#i sometimes drew it with white pen and it looked cooler

[ghostlypinkbiscuit]

helloooo

starting new year with doorkeay pic

[nyctolovian]

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Religious Discussion, Forgiveness, Guilt, Religious Guilt, Fallen Angels, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), (sort of?), Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Post-Canon, Post not-pocalypse, Canon Compliant, Coping, Warning: somewhat critical of god

Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley's wings turn the same grey, Aziraphale does not take it well and begins to fear that he might be Falling with a capital F. Crowley finds his angel in a crushing spiral into immense self-blame and guilt, desperately seeking God's forgiveness.

"Heya, angel!” Crowley announced as he swung the door to the bookshop open. “I’ve got some really important stuff to discuss. Urgently. So could you maybe, um, close shop early today?” 

Aziraphale, who was shelving some books, twirled round to face Crowley, already lighting up with glee at the sound of his voice. “Well, of course!” he said, placing the books down on the stool beside himself. He’d always liked having an excuse for closing early so it was lovely to have his favourite one walking right through the doors on a Monday afternoon. “What exactly would you like to discuss?”

With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, the door was miraculously locked and the open/close card was flipped. “Here’s not good,” he replied, extra fidgety today as he eased his weight on one leg and then the other. “Upstairs maybe?”

The smile on Aziraphale’s face slowly slipped as he was ushered up the stairs to his living quarters. “Oh dear… Is something the matter?”

Crowley audibly winced. “Upstairs first, alright?”

Aziraphale let out a noise of confusion but allowed himself to be guided upstairs. Crowley pushed him to sit on the bed that miraculously appeared just a couple weeks after the Almost-pocalypse. He set his fists atop his knees and looked up at Crowley, who removed his sunglasses. 

“I need you to take out your wings,” he said. 

“Pardon?”

Of course, Crowley caught the tension in the angel’s voice and said calmly, “Your wings. I’d like to check something.”

Aziraphale nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he drew his wings out into their dimensional plane. He felt his back grow heavy with a comfortable weight and his wings, slightly stiff from disuse, stretched the aches out of itself. 

When he opened his eyes again, Crowley was looking at his wings. His eyebrows raised as he muttered, “Yup. I figured.”

Aziraphale frowned as he curled his wings forward. His jaw fell when instead of the pure white wings he was used to, mottled grey wings came into view. “Wh-What is this?” he cried. Then, his mind did a twist and he looked at Crowley anxiously. “What about yours?” he said, standing up and holding Crowley’s arms. 

“Calm down,” he said, gently pulling Aziraphale’s hands away. Then, he took his own wings out as well, and they were no longer pitch black either, and were instead the same mottled grey as Aziraphale’s. “A bit of a shame, honestly. I’ve always liked black,” Crowley joked. “We’re really on our own side, aren’t we?” Like a gentleman asking for a dance, he held a hand out towards Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale, however, flinched away. “I’ve clearly done something wrong.”

Crowley frowned. “What could you have possibly done wrong, angel?”

“I-I don’t know,” Aziraphale admitted as he paced around the bedroom. “But I must have done something that warranted this change.”

“I changed too, didn’t I?” Crowley said, stretching his own grey wing out. “We have the same wings.”

“Yes, but it’s different, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, frustration building. “If my wings are turning grey, then it must mean I’m…” A shiver ran down his spine as he looked up at Crowley with imploring blue eyes. “Could it be… that I am Falling?”

“What?!”

Aziraphale wrung his hands and his gaze fell to the wooden flooring. “That’s the only reasonable explanation, isn’t it? This is… a sign that I’m Falling. F-For going against one of God’s plans, perhaps.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “And I’m getting back in heaven’s favour. I’m being forgiven. Lovely.” He sighed. "Listen, you're not Falling. I know what that's like and this isn't it. God's a lot crueler than this."

"M-maybe She's giving me a second chance."

Crowley pulled a face of doubt. "Are we really talking about the same God?" He sighed. "Besides, even if you really are falling—which you aren't—it ain't that bad honestly. I quite like being a demon sometimes. For one, black wings are much cooler than white ones."

"But I don't want to fall! I like being an angel!" Aziraphale exclaimed. He took a deep breath as he clenched and unclenched his hands. “I… I need to do something. Seek forgiveness. Make up for my mistake. My wings are only turning grey so I’m clearly being given a chance to redeem myself, right?”

Worry set into Crowley’s features firmly now. “Since when do we care about what heaven thinks anyway? They tried to murder you with hellfire!”

“That was just Gabriel and those angels,” Aziraphale argued. “I just… I want to do right by the Lord.”

“You saw how She didn’t care about Earth, didn’t you? Whole bloody apocalypse just for the stupid war.”

“It probably was within God’s ineffable plan for the apocalypse to be stopped.”

Crowley threw his hands up. “God,” he said, “didn’t stop anything. We did!” He sighed, trying to reign in the rage that he knew was trickling into his voice. He lowered his voice into something gentle again as he reached for Aziraphale. “Angel–”

“Don’t!” Aziraphale said, snatching his hand back. “Don’t call me that!” His anger instantaneously melted, however, upon seeing hurt flashing across Crowley’s golden eyes. “I need some time by myself,” he said. “Can you give me that?”

Crowley’s eyes wobbled with hesitation. Finally, he said, “Sure, angel.”

***

Crowley gave Aziraphale a full day before popping by again to check on him. The first worrying sign had been how the shop was closed, despite it being only barely noon. As much as Aziraphale liked closing early, he usually stayed open till at least 2pm just so he could say that the shop had been open.

Crowley had also noticed that the books Aziraphale had left on the stool were still sitting there, untouched. He cursed under his breath and dashed up the stairs to the living quarters. He was somewhat relieved to see the angel at his worktable. Too busy muttering to himself, he hadn’t noticed Crowley enter at all. 

Cautiously, Crowley walked to his side. Atop the table were copious amounts of notes and several different volumes of the Bible. Concerned, Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder, and Aziraphale jerked back. 

“Ah,” he exhaled. He flusteredly smiled at Crowley as he adjusted his reading glasses. “You’ve come just in time, my dear. It seems that I need your opinion on this matter.” He picked up a notebook from under a pile of papers, flipped to a bookmarked page and continued, “Do you think it’s that time I used that miracle to reserve that last remaining pancake two days ago? It was really quite a frivolous miracle, and perhaps that was the last straw.” 

“Wait,” Crowley said, his hand returning to Aziraphale’s shoulder, this time firm. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Why my wings turned grey of course!”

Crowley gestured to the mess of a table. “And what does all this have anything to do with it?”

“I’m trying to figure out what exactly I did wrong that upset God and turned my wings grey.” Aziraphale sighed and dug up another notebook, which he opened to a dog-eared page. “I was also thinking perhaps… Well, maybe the punishment was only just issued yesterday and it wasn’t actually for something recent. I’m also thinking maybe it was about that time in 1367 when I poured–”

“1367?!” Crowley exclaimed. He grabbed one of the papers off the table and read it. “578 AD?! Wh-” He looked at Aziraphale, brimming with concern. “Why are you going so far back?”

“Because I’ve been doing so much wrong!” Aziraphale cried, twisting the ring on his pinky. “They… My indiscretions. They began since God knows when. I’ve been doing so much wrong since… since the beginning of time, I believe. I don’t even know if giving away that flaming sword had actually been the right thing.” His hands were shaking with torment. "I'm such a terrible angel."

The demon's heart damn near broke in two at the sight of his angel in this state. He looked at the mess of paper and books in disbelief. He shook his head. "This is just too much, angel," he pleaded. "You shouldn't be made to list down every single thing you did in the past six thousand years and made to… to analyse it all."

"I didn't want to entertain the possibility but…" Aziraphale's voice was soft, distraught, vulnerable, like a child asking their parents to check under the bed for monsters. "But… what if it's everything, Crowley? How could I seek forgiveness from God if it's just… everything?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know how I…"

Crowley leaned in closer. There was a vice around his chest, clamping down and hurting him. Why must his angel suffer like this? What has he ever done to deserve this pain? This crushing guilt? “They’re mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes, all sorts of them. We just do better next time, right?”

"But I shouldn't be making mistakes! I'm an angel. I'm meant to do good." Aziraphale pushed Crowley away and picked up his pen and notebook again. "I need to find out what it was that I've done wrong. Otherwise, it'd be terribly insincere to apologise without even knowing what I'm apologising for, isn't it?"

Crowley ripped the pen and notebook out of Aziraphale's hand. "If the Almighty wants an apology, She'd better get down here and explain what She's so bloody upset about!"

Aziraphale slammed the table. "She shouldn't have to! I'm an angel. I ought to know." 

"No! It's just unfair. God and Her ineffable plans, moving in mysterious ways and playing ridiculous card games we don't know the rules to in the dark.” He walked in a tight circle, running a hand through his hair, before turning to face Aziraphale again. “How could we be expected to know? Even now, I still don't even know why I got tossed down into a pool of hot boiling sulfur because She never bothered to explain anything! Six thousand years and still no explanation whatsoever!"

Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley felt a pang of guilt. 

Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, God hasn’t explained anything then, and She isn’t starting anytime soon. Okay?”

Plucking his reading glasses from his face and closing his eyes to massage his nose bridge, Aziraphale said, “I want to do right by Her. Why is that so hard?” 

Crowley sagged. It hurt him terribly to see his angel so distraught, so frantic, so helpless.

“Perhaps…” Aziraphale breathed. “Perhaps, I’m not worthy of it.”

A beat.

"I forgive you," the demon whispered.

Aziraphale's eyes flew open and he stared at Crowley, eyebrows tightly knitted. "You forgive me?" he bit out. At the silence, his brow furrowed further with fury. "You can't do that. Take that back."

"I forgive you," he repeated.

"What are you forgiving me for?" Aziraphale yelled. 

"All the wrongs you did. Everything. I forgive you."

"You can’t!" he insisted. 

“Why not?”

Aziraphale glared in silence.

"You're not made to carry six thousand years worth of self-blame and guilt. You're a good angel, even if God doesn't recognise that."

"But I want to do right by Her," Aziraphale said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I just… I want Her to forgive me. If I knew what exactly I did wrong, maybe…" His breath hitched, words stuck upon his throat.

Crowley knelt down and held his angel's face. He was trembling so hard Crowley feared that if he let go, he'd simply shatter and crumble apart. 

"I just want to do the right thing," Aziraphale said. "It used to be so straightforward. If it was as God intended, what I was doing couldn’t possibly be wrong. But now…" He looked up at the ceiling, as though willing the wetness of his eyes to disappear, but a tear had already spilled out and rolled down his cheek, damping Crowley's fingers. Then, a couple more followed, like beads of a snapped bracelet. He relented and sagged in his seat. “I don’t know.”

Crowley used his thumb to wipe the tears away but they continued to fall uncontrollably and he couldn't catch them all.

Aziraphale's voice was thick with tears when he spoke and his bottom lip wobbled with grief. "I don't know what's the right thing anymore. I don't know if I've ever done anything right," he said, placing his hands over Crowley’s and pulling them away from his face. “I feel like I've done everything wrong but I don't know who to seek forgiveness from.”

Crowley turned his hands slowly to grasp Aziraphale’s. “You haven’t done everything wrong, I promise. Maybe some things. But we all mess up sometimes. We don't have it all figured out most of the time and that's okay," he said. "We're trying our best to correct what we can, and that's enough." 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Gently, Crowley squeezed his hands.

"Forgive yourself, angel. You don’t need to carry this six-thousand-year weight. And I can't bear to see you hating and hurting yourself like this, please."

When Aziraphale leaned forward, Crowley let go and allowed him to fall slowly into his arms. Aziraphale pressed his face to Crowley's shoulder, just as silent sobs began to shake his being.  He pulled their hands close to his chest and squeezed. Crowley squeezed back. 

Pressing closer still, Aziraphale muttered into Crowley's shirt, "I’m never going to get anything else from upstairs anymore, am I? We only have what we give ourselves now. We’ll have to figure things out by ourselves." 

Crowley hummed.

“We really are on our own, aren't we? Just the two of us.”

"Yeah. Us two, on the same side. Grey wings on both our backs. Could be fun.”

That got a short laugh from Aziraphale, and tension trickled out of him. "If you say so, my dear."

[mysticeyeliner]

How I Draw Portraits (Part 2) The Rest

Step 1: Ears. I sometimes have trouble placing these, so take another picture of yourself if something, like hair, was in the way the first time. Now, the details in here can get a little hard and I always do them wrong from memory, so I have one bookmarked closeup of my ear for it. They don’t have to look perfect, hardly anyone stares at ears. (I’m sorry he looks like Jezz Bezos here)

Step 2: Neck! Maybe take a guess again, as you may see here, I didn't do it a great size, but I fixed it as I went. If you have a posed reference with a turned neck and shoulders, this is the expressive part. Shoulders are easy to move up and down, they're kind of simple I guess. Here I drew them too low down, and fixed as I went.

2b: Those...neck things and the collarbone! I love them. They add detail and also make it so much easier to show the twist of the pose. They are pretty simple to capture, really use your reference and your spatial sense here. The throat hollow is fun to draw and the collarbones will probably get cut off by the shirt, but if at least You know where they are, it will help.

Step 3: The hair. Unless you’re doing something basic like long hair, it’s pretty important to have the reference of the style you’re drawing. Remember that it often extends into the forehead, and adds height to the view of the head. Unless it’s very short or flat hair, it will do that. There are two places (on each side) on the forehead where it reaches in, above the eyes. Sometimes I forget about sideburns, also, puffier hair will not fade behind the ear and will add width to the sides of the head. Here, I drew some basic lines before I added in the detail lines, which are pretty similar, just more numerous. Unless you are working only in pencil, try not to make these too thick and dark, or the pencil and color supply will try and mix. Also, if you’re doing long hair, make sure to erase the shoulders behind the hair. Also fun: styles that aren’t modern and examining what’s different.

Step 4: Eyebrows. Normally I would do them lighter, but this actor has darker, more manicured brows. Do a little bit of examining before you go for it, just to see where the hair sections change directions. Then you can do whatever. They usually look pretty wild in there. Add a slit if you want it to be even cooler ;)

Step 4: Eyes! I think I leave these to the end because otherwise they would look too alive too early on /hj. Yet again it is important to have the selfie. But I usually take some liberty with their size, shape, and location. You’ll have to make a guess at first of where one goes, and then do your best to match. It’s hard. But is usually works out. The irises add a nice layer of reality to the art, a step up from the zombie-like form we had before. 

4b: Pupils! Okay, my eyes are dark, and I can rarely see my own pupils against my irises, so I usually guess here. Any size will do, but if you have a lighting/sort of vibe in mind, you can be specific. I forgot to take a picture of them here. Just try and center them as best you can.

Skipping ahead to after coloring

Step 5: More on the eyes! Here I have already colored the iris, a seperate part of the process. I take a fine liner pen in black and outline the pupil I have drawn, and add a circle for highlight. I usually draw it in the upper right, but it can be wherever as long as it matches, in most cases. It’s easy to mess up the sizes here, but it will be okay. 

5b: Eyelashes! They’re spaced out and varying lengths, but still try and place them reasonably.

5c: Fill in the pupil, leaving the white bubble of reflection. Optional: add lines for more detail on the irises. Don’t overdue them. Go over the lashes in the liner. Here, I chose to add a bit of color to the waterline, which is optional.

Touch up and details you’d like, and then you’re pretty much done!

Thank you for reading my rambles

[yespolkadotkitty]

National Treasure

A ridiculous one shot I wrote after being dragged down the rabbit hole by my pals @hopelessromanticspoonie and @just-the-hiddles. 

*****

“Okay, let’s take a break from this segment. Y/N, can you do a tea run?”

“Sure.” You took the moment to stretch, assessing that with all the crew members you’d need an extra pair of hands. “I’ll just do a recce.”

It was the final day of filming for a new series of adverts for the National Trust. They wanted to pitch their viewing at a newer, cooler audience, and they’d enlisted a whole load of famous British faces to speak on behalf of the places the NT looked after - “forever, for everyone.”

You were a fan. Especially of this place. You were currently filming at Stourhead, the home of the first ever Palldian villa to be built in the UK. The villa sat, the gem in an estate that included a tranquil lake complete with secluded grotto and statues, and a wishing fountain. When you arrived, some of the other runners had taken turns with you to toss coins into the fountain, making wishes.

You fished your notepad from the back pocket of your jeans and drew the pen from where you’d tucked it into your ponytail. Sexy it might not be, but having a pen there was beyond handy.

“Don’t forget Tom. He’s in the Grotto,” your colleague called as you started off.

The team were spread out. It was going to be a long recce and an even longer trip to get tea, you thought, but you didn’t mind. The day was sunny but a cool breeze ensured tempers hadn’t frayed, which could happen on a long day of filming.

So far the NT had filmed Benedict Cumberbatch at Trelissick Gardens, Luke Evans at Dyrham Park, Emma Thompson at Treasurer’s House, and Dame Judi Dench at Dartington Hall.

The NT had planned for Tom to film his segment in London, at Osterley Park, but filming clashes with the BBC had meant that Stourhead was closer for him.

He’d been friendly and warm when you’d met, and a little tingle of awareness had zinged up your arm when he’d shaken your hand, those summer sky blue eyes meeting yours and holding for a hot second.

You had shaken it off though, ever the consummate professional. Of course you felt a zing. You’d have to be dead not to.

The cool September breeze ruffled the ends of your ponytail as you picked your way down the steps to the Grotto. A gorgeous surprise to visitors who walked around the lake, the Grotto held two marble statues and the bubble of fresh, running stream water. In one of the pools, koi carp swam, delighting all who saw them, especially young children.

The Grotto was habitually slippery due to the springwater that sometimes bubbled over, and you were always careful. You wore work boots on site to protect yourself from any slips. Even so, your toe caught on one stony outcrop and for a second, you were flailing in mid air.

“Got you.”

You looked up into Tom’s stormy blue eyes. His arms encircled you, the springy curls on his head messy at the top, like he’d been running his hands through them. The corner of his mouth tipped up. You settled your hands on his shoulders, the material of the tweed jacket he wore soft under your palms. He’d really gone for the “country pile” look - tweed, a button down white shirt, jeans and Barbour boots.

“Thanks,” you breathed. “Bit slippery, here.”

He set you down safely. “Pleasure’s mine.”

You looked around, never tiring of the beauty of your home county, and proud that the National Trust worked to conserve green places like this. Secret places, where imagination and nature dreamed hand in hand.

“I love it here,” you said, without thinking, turning a circle to admire the statues and the stony walls, the shadows cast by trees and plants overhead.

“Hard to believe the world is out there, isn’t it? One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”

“Shakespeare?”

He rubbed his cheek, looking embarrassed. “How did you know?”

“I, ah, came to see if you wanted some refreshment. Before we start again.”

His gaze held yours and you saw it. A flicker of naughty in his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

Your mouth went dry as he moved closer to you, boxing you in against the slick wall of the Grotto. The stone was cool against your back, through your thin black shirt. He smelled fresh, citrussy with just a hint of bergamot and the tang of coffee.

“I’ve thought about this all day,” he murmured, his mouth lowering to yours.

Your heart lurched. “Seriously?”

Your voice came out a squeak, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. The way your hair sways with your hips when you walk.”

He hadn’t even touched you yet and you were melting inside.

Swallowing your gasp, his lips moved over yours. He was as fantastic a kisser as you’d imagined when you’d watched him kiss Kate in The Hollow Crown, later retiring to bed to indulge in a fantasy only your vibrator had been able to help you complete.

Your pulse raced as his tongue danced with yours, and of their own volition your arms slipped around his neck. You let your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, and in response he yanked you closer. All coherent thought left your mind as you felt the length of him hard against your lower belly. Yes.

You groan his name as he nips at your lips. As you wriggle against him, trying to get closer still, Tom slides his hands under you and boosts you up against the uneven, stony wall. Its edges go unnoticed by you as you wrap your legs around his waist. His stubble scrapes your skin and it electrifies his kiss, every nerve ending coming alive in a burst of heat and fire.

“Y/N! Where are you?”

You both jump at the shout from your colleague. Tom meets your gaze and looks guilty, but happy.

“I’ve delayed you.”

“And look how hard I’m fighting to get free,” you tease.

He brushes another kiss over your mouth, tender from his attention. “I’m staying at the B&B down the road. Come see me, later?”

You nod and hop down from his arms to attend to the tea run.

Later, during filming, he sends you a wink as the make up artist finishes fussing with him. Your cheeks heat and you know that after you wrap, you’ll be doing a lot more than drinking tea together.

OK, it’s not a tweed jacket, but I’m limited to what’s on the internet.

Disclaimer: There are no koi carp at Stourhead. I just think they’re awesome.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Take it on the Run - Dean Winchester part 3

Read part 2 here!

Warnings: mention of sex, fluff

Summary: After a month long, whirl-wind romance with the new guy in town (Dean), he ghosts, as if he never existed. You are devastated, eating plenty of ice cream, your friend decides to take you out for drinks and karaoke. Maybe something happens who knows  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-------------------------------------------------

"You're doing what?!" I pulled the phone away from my ear as (Y/F/N)'s shrill voice came through the receiver.

"I said I'm going out with Dean tonight-"

"No, I heard you. Loud and clear. Fuzzybritches, are you hearing this crap?" A soft mew followed. Fuzzybritches was as old as I was and, as (Y/F/N) put it, as wise as a mountain. Which made as much sense as it sounded.

"You're involving Fuzzy so you must not be that mad." I said as I pulled into the diner Dean asked me to meet him at. It had become a regular meeting place before he left. It had the classic diner feel and at the same time felt like grandma's kitchen, comfortable and familiar.

"The jury is still out on Mr. Winchester." Was all they said.

"Whatever." I said, not really paying attention because I saw the Baby pull up next to me.

"Like your voice changes when you're around him. You sound in love, it's disgusting." They said, scoffing.

"I'm hanging up now." I said. Dean looked over and mouthed my friend's name. I nodded, opening and closing my hand to mimic their jabber. Dean got out, coming around to open my door for me. I decided to put it on speaker phone.

"Hey (Y/F/N)." He said, a bright and intoxicatingly handsome smile on his face.

"Dean." They said, a grumpy mew following.

"I give you my word. I won't leave like that again. I think you'd hunt me down if I tried." He said, helping me out of the car.

"He's smart. I'll give him that." They said after a short pause.

"Goodbye!" I said, hanging up the phone. "Sorry." I said, leaning back against my door.

"Awh they're fine." He said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. This slight and minut gesture made my heart race. He led me inside where we were sat down in a booth. The seats were plastic cushions that would definitely be sticking to my thighs when I try to get up later (why did I wear shorts?), so looking forward to that. Darlene, the local waitress who had a thick southern accent even though she wasn't from the south, came up to us. Her golden blonde curls bouncing.

"Hey y'all!" She said, pulling a small notebook and pen out of her apron pocket, "Been a while since I saw you two." She looked at Dean, "And don't worry, we got fresh pie waitin' fer ya."

Dean smiled, tapping his hand on the table, "Now that's what I like to hear." We ordered our drinks and food before being left to ourselves.

"So how was your day?" He asked. The simplicity of the question was strange. If what he said was true, he was a a trained gun. He has probably killed people. But he was here in this diner. With me. Enjoying the simplicity.

"Uh, good. Kinda. My coworker didn't come into work this morning. He called in sick even though we were supposed to be working on a project together. To be honest, I'm not surprised. He's kind of a flake anyway." I sighed. Trevor, the coworker in question, was a pretty unreliable when it came to group projects. It was odd because he emailed me some reports last night and didn't mention that he was sick.

"Sounds like a douche." He said, leaning back against the booth.

"What about you? What have you been up to?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning on the table. He smirked at me, his dimples making an appearance.

"Oh I've been around." He had a look in his eyes, that mischievous look that made me shiver. Because they were oh so similar to his bedroom eyes.

"What have you got planned, mister?"

He shrugged, "You'll see." Before I could say more, Darlene returned with our drinks and food, the subject temporary forgotten.

-

After pie and paying, we left the diner. Dean went ahead and opened the passenger side of the Impala for me.

"Oh what a gentleman." I pressed a hand to my chest. I sat inside, looking over the interior. He once told me that he had rebuilt this car plenty of times. Keeping a few touches that had been there forever. The army man that Sam shoved into the ashtray was a cute touch. He also said that he had shoved Legos into the vents and when you turned on the heat you could hear them rattle.

Dean got into the driver's side and twisted the key to start up the car. The purr of the engine could probably put me to sleep if I stayed long enough.

"I got a little surprise planned, just sit back and relax." He drew out the last word as he turned on the radio. The tell-tale guitar started playing, surprising me.

"Fleetwood Mac?" I asked, they were one of my favorite bands growing up. Landslide was probably my favorite song of all time.

He nodded, singing to the opening verse, "Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies..." The Chain could get anyone pumped up, it was the perfect song a trip down the road, going plenty over the speed limit.

-

"Can I open my eyes now." Dean had me blindfolded with a bandana. I was leaned up against the Impala, arms crossed because of the cold.

"Just a minute, sweetheart." He said as he shut the trunk of the Impala.

"If I didn't know any better, this is some serial killer behavior." I teased. I heard him laugh and then heard the sound of what sounded like fabric.

"Oh you'll see." He clicked his tongue, "There." There was the sound of soft grass under his boots as he walked towards me. I felt his hands pull off the bandana.

"Eyes closed." He said, "Just trust me." I sighed but complied. He took my hands in his own, leading me down a small hit and out a few feet.

"Here we are..." He moved around behind me, "And open." When I opened my eyes, I felt my cheeks getting sore from the smile on my face. He had laid out a large flannel blanket and a couple pillows. There was an open cooler in the corner, a couple beers and fruity drinks inside. There were small citronella candles flickering away. The sun was setting, giving the scene a warm glow.

"Dean...." I whispered. Not really knowing what to say. It looks like it's straight out of a Pinterest post pinned by some girl with too many y's in her name and captioned: goals. But here I was, experiencing goals.

"You said you wanted to go star gazing. And I think it will give us a chance to... Reconnect emotionally." He said as if the words were rehearsed.

"Those are Sam's words." I teased, turning to look at him. He shrugged, "He's useful sometimes."

"It's...this is amazing, Dean. Really... This is all I could have asked for. " I really couldn't describe how I felt. It was so grand and the same time it was so simple.

-

We had been lying there for hours, talking about anything that we could think of. Our lives, our families. He was still keeping secrets, but I didn't care. I was lying on my side, resting my head on a pillow. I could tell that he probably snuck them out of the motel he was staying in. The position he was in reminded me of a particularly steamy encounter.

~

My chest was heavy heavily, my hair was sticking to the sides of my face. Five times. I didn't think five times was possible. But as Dean put it, the sounds that I was making were payment enough for the incredible things that man could do. He had traced his tongue over every tattoo he could find. The falling angel, the white wing dove, the Mississippi moon, the Celtic infinity knot, and the most sensitive, the crystal on my hip. I sat up on my elbows, turning to look at the Adonis next to me and a softness filled my heart. He was lying there, his chest rising and falling steadily. One of his hands was on his stomach, the other behind his head. A smile plastered on his face, his nose (which was extremely adorable, I didn't know having an adorable nose was even possible), and his eyes were completely focused on me in a look that I could only describe as adoration. Even as I met his eyes, he didn't look away. He continued to stare. Continued to smile.

~

There he was again, staring at me now. This look had much more meaning than it did before. It was after we just had sex when all our dopamine was rushing to our brains. No, this was just being in each other presence. No need for sex, not even a kiss, just each other.

"What are you thinking?" I whispered. I wanted to reach out and touch him but I was too afraid to ruin this moment.

He grinned, the tip of his tongue poking out from underneath his teeth, "Do you remember that drive we took? Just hours and hours of driving to nowhere?"

Oh my God, oh God, oh Jesus Christ. Was he talking about what I think he's talking about? Oh God, my heart is in my throat.

"Of course." My voice was barely there, practically a whisper in the wind.

"You told me something that scared the living shit out of me." He said, there was a slight shake in his voice. Okay. Words I was not expecting. The disappointment is creeping in.

"You told me you loved me and I uh..." He paused, not meeting my gaze, "Only one other woman has ever said that to me. She ultimately got hurt because of me." Is he pushing me away? What does this mean? I would hate for my whole Pinterest goals moment to end like this.

"She got hurt because I thought it was safe, I loosened up. I wasn't at my best. Sam was gone..." He shook his head, "Gone at the hospital. He got really sick. My mind was everywhere. But that doesn't excuse that she got hurt. But when I look at you..." He reached a hand out, cupping my face, "I know that no force on heaven, earth, or hell could ever take you away from me. I...." He brought himself closer to me. I could feel his hot breath against my lips, his eye lashes batting against mine.

"I love you."

-------------------------------------------------

AWWW it's happy! For now.

You can read part 4 here!

Reblogs and likes if you liked it!

Songs mentioned if you're interested:

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Any Led Zeppelin

Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

Black Water - The Doobie Brothers

Any Metallica

Crystal - Stevie Nicks

Taglist:

(shoot me an ask if you want to be added!)

@happy-little-marvel

@lsrgekwhtvr

[heavenbarnes]

Stress Leave

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: a lot of words, fingering, titty sucking, relaxing setting, i really actually think that is it.

Word Count: 3469

this is something that came to mind when i was thinking of being somewhere else. i have a real fondness for dreamy language and writing and a love for a pretty city. also my fav kind of porn is that really relaxing stuff where it is just so calm lol. so yes this is more descriptive writing than it is smut but i figured people would only read it if someone was having sex so i do hope you guys enjoy.

You awoke with the natural sunlight. You couldn’t see it, thanks to the silk mask covering your eyes. You could feel it on your uncovered skin. It danced across your arms and lightly brushed your face, warming more than just your skin. It warmed your soul. 

You took the mask off your eyes and lay it next to you on the white comforter. You rolled your body and pulled your hands up close to your face. Your head stayed plush against the mountain of pillows behind you. You let your eyes drift out the large window and over the buildings in front of you.

You could hear the bustle of the city beneath you. It was different to the city you lived in. That city was cold noise, if that made sense? Cold in the way that everybody was doing their own thing, rushing about, thinking that their own issues were the only issues going on in the world today. Not thinking of those around them. It was the sound of wheels in puddles, splashing the person on a bike. It was swearing and fist shaking and “hey, I’m walking here!”

This noise was a warm noise. For one, the air was warm. But the noise traveled and circled your eyes and made you feel nice. It was strangers smiling at strangers, asking them how they were. It was a horn honking, not to say “get out the way!” but to say “hey, I haven’t seen you in a while!” It was the tiny noises of people throwing change into a buskers hat. It was a baker giving away a loaf of bread simply because he’d made extra that day.

You closed your eyes and let the world below you fill your senses. You tried not to think of the fact you had to leave this place at some point. Why let that ruin the experience? You preferred to just immerse yourself in it whilst you had the chance. 

You instinctively reached to your nightstand to find your phone, before remembering you wouldn’t find it there. You wouldn’t find it anywhere. Part of the deal was that you were to leave it at home. If anyone needed to contact you, they contact SHIELD and they can get one of the support team to deliver the message. You needed to contact somebody? Well you could find a payphone, or better yet? Send them a letter.

You did that often, that came with the therapy. You wrote letters to everybody. You wrote most of them to Mr. Peter Parker. He wrote you back as well. You included little Polaroid photos of the city, and your jaunts around it. He’d get you to tell him about the most mundane parts of your day. He said they were his favorite, the way you could take a trip to the market and make it into a story you never want to put down. 

You also sent them to Sam, you missed his humor so when you got letters back you had to prepare yourself for a splitting of your sides. You wrote to Wanda, you missed how you two could talk about anything. You wrote to Steve, thanked him for what he has done for you and asked him to keep your plants watered in your room. 

You also took up walking. Not like hiking, just little strolls around the city. Sometimes you’d find yourself walking for hours, not noticing. As soon as your headphones went over your ears and you took in the sights around you, you were in another world.

That is what this place did for you. You didn’t have to worry about a mission, an enemy, protecting anybody or doing anything right. Nobody knew you here, nobody expected anything from you. There was a spattering of plain clothes SHIELD agents around the place at any one time, just in case something went wrong. Nothing ever went wrong.

You would take your bag everywhere with you everyday. It was just a brown leather tote. The handles had worn a bit and the lining had a small tear, but it was like your safety net. In it was always a packet of spearmint gum, one hair tie, one pen or pencil, one pair of sunglasses, a pair of earbuds in case you got tired of the over ear headphones, a snack of some sort, a photo of you and Peter, and your notebook.

You craved having your notebook on you at all times. You drew your surroundings often, not very good drawings but that didn’t matter. You’d also write down just about everything. You loved to observe, people walking buy, animals doing their best. You had a note for just about every happening in this city.

“Today I saw the most incredible thing...” was usually how they all started. From reading it, you’d think you thought everything you saw was incredible. That is probably because you did. Being in a sleepy city, miles and miles away from any troubles was incredible. Most people could only dream of what you had, and you only had to make a few small sacrifices to get there.

Yes that included things like giving up your phone, giving up the internet, but those things were no-brainers. It was actually doing you the world of good to have a break away from caring what other people thought of you. Having a break away from other people’s expectations of you. You could sit on the balcony and stare into a pot-plant for two hours and nobody would care. Bliss.

A slightly larger sacrifice was the trauma. You wouldn’t go into it because you didn’t want to put a damper on the situation around you. Your traumas and your past wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, but lately they’d been making it hard to live. SHIELD put you on mandatory stress leave. You couldn’t forget what had happened and nobody was asking you to, but it didn’t have to be the only thing on your mind anymore. 

You finally arose from your blankets, reluctantly dragging your legs from the warm confines and stretching them out. You wiggled your toes, getting them used to the cooler air. Not cold, just not as warm as your bed sheets. The wooden floors creaked under your feet as you made your way to the balcony. The breeze picked up a strand of your hair and fluttered it away from your face.

You looked over the city, your city. You hadn’t been here long, others certainly had some time on you but it felt your own. It belonged to you just as much as it belonged to them, simply due to how it made you feel. The way it had released you from a place you had locked yourself inside of, without even realizing.

You put your hands on the wrought iron fence in front of you. You felt the breeze drift through your thin t-shirt, not enough to chill you. You could smell the cafe that was just tucked away on your right. They knew your order and your routine, they’d be expecting you around 11am. You were always there for your drink and a little yarn about your day.

You heard the most gentle knock at your door and your eyes opened. You hadn’t even realized your closed them as you felt the air kiss your skin. You knew exactly who was behind that door. Your heart skipped when you realized it was that time again. You brought in a deep breath and released it slowly. You loved this dreamy feeling that you got, it was nearly intoxicating.

“Come in.” You replied, quietly. You didn’t want to upset this perfect ambiance by talking to loudly or out of turn. 

You heard the handle turn and footsteps on your floor. They joined you out on the balcony and watched your city with you. No words were exchanged, they knew how much you like a little quiet from time to time. They had a mind not unlike your own, very observant too. Just watched the people milling about, enjoying their own time.

“You should see this view at night, the city actually sleeps.” You spoke, softly. “My other room, you can hear something all time but there is actual silence here.”

“I’d like to see that.”

You turned on your heel and smiled kindly. Bucky was now in front of you, top of his hair tied up in a loose bun. He had on a burnt orange t-shirt which sat beautifully against his tanned skin. He returned your smile and reached out his right hand, his flesh hand, towards you.

You took it with your left hand and he led you to step over the threshold, back into your room. He extended his arm out so you could sit down on the end of your bed. He knelt down in front of you and lifted your left foot into his lap. He wiggled it to get movement into your ankle, flexing and watching for your reaction.

There was a little bit of tension in your muscles, but soon it subsided as he massaged lightly with both his metal and flesh fingers. His fingers moved up to your calf, working the same way. You shuddered slightly as he went over a tender spot.

“Sore?” He asked, running over the spot gently. 

“A little, I guess.”

“You can admit if something hurts, that doesn’t mean you aren’t getting better.”

You had to remind yourself of that sometimes. Therapy and recovery wasn’t something you could fail. It was progress you made, one step at a time. Pain or flashbacks didn’t mean you were going backwards, it just meant you needed to work a little harder to go forward.

Bucky was one of the first people you met when you got here. He had been assigned to you to help with your recovery. He was only your physical therapist, you had another emotional therapist. Bucky had spent some time here for himself, a bit before you got there. He didn’t go into details with you about what happened, but you knew it must’ve been bad for him to lose his whole arm.

When you first got here you made the mistake of trying to compare his trauma to your own. Invalidating your own cause it wasn’t “as bad” as Bucky’s. He had stopped you in your tracks and explained that our trauma isn’t something that could be measured. We have all had our own pasts and our own experiences and they were as big or as small as we believed them to be.

He had become your best friend, your safety. It started out with only morning visits from him, to do your rehabilitation exercises. It started to evolve from there, he would ask if you wanted to join him for lunch. He would ask if he could join you on one of your many strolls around the city. He’d invite you to try the dinner he was making, on account that you ate with him.

He was part of your healing process. Learning to trust others again. Not everybody was out to get you. This city taught you that as well. You can walk around the city with headphones on without the constant fear that something unjust was waiting around a corner for you.

“How has your hip been?” His voice was soft enough to rouse you from your thoughts, not snap you.

“A lot better actually, doesn’t click as much when I move.”

“I’m glad, I was starting to think I’d have to break out the oil can.”

You let out a laugh straight from the chest. You appreciated his humor, the old timey jokes he’d make. Sometimes you’d call him Grandpa and he’d give you a quiet “hey!” but couldn’t help the chuckle that it brought out of him. Bucky always thought you were funny, even when you weren’t. 

“And your back?”

You sighed, turning your head to watch your hand play with the throw blanket at the end of the bed. Out of your peripheral vision you could see Bucky’s eyes flick up to watch for your reaction.

“It still locks up when I sit up for two long.”

He smiled at you and finished working the knots out of your calf muscles. He stood back up and managed to tower over you. Not a scary tower, Bucky couldn’t be scary. You’d heard through the grapevine that he was different back in the day, that things happened. But you’d also heard that it wasn’t his fault. You knew that man and you knew how to make your own thoughts and opinions. You knew there wasn’t a hateful bone in his body.

“You want to take off your top and roll onto your front?”

He turned to face your door after he said that, respecting your privacy. You couldn’t help but chuckle, what a gentleman. You did just that, however. Tucked your shirt behind one of your pillows to wear to bed later that night, and lay down with your front pressed into your comforter. The cotton was slightly cool, a nice feeling against your skin.

You heard Bucky’s sneakers on the floor as he came around to the side of your bed. You listened and felt for his right knee come up and rest beside you on the mattress. Both his hands came down onto your back, there was a definite difference between the metal and skin. His fingers kneaded the sore spots on your back, seeming to make them melt away in an instant. You closed your eyes and rested your head against your folded arms.

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh as you felt him work out the tension, the pain, the past. Your body hadn’t been the same after that day. Things didn’t work like they used to, you couldn’t just go back to normal. Bucky was making things easier, he was helping things go back to normal

He brought one hand up to each of your shoulder blades. His thumbs went right in and under, you could hear the knots coming undone it was that intense. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and that is when it happened. A moan slipped right out of your lips and your back even arched a little. You immediately felt your cheeks flame. You couldn’t do anything, it happened again.

Bucky was pushing the spots on purpose. He has been doing your therapy for a good amount of time, he knew your body. His right hand came down your spine and his thumb pushed on one of your vertebrae. There was a quiet click and you made that same noise. You had now caught on that he was doing this on purpose. It felt unbelievably good, a goodness that only this city could provide. This city and the man that came with it.

He ran his hands up the side of your body, making you shiver. You stretched your arms out in front of you and pointed your legs out as straight as you could. He ran his hands up your arms and all the way back down to your legs. The stretch felt good, releasing all that pent up stress you didn’t realize you carried. Bucky taught you about being conscious of your body. Unclench your jaw, straighten your back, unfurrow your brow. You carry so much stress that harms your body without even knowing it.

You brought your arms down and pushed yourself up, flipping gently onto your back. Bucky’s breathing got shallow, he was already finishing the process of kicking his sneakers off and he got the rest of himself onto the bed. You could hear the sound of the buskers outside, starting their morning shows. The sound of violins drifted into the room, providing the perfect soundtrack.

Bucky brought himself down, lying on his chest with half his body on you and half on the bed. He brought his metal hand up to massage your right breast, his lips attaching to the left. You arched your back and let out a deep breath. You fingers slowly carded into his hair, your fingers massaging his scalp. 

His lips wrapping gently around your nipple as his tongue flicked at it, making goosebumps rise on your skin. You could hear the sounds below your floor, the kitchen was rumbling with breakfasts being made. If everything went as it normally did, you and Bucky had about another 20 minutes of alone time.

He kept his lips on your chest, but brought his metal hand down to your shorts. His fingers undid the tie on the front, loose enough for him slip his hand down. The feeling of the metal against your sensitive skin drove you just about wild. You let out a quiet moan, the sound being intertwined with the sounds outside your window. The bird chips seemed to whisk it away before you could even hear it yourself.

Two of his fingers swirled around your clit, rubbing very gently. It was enough that it wasn’t teasing, but not so much that you felt rushed. His fingers went slightly lower to your opening to collect some wetness and came back up to continue the motions. Your eyes fluttered shut and you gently pulled at Bucky’s hair. He always told you that you could pull harder but you never wanted to. You just wanted to feel him, to remind yourself he was real.

He sucked harder at your nipple, alternating this with the motions below your waistline. He worked his fingers against you, making your breathing pick up and your muscles start to tense. You thought about this, unclenching your toes and your legs. You could hear the coffee maker in the kitchen below, this was one of the last things they did in their breakfast routine. You didn’t have long.

You bucked your hips up against his hand. He moved it down and almost teased you with his thick fingers. He slowly slid them both into you, right to the knuckle. You let out a long breath, which alternated to a moan at the end. You slid your hands down his back and grabbed at his t-shirt. He moved those fingers slowly, the feeling of them against your walls was making your heart pick up.

His teeth gently grazed against your nipple, careful not to hurt you. He just wanted to test your sensitivity. Your body shuddered at the feeling, not in a bad way. You arched your back as you longed for his teeth to be back on you. He chuckled quietly and gave you what you were after. Who was he to deny you?

His fingers worked against your front wall, you could feel your wetness drip down his metal digits. He sped up, matching it with the speed that he flicked at your nipple. Your breathing was becoming more erratic, and you couldn’t help your nails scraping at Bucky’s back. You heard him let out a moan against you which made you arch off the mattress.

“I am so close.” You whined, rolling your hips onto his fingers.

“You can come whenever you want, you’ve earned it.”

You let out a gentle moan, clenching around his fingers and wrapping your arms around him. He worked you through your orgasm, slowly rubbing your clit with his thumb. You let your chest rise and fall, regaining a steady heart rate as you came back down to earth.

You could hear the trays rattling in the hallway, breakfast was moments away. Bucky cleaned his fingers with his tongue, keeping eye contact with you whilst doing so. He went behind the pillows and found your shirt, passing it to you and helping you lift it over your head. He ducked his head down and pressed a kiss to your lips, moaning at the feeling.

He took your hand and led you out to the little table on your balcony, pulling your chair out for you and leaning against the railing. There was a knock at your door and after your say so, you breakfast tray came through the door along with a smiling woman.

She placed the meal in front of you, along with your coffee and orange juice. Your eyes practically turned to hearts at the sight before you. You patted the seat next you, silenced by the mouthful of food. Bucky grinned and sat beside you, his arm on the back of your chair as you both watched the city.

“Have you ever seen something so beautiful?” You asked softly, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

You eyes were so fixated on the view in front of you that you didn’t realize the eyes on you.

“Yes, I think I have.”

[writtenbynath]

Management Assessment

CW: fiction about sexual harassment in a corporate environment. If this was happening irl, it would not be sexy. But we all sometimes have fantasies that are not healthy. This is one of mine.

Jerome felt nervous when he pushed the button in the elevator that would take him to the floor where her office was. Severine St Nicolas. She was the HR manager and he had never spoken to her in person, he had only seen her during corporate presentations, side by side with the CEO and the financial manager. A beautiful woman who dressed in elegant suits, untouchable and far away on that stage. Until an email message had invited him to a “management assessment” in her office, with her corporate signature, so here he was, two minutes early for the appointment when the elevator doors opened.

This floor was all lush carpet, white walls and wooden doors. The walls were adorned with framed marketing artwork. Jerome didn’t know why he had been selected to do this assessment or what it would entail. As far as he knew, he was just a white collar worker, and he was in no position to ascend to a management position. Jerome and his colleagues sat in their cubicles, crunching numbers in spreadsheets, chasing and correcting small errors made by the people at the Orders and Shipping department. This floor was so very different, there were only roomy offices and meeting rooms behind those wooden doors. No cubicles, no water coolers, no whiteboards. And it was so quiet here with the carpet muffling his footsteps and the closed doors.

Jerome stopped at a kitchen corner, where a woman in a lavender skirt and jacket was making coffee from a fancy Italian machine. It was the only noise here. Was she an assistant or a barista? For a moment, he just watched her work, until she served foamy espresso into a tiny glass cup and put it on a shiny metal saucer. She then started to pour mineral water from a bottle in the fridge into fancy crystal whisky glasses.

“Excuse me,” Jerome said as he leaned against the countertop. “I’m looking for the office of Ms St Nicolas.”

“Right on time.” The woman put all three drinks on a tray and handed it to him. “It’s the corner office on the right there.” She pointed down the hall. “Good luck.”

Afraid to spill any of the drinks, Jerome slowly shuffled towards the door she had indicated to him, and when he arrived, carefully took the tray into one hand so he could knock.

“Come in.”

When he opened the heavy door, it became clear that the office was even more spacious than he had expected. Shelves along the walls held meticulously labelled binders, reference works and elegant bookends. Ms St Nicolas sat at a long, heavy wooden desk, with her back to a gorgeous view of the city harbour. Her desk was empty but for her computer, a notepad with a shiny metal pen lying on top of it, and an empty crystal glass just like the ones Jerome had on his tray. He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment. It was almost ten feet to the desk, he could still spill the coffee, he realised, clenching his teeth.

Ms St Nicolas beckoned without looking at him, her eyes on the computer screen as she typed something, every keystroke audible in the large, silent office. Jerome slowly approached the desk and carefully put the tray down on the corner, next to the empty glass. The desk was suspiciously clean, no stray printouts or office supplies anywhere. Her neatly manicured hands danced over the keyboard and her lips moved as she typed, showing a hint of tongue. She was incredibly beautiful close up. It was hard to believe he was really here in her office.

As soon as Jerome realised he was staring at her immaculate white blouse and her long hair falling over her shoulders, he looked away at the seats facing the desk. They looked like they belonged in a lounge with their velvet upholstery and the large armrests. The tall windows let in the daylight from outside but the office building was so tall that it was impossible for anyone to look into this building from the outside. It gave Jerome a strange feeling of isolation.

Ms St Nicolas rose from her desk chair and walked around the desk to greet him with a handshake. “Welcome, Jerome. It’s good to meet you.”

Flustered by the way she suddenly walked up to him, almost pushing him backwards against one of the seats, Jerome replied: “Thank you for inviting me here… uh… Should I call you Severine?”

“You may call me Miss.” She gave him a piercing look as she let go of his hand. “Sit down, and stay there.”

Jerome’s body complied and sank down into the seat before his mind had quite taken the time to process her words. Blushing and breathless, he looked up at her as she sat down on the armrest of his chair, finding it impossible not to stare at her breasts from this position.

“Didn’t you wonder why I invited you here?” Her hip, though covered in smooth dress slacks, touched his arm, and she leaned towards him with her hand on the back of the chair. She was coming so dangerously close, it made him stutter.

“I did… But I don’t know… uh… I mean…” Jerome tugged at his shirt collar.

She licked her lips before she spoke, never breaking eye-contact. “I have an opening and you’re the man I want.”

Sweating now, Jerome had to will himself not to interpret her words as sexual innuendo. “I am?” He laughed nervously, shifting in the chair, trying desperately not to touch her inappropriately. “I didn’t think you even knew who I am or what I do.”

“I saw you at the corporate basketball game.” Her hand moved, touching his shirt collar and then resting on his chest. Her eyes looked dreamy for a moment, as if she was remembering what he looked like in a jersey and shorts. Then she rose to her feet and walked over to the desk to pick up the cup of espresso.

Jerome took a deep breath, not sure whether he was relieved she had left his personal space or not. He felt paralysed by her presence, afraid to do or say anything inappropriate and ruin his chances for this unexpected… promotion? Even though he wasn’t yet sure what it would entail.

Sipping her espresso, she stared back at him. “I saw you there and I decided to go through your file. You’re an intriguing man, Jerome.”

He swallowed, not sure what to reply, or whether he should say anything at all. Her silhouette was breathtaking in the daylight falling in through those windows. And her blouse looked almost sheer now.

She finished the cup and put it back down. “I may have collected some footage from other corporate meetings and parties to see more of you,” she said looking down at her coffee cup. “And I liked what I saw…”

As he became cognizant of what she was saying, Jerome frowned, his mouth falling open. “You’ve been spying on me?”

She leaned on the desk, smiling at him. “You should be flattered. I’m offering you a great opportunity.”

In the back of his mind, Jerome could hear alarm bells, and a feeling of dread tightened his throat. He rose from the chair and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Miss. There must be some kind of misunderstanding… I shouldn’t be here.” It was the only excuse he could think of to say. No matter how powerful and attractive this lady was, this felt wrong, and he wanted out.

When he tried to walk past her towards the door, her hand grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. His face burned as he reluctantly looked at her. Only to be immediately slapped across the cheek. It took his breath away. Jerome shuddered and froze up, his eyes closed.

"You are exactly where you should be." She drew up close to him, their bodies touching, her breath on his neck, and her hand grabbed his erection through the fabric of his suit. "A part of you knows this, doesn't it?"

The sudden rush of arousal was intoxicating. Jerome's head was swimming, while his body was petrified. He couldn't move a single muscle, not even open his eyes. Her hand on his crotch locked him in place.

"Isn't it funny?" She whispered in his ear, her lips brushing his cheek. "As the blood rushes to your cock, it's like it drains your thoughts from your mind, making you lightheaded and mindless.The harder your cock grows, the harder it becomes to form a thought. Until your cock just becomes too hard to think at all."

She kissed his neck as her hands started to grope and stroke his chest and back. Jerome's eyes rolled up into his skull and he gasped helplessly. Her lips trailed kisses over his cheek and jaw until she reached his mouth. Her hand languidly stroked the bulge in his pants. "Doesn't it feel wonderful to be so aroused, open and empty, my dear?"

Jerome could feel his eyes blink and move, but he had no control over it. Over any part of his body. His mouth opened and he gasped: "Yes, Miss."

"The more your cock grows under my touch, the harder it becomes to think, the emptier your mind becomes. And now that your mind is so open and empty, my words fill your head."

A shudder ran from his cock up through his spine. "Yes, Miss."

"Your cock is too hard to think for yourself. Let me tell you what to think."

Involuntarily, his body jerked, almost like an attempt to grind against her. "Yes, Miss."

"This need you feel, in your body, in your cock, this burning need, is your need to surrender completely to me. That is all you can think about now, isn't it?" As she continued to stroke him, her other hand moved up over his back to grasp the hair on the back of his head and hold it firmly.

"Yes, Miss." He moaned. He could feel his eyes open, but they were still rolled up and he could see nothing.

Her grip on his hair held firmly, while her other hand stopped massaging and just held his throbbing cock tightly. "Remember this. Repeat it in your mind. Surrendering to me gives you sexual pleasure. Surrender brings you pleasure. Repeat it."

He gasped. "Surrender brings me pleasure."

“That’s right,” she cooed. “Surrender brings you pleasure. If you feel any sexual pleasure right now, that is because you are surrendering to me. And if you feel that pleasure increase in any way, you know deep down that it’s caused by your increasing surrender to me. So submit. Surrender your mind as you have surrendered your body. And you feel will the pleasure grow accordingly.”

Her hand opened his zipper and her fingers penetrated his underwear to touch the throbbing head of his cock. The skin of her fingers was so soft, and there was a hint of fingernails scraping the sensitive edge of his head. Weakly, Jerome groaned.

“Why does it feel so good?” Her lips brushed his cheek and her breath was hot.

“Surrender brings me pleasure,” he uttered, slurring his words.

“Indeed. If you are feeling pleasure right now, it must be because you are surrendering deeper and deeper to my will.” Her hand let go of his hair and rested on his back now. She stepped away from him, but her hand remained there on his back. “You want to surrender more, don’t you?”

“Yesss…” The word escaped his lips before he could even form a thought.

“Go down on your knees and open your pants.” Her hand on his back pushed gently. “Display your cock, as a sign of your surrender.”

He could feel the thick carpet against his knees and ankles as his hands worked to open his pants. The tip of his cock touched his abs and his hand instinctively started to stroke up and down.

Her hand moved to his shoulder. “Why does it feel so good, Jerome?”

“Surrender brings me pleasure.” He groaned, his eyes still closed.

Her voice drifted down to him, soothing and soft. “Your hand is obeying my will, deepening your surrender. Let every stroke take you deeper and deeper, giving yourself more and more to me. Say it again, Jerome. Repeat it while you stroke for me.”

“Surrender brings me pleasure.” Jerome faded in and out of consciousness as his hand stroked and his body shuddered, coming closer and closer to total surrender. Pleasure pulsated through him as his mind simply shut down.

In hindsight, he didn’t remember how long that assessment had lasted. It wasn’t important to remember it completely. He was happy with his new job as assistant to Miss St Nicolas. Whenever he obeyed and did all his tasks properly, she would let him surrender again.

[terraclae]

Spoken for

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia

This isn't the usual chapter since it isn't very long or focuses on Arodan or Paramo's crew but instead on Raz and such. This is a bit of a side chapter to update where they are right now.

‘You know I try to take care of you, do you not?’

Were you? Were you really?

He paced around Raz more, one more circle of the many. Where he had walked the ground had started to erode. The circle marked the shield Raz had that didn’t expand as many times as he might try. It seemed so fragile now, ready to shatter at any second. In this way there would be nothing to protect him from Guillaume then.

‘Really, all I’ve ever done is for you. We had a lovely home, every day I made sure you were comfortable. You’re sensitive, you know that.’ He continued, pacing more circles. He dragged a hand alongside the wall of the shield and it left a long set of lines along it. ‘I loved you. We didn’t need words, we didn’t need complications. You had all you’ve ever needed.’

‘You didn’t love me.’ Raz quietly managed to speak then, his voice drifting from half of the pearl in his arms. Black lines ran along his skin and from them yellow flowers bloomed. ‘You took everything from me. Any sense I was not broken. How is that love?’

‘Oh, you aren’t broken-‘ Guillaume said. He leant against the barrier, deeply furious eyes focused on Raz. ‘But you are misguided. I was helping you and all you’ve done is ruined your own life.’ Raz didn’t dare to say anything yet so Guillaume continued pacing. ‘We understand each other Raz. All we need is each other.’ He leant down and was at Raz’s level now, sitting outside the barrier with both hands on it, nails digging into it. ‘You say the stupidest things sometimes, but I forgive you. It doesn’t matter because you know who you belong to.’

‘No-‘ Raz crept backwards. His retort was cut off by the barrier cracking and he was left curled up with his pearl close to his chest. ‘I don’t want to listen anymore. You’re wrong, they told me so.’

‘Yes, they told you so. And what did I say about people telling you things?�� Guillaume hummed. Something cracked and Raz knew it was the barrier. ‘You shouldn’t listen to people like that. After all, they are liars, and you’re gullible and stupid.’ His nails dug into the barrier, just as ready to tear into Raz once he got through it. ‘It’s too late now. But even then, it doesn’t matter what you think.’ He tore a sizable enough hole to push his face through. ‘It doesn’t matter what they tell you to make you feel better for a moment. They will never love you the way I loved you and the way I understood you.’ His voice dropped in tone and grew sharper with every breath. ‘Without me you are nothing. You are part of me.’ He laughed then and he managed to stick his arm through the hole to reach for Raz. ‘Like that pearl of yours. Just as broken, and one part with my body. You will never get it back out there.’

‘I… Didn't mean to-‘

‘Raz.’ There was the sound of wind, briefly. Just hints, splashes of blue, flitted through the dream, through him. He was pulled out as if he had been underwater and drowning for a long time and soon Raz found himself sitting up. A soft hand was settled on his that he stared at for a while. It drew back slowly to not scare him. This hand was Ronan’s, and he sat right besides him, a concerned thrill to his voice. ‘You okay?’ The sounds of Ronan’s voice emptied the space and whatever trace there had been if Guillaume was gone. Raz nodded in response. 'Good. You're dreaming.'

'I know. This isn't possible after all.' Raz's voice echoed from his pearl. He uncurled and got up, Ronan following his ascent. 'Yet it feels like he's right there still.' Raz shot Ronan a long hard look. 'How are you in here?'

'I panicked.' Ronan confessed, rubbing the back of his head. 'Sorry buddy, I shouldn't just have come into your head without warning.' He folded his hands. 'But you sounded like you were in pain.'

'I sounded… Was I too loud, I didn't wake you up right?' Raz asked, bowing his head. 'I'm sorry.'

'No, I sense that sort of thing. It's okay, you didn't wake us.' Ronan looked around. 'You've spoken to Moira about me, right? About what I do?' Ronan's gaze fell on the floor. Red fluid had started to spread out along the floor around their feet. 'I suspect you need my help bringing order to your mind. But the choice is in your hands to decide whether you will let me. I will do nothing without your consent, this was a grave error on my behalf.'

Raz paused. He looked down at the red below him, the blood. He knew whose blood this was and told himself it could not hurt him. He could not hurt him anymore. Ronan must have known who it belonged to just looking at it. He held up his arms, and took note of the black handprints that broke the lines across his body. The marred many places but some had started fading. 'Please help me Ronan. Just… One night of sleep, that is all I ask.'

'That's all I need.' Ronan said, his lips curling into a little smile. He stepped forward, one hand rising. From nothingness he pulled a shimmering pink and purple cloak around himself, his footsteps leaving white prints from which shining beetles flew and in turn faded away. He spun on his heel and like his cloak he pulled a golden staff from the nothing to hold in his hand. He stood before Raz and held out his hand. 'I'll make sure you'll wake up peacefully in the morning. I can't remove the trauma but I'll soothe the memory for now.'

'Ronan?' Raz held out his hand but paused before he put it in Ronan's. 'You can see I'm Shade infected. It's obvious.' He lowered his head and there was a dishonest waver to the way he spoke. 'Is it a problem and is it something that can hurt you?'

'It's never quite….' Raz lowered his hand into Ronan's and the dark of the Shade retreated up his arm away from Ronan. '... Stuck to me. I can purge it if you want to although this might take a while. It… Looks like it has taken to you quite strongly.' He surveyed the Shade that ran along Raz's skin further. Momentarily his brow furrowed as if he had seen something odd yet he smiled gently. 'It's not going to stop me from helping you out.'

'Okay.' Raz mumbled, averting his eyes. '... Who are you Ronan? Why are you here?'

'That's a long story friend. Let's just say for now I'm not quite from around here.' He pulled Raz towards and into his cloak, so he was snug against him. 'I'm here because I quite like this world and some things are amiss with it. I can't help but try and fix a few things.'

'Maybe you're like those people my father spoke of. I didn't think those existed.' Raz murmured, pulling the cloak around him. He was drifting out of his dream, he knew that, but where to? What he knew now was that there was something safe about the way he was now, that this was okay. 'People from beyond this world and the next.'

'Maybe I am.' Ronan hummed. He brushed over Raz's head gently. He had taken a gentle glow. 'It's gonna be okay, Raz.'

'Maybe.'

'I've seen it happen before. You'll be okay.'

Under his hand Raz took on the glow, and faded into a light that floated before Ronan. He bumped it with his staff gently, giggling as the orb shaped light before him floated forward and bumped against his forehead. They acknowledged each other, dream maker and the pure essence of a dreamer. Softly Ronan spoke. 'Okay Raz, show me where I can and can't go. Let's clean up this head of yours.'

*

The sunlight was the first thing he felt that morning. It was dim and bounced off the pale rocks outside into the cave, warming it up. Raz lay bundled up in Mithra's coat in a cooler corner and as much as he wanted to ask her whether she didn't need it herself he couldn't. Physically it wasn't impossible, he just needed to stop himself from apologizing for every little thing others did because he needed the help. He woke up slowly and with half a mind to roll around and close his eyes again. Instead he looked around cautiously. Moira was still asleep, he wasn't certain where Ronan went. Mithra however was awake, lounging with her feet up on a rock. She hadn't noticed him waking up yet. She did once he sat up. 'Morning sleepyhead.'

He lifted his hand and waved at her, managing to smile. Mithra silently threaded over to him and plopped down cross legged besides him. 'Hey, that smile looks nice on you! Did you sleep okay? Any nightmares?'

Raz shook his head and started to search for his paper. When he couldn't find it he turned back to Mithra uncertainly, lifting his hand. He signed in stiff wide gestures and used his darting eye to communicate what he intended to say. 'Ronan helped me.'

'Ronan? Did he jump into your head and all that?' Mithra quietly asked. Raz nodded in response, his eye falling on his prosthetic besides him. 'Well, that's good. Wasn't too weird I hope, it can be strange the first time around.' Mithra bent around Raz and found his paper and pen for him, putting it on his lap. 'You know Raz, I meant to ask you, but what sorts of stuff do you like? I know you're looking for someone, but we're almost in Glasir you know, it's pretty big. There's a lot of stuff to do there.'

'You want me to come along into the city with you?' Raz wrote this and handed the note to Mithra. She responded at first with a broad grin. Raz started to write another longer note Mithra eagerly waited for him to finish. He handed it back to her. 'I do kind of feel like spoiling myself, maybe with cakes, or sweets. It's been a while since I've had my favorite foods.' He suddenly lit up and quickly wrote Glasir on a piece of paper before signing. 'It's by the ocean right?'

'Yeah, it's a big city by the ocean. They're pretty big on fish but I don't doubt they have a lot of other stuff.' Mithra replied, stretching her body. 'You like sweet things, Raz?'

Raz nodded fervently, bouncing where he sat. Mithra in response glanced around and started to search her pockets. Wordlessly she took a round pastel pink package out of her pocket and put it on Raz's lap. 'I took that from the shopkeeper we stopped at yesterday.'

Raz's eyes went wide and he took another piece of paper to write. 'Mithra, I can't accept stolen things.' He looked at the piece of candy hesitantly then picked it up, peeling the wrapper away with his thumb. It was a small round piece of chocolate that smelled of cherries. He put it down again and wrote another note. 'Can we please go back later to pay for this?'

'I did pay for it actually. I just forgot to initially.' Mithra responded meekly, feeling she didn't have a particular reason to be offended by this assumption. 'It's an old habit but I try to remind myself to pay.' She folded her hands. 'In my early days on this continent it was a little more difficult to get around and me and my brother had to adapt. He was better with people, they were drawn in to his charm.' She tapped her fingers against each other idly. 'I was too brash and just wanted to party and fight. I still want to do that to be honest.'

'And you stole?' Raz signed this this time. He reached around him and picked up his prosthetic, holding it out to Mithra so she could help him with it. He looked at her fondly once she started to help him with attaching the prosthetic, pulling the sling so it sat snugly. Magic whirred through it and although it was archaic and not very maneuverable it responded to his nerves well enough.

'I did steal initially. Then I met Ronan and Moira. They were already travelling along with a caravan and Moira actually tried to lop my head off with her spear once.' She said and whistled this quietly, her gaze falling on Moira rolled around wearily as if she knew in sleep she was being looked at. 'She also sold me on coming along and I'm a better person thanks to her.'

'Huh. I pegged Ronan to be the one to change you.' Raz wrote. Mithra couldn't help but stifle a laugh then and he wrote another note. He was running out of paper it seemed. 'He seems like that sort of person.'

'He is, but I also thought he was a nosy prick at first. Helpful, a sweetheart, but really really annoying if he wants to be.' Mithra said, fondly looking at the cave's entrance then. 'Ronan liked my brother though, they got along well. They're both goofballs.' She wobbled back and forth where she sat. 'I liked Moira and that she helped me to find the right path again. I'm thankful for them both, who knows where I'd be now?'

'What happened to your brother?' Raz handed her the note and Mithra was quiet for a long time. She sat there staring at the note, with a tense unbroken stare. When she chose to make a sort of noise it was a nervous chuckle and she hid her mouth behind her hand, looking off.

'That's my fault. Dima left because of me.' Mithra muttered to herself, turning to Raz slowly. 'It's a… Long story. I don't know if the morning is long enough to tell you all of that.' She grinned, almost painful in how forced it seemed. 'All I know is that one moment we were having a fight, about going home, about that I was distant, and in the next he was gone, taken away.'

Raz looked over her. There was a tremble to her hands and an iron glaze to her eyes that seemed familiar to him. He took her coat and put it back over her shoulders quietly, settling down against her side, writing another note. 'It's going to be okay.'

'I know buddy.' Mithra hummed, nudging Raz's side. She pocketed this note for herself. 'I know.' She relaxed more then, getting up. Her path was towards Moira where she bent down and promptly let herself fall onto Moira. 'Wake up sleepyhead, we gotta go.'

'Go away Mithra, five more minutes.'

'You can rest eternally when we figure out what's keeping you here!'

Raz got up and didn't take particular further note of Mithra and Moira who had started to tumble around, laughing as they did. He ate the chocolate as he walked and for just a moment he couldn't help but hum and loudly at that too, skipping the rest of the way. It was too sweet, that he knew, but the instant he ate it he got a rush of sugar he hadn't felt in a long time. Just that made him feel like eating an entire cake. He found Ronan outside the cave basking in the sun.

'Someone looks happy.' Ronan chimed as he turned and saw Raz approach. 'Did Mithra give you that candy she initially stole?'

Raz nodded and came to bask besides Ronan in the sun. He shot Ronan a quick look every now and then, expecting him to say something. Nothing came as a continuation so Raz wrote a note to Ronan. 'Is everything alright?'

'Oh yeah, I'm okay. Just didn't sleep a lot myself.' Ronan hummed and shrugged. 'It's nothing you did, and I feel like I got to know you better on your own terms.' There was a moment then that Ronan frowned and bent down. 'Raz, can I ask you something?'

'What is it?' Raz signed, and waited for Ronan to speak. He first pointed at Raz's eyepatch however and pulled his hand away when Raz seemed to experience discomfort because of this. Ronan gestured his finger upwards and after a moment or two Raz did lift the eyepatch. A bright, pink eye shone from the shadow his eyepatch cast, that contrasted heavily with the dark purple of his other eye.

'Did they give that to you too?' Ronan asked and by Raz's silence and him hiding the eye behind the eyepatch again he guessed that was a yes. 'Whose was it?'

Raz took a note and shakily scribbled a name. He needed two times to get the name right. The note read "Pia" and he pointed at his eye, waving his fingers in a manner and balling his fist in violent fashion.

'Was that a sibling of yours?'

Raz nodded once more. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked more angry than anything at that moment. He snapped from his anger once Ronan put an assuring hand on his shoulder.

'I have one more question.' Ronan said then. Raz looked ready to answer what he was to ask and already rested his pen on the paper. 'What is the nature of your Shade? What does it do?' He took a deep breath. 'I haven't seen Shade like yours before.'

Raz shook just a moment and glanced around. He started of tapping his face in the way of a nervous tic, from there up to fumbling with his hair, until finally he ran his fingers nervously alongside the front ridge of the horn on his forehead. In his wondering he spotted a Storm seeker sitting on a rock not far from them. He gestured for Ronan to watch with one hand while raising his other. The Storm seeker saw his movements and looked about to fly off. Raz focused on it and soon blackness spread along his hand and in veiny patterns along his face. The Storm seeker's behavior went from disinterested and skittish to seemingly fascinated enough with Raz to fly over to him and perch on his arm. Raz scratched it's chin and just briefly it's eyes flashed black. It bent down and bumped it's head against Raz's affectionately. As the blackness that marred Raz disappeared he showed the Storm Seeker to Ronan with a heavy gesture using his prosthetic arm.

Ronan blinked a few times and took a subconscious step back. 'Emotional manipulation?' The Storm seeker cawed agreeably in response. '... You… Is this your first time demonstrating it in front of people?' Raz shook his head, and held up a finger. 

He nudged the seeker to sit on his head instead and wrote another note he handed to Ronan. 'This was the first skill I figured out how to use. But just this one skill is not what I was born for according to my father.' The bird on his head looked down at him with beady blue eyes, then at Ronan who was still reading. 'I was created to have many talents, and to take his place if he would ever die. I was to become him, at some point.'

'You are… A true Shade abomination then?' Ronan asked and there was a moment Raz swore he could hear his voice shake. His gaze narrowed. 'I see… You… You aren't going to hurt anyone, right?'

Raz perked up and stared at Ronan wide eyed. He managed to sign somehow. 'Why would you ask that?' He shook his head slowly. 'I don't mean to hurt you, or the others, you aren't… You're my friends.'

Ronan fidgeted with a stray curl in his hair and looked into the cave. Moira and Mithra where already packed up and looked ready to go. He turned back to Raz and put his hand on his shoulder. 'Yeah, you're our friend. I just wanted to be certain.'

'Woah Raz, where did you get that?!' Mithra explained, immediately drawn in by the bird on Raz's head. It leant away from her and purposefully around her hand in the strangest of ways until it finally chose to hide in Raz's arms. 'Can we keep it?'

'I don't know, it's a wild animal Mithra.' Moira added in too quietly to really be noticed. Her hand twitched slightly looking at the bird and just for a moment lifted and dropped again. 'So, last stretch today?' Glasir was visible in the distance and they would reach it by evening. It looked shiny even from this distance.

'Yep. Better get going, you two ladies can continue your wrestling once we're there.' Ronan responded smugly, immediately taking his draconic form. 'C'mon y'all. Race you to the city.'

'Don't you dare get a headstart.' Mithra grunted, throwing an expectant look at Moira. Moira however already took off before Mithra could climb up, leaving her standing in a dustcloud. 'Moira, babe, come on.' Raz's tail tapped her side however and she saw him standing on a distance from Ronan, waiting for her to climb on. Half of his pearl hung from a frail looking string around his neck. 'I knew I could rely on someone.'She climbed on and the Storm seeker Raz had called to him briefly circled her head before flying ahead. They took off into the clear skies, hastily making their way to their for now final destination.

[thegodthief]

Had a long dream sequence I was going to write up and show y’all, but as I got started so did the redactions. Turns out, there is only one small piece of it that I may share, and that’s because the star of that scene has given me permission.

So. Long story short, I wound up at a *Craft Con, where if it has “craft” in the name, there’s a space here for it. I wandered about and ran into a table full of trinkets that I recognized from elsewhere. I inquired if the designer of those trinkets was present.

“Right here!”

I turned around and saw @duskenpath in the most adorable flower dress (little white and blue flowers on a earthy brown background). After I recovered from the fannish peep I allowed myself to squeak, I admitted that I really didn’t want to buy any of the trinkets, but that finally getting to meet a fellow Tumblrite in person was treasure enough.

“Too bad you’re dreaming though. But here, lemme show you something you can take with you once you’re awake. Next time you need a distraction, draw some spirit guardians. Here is a style you can use...”

She picked up a small round brass tag, barely an inch wide, and a 3D pen loaded with black plastic. Using the 3D pen, she laid down two circles on the disc. “I start with the eyes, because it is with the eyes that most people sense the world first. The body itself doesn’t matter as long as you have the eyes right.” The plastic quickly adhered to the cooler brass so that the lines were raised ridges. Quickly, she drew an oval around the two circles, then skillfully drew several arcs around the oval to create a squat and round owl.

“Because I’m using plastic on brass, I can fill the spaces with enamel or acrylic. You can leave it just line art, or color it in as it tells you it wants to be colored.”

Using a detail kit that just happened to be nearby, she filled the raised spaces with enamel in shades of blue and green. The cool colored owl looked happy on the disc.

“There. You can do this, I know you can. And it doesn’t have to be for others to see. The more you doodle, the better at it you get. And sometimes, spirits just like to be seen by someone, so don’t think you have to keep them when done. If the spirit you drew wants you to do something else with its image, it will let you know.”

She tucked the owl guardian disc in my pocket and waved a farewell. “Time to wake up now.”

So I did.

[switchywitchy]

Aegis Reign - A Lynchpin Enchantment

To enchant an object for Protection and Self-Control

Side note: A lynchpin enchantment is a major spell working. It is not suggested for beginner or baby Witchlings,due to its complexity and energy requirements. This spell will essentially take two spells and tie them together with a third spell to enchant a single object. I have made this one as simple as I can, but it will be broken into three parts.

Part One: Aegis (Protection)

You will need:

⚔️a small mirror ⚔️a piece of thick paper (like construction paper) preferably in the color black ⚔️a white marker/pen (chalk will work in a pinch, but we want to be sure the writing will stay and not smudge) ⚔️a compass (writing utensil, not the kind for determining direction) or something to make a large circle ⚔️scrap paper and a pencil (optional)

-On your construction paper, trace a large circle using the compass. You will want to make it as large as possible and full up as much as the paper as you can! Once you’ve gotten the placement you like, trace around the circle with your white marker/pen.

-Place your small mirror in the center of the larger circle you just drew, and trace around it carefully with the white marker/pen. You should now have what looks like a donut on the paper before you.

-Pick the top-most point of the large circle and, following the curve of the circle, start writing what you are protected from.

Write as large or as small as you’d like, but be specific and cover as much space inside the circle as you can! (Example: I am protected from spiritual attacks. I am protected from unwanted attention. I am protected from being harassed… etc etc.) this does not have to follow any sort of order.

As you write, feel your energy and power flow into the pen and onto the paper. Imagine whatever represents protection to you- crossed swords, a shield, shining energy, a bomb shelter, whatever works for you- and think of each sentence as a building and strengthening it.

You will have to turn the paper as you write to stay circular, and when you’re finished, the words should look like a spiral that fill up the whole outer circle.

Alternatively, you can use your scrap paper to sketch out several sigils that correspond with what protections you want, and then you can fill the outer circle with those. While sigils look cooler, I personally prefer the worded approach.

-Place your mirror in the smaller circle, reflective side up. Imagine all negatively and malice that could be placed upon you being reflected upon the people who sent it by the mirror.

-Read your protections aloud, envisioning all of them strengthening the mirror. When finished, remove your mirror and store it face-down.

-Allow your paper to charge in the moonlight overnight, then store it somewhere dark.

Part Two: Reign (Self-Control)

You will need:

🛡a small square of fabric, preferably green, approx 4-5" (you can get these at the craft store, or even sometimes as fabric samples) 🛡a small handful of dirt (garden dirt is great for this) 🛡a small rose quartz, selenite, and amethyst 🛡a small nail or screw 🛡a plain string

-Take your handful of dirt, and spread it out somewhere sunny to dry. You want to make sure your dirt is 100% dry! Break up any large clumps, and remove any large stones that came up with the dirt. Small stones (smaller than your pinkie nail) are okay to leave in it.

-When your dirt is completely dry, gather it up and carefully place it in the center of your fabric square.

-Place your crystals in the dirt and say:

“Rose Quartz for love; of myself and others. May I act and feel with love and compassion. Selenite for mindfulness; of myself and others. May I be mindful of my emotions and thoughts. Amethyst for clarity; of myself and others. May I view each situation clear of undue influences.”

-Place the small nail into the center of the pile and say:

“A nail for reminding; When my emotions make me lose my head.”

-Carefully gather the edges of the fabric, and tie it closed with the string. Leave it to charge in the sun, then store it somewhere it will not be disturbed.

Part Three: The Lynchpin

You will need:

⚔️Your Aegis Shield from Part One 🛡Your Reign bundle from Part Two 🔮The lynchpin item you wish to enchant ⛓Three small tea light candles

-Light all three candles

-Place the first in the center of your Aegis Shield, the second next to your Reign bundle, and the third next to the lynchpin item. (A ring or necklace works well as a lynchpin item, since they can be worn every day and are inconspicuous.)

-As the candles burn, imagine the energy from each of the items swirling up and combining into a glowing ball in the air.

-As the energy grows, reach out and funnel it into the lynchpin item. (You may find it easier to “braid” the energy together and attach it to the lynchpin; finding a good visualization for this type of energy work can be difficult but keep trying! Some people use a “spindle” visualization, some use energy beams, whatever works for you!)

-Feel the energy filling your lynchpin. When it is full, be sure to stop the flow of energy from your Aegis and Reign items- you don’t want to overfill or overcharge your lynchpin item! Disperse any extra energy back to their respective places.

-Carefully blow out the three candles, and being mindful of proper safety practices, pour a bit of wax from each candle into the center circle of your Aegis Shield. Pour the remaining wax from the three candles into a safe container, such a small jar.

-When the wax on the Aegis Shield has hardened, place your lynchpin in the center circle. Leave it to charge overnight.

-After it has charged, store your Aegis Shield and Reign bundle somewhere they will not be disturbed. Wear your lynchpin item, which is now linked with the energy of the other items. If you feel the energy fade after some use, charge it on/near the reserved wax from the three candles.

You will now benefit from the major protections of the Aegis Shield, and the self control charms of your Reign bundle. Good luck! ⚔️🛡🔮

An original spell from the grimoire of Amanda Wren