the reeking attitude he was carrying around with him.

“Come out to my car with me.” Anakin wasn’t asking, not even instructing. He was demanding.

“Oh-okay just a second.” You nodded, walking toward the kitchen doorway. “Vigo! Anakin is here, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Yeah sure.” Vigo waved you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder before he flipped on the tap and began washing his hands.

You turned on your heel and expected to see Anakin sitting at the counter where you left him. Though as you untied your apron and tossed it under the counter, you scanned the diner and saw him nowhere. Instead, he was already heading out to his car, the ‘Open’ sign on the glass door of the restaurant swinging back and forth just proved he pulled it open with more force than necessary.

Peering through the glass as you approached the door, hand out to push it open, you spotted him leaned against his car with his arms crossed. His head down, staring at the blacktop beneath him until he jerked to the side, sensing your presence growing nearer.

“Get in.” Anakin opened the drivers side back door for you and gently ushered you inside. A big contrast to the gruff tone he spoke with.

“Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes, speaking sarcastically. It didn’t seem like Anakin thought it was just a good natured jab. Rather, he reacted like it was a personal attack.

He firmly grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it as he climbed into the back seat behind you. He let go just as quickly as he gripped it, wordlessly splaying his fingers across your scalp to apologetically massage your scalp.

“What the hell was that for?” You scowled, batting his hand away from your head.

“We haven’t fucked since you came back,” he said, ignoring your question. “I want you to fuck me.”

Your jaw dropped through the floorboard of the car and shattered on the pavement beneath. Watching him unbutton and unzip his jeans, more comfortably spreading his legs and leaning back, his hands laced behind his head with a grunt. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting expectantly for you to make your move, but you were simply speechless, frozen in place.

“Hello?” He snapped his fingers in front of your face to get your attention. “If you’re gonna sit there with your mouth open at least put it to work.” He scoffed, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, pulling out his already hard cock with the other.

There was a split second of hesitation on his part, pausing like he realized what he was doing, suddenly coming back to consciousness after being possessed.

“Princess… I’m so sorry, y-you don’t have to do anything.” He turned his head to you revealing his paling cheeks as he quickly released the back of your neck from his rough hold, only to be shocked by the lustful gaze staring back into his worried eyes.

“Th-that was hot.” You squeaked out, melting into submission.

“Wait- really?” He asked, eyebrows pinching together in shameful hope. His hand hovering over the nape of your neck as if waiting for permission.

“Y-yeah, yes.” Swallowing thickly, cautiously sliding off the backseat and onto the carpeted floor to kneel in front of him.

“Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, a mask of remorse passing over his features. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Anakin.” You said quietly, “please shut up.”

“O-okay.” He nodded quickly, suddenly timid, so unlike that man from just seconds earlier.

You lowered your head without another glance up at him, moving to swirl your tongue and suck on the silver ball of his jewelry to slight push and pull the metal through the piercing before taking his cockhead between your lips.

You were too busy to notice the absolutely wicked, deriding, straight up unsettlingly evil grin eat away at the faux timidity he’d painted on his pretty face.

Diary Entry: September 17th

Is there a word for when you kind of feel bad about something because you know that you should, but you don’t actually feel bad about it? If there is one I’d like to know it. It’d be perfect for this. It’s exactly how I feel.

I don’t think I’m obligated to actually feel any sort of ‘remorse’ in this situation though because it’s not really my fault. Even if it is… it’s only indirectly. After all the excitement life has finally slowed down enough for me to notice I’m out of my meds. Have been like for a few days.

So, apologies for being a total jerk, but also no I’m not apologizing because I don’t believe you mind it. I think you just don’t like it. You don’t like facing what you already know to be true. Kind of like when you rearrange the magnets on the fridge. You get so used to seeing it one way that you hardly pay attention. But the moment you move ‘em around its like you’re looking at a brand new fridge every time you walk past it. It just jumps out at you.

Same fridge, same magnets. Same me, more Ghost, less Anakin.

Diary Entry: September 20th

Why does life have to kick me in the ass, why won’t it just pucker up and kiss it? I have a nice ass. You’ve said so.

I can list a hundred things that I would rather be doing this week, a thousand if I tried really hard. I would prefer to shove my hand in a manual meat grinder than go back to that stupid fucking doctor.

My mother makes her weekly FaceTime call and turns it into a game of twenty questions.

I know exactly what she was trying to do, fishing for information, trying to see how much I knew. She did the same thing when that murder on campus happened. It wasn’t me. The guy who did it was caught and locked up, it was a senseless crime. The poor kid didn’t do anything but stand in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Just because I live near the campus, doesn’t mean I’m involved. Except for this time.

I don’t do senseless crime. I’m not stupid.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a call from your doctor honey. Did you take me off the information release? You know you can’t do that Anakin, it’s mandatory.’

‘Your prescription hasn’t been filled, you haven’t taken it in over a week! Don’t lie to me!’

Fucking fine. Alright. I love the woman but Christ alive she gets on my goddamn nerves. Now I have to go back to the shrink because I didn’t call and request my meds to be refilled and I didn’t try to pick them up when they were ready. Apparently if you’re three days late to the CVS pharmacy they put your crazy pills back and hold them hostage. Some policy shit about controlled substances.

My mom watched the news and thought to herself ‘hmm, it’s been alittle while since I’ve questioned my son’s sanity.’

Have I not done enough to prove I’m capable of being a functioning member of society? The state says I have. Why can’t she do the same? Officials have signed off on my ability to be normal and surprise! I have ‘maintained mental stability’ and ‘reintegrated into society’.

They’re over it. Why can’t she be?

I mean for fucks sake, she was used to it. Those doctors and nurses who loved to sedate me while I was in that state school weren’t and they forgave me a million times quicker than mom did. I would’ve gotten grounded for months if she had been the one to find out I was stealing meds and reselling them. It’s not my fault they padlocked it with a big clunky thing from the 90’s. A toddler could’ve picked that lock with a spoon, but they trusted a school of delinquents not to capitalize on it? All they did was give me a time out in the bad boy box for a week. It was like a vacation, no classes, no people, no gym.

They expected me to be upset about that? Please.

The only thing I didn’t think I was going to get away with there was the whole therapy-chicken fiasco. My refusal to apologize definitely didn’t help. But when you live in the suburbs majority of your life you aren’t exactly accustomed to a fucking rooster thinking the sun is coming up at 4:00 am. I already had to deal with sharing a room with a chronic masturbator who snored and grease-trap McGee who thought axe body spray could substitute for a shower.

Adding chickens into a coop directly outside my window was the tipping point. A state official who believed caring for animals could be therapeutic almost cost me my graduation. Out of all the animals they could’ve chosen, they picked chickens.

They only lasted a week before I got fed up and wrung their necks like a washcloth.

But I’m an adult now. I’m a big boy, making big boy choices and one of those choices was to stop seeing my doctor. I would’ve kept up with my pills, however, I was busy following my girlfriend to the lake when I got the ‘prescription ready for pickup’ text.

I probably don’t even need them anymore anyway. I’m fine. But now if I don’t get my ass in there for an appointment with Dr. Bullshit I’ll have to get reevaluated through the court and have to see that little bitch ass man-boy I hit with a table. I can’t have that. Not when everything is perfect in my life.

Except for the stuff that’s really horribly terrible.

Appointment: date: September 28th 3:30pm

September 15th 8:23pm

Seconds after unlocking your front door, you flopped down face first onto the couch. Dropping your belongings onto the floor below you with a thud, you had no intention of moving until absolutely necessary. You just wanted to rot. Not because you wanted to die per say… its just that you wouldn’t mind feigning dead for a while and if you just so happened to perish while playing the part of a corpse; well it wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be way easier than living the life that you’ve found yourself in.

Everything had been so undeniably awful lately that the joy had been sucked out of even the smallest things that made you happy before. Like the nice old lady who gets coffee and a slice of cake for lunch, she’s so cute and small and she always leaves a peppermint as part of your tip. It always made you smile, always gave you a warm feeling in your chest, but today was different. Today the gesture made you feel hollow.

Since he left, it’s all you can think of.

——————————————————————————

9:52pm

After peeling yourself away from the comfort of your couch, you showered and ate a dinner fit for royalty: microwave stir fry rice. Then you dragged yourself across the hallway to Anakin’s. For reasons yet to be revealed you were dreading your time inside his place alone. The air felt heavy and stale as you walked through the space, into his living room. It was always like this when he was gone, like the apartment never fully ‘wakes up’ until he steps inside.

It’s odd, feeling like the room you’re in is in a state of dormancy. Yet, it’s not the cause of your hesitancy to stay here tonight, while he’s away. No, you’re hesitant because Ghost he usually visits on nights Anakin is at work. What if he shows up and you’re not there? Will he make an appearance here? Will he think it’s your way of saying you don’t care if you see him or not?

Worse still, could the hesitancy stem from that little voice trapped deep in the recesses of your mind? The one you’ve ignored every time it’s been able to rip the gag from it’s mouth?

The rope of dread wraps tighter and tighter around your neck each moment you’re here alone. No amount of distraction has been able to cure the itch, the burning, nagging itch to get up and search. Is that what he wants? What if he’s been here?

Are there cameras here too? That’s something you’ve never even considered before and the thought makes you feel ill. It’s one thing to have your own privacy breached, but Anakin’s… that’s unfair to him and it’s already gone past ‘innocent’ watching. The camera in your bedroom has surely caught things no one else should’ve seen and that knowledge has begun to haunt you.

He’d been watching you have sex. With him. With Anakin. He had hours of footage, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind at the realization. But only a few were significant enough to take note of. If he’s been monitoring your bedroom activity… why was he only upset about the time you and Anakin had sex in the living room? He was so angry about it, so angry he wanted to roleplay stabbing you. He cut you while he pounded you from behind.

Why hadn’t he been that jealous about every other time? Probably to spare you the embarrassment of knowing the camera was right over your bed. It would be stupid of him to reveal that sort of information, then he wouldn’t have all those videos, perfect for blackmail, presumably great amateur porn. He wouldn’t… would he? He killed a man.

Men?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he might’ve been saving all that up in case he needed it. He did say he’d send those pictures to Anakin if you didn’t behave. That’s blackmail. That’s a threat.

Or maybe, he’d done something even worse. Ghost… could he have…? No. He’s too possessive. He wouldn’t try to make money off of you like that. Would he? Despite laughing off the thought, your phone suddenly appeared in your hand, thumbs working of their own accord to check any and every explicit website you could find using the tags ‘ghostface’ ‘masks’ ‘hidden camera’ ‘blindfold’ ‘gagged’ ‘knife’ and anything else you thought it might’ve been labeled under. Scroll after scroll you squinted your way through countless video thumbnails, all the big sites were clean as far as you could tell.

OnlyFans? Maybe. He’d make way more on a site like that than he would on a larger porn site. Right? Wouldn’t it be considered… niche content? So you searched there, preview and profile pictures of so many people popped up. Maybe it’s not as niche as you thought. The idea that others may be interested in something like that was slightly comforting and only a tad infuriating.

These people might not be your Ghost; but they shared his face. And, they had hundreds if not thousands of people watching them.

It shouldn’t bother you as badly as it does, but you can’t help it. Maybe his own possessiveness has started to rub off on you, because the thought of someone else watching a man in the same mask as Ghost… almost felt like cheating.

Realistically, he could be any of these men.

You could be looking at him right now along with whoever else is online and you’d never even know it unless you saw yourself pop up on the page. But then you’d have to subscribe to **every single one** of these profiles. You might waste your time scrolling through videos and never finding what you were looking for.

Because… realistically he probably isn’t one of these men.

“Enough.” You groaned, fisting your hair on both sides of your head, then pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Finally you got up and made popcorn, sitting yourself in front of the living room tv for a bit of a wind-down before bed. It would be hours before Anakin got home, X-Files was calling and you just had to answer. So you restarted it and settled in for a binge. The familiar theme washing over you in a nostalgic sort of way, late nights passing by on the projector of your memories.

Luke and you in his twin bed, comforter bundled around you as you sat huddled together, crosslegged in the soft glow of the tv and his small spaceship nightlight. Too old for ‘kid shows’ and too young for horror movies, so you found the next best thing: Goosebumps for grown ups.

His parents were fancy enough to have a DVR to record shows, allowing the two of you to rewatch your favorite episodes whenever you pleased. So long as his father didn’t record over them to catch the newest episode of American Idol.

Isn’t it odd how we so often return to the comfort of childhood in times of uncertainty? Clinging onto the old things that were stable even in the forever changing world you grew up in. Every night without fail, re-run after re-run of X-Files would play on channel 72. All night long.

Now you didn’t have to wait until 8:30pm. You could watch it whenever you wanted, or needed. The latter was true in this case. You want to believe. Just like Mulder. But, Scully is reasonable and you needed to be reasonable. An inkling isn’t proof, a feeling isn’t fact. Cold, hard evidence doesn’t lie. But your mind, your heart, your eyes and ears… are not as trustworthy as you might like to think.

You only got through two episodes before you stood up and sat your bowl of neglected popcorn aside.

“Skeptics are often the best detectives.” You mumbled to yourself, a very paraphrased quote from the show.

You’d come here to snoop once already and had found nothing. No evidence. But now you wondered if you may have been searching for the wrong things, in the wrong places.

“What would Scully do?” You thought.

You found yourself slipping into the role you once loved to play alongside Luke. You’d be the voice of reason to his fantasy world of the paranormal, when he’d come up with ‘cases’ for the two of you to solve. Only this time you would be playing both parts.

You’d started off toward Anakin’s bedroom when your phone buzzed, pausing just before passing the threshold into the space, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw a text waiting to be read.

‘Do you miss me that bad?’

Ghost.

Unsure of whether to answer or not you freeze in place, staring down at the screen. He’d ignored you for what felt like eternity, now he was returning with a snarky comment about your internet searches. He can monitor your search history but he can’t say ‘hello’ for a week?

Your thumbs poised over the keyboard, a million jumbled words fighting for their chance to make an appearance in your quick witted, equally snarky, sarcastic-

‘Yes.’

‘Liar.’ The response came through the very second your phone showed that your message had delivered.

Your face heated up, how dare he call you a liar? After everything you would’ve thought he might know better. You chose not to entertain the comment, knowing it would only make Ghost think he’d successfully gotten under your skin. Even though he had, he wasn’t entitled to that information.

‘Your cameras are dying.’

‘I don’t need them anymore.’ The text finally appeared after several bouts of typing, erasing and retyping occurred on Ghost’s side of the conversation.

He doesn’t need them. At least he didn’t say he didn’t want them anymore, because that would imply that he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you hoped it meant he had something else planned, not simply that he had lost interest in watching your day to day activities.

It was a sobering concept; the idea that you may be losing his attention. Is it worth it to even try to find out? Will the answer just hurt you more than the not knowing? You suspect it might.

So you turned off your phone. No more googling, no more texting. Just searching. With X-Files to keep you company, you walked around the living room to carefully lift every item in the room. Each little trinket inspected and every backing to his picture frames removed, the couch cushions lifted, unzipped and felt up. Scooting every piece of moveable furniture away from the walls and pushing it carefully back into place. Anakin was peculiar about his things, if you misplaced something by even a centimeter, he would notice.

If you weren’t so angry at Ghost, you might’ve thanked him for the ‘take a reference picture’ before moving someone else’s things trick. It was no wonder you didn’t notice him being inside your house for so long. He really was good at what he did.

But you were angry. Angry at him, at yourself, at Anakin. But you were furious at the invisible wall that kept you from searching Anakin’s room. Every time you approached it, your mind thought up some excuse for why you weren’t finished looking elsewhere. There’s only so many logical hiding places and you were suddenly determined to find them all before moving open to the more… illogical ones.

Cereal boxes. Ice cube tray. Dishwasher and the dishwasher pac container. The fabric along the bottom of the couch. Behind the mounted tv. In the trash cans beneath the trash bag. The water tank of the coffee pot. His shoes.

You even re-checked the bathroom after remembering you never found out what was keeping that drawer from being fully opened. Turns out Anakin beat you to it and got it out of the way, so when you opened it, you removed the drawer completely to find that there was nothing there and never had been. If there’s nothing there, there must be nothing in his room either.

And suddenly, that invisible barrier dissolved.

“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking.” Anakin laughed humorlessly, seeing his text deliver green. He tossed his phone onto the crate beside him, annoyedly pulling the cigarette from between his lips with pinched fingers and flicking the ash on the ground.

”What?” Trevor asked, pressing his back to the brick wall, enjoying a slow sip of whiskey.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Anakin grumbled, raking a hand through his hair.

“Oh come on now don’t give me that shit.” Trevor scoffed, scuffing his shoe against Anakin’s. “I’d like to think I know you well enough to know when you’re royally ticked off.”

”Trev. You don’t ever wanna see me royally ticked off.” He chuckled, deep and gravely from the back of his throat. “I’m just… irritated.”

”You’ve been barreling around the bar for the last week like a bull in a china shop.” Trevor said pointedly, taking a gulp of his whiskey. “I didn’t think anyone would ever beat April’s broken glass record but you’ve fuckin’ smashed it.” Trevor snickered at his own joke, clearing his throat anxiously when Anakin didn’t laugh along with him.

”Seriously man, I’ll help you out if I can. Just say the word.” Trevor shrugged, feeling an awkward silence that he hadn’t shared with Anakin in quite some time.

”This isn’t something you can help with.” Anakin sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his palms over his jeans, smacking his knees before standing up and tossing his cigarette butt into the designated coffee can.

”Girl trouble?” Trevor guessed putting both his hand palm up in front of him.

”When isn’t it girl trouble?” Anakin groaned, rubbing his face. “My girl, my mom, the fucking cat. Even the damn cat is being weird with me.”

“Well, what’d you do?” Trevor asked curiously, not trying to pry to hard.

”Oh you know.” Anakin shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Went on a murderous rampage, girlfriend caught me snorting some special K, didn’t give the cat a treat, told my mom off over the phone.”

”Shit, anything else?” Trevor laughed, standing up as well to follow Anakin inside.

”Beat up a middle aged man, mugged a gas station attendant, robbed said gas station, stole a motorcycle, spray painted a few buildings, busted up a change jar, fucked your mom.” Anakin listed off on his hand, turning around with a grin on his face after the last ‘transgression’ left his lips.

”I should’ve seen that one coming.” Trevor huffed shaking his head. “Tell your mother I said ‘nice tits’.”

”Oh fuck right the hell off.” Anakin snorted, shoulder checking Trevor into the wall as they re-entered the bar.

”Yessir,” Trevor tipped his imaginary hat and spun on his heel. “Next time i see you, I’ll be calling you son.”

”Just don’t ask me to call you daddy.” Anakin shook his head, faking a right and smacking his left cheek lightly before running off behind the bar.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:13am

Anakin left the bar after his shift that night, feeling a little bit lighter. His mind a little less foggy and a little more organized. He jogged up the steps to his apartment and almost walked in, his hand on the door knob in preparation to unlock it.

It was as if the other side of the hall was calling to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. That same strong urge that had lured him into your life in the first place, he knew you were waiting for him, but it couldn’t hurt to make you wait just a tad longer, right?

Slowly he turned and switched keys, unlocking your door and stepping inside he flipped on the light switch and went about collecting the rest of the cameras he had so painstakingly set up all that time ago. Lining them up on the dresser in front of your bed just before taking all the little things he’d left, all the notes, and lining them up in chronological order from one edge of the dresser to the next, ending the sequence by taking off his centipede ring and placing the bullet he’d carved for you in the center of it.

He carefully plucked your hairpin from the jewelry box and held it for a moment in the palm of his hand, tracing over the delicately carved lines. He’d looked for so long, searched everywhere just to find it and you’d never worn it. He understood of course, he could understand the reasoning behind not wearing it. But keeping it tucked away in your jewelry box seemed like a waste of it’s beauty, a waste of what it represented for him. So, just like he stole it from that antique shop, he stole it back from you.

Anakin stood back as he slipped the hair pin into his pocket, looking down at his handiwork. It was satisfying to see it all laid out like that in front of him. Like a nice little history exhibit of your time together. It brought a small smile to his lips, a happy one, one that was real and genuine, proud.

He hadn’t planned this, he used to plan everything so carefully, so far in advance. He’d been running on instinct and the free feeling he got when he decided something on the spot for a while now. It felt nice to break from the mold he’d created for himself when it came to you, not so much when it involved murder. Anakin wasn’t a man who would admit to be scared about just any old thing. Scared of losing you? Absolutely he would admit to that. But scared of prison? No, he’s too tough for that.

Which is why he was blaming his tears on you and you alone. Despite his happy smile, he sniffed back salty droplets that graced his cheeks, unaware he was even crying until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the dresser.

He was well aware that he’d been sloppy. There were so many things that didn’t make sense at that crime scene and he was hoping that the police were stupid enough to believe it was all due to that poor kid’s hysteria. Anakin was smart enough to know that the police wouldn’t share any information that was valuable, if they had suspicions anyone else was involved. They’d wait and bide their time, gathering evidence and luring the suspect into a false sense of security.

He was paranoid, so, so, paranoid. Rightfully so.

None of the boys he’d left alive turned up that way, which in all reality made it a little easier for him. There’d be no witnesses and no one to point the finger at a real life Ghostface. Two of the boys had bled out, the other died from a stress induced seizure and choked on his own tongue. Anakin supposed that might be a reasonable reaction to being zip tied to two dead guys that had fallen over on top of you. He knew he should feel bad, he did, just not for what he knew he was supposed to.

He felt bad for himself.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:46am

You were on your hands and knees, using your phone flashlight to search under all the furniture in Anakin’s room. You even lifted the mattress, took out all the drawers in the dressers and nightstand, even checked the pockets of the clothes hanging in his closet. The suitcase at the top of his closet and the shoes at the bottom.

You gave up searching after you picked up a candle and turned it over, why in the world would you be checking a candle for anything suspicious? You were beginning to believe you were just horribly paranoid, rightfully so, you’d just aided and abetted and murdered not too long ago.

So you cozied up in Anakin’s bed and started watching the X-Files that you’d switched over into his room’s tv for background noise. Now Scully and Mulder had your full attention.

It was a good episode, a string of strange unsolved murders. Mulder had a theory that would connect these murders to ones that had happened several decades before. He was convinced they were committed by the same man despite the time passed between them. He even found matching finger prints to prove his theory, yet Scully was still unconvinced. That was until the culprit came after her, breaching her home’s defenses by squeezing through the air vents.

You jolted upright so quickly it made your brain feel as though it spun on an axis. With your phone in hand you went about the apartment, checking each air vent. It would be a perfect hiding place for anything really. You would’ve never even considered it had it not been for the X-Files. Your palms sweat with anxious anticipation, each one you checked meant you were one closer to finding, or not finding whatever it was the Anakin may or may not be hiding.

You saved the one in Anakin’s room for last, assuming if he were to have hidden anything it would probably be there. You were just about to shine your light through the slats of the vent when you heard the front door open, in a moment of panic you shot upright to your feet, your phone gripped tightly in your fingers. Your face the picture of guilt as Anakin rounded the corner, his face twisting from surprise to confusion.

”What’re you still doing up doll?” He asked, looking at his watch, “It’s almost four.”

”I couldn’t sleep.” You said quickly, realizing the phone flashlight was still on, you tapped the button the turn it off but your fingers were so sweaty you had to wipe them on your shirt before you could properly use the touchscreen.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, walking forward as he watched you struggle, “Looking for something?”

”No! Why- what makes you think that?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted in concern.

”Uh,” He pointed to the phone in your hand and watched as you tried and failed to feign a gasp of realization.

”Oh! Right, I could’ve sworn I heard a mouse in here, I was just about to look.” You said, gesturing to the air vent. Anakin took the phone from your hand and flicked the flashlight back on. Kneeling on the ground to look for you.

”Are you that afraid of mice?” He asked with a slight laugh, looking over his shoulder at your pink cheeks.

”No, not really.” You shook your head, “I- you just startled me when you came in I think.”

”Well I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to. I thought you’d be asleep.” He said, coming up off the ground and handling you your phone back. “If there was a mouse, he’s gone now.”

“Oh well that’s good then.” You sighed, nodding as you looked down at the vent again. He would’ve acted strangely if he had something down there… wouldn’t he have?

“Whatcha watching?” He asked, nodding toward the tv where a new episode had begun.

“Oh, it’s the X-Files.” You said with a slight smile, crawling back up into the bed. “You’ve never watched it?”

“Yeah I have, It’s been a long time though.” He said, leaning on the door frame and looking you over, taking his time as though he were looking for something. He was giving you a smile that seemed almost wistful, like he was sad about something.

“C’Mere babydoll. I don’t wanna get bar germs in the bed.” He pushed off the door frame with his foot, sauntering over to you, placing his hands on the side of the bed. Waiting patiently for you to come closer, his eyes seemingly soaking up every square inch of skin on your body. He smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold your face lightly and gaze down at you before moving in for a slow and loving kiss.

When he pulled away, he scratched the top of your head with his large hands, raking his fingertips through your hair. Guiding your closer again by the back of your head so that he could place a kiss to your forehead and pat your cheek.

”I’m gonna get clean.” He said, walking to his closet and stripping himself bare, tossing his clothes in his laundry basket. He turned to wink at you, biting the tip of his tongue with a big grin.

It made you blush, seeing him standing there so confidently and so comfortable in front of you. But the thing that made you bite your lip was the way his cock twitched, growing harder right before your eyes just because he was naked in front of you. He could see the lust, the admiration for him and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t an ego boost. He’d also be lying if he denied how much it flattened his heart when you looked away, not shyly. Purposefully. Anakin hid his small frown well, looking down to the side and ruffling up his hair with a tight lipped expression as he turned two the dresser to get a clean pair of boxers.

”Oh my god!” You gasped loudly, the sheets and blankets rustling as you made your way over to Anakin from where you sat on the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin at your exclamation, turning around with wide eyes.

”What?” He asked looking around and down at himself in search of whatever had made you react so strongly.

”What the hell is this?” You asked, roughly grabbing him by his upper arm to spin him around and inspect his shoulder and back. He’d told you he had hurt himself, but he never let on like it was this bad. This was absolutely no pulled muscle.

“God this looks awful Ani!” You ran your fingers over the tender and multi-colored bruise on his right shoulder. “What happened?”

”Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pointer finger and thumb of one hand. “It wasn’t a pulled muscle.”

”No shit? Really? I had no idea.” You said sarcastically, gesturing to the obviously painful bruise.

”Don’t.” He turned around, finger pointed at your face while his eyes stared down at you with darkened eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. He took a breath, closing his eyes again and when he opened them, a little bit of the light you’d grown accustomed to seeing shown through once more.

”I got in a fight.” He said simply, swallowing hard as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Just a scuffle at the bar, trying to break up an arguement. Just didn’t want to worry you princess.”

”I don’t appreciate being lied to over something so minuscule.” You scowled.

”You don’t? Oh, I had no idea.” He sneered, his voice sharp and clipped. “Sorry for trying to be mindful of you and your feelings. I didn’t think it would help our situation any, you know because you locked yourself away for a few days?”

You stepped back, the scowl fading slightly into something more sensitive. It was obvious you’d upset him, abundantly clear actually. The way he responded not only made you feel guilty for not considering the reasoning behind his lie, but also dredged up the guilt from the irony of your own words.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I should’ve reacted better, I was just- it worried me.” You admitted, walking over to pull him in for a comforting hug.

”It… It’s alright.” He sighed softly, nuzzling the top of your head to inhale your scent. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

”I understand.” You nodded, even though you didn’t really. He’d been acting so unpredictably as of late that it was starting to worry you in more ways than one.

“Do you?” He asked, the tone of his voice making it sound less like a question and more like a tease, though his eyes suggested it was serious.

”I think maybe you’re just really stressed or… or maybe something’s bothering you?” You ventured carefully not wanting to upset him again. “You’ve been acting different.”

”You haven’t spoken to my mom. Have you?” He asked, his eyebrow shooting up as he spoken.

”What?” You asked with a bit of a confused laugh. “No, I haven’t.”

He studied your face, searching for deception hidden beneath you confident denial and he was pleased to find none. He monitored your phone, he could hear you conversations, but you were aware of that and he was worried you might’ve found a way to bypass all his precautions.

”Okay.” He nodded. “Sweetheart, I’ve got- I need to… you know what? I think we should probably have this conversation after I put some pants on.” He said stepping back and giving you a smirk at the blush on your cheeks.

”R-right, I forgot.” You said, biting your bottom lip and allowing him to leave the room to shower. The second he closed the bathroom door you moved so quickly to the vent along the baseboard of the wall that you thought you might’ve given yourself rug burn on your knees when you dropped down to check it for yourself.

Empty.

Part Eighteen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[the-clumsywitch]

So, you just realized you're a witch...

Well here's a guide to some things you might find helpful.

If it's something tangible, chances are you might already own some of these things, if not please don't stress about getting them. For some items I will include stores that you can find them as well as price points using the dollar symbol.

Candles

These can be in the form of chime candles, pillar, taper, glass, votive, tea light, etc.

You can get them in various colors but if you are trying to save money you can get white candles. And add your intention and herbs (or just your intention) to achieve your desired outcome.

They can be found at:

The Dollar Tree ($)- Best for votive, pillar, taper, tea light, jar, floating, and glass candles. They can often be found in multiple colors and scents.

Michael's craft store ($-$$) - Best for tall/large pillar and taper candles.

JoAnn Craft store ($-$$)- Best for the same candles as Michael's craft store.

Metaphysical shops ($-$$) - Chime candles and speciality candles such as glass candles with writing on them (exp: love, Orisha, justice candles) and figure candles.

Stores that sell scented candles ($$) - Examples of stores like this are Bath & Body Works and Yankee Candles. These are best for looking for candles that have scents that correspond with your particular spell. For instance, if you're doing a peace spell you may want to look for a candle that smells of lavender or a candle that puts you in a peaceful state of mind regardless of the scent name or ingredients.

Incense

Incense are excellent for air magick and you can often find them rather cheaply in most stores. I personally try to find them as toxin free as possible but you purchase what incense makes the most sense for you. Just as with candle scents, look for incense that either corresponds with your spell by the herb they are supposed to smell like or by feeling.

The Dollar Tree ($) - The ones I've been too have mainly been good for chakra incense.

Etsy ($) - There are multiple sellers with a lot of different scents and quite a few with free shipping!

Magick.com ($)

Amazon ($)

Metaphysical store ($)

Herbs

If you decide that you want to work with herbs you can usually get away with the ones you already have. However, I would caution against burning herbs that aren't organic but of course that is your decision to make. Some places to get herbs are:

The Dollar Tree (they don't have organic but they have a decent selection)

Your local grocery store

Target

Walmart

Metaphysical store

Note: If you can't find the herb you may want to consider using the essential oil instead. Only use a drip of the essential oil. You can also get a tea bag with the herb you need, rip it open, and use that.

Nail Polish

Color magick is the main thing here, but I have come across some scented nail polishes as well. Either way, you can choose a color and/or scent that corresponds to your spell. Here are some affordable brands (by that I mean the polishes from their main collection are not over $10.)

Wet n' Wild

Esssie

LA Colors

Revlon

Sally Hansen

L'Oreal

CoverGirl

L.A. Girl

Cosmetics

I know a lot of people typically include nail polish in this group but I tend to save this category for things such as lipstick, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and blush. Once again, the main purpose of this category is color magick but it can also be used for glamour magick. Some brands are:

elf cosmetics ($)

Wet n' Wild ($)

Revlon ($) - Mainly their lipsticks

Rimmel ($) - Lipstick and Blush

Nyx ($)

Revolution Beauty ($)

Essence Cosmetics ($)

Divination

If you are interested in divination there are so many types that you can easily find one that you connect with. Some forms of divination are:

Bibliomancy

Pyromancy

Tarot, oracle, and playing cards

Osteomancy

Water scrying

Crystal scrying

Mirror scrying

Automatic Writing

Tasseomancy

Pendulums

Types of Magick/Witches

It is not necessarily important that you pick a particular type of magick but I think some witches take being able to study multiple types of magick at once for granted. Not everyone is able to maintain focus while looking at magick as a whole, that's why I think separating magick and witches into types can be helpful. This is by no means a complete list but it's a start.

Celestial/cosmic magick

Elemental magick

Green witch

Hedge witch

Water magick

Earth magick

Air magick

Fire magick

Draconic witch

Eclectic witch

Lunar magick

Solar magick

Fairy magick

Kitchen magick

Sea witch

Candle magick

Ceremonial magick

This is by no means a comprehensive list and I will likely add more things to it over time or create more lists similar to this one. But I hope this was at least somewhat helpful!

-Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[fluidity-stupidity]

Random Witch Tips

Just a few things I've learned from being in a practice for over five, going on six, years now:

Sigils are a lot more powerful than everyone really knows, they're a beginner friendly spell waiting to be had.

Scroll Spells: Putting a sigil on a piece of coloured construction paper tie it up with a (preferably) different colored string, seal the string in wax, is the easiest spell to ever do. (Kind of inspired by Naruto)

Speaking of Naruto: I have little Pop Funko key chains that I've picked up at travel household guardians. I also have one of MCU Loki that the Norse Deity Loki has taken an offense to (ping me or send me an ask for a storytime)

Divination can be used and done everywhere, the little sayings on Stevia packets, having your phones wallpaper change different colors are base it off of the colors, music (shufflemancy), are all just little ways to use divination.

Making altars not just for divine individuals. I have an altar set up for the zodiac sign of Scorpio (my stellium is set in Scorpio and Sagittarius) and an altar set up just for self-care. (Please remember the differences between altars and shrines.

Baking ingredients are an underrated spell jar ingredients, sometimes you just don't really feel like kitchen magic and/or in a tough bind for time, energy and just want something a bit more big and powerful than a scroll spell.

Scrying mirrors were always a bit of a hassle for me, it hurt my eyes and I had to get the angle just right, having to sit in one position for too long was a wreck on my unmedicated ADHD self. I learned how to do open-eye scrying by relying on my snow vision, having 3D glasses was able to help me out as well.

Speaking of the 3D glasses: any common every day object can be used in your practice. Using that limited edition Sprite Cranberry would be a good spell ingredient or even as an offering for a deity/divine individual.

Divine individuals will ask you to put things like jewelry or keys on their altar so that they know whenever you go out on a drive or out with friends. Especially if you don't go out very often. They just like hanging out with us sometimes, they're not just here for fun and games however, you have to put in the work and have the motivation to get better for them to get more comfortable with you.

Divine individuals have a life outside of witchcraft, their own society and workload outside of our physical plane. Please keep this in mind. They are not always here with us. Lucifer has paperwork, Poseidon has a kingdom to rule over, An Morrigan has children to take care of, make certain to respect these.

[paraphwrites]

dbda & the consequences of your actions

tragic mick is the epitome of "be careful what you wish for." mick made a wish and he got what he wanted it's just not what he actually wanted. and there's no undoing it. he made a choice and it sucks and oh well, now he has to do what he can with what he's got left. and with what he's got, he chooses to be kind and help these silly little kids

simon is the epitome of "what goes around comes around." simon sent a dude to hell and then was sent to hell. he felt a feeling (homosexuality and guilt about that) and did a thing (bullied edwin) and now is suffering the repercussions (hell). and instead of learning from this mistake, simon is drowning in guilt and his own sadness. he cannot move on and he cannot be happy even when the victim of his hatred is holding his hand out and offering forgiveness

jenny goes along with niko's date idea and then nearly dies. on the one hand 'haha break from the analysis for a joke' but on the OTHER hand, this is an example of one small action having unforseen, huge ramifications. life is random!! shit just happens sometimes!! it sucks!! people get hurt!! and there is nothing you can do about it except hug each other and try to move on and be ok. like, that's it. jenny is the epitome of "karma isn't a bitch god just hates me."

the sprites is what happens if forgiveness is forced upon you. they just wanted to blow up this random bitch and suddenly they are in a jar. they are not killed, their "owner" is too kind. and holy shit are they pissed about it. same energy as spike in season 4 of buffy. they did shit & they stand by it but god said no sit in the corner

crystal's whole arc (especially what would have happened in season 2) is about redemption and dealing with the consequences of your actions. her entire character asks the question, what makes us bad people, nature or nurture, is it inherent or what we do? they come to the conclusion through her amnesia that it is very much nurture dependent, and while some meanness is habit (like how crystal is kind of mean when she first looses her memories, but soon is truly kind).

monty represents the cycle of abuse in a way slightly different to crystal. while crystal is removed from the cycle, monty is trapped in it. monty is manipulated and he manipulates other people. the people he betrays in turn are unable to help him and he is sucked back into the cycle and is now a crow again. still, he helps out the gang again, so, he is trying his best. monty is both good and bad and mostly he is a crow

edwin uses magic on a cat and then the same magic spell is used on him. action -> consequence. see this could be very obvious, nothing to take note of, EXCEPT i think it's something of note that edwin is willing to do not kind things for a greater good. the night nurse follows the same philosophy and then she is eaten by a giant fish, so clearly, if edwin had carried on this path, he would have been eaten by a giant fish, too

charles' biggest moment of reckoning is after he kills the night nurse. the others are worried or scared or both, and charles faces the consequences of his actions - he has an emotional breakdown. and instead of being scolded or told off further, the gang attempt to comfort him. and they don't really succeed but they try. they give him no punishment because the grief he feels is enough. charles is the epitome of "no one can punish you worse than yourself."

in conclusion, this is a half-analysis, because almost everyone's arc was still in progress. so i did my best.

[jjkamochoso]

Okay guys I screwed this up yesterday!! This was a request from @killuagirly and was originally an ask but I accidentally posted it unfinished instead of saving as a draft and had to delete it lol SO here's the request: "Another Feitan request! Feitan with a Female Reader who's dying to 'pretty him up'! He's already gorgeous as is of course, but wouldn't it be so fun to do a morning & nightly routine with him? If she's lucky, Feitan will let her paint his nails! He goes for black when she asks what color he'd like, but maybe with a little pink heart on each ring finger! He wouldn't mind that much, so long as the Troupe doesn't see of course. He'd never hear the end of it."

Here's my answer to the ask: I loved this so much😭❤️ thank you for always bringing me your Feitan ideas, I absolutely love writing for this man🥺❤️ I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!🫶

And finally, here's the fic:

Pretty in Portor

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of violence

Feitan had no clue how he got so easily persuaded by you. It was like you put a spell on him or used some sort of crazy Nen technique to manipulate his actions. Of course, he knew that wasn’t the case—

He just really, really loved you.

That’s why he found himself in your room in the hideout of whatever city the Phantom Troupe had business in this time, wearing a fluffy headband pulling back his bangs while you applied a face mask to his pale skin. You already had your own on, sporting a fluffy headband matching his.

“Why you no ask Machi or Shizuku, even Pakunoda, to do this?”

“They’re not into this kind of stuff,” you whined.

“And I am?” he questioned, prompting you to jokingly swat at him. “You bring in water? I no going out to bathroom to wash off.”

“Of course. I’m not a monster,” you replied. “I won’t make you too uncomfortable as you so sweetly partake in my nightly routine with me.”

“Too late,” he grumbled, earning a gentle flick of the forehead.

After you both rinsed off the mask, you rummaged through your belongings to find the rest of your skincare items. You laid them out on the bed, all of the foreign labels piquing Feitan’s interest.

“What this?” he asked, picking up a small jar.

“I was just looking for that! Thank you,” you said as he handed it to you. “It’s exfoliation for your lips. It gets all the dead skin off and makes them smooth. You want some?”

“Looks sticky. Absolutely not.”

“Your loss.” You giggled mischievously before your voice gained a flirty tone. “You know, if you ever wanna kiss anyone, this is a great way to make sure your lips are smooth.”

Feitan glared at you mercilessly. “Don’t say stupid things.”

“Just a suggestion!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up in defense. You put some of the product on your lips and scrubbed with your finger, taking care to get your lips nice and soft. Feitan busied himself with looking at your array of items, thinking your words over and trying not to blush. His eyes trailed up, sneaking a glance at the way your finger ran over your now moisturized lips as his mind filled with what they might feel like against his own…

He quickly went back to his reading of ingredients on whatever bottle he picked up, trying to shake those thoughts out of his head. You were none the wiser of what he was thinking about, though you couldn’t help but notice that Feitan was a little too engrossed in the bottle of serum he was holding, especially after his not-so-subtle peek at you just a minute ago. You wondered if maybe that could mean he felt the same about you that you did about him? You hadn’t a clue and it didn’t help to ponder over questions you were sure you’d never have answers to, so you picked up a bottle of nail polish to forget your worries for the moment.

“You want your nails done too?” you asked.

“Only if you have black,” he snorted, figuring your girly, pink loving self wouldn’t be caught dead in black nail polish. To his horror, you procured a bottle of his color request and held it up.

“Perfect! I’ll do yours after I do mine.”

Feitan wanted to protest, but knew it was no use. He was a man of his word, after all, so he sat quietly, mindlessly flipping through a book he had brought into your room as you began to paint your nails.

“All done,” you had said after a few minutes. “Your turn!”

Feitan groaned but sat across from you anyway.

“Hand, please,” you told him. He held out his left hand first and you went to work, but not before he almost shivered at the skin-on-skin contact. When both hands were done, two coats of polish and one layer of lotion later, Feitan was impressed with the end result. He had to admit, he was a fan of the dark color contrasting against his skin.

“They look so pretty!” you gushed, fawning over the great job you did with his nails. You grasped his fingers and turned them every which way, inspecting them closely. They looked nice, sure, but they were missing something.

Your eyes lit up. “I know! I can paint a little heart on one of the nails.”

“Anatomical?” He smiled darkly. “Bloody?”

You screwed your nose up in disgust. “No, I was thinking something more like this.”

You picked up a small brush, used for creating tiny details, and dipped it into the pink polish bottle. You then carefully made a few strokes over each of his pinky nails, drawing a dainty heart on each one.

“There,” you said triumphantly. Feitan looked at his nails, confused at how he should feel. On one hand, it was sweet of you to include him in your hobbies and enthusiastically make him participate, but on the other hand, how could you not see how wildly ironic it was, painting cutesy hearts on the nails of a sadistic torturer? The same nails that were normally inflicting pain and misery, caked in blood and other bodily fluids, were now covered in nail polish and sweet smelling lotion, being treated with a tenderness he forgot he had craved for so long. Unfortunately, because there was a “no fighting your fellow Troupe members” rule, Feitan wouldn’t dare to walk out of your room with the nail art; he couldn’t bear the idea of being teased to no end and not being able to shut the person up with violence.

“Tch. Cover it with paint. I no need anyone seeing this.”

“Aww Fei, are you sure?” you pouted. “But you look adorable!”

“No want to look adorable when killing someone. That your job.”

You giggled as you opened the black polish bottle again while the man quickly looked away, trying to hide his sheepishness at the compliment he inadvertently gave you. Now that your last minute art additions were covered, it made it even more special to him. He loved knowing he had your heart, a little piece of you, hidden away in a place only he knew of.

“This is more your style anyway,” you said, smiling softly at his plain black nails. You were about to put the polish back in your bag but before you could do anything, Feitan stopped you.

“Wait. Sit.”

You obliged, curious to know what he was up to. Feitan himself seemed surprised that he spoke up, but nevertheless continued.

“Choose color and give me brush.”

Your stomach fluttered with excitement when you realized he was going to do some nail art on you as well.

“I’ll do black,” you said, “that way we’ll match each other.”

“Gross,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks warm as he studied your splayed out hands in front of him, not daring to peek at your gorgeous face in his flustered state. He busied himself with the brush, starting his art. You decided to wait until he was done before looking at your nails to keep it a surprise. Your eyelashes fluttered closed, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. Feitan, now finished, was going to question why you hadn’t said anything yet but he looked up to see your shut eyes. You looked so peaceful that he wouldn’t be surprised if you were asleep. His gaze darted down to your lips, the skin softer than ever after your exfoliation, and he was so terribly tempted to kiss you. He stared you down, deathly still as he took this time to inspect all of your pretty facial features while he knew for sure you wouldn’t catch him doing so.

“Feitan,” you whispered, his skin erupting in goosebumps at the way you said his name, “are you all done?”

He wanted to say no, have you all to himself as he continued to commit your every fine line and curve of your expression to his memory, but as selfish of a man he was, he didn’t want to make you wait to see his work any longer.

“Open eyes.”

You did what he said, but instead of your nails, your vision was filled with the handsome face of the man you adored to no end.

“So pretty,” you breathed out, getting lost in his gray eyes.

“You haven’t seen nails yet, idiot,” he chided, wishing the acid in his stomach could dissolve the butterflies flying around in it.

“Hmm? Yeah, you’re right,” you replied, finally examining his artistry. You gasped with delight at what you saw. Feitan had drawn a skull, similar to the one on his cowl, on each of your ring fingers.

“They’re perfect! Feitan, I love it! Thank you!” you exclaimed. He was about to answer you but was dumbstruck when you planted a kiss at the corner of his lips before bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m just so excited! We look so good!” you continued, eventually pulling away from him with a big smile. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to show everyone!”

You ran off, your bunny slippers thumping against the hard floor. Feitan brought his polished fingers to his face where they rested against the spot you had just kissed, letting a lovestruck grin rest on his face.

Your lips were even softer than he dreamed of.

[bunnys-kisses]

bets made (and mistakes happened) - a restaurant au

john 'soap' mactavish

cw: restaurant!au, one night stand, smut/pwp, cocky!soap, bets/wagers, dirty talk enemies-to-lovers, (accidental) pregnancy, semi-long

bunny says: like this fic? leave a comment! really like this fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!

you could stand toe to toe with whoever got in your way. you REFUSED to be talked down to like a dog. you were a good sous chef, you didn't need the guy who washed the dishes to tell you how to do your job! you could've KILLED john.

and he probably would've let you. he wanted to see those blunt nails of yours dig into his throat. he'd take it as a challenge and give you the same energy. he'd probably grin as you like a madman before he could finally sink his teeth into you. he had been wanting to for years.

so in order to keep some semblance of peace in the kitchen, chef price sent you two out in the back for a smoke. you sat on the milk crate near the door and john pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

"i like yer fire." he said.

"i wish you'd go to hell." you replied.

he chuckled and shook his head, "yer too sweet. i'm surprised you didn't poison me when you had to show tonight's dishes to the rest of staff."

"i didn't expect you to count as staff. it was meant for the other cooks."

he put his hands on his hips, apron on and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth he tilted his head to the side and chuckled, "i'm staff, bonnie. more of the backbone than you are."

you stood up, and got close to him. you were facing each other and painfully close. you plucked the cigarette out of his mouth before you took a inhale of it. he looked at you in shock as you placed it back in his mouth. you turned away from him and said, "how about this, soap. you come to my place, we see who's the better cook."

he stood up a little taller and asked, "what do i get when i win?"

you narrowed his eyes at his words, you amped up the stakes. you replied simply, "i'll let you sleep with me."

the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth from the shock. he soon took it out his mouth and exhaled, "nah, nah. really, what is it?" there was a smile on his face. he leaned in a little bit to you.

"i told you... you, me, sex. do i need to spell it out for you?"

he laughed, "oh yeah. that's a good prize, that sweet cunt." he closed the gap between you two and took your chin in his hand, he held his cigarette in the other, "deal. maybe i can finally put ya in yer place. talkin' big game for such a little girl." he shook his head. he pulled away to have another drag of his cigarette.

-

the first thing you noticed at the end of the week. john 'soap' mactavish didn't taste like an ashtray when he kissed you. currently it was friday night, the only night you two had off, and john had just won your little bet.

he had you up on the kitchen table with his hand spread out on your thigh, pushing up your dress. his lips were on yours and you tried your best to NOT melt into the kiss.

when he pulled away he pressed his forehead to you and said, "how was that?"

"it's a bet, it shouldn't matter how i feel." you replied as you kept your arms around him. his laugh pulled something in you when you were so close to him.

you expected him to make some pasta with packaged noodles and a jar of sauce. you had seen what lunches he brought. but instead in your tiny apartment, he made you a scotch pie with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth the entire time. even with the ash, it was still the best thing you had ever tasted.

he knew he won because you couldn't hide the expression on your face fast enough after the first bite. when he laughed,you hit him then went in for seconds. who would've thought the annoying dishwasher could cook this.

"how?" you asked.

he put a finger over his lips, "family secrets. only shared through marriage, doll."

after the meal, then he took his dessert. his winnings from your bet. and in all fairness, if/when he was going to fuck you, he'd rather he did with after you had a good meal. it was going to be quite the energy waster.

you broke the kiss and looked at him, those big blue eyes stared back at you. you held his face for a moment to stop him from leaning in again. you said, "i'm not fucking on a table i got from goodwill."

he chuckled, "of course, my majesty. would you like for me to fluff the pillows first." then made a noise when you squeezed his face.

"i'm saying because the fucking thing will break." then let go of him. he backed up enough for you to get off the furniture and head towards the bedroom.

he trailed behind you, his cock stood at full attention in his jeans as he get his first glimpse of your bedroom. while he noticed that there wasn't much life to the decor of the walls. he did notice that your bed was unmade and looked very comfy.

but what drew his attention was the sight of you undressing. he watched you zip down the button of the dress. you stepped out of it then quickly got your underwear off. he was barely out of his socks by the time you were naked. your curves glowed under the light of the city outside.

you sighed and approached him, "i guess i have to do everything, huh?"

he was brought back to reality and stepped back, "you don't have to do shit, love. i just need you to lie there and look pretty. if you really wanted to put on a show, make the girls bounce a little." he chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head. he showed off his lean body and caught you staring a moment before he went to his jeans.

soon both of you were naked, and you led him onto your bed. you kicked the covers further down the mattress as you laid in bed with the other man. you kissed once more trying hard not to fall for him with each linger of his fingertips across your back.

he held you like a protective force, even if his words were often biting. he wanted you. in a carnal, lustful kind of way. the kind that sent shivers down your spine.

his hands roamed your backside, his cock twitched against your thigh as you continued to make out with him. finally that cocky mouth of his was quiet.

you pulled away soon after and placed both hands on his chest. he looked up at your curiously and you gazed down at him. those blue eyes were like dark like rocky seas as you rubbed your knee up against his cock. he hissed through his teeth.

"careful, doll." he said quietly.

you held his face once more and gave him one last kiss before you moved away and got into his lap. your ass rubbed against his cock. the sensation made him exhale deeply to try and hold back a moan.

he placed his tattooed hands on your hips. you always did find his tattoos quite appealing. you did have a dream once where he was shoving those digits inside of your pussy. at the time it made you want to put bleach in your eyes. but now... you were second guessing it.

"like this?" you asked.

"oh yeah. i love a good girl on top." he purred as the two of you began to move your bodies against one another. his eyes closed for a moment as he pressed his head into your pillow. he was drowning in the scent of the strawberry shampoo you used often. he could get whiffs of it at work when you walked by, but to be smothered in it made his cock hard.

you placed your hands on his chest and leaned forward so his cock was pushed inside of you at an angle. you panted which was accompanied by his own heavy breathing.

"feel real good. like a glove." he said, heavy on the accent, "like two pieces the same puzzle. you and i, doll, are meant to be."

"one night." you affirmed.

he chuckled as he dug his fingers further into your hips. he watched you take all of his cock and replied, "that's what they all day." before he started to meet your pace more aggressively.

the bed creaked from your movements. the heavy thrusting of sex in the cramped room of your one bedroom apartment. you funded this life through cooking and you got out cooked by a dishwasher.

you should hang the apron up already!

the thought made john smirked as he felt his cock deep inside of you. he wondered for a moment if you could still run a kitchen while caring for his brats. but that thought was pushed away from the intense rush of pleasure through his body. made his head feel full as he got closer to orgasm.

"shit, soap. ah." you moaned.

he gave your ass a slap and chuckled, the sweat dripped down his back, "you can't get enough of me. you just love it so much. you love me."

you groaned, "in your dreams." the sex was amazing. you could feel the sweat on your brow as you rutted against him. your nails dug into his pecks as you moved.

he hissed through his teeth and drove his cock deeper into you. he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. nothing like a feisty chef to get his blood pumping! with a spark on inspiration, he took you by the hips and rolled you onto your stomach.

he lifted your hips up with ease and pounded away at your cunt with vigor. the angle took the air out of your lungs, you could feel his ramming against sensitive areas. your legs were practically in the air!

the angle was amazing for both of you and soon you were gripping onto the mattress under your head.

"who would've thought scotch pie would've let me fuck ya." he laughed as he scratched at your hips due to the force he was holding you.

"shut up!" you whined as your back arched. with a few more stokes of his cock, you both came. your mind went blank. you came so hard that you honestly forgot that he wasn't wearing a condom and had dumped a bunch of his scottish seed into your aching cunt.

this wouldn't be a problem later, right?

-

a month later you're sitting on top of the toliet with a pregnancy test in hand. your hand over your mouth as you watched the test read positive.

for a second you tried to rationalize that it COULDN'T have been john who got you pregnant. not that blue-eyed, mohawk having, smug dishwasher! but you sure as hell weren't pregnant before your night together.

you pulled your hand away from your face and putt he test down on the counter. you cupped your middle and sighed. you had no choice but to tell john about it. he was going to find out eventually.

you sent him a text message, 'soap. need to talk. urgent." then put the phone down. instantly you were on the phone with him, when you heard his voice you broke down. the normally cocky john sounded sincere as he asked what was wrong. you composed yourself for a moment and wiped your eyes and said, "you are your stupid scottish cock got me pregnant."

there was silence on the other end for a moment. he then said, "anythin' ya need, doll. it's yours."

you swallowed and replied, "you and some more scotch pie." you felt your heart do a somersault.

"ay." he said, "already got the scottish in ya."

xoxo, bunny (might do a sequel, let me know!)

[thesecretsofthedivine]

Pick a Pile Reading | Who’s Coming Into Your Life Soon? 🌠 🌸

Business Carrd 🍶🧺

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*Disclaimer: This is a collective reading — take what resonates and leave the rest. If this resonates with you, please show support by reposting (with credit), tipping, or booking with me! :)

*Exchanges with other intuitives/readers are available via dm’s

PILE 1 COLLECTIVE

This is a person who is a lover of the arts! You may meet them in an artistic environment (think art class, concert, museum, etc.) or they’ll just enjoy visiting those places and have a knack for creative talents. They also seem to be a people person who is a smooth talker and has a very strong aura. They like to entertain and make people feel relaxed, which could inspire them to host a lot of parties or be an active member of their community. For some, the person coming into your life will be a part of the LGBTQ+ community or advocate for such causes. This person will have a romantic purpose for most of you, but some may choose to keep this connection as a lighthearted friendship or FWB. You may feel slightly reluctant to take them seriously because of how carefree and popular they are. They will be comforting, but some of you could feel like you’re just another person under their spell and may become resistant to these romantic feelings as a result. It’s important to mention this person‘s energy feels very sincere. They want to cater to you and can often struggle with people pleasing tendencies.

~ miscellaneous: blueberries. the color blue. a coquette aesthetic. whicker baskets. white snocks + sneakers. aries, capricorn, taurus placements (tons of cardinal energy). piercings. hair parted to the side. ripped jeans. a laugh that sounds like a scoff/sarcastic humor.

PILE 2 COLLECTIVE

For most of pile 2, the person coming into your life soon is a platonic feminine around your age. Their personality is very peppy, organized, empathetic, hardworking, and sensual. You will meet this person through school, work, mutuals, or shared goals. They seem to be a lover of animals as well so they may have pets or easily connect with them. The two of you will bond over music and the type of people you aspire to become in the future. They’ll make you feel lighthearted and bring out a more extroverted side to you. You may have moments where you let them put stickers or makeup on you just to have something silly to do together. For the people who have a feminine energy coming in, they may also be skilled in things like speech & debate, reading long/foreign novels (especially russian), playing chess — something traditional and academic. This person is an avid lover of film, especially vintage or historical ones. They could be multilingual or come from a different culture than your own. It’s clear that the two of you will never run out of things to talk about, making it seem like you finally found your perfect mental match!

~ miscellaneous: blonde hair. teal/blue crystals or blue eyes. the letters c, e, i, s, n, a, l, and p. scarves. whimsigoth/hippie/70s aesthetic. winter time. romeo & juliet. film major. coffee hangouts. mercury or 3h synastry.

PILE 3 COLLECTIVE

Pile 3 has an entire friend group coming into your life (multiple individuals)! Psychically, there’s a lot of overlapping conversations I’m tuning into 😅 so the people coming into your life will be a big part of your life/daily schedule. You’ll stay quite busy because of their presence in your life and may notice yourself becoming more talkative or that you all can be quite loud and rambunctious together. Parties, social events, clubs, concerts, and any other crowded environment can be relevant to how you meet these people or where you’ll spend time with them. You may notice that the group’s energy becomes more alive at night so a lot of these people could be night owls and extroverts. It’s the kind of thing where you’ll always have thousands of notifications blowing up your phone or will always have something fun to do. There’s a huge blend of masculine and feminine energies here so some people may encounter a friend group of 2-4 people whereas others will find themselves with 6-8 new people in their lives. Some of the masculine energies in the group could like to wrestle so be wary of breakables/fragile furniture that’s in their vicinity 💀. I feel that these people coming into your life will all enjoy sharing food, secrets, tips, and so on. There’s a very open and excitable vibe here so some of them may even be slightly younger than you.

~ miscellaneous: matching tattoos. karaoke. late night escapades. musicians. fire sign placements. the book everything i know about love — dolly alderton. bars. pinterest boards/pinterest aesthetics (especially for those who use it to manifest). gaming/dart boards. bets/dares.

PILE 4 COLLECTIVE

A family member will either become a bigger part of your life or start a new relationship with you entirely. For some, this will relate to a grandmother figure and/or deceased relatives watching over you/being around your energy. For others, it’s more of a mentor vibe. Older, feminines with a lot of advice and maturity to offer you. At this stage in your life, you could be feeling anxious or uncertain about your future/career. This person coming in is meant to be a support system for you during this specific transition period. They will help you to broaden your horizons, believe in your dreams/capabilities, and strengthen your willingness to take risks. If your mental health has been low, you feel like you’ve stepped out of alignment with your desires, or you’ve just been processing some heavier topics lately, this person will come in to soften those experiences while helping you to work through them. They will teach you how to validate your emotions without feeling disempowered by the weight of them. “Your depth is beauty” and they will make you into a stronger person by honoring this part of yourself.

~ miscellaneous: the barbie movie scene where she meets her creator (ruth handler). what was i made for - billie eilish. holding hands. traditional baking. words of wisdom/words of affirmation. bridges. feeling at the end of your rope when they come in. disco music. the 60s - 70s as their birth year. gardening hats. flowers.

[burstingwithbellies]

Through a ritual, your womb becomes a magnet. Nearby fetuses are drawn inside, and memories rewritten; those were always your babies, so far as everyone else is concerned. You cannot control it either, no matter how many or how far along they are, if they enter a certain range, you'll bloat with additional passengers. The question is now, what do you do with this power? What happens to you that is outside of your control? How fast will you become?~

I had fun with it at first. I did have my very own superpower after all. Not a super conventional one; it wasn’t really practical but it was mine.

It made me feel powerful. Each step I took, I rewrote history. My womb sucked in all the children within my 2-foot radius. My skin and womb was elastic and super strong, capable of storing as many as possible.

And I was prepared to have my belly written down in the books. 5 weren’t enough for, 6 weren’t enough, 7 babies were pitiful. I wanted above 2 digits and wanted to be world-famous for my size.

I quickly reached my goal. At first, it was a headache finding a preggo until I realized that clinics exist. In just one stop, I swelled with 14 babies under a minute. Everyone in the room lost their bumps.

Also, with my power, no one really registers my growth spurts. As I grew, as far as they knew, what happened was that this colossal pregnant person in ill-fitted clothes stepped into their clinic. The parents who lost their bellies got their memories replaced with the thought of them only being in the clinc to find out their chances of fertility.

Everyone was blown away by the bump and amount inside of me. The nurses of the clinic quickly rushed me to the nearest doctor. Clearly, I wasn’t the type of person they were used to.

My womb took in children, no matter how big or small they were. Babies that were just about ready where mixed with a few weeks old babies. With the spell placed over my body, the smaller babies are able to catch up with the older ones but that usually takes a while.

So, I’m constantly swelling. But I can tell the difference between a growing baby or a new one added. A new baby was always jarring. It shook my whole system, letting me know intensely. My belly quivers in a way that makes me register that this baby is foreign.

I was content with the 14 I was gestating. They were all I needed at that point. I planned on delivering them after I’m picked up by the news.

One day, it happened: I had to appear for an interview on live television -- because of my fantastic fertility -- but before that, I needed to get some scans of my occupants.

They wanted photos of just how many babies there were. They need the proof. And it would have been nearly said and done, but one downside to my power is that… I don’t exactly have control over how many I can take in.

If I’m in the proximity of any pregnant person, their babies are as good as mine — whether I want them or not.

An hour away from the clinic and I felt a new one drop in. People under 20 weeks were so annoying. It’s hard to tell if they were pregnant and they would make me accidentally take in their child.

When I arrived and walked into th building, an 3 extra got absorbed, which was no biggie. 17 babies is still an amazing headline and manageable for me.

But the further I walked inside… For some reason, I didn’t anticipate all the pregnant people there.

I swelled like crazy. Before I could sit in the waiting room, I collapsed to the floor due to the overwhelming increase in my gut. Everyone looked at me in horror and questioned how I even managed to fit inside the building.

I… I don't know how much I was carrying anymore. Could I even go into my doctor's office and check? The weight was too overwhelming. It was starting to crush me and I felt faint.

It felt like several earthquakes were going on inside of me. I was trembling all over. Before everything went back, I saw my own flesh starting to cloud my version.

I feel like I might make international headlines now.

[breelandwalker]

Witchcraft Exercise - Annual Review

The end of the old calendar year and the beginning of a new one are excellent times for reflection and recalibration. We do this in our mundane lives by making resolutions, setting new goals, starting new projects, and sketching out our schedule for the coming year. So why not do the same with your witchcraft!

As a journaling exercise, sit down and record how your journey has progressed over the past year. You can include things like spells you’ve cast, rituals you’ve performed, holidays you’ve celebrated, gatherings you attended, new ideas you’ve encountered or incorporated, important lessons learned, and any significant milestones you’ve achieved. It doesn’t have to be fully comprehensive or bite-by-bite - the level of detail is entirely up to you.

(If you’ve already performed the exercise Quantifying Your Craft, then you already have a place to start. If you haven’t, I do suggest doing that first to give yourself a clear set of data and pre-determined information to reference.)

Once you’ve recorded your progress, decide where you want to go next. What new goals will you set? What new subjects do you want to explore? What habits do you want to alter or adopt? Are there any new books you want to read? Places you want to visit? New methods or techniques you want to try? Dream big and then sketch out a path to get you there, or just decide where you want to go next. And don’t worry about accomplishing everything on the list in the span of a year. Whatever doesn’t get done in the short term can always become the seed of something you grow into over time.

Of course, this doesn’t necessarily have to be an exercise that happens exclusively at the beginning or end of a calendar year. You can (and should) review and recalibrate periodically throughout the year whenever you incorporate new information or new ideas or new processes into your practice. This can be done as frequently or infrequently as you feel the need, whether that be monthly or quarterly or annually or just once every few years. Pausing for reflection is a necessary part of any long-term path or project, and it is a good way to both measure your progress so far and decide how best to move forward.

One more thing - Don’t be too hard on yourself or feel like you haven’t accomplished enough or learned enough or progressed enough to be a “proper” witch. Don’t compare your craft to anyone else’s or measure your viability by another's rod. Your journey is your own and will proceed at its’ own pace. Periods of rest or recovery or low motivation or preoccupation with other concerns are going to be part of that. As long as you’re making an effort, you’re doing just fine.

Happy Witching!

Image Credit - Witch Workspace, by Mylène Richard

Want more witchcraft exercises? Check out the masterpost here.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my monthly show Hex Positive on your favorite podcast app, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)