Let’s start with this –
I am not the witch Pope. I cannot speak for the witchcraft community
as a whole; only for my own tradition.
5 Things I Believe
Beginner Witches Should Ask Themselves
Note that the answers to these things
will change, but that a firm grasp of the answers at any point in
your practice may be helpful to you. I recommend actually writing
your answers down, and every now and again check back and see if your
stance has shifted.
1. Is magick real?
If yes, then what do you mean
when you say, “Magick is real”. (Do you mean that you can effect
reality with your will, intent, and energy? Do you mean like, Harry
Potter real? What will disappoint you to realize might not be
probable? What will inspire you to realize you can accomplish?)
2. Where are your lines? (What do
you firmly believe is true/false, right/wrong? Violence, doing harm,
controlling others, etc. Would you punch someone if they threatened
a friend? Would you curse someone if they threatened a friend? What
would you do, if your coven head told you it was right but you felt
it was wrong?)
3. What are you looking for in a
magickal path? (Pro Tip – no one has all the answers and there is
no one right way.)
4. What are you prepared to do in
order to accomplish your goals? (How many spoons do you have to give
this practice? Can you devote one night a week, are you going to
randomly pick stuff up on Tumblr, are you going to leave society to
pursue your studies under a waterfall, etc.)
I recommend that no one make any oaths
or vows in their first year of practice. Get to know yourself, how
you feel about magick, and what you actually want to do before you do
any big commitments. (Historic anecdote – this is what the original
year and a day was for.) More strident, but still personal,
recommendation: if someone tries to get you to oath to them within
your first week of being a witch, run.
Things People Should
Tell Beginner Witches, But Often Don’t
1. Don’t be afraid to change your
2. Don’t throw good energy after
bad by continuing to do something that isn’t right for you.
3. Don’t be afraid to continue your
education, even if that means learning something that was right for
you before is no longer right for you.
4. There is no one right way to do
this. There is no Witch Pope - there is no dogmatic enforcement of
the path to being a witch.
5. There are absolutely as many
assholes in Paganism and witchcraft as there are anywhere else.
Don’t think that these people are all spiritually enlightened beings
who mean you well and who will give good advice.
6. Yahoo Answers
is not your friend. You have the internet – which has access
to both all of human information and all of human misinformation.
Look for credible sources. Anything that seems too easy or too good
to be true probably is. Work on critical thinking.
7. Try Scholar.Google.Com over
“this article says so on Patheos.com.” Seriously, recently an
article on there claimed Friday the 13th was a sacred
holiday in goddess centered pre-Christian Paganism before the
patriarchy ruined it. There is no
historical validation for that, but a bunch of witches reblogged
it. (Things you learn from scholarly sources rather than the latest
poorly edited Llewellyn mess: the Burning Times didn’t happen,
different kinds of Pagans warred amongst themselves long before
Christianity came onto the scene, there was no great unified Pagan
religion before Christianity, and Gerald Gardner was probably lying
about almost everything he said.)
You Should Probably
Learn the Difference Between Paganism, Wicca, and Witchcraft
What is Paganism?
Pagan is an umbrella term for a member
of a religious, spiritual, or cultural community, other than those of the main world religions, so:
Non-Abrahamic – it is not Christian,
Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, or Mormon
Non-Eastern – it is not Buddhism,
Hinduism, Taoism, Sufism, or Sikhism
Theistic – The belief in some kind
of divine power, which is sometimes polytheistic (a belief in more
than one god), but not always
Some Pagans practice witchcraft –
others do not.
This definition isn’t quite right, though it’s in hugely common usage, because there are Abrahamic and Eastern
persons who consider themselves Pagan. Keep in mind that there will be
exceptions to this definition and that those exceptions are valid.
There are also secular Pagans, so it
isn’t even always Theistic. I know – it’s complicated. Though this is the largely accepted Academic definition, it doesn’t really work when applied to the real world, if you’re considering someone saying, “I’m Pagan” as a self-identifying definition, which I do.
Wicca is a religion. Most people
consider Wicca as falling under the Paganism umbrella, although not
all Pagans are Wiccan. Not all Wiccans are witches, and not all
witches are Wiccan.
Wiccan is generally defined as:
Dualistic – There is a God and a
Pacifistic – Wicca has a rede that
requires Wiccan do no harm to themselves or others, though not all
Wiccans (such as those who follow Doreen Valiente’s suggested
guidelines) are Pacifistic, so there are definitely exceptions to
Earth-based – Having a respect for
and acknowledgment of the powers of the Earth
spiritual or secular art,
craft, and/or practice
of the witch, defined many ways by many different people.
witch is a witch who says they are one.
there is no witch Pope and no witchy excommunication because you
define yourself as a witch differently than someone else does.
male identifying and/or presenting persons can be witches.
and Witch Fallacies
There are certain ideas that most
beginners in the witchcraft community will encounter over and over
again. I’m going to run down some things – with the reminder,
again, that I can only speak for my personal tradition.
1. “You should remove all negative
influences from your life! You should purge all negative feelings! Be
positive all the time!” Not everything that is negative is bad.
Not everything negative can be avoided – we can’t all just quit
our jobs and live in a witch shack in the mountains. We have to
endure negative things, both because it is healthier to experience
the full range of human emotion rather than to ignore a large chunk
of it, and because it isn’t possible. What we should do is stop
victim blaming witches who are going through hard times and stop
telling witches they can’t be angry when they encounter something
that should be angering.
2. “But, tradition!” Just
because an affluent white guy in the 1400-1600s said something,
doesn’t mean you should do it. We don’t follow their medicinal advice
anymore; we don’t have to follow their magickal advice either.
Seriously, I don’t care if tradition says a trans woman shouldn’t
be in a sky clad ritual – that’s bullshit. We don’t put leeches
on our bodies anymore – let’s leave the past nonsense where it
3. “We have to make sure everyone
feels included and welcome!” Not
if they abuse the welcome of others, we do not. The
problem with making some people feel included and welcome is that you
make their victims feel excluded and unwelcome because you’ve made
“We have to support each other and love each other and be
a positive force in people’s lives.”
Okay, yes, in small doses, this is a great aim. It doesn’t work for
everyone (some witches are spite and malice fueled and they are still
witches), but okay, it’s a nice idea. Until it becomes ableist or
demands free emotional labor from people, which
it often does.
“We have to educate them!”
Okay, it’s great that there is this effort in the community to
educate others. But if you don’t have the spoons or if it seems
like they’re using the demand for their own education as a way to
still have access to a community they are abusing, then no, you have
no obligation to put their education over your well being. None. They
have access to Google (even if they have to go to a library to use
6. “You have to earn your right to
be a witch.” No, no you don’t. Seriously, though, from whom?
Dusty white men in graves? A Llewellyn author who couldn’t fact
check themselves out of a paper bag? Again – no witch Pope. I’m
just gonna keep pointing out the lack of a witch Pope until people
7. “You have to be ________ rank,
degree, etc. to have an opinion on this topic.” Yeah, okay,
I’ll be sure to wave my certificate in your face before having an
opinion on my own tradition. No. Your opinion may
be an uneducated one and you may be corrected for it, but that
doesn’t mean that you didn’t have the right to it before you
completed your O levels at Hogwarts.
a corollary to above, “This is just my opinion and you
can’t be mad at me for it!” People
absolutely have a right to their opinions. And everyone else the
right to decide those opinions make them an asshole.
“I’m super special and powerful because xyz, which
means I get to tell you what to do.”
People only get to tell you what to do if you let them. Sometimes,
that’s an exchange we willingly make, but other times, people will
feel they have the right to tell you what to do because they are a
hereditary witch or because they’ve been practicing longer. Just
remember – their position doesn’t trump your humanity and you
don’t have to kiss the feet of someone who kicks you.
“The person really wants _____ from you, and you should
help them on their path. Helping them on their path helps you on
yours!” Just because
someone wants something from you, doesn’t mean they get it. Being a
witch doesn’t take away your right to say no.
Please remember that you don’t have to
earn your right to be here. This one is tricky on some level – to
be the respected person in your community, you need to put in your
time. However, in order to be part of a group you don’t need to give the High Priest a blow job (seriously, run).
You don’t have to earn admission to witchcraft, but
you do have to earn specific positions and other people’s trust. If you teach people not to trust you
through your actions, they won’t trust you.
Here is the list of the 105 witchcraft questions I just finished answering. I answered one each day but feel free to answer them all at once or however you want to do it. Tag your it!
1. Are you solitary or in a coven?
2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other?
3. What is your zodiac sign?
4. Do you have a Patron God/dess?
5. Do you work with a Pantheon?
6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or any other kind of divination?
7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any)
8. How would you define your craft?
9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do?
10. How long have you been practicing?
11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars?
12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation?
13. Do you have a magical name?
14. Are you “out of the broom closet”?
15. What was the last spell you performed?
16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable?
17. Do you write your own spells?
18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up?
19. Do you worship nature?
20. What is your favorite gemstone?
21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work?
22. Do you have an altar?
23. What is your preferred element?
24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist?
25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch?
26. What got you interested in witchcraft?
27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch?
28. Have you ever used ouija?
29. Do you consider yourself a psychic?
30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it?
31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started?
32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite?
33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children?
34. Do you meditate?
35. What is your favorite season?
36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform?
37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life?
38. What is your favorite witchy movie?
39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why?
40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not.
41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you?
42. What is your favourite type of candle to use?
43. What is your favorite witchy tool?
44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools?
45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits?
46. Do you practice color magic?
47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind?
48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies?
49. Do you believe in predestination or fate?
50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice?
51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences?
52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve?
53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent?
54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind?
55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster?
56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success?
57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about?
58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too?
59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work?
60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain?
61. What is something witch related that you want right now?
62. What is your rune of choice?
63. What is your tarot card of choice?
64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite?
65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses?
66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public?
67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch?
68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines?
69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft?
70. What are your favorite things about being a witch?
71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch?
72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band?
73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how?
74. Do you ever work skyclad?
75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how?
76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice?
77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc)
78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol?
79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not?
80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice?
81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow?
82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice?
83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it?
84. What real life witch most inspires your practice?
85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity?
86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients?
87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of?
88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it?
89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they?
90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven?
91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought?
92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been?
93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities?
94. What techniques do you use to 'get in the zone’ for meditation?
95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it?
96. Do you prefer day or night? Why?
97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work?
98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly?
99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice?
100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces?
101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy?
102. What is your favorite color and why?
103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond?
104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest?
105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice?
I’m sure I don’t draw enough witches right!? ;) I had these ladies sitting around from inktober on my Instagram . I love doodling characters with a brush pen. My brain feels so loose and organic when I do!
Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving) fingering, this is PWP
Prompt: Sam meets up with the reader at a bar, and neither of them want to go home alone. Both their jobs require them to move around a lot, and sometimes, they get a little antsy and crave the affection of another person. That leads them to Sam’s motel room for one night of pure fun.
You didn’t want, or even need a partner to settle down with. You had grown used to being alone and working alone and doing just about everything alone. But, a girl gets antsy from time to time.
Summary: Akaashi pulls a muscle and Bokuto offers to help him with yoga. Akaashi knows a bad idea when he sees it, and he really only agrees because he’s suddenly acquired a deeply rooted desire to see Bokuto do yoga.For multiple reasons.
Summary: Realizing he’s got it bad for his setter is the easy part. Getting his feelings across might be the hardest thing Bokuto’s ever done, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and he wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything (especially the smoking remains of a cake he baked before he really understood his feelings, but knew that it’s what you attempt with your own two hands that matters).
There’s a lot of things Bokuto isn’t sure about now that he’s in university. His program, his new team, his future. There’s only one thing he’s absolutely sure of. He is not dating Akaashi Keiji. Not even a little bit.
Guess who’s back, back again? Davide’s back, tell a friend. Either way, hello everyone, and today, we’re getting a little old-fashioned. Like real old-fashioned. Like, pioneer witch old, y’know? That’s right kids, we’re drying our own herbs, and I’ve got three methods for each herb-drier out there: The “I’m, like, totes a wiccan,” The “Well, this should work faster,” and then the “This better goddamn work.”
Method One: Oldest
What You’ll Need:
Herbs, tied with twine
You’re going to tie a piece of twine to the thumbtack, and attach the other end of the twine to the herb bundle.
Push the thumbtack either into the wall or the ceiling to hang them.
Let dry for 6-12 months (Keep in dry, warm room, and if you’re harvesting seeds, you might want to wrap your herbs in cheesecloth first)
Method Two: Nature n’ Shit
What You’ll Need:
Herbs to dry
Table to place herbs on
Glass to put over herbs (and something to support the glass so it doesn’t touch the herbs)
Place herbs onto the table, and spread out so as to not have the herbs touch each other.
Put table into the sun, and place the glass panel over the table
Let dry in direct sunlight for 12 hours (until brittle)
Method Three: Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That
What You’ll Need:
Herbs to dry
Place your herbs in a thin layer on one paper towel, and lay another paper towel on top of that.
Place into your microwave, and cook on high for one minute. Let rest for thirty seconds. Then microwave again for thirty seconds–you will repeat a series of rest for thirty seconds then cooking for thirty seconds
The herbs should be dried after approximately 10-15 minutes
Well… that was fun, right? Either way, thank you for reading through this, and I hope you guys stay tuned for the next installment of “Apothecary Lessons.” Talk to y’all later :)
studied her, taking in her features from afar.
almost memorized her and the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she
would get so lost in her own thoughts in class.
walk to the side closest to a wall alongside Neville Longbottom and her
Hufflepuff friend Lynne. She would make small conversation and express small
emotions. Very rarely would she draw attention to herself, her smiles being
short and sweet and her laughs as delicate as a daisy petal.
She had a
nervous twitch where she would play with her hair in some shape or form,
twiddling it between her index finger and her thumb or curling it around a few
times before brushing it out again.
like rough flirting. He had figured that out immediately when Cormac approached
(Name) and shot out some weird pick up lines, did the thing where he trapped
her between two of his arms and backed her against a wall, and basically told her she had to go out on a date
was obvious when all he received was a hard slap to the face and hard shove
partners in Potions once and Draco
found himself staring at her constantly. She was so gentle, yet she knew how to
stand up for herself.
learned so much about her just by studying her and seeing how she reacted to
the other hand, didn’t even try to approach her. He knew all it would end in
was a rejection, and honestly he didn’t want his reputation damaged… No matter
how infatuated he was with her.
turned his attention from the Hufflepuff girl scurrying to catch up with her
“… Did you hear me?” Blaise snapped his fingers in front of him, causing him to
what you were staring at.” Blaise stated, eyes narrowed. “A chick?”
scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her facial features scrunched up, causing her face
to look distorted. “As if, Zambini. Draco is too good for all of these petty
witches. Isn’t that right, Draco?” Draco rolled his eyes enough to let Pansy
know that she was getting on his nerves before he turned on his heel and
started walking, his friends following close behind.
Zambini. How about you mind your own business?” Blaise grunted and crossed his
arms, eyeing a certain girl running to Neville Longbottom.
her? Now that’s what you call
eye-candy,” Blaise whistled, raising his eyebrows. “Finally a real woman around
here.” Pansy, upon hearing his remarked, smacked the side of his arm with a
his gaze over to where Blaise was staring.
“Who is she
anyways? I’ve never even seen her,” Pansy spat, shooting a nasty stare at
know, but would ‘ya look at that.” Blaise pointed to her skirt, lifted ever so
slightly in the back. It looked wrinkled, as if she hadn’t bothered to readjust
after standing up.
his ears and cheeks heat up and had to force himself to avert his gaze.
though!” Pansy continued to smack Blaise, who in defense recoiled and jogged
down the hall. Pansy followed after him, face red from anger. Behind Pansy
trotted Crabbe and Goyle, claiming that she had something of theirs stored with
left in the middle of the hall, shamefully trying to ignore the presence of
(Name) and the view that taunted him from only a few feet away.
happened to be glancing that way to see none other than Harry Potter and his
crew stroll over to join in the circle of friends conversing.
couldn’t handle it anymore. He was raised a gentleman, and a gentleman wouldn’t
let a lady expose herself in public with his knowing.
that’s what he told himself. In reality he just saw Harry’s face light up like
a lantern when he caught a glance of (Name).
Slytherin strolled over, biting his lip and refusing to look down a few inches.
his throat when he was directly behind her, signaling his appearance. (Name)
turned around, a puzzled expression evident on her face.
Malfoy…” She seemed surprised to see him standing there, red and flustered.
“Can I help you?” She seemed more welcoming than her friends as they all shot
glares up and down Draco’s form.
we help you?” Ron’s mop of ginger
hair moved with him whipping his head over to where Draco was standing.
talking to you, Weasley,” Draco
huffed. “Anyways, I wanted to politely inform you… That, um…” His face
reddened, unable to form anything but jumbled and indefinable words.
Uh… Your skirt.” His voice shrank with each syllable.
it?” (Name) looked at him with an eyebrow cocked in confusion.
Uh… A bit short…” (Name)’s eyes widened immediately, her arms shooting to the
back of her skirt to pull it down. Her face was red and she looked like she was
about to cry.
you for informing me…” Her voiced cracked before she excused herself and
briskly walked away from the group. Her friends were staring at Draco with a
scowl. He shot them a sideways glare before discreetly following her.
He ended up
in a nearly empty corridor, (Name) seated on a bay windowsill.
The Hufflepuff girl’s head shot up.
came here to tease me about it, I suggest you leave.” Her tone was cold and wavering.
really wanted to tease you about it, why would I have confronted you alone?”
(Name) took a few seconds to read over his response and nodded.
hesitantly neared (Name) whose head was down in mortification and shame.
you okay?” Draco didn’t exactly comfort people on a daily basis, so he was very
careful of his words and actions.
She took a
while to respond, sighing. “Yeah, just embarrassed. Thank you for informing me,
though… It could’ve been a lot worse.”
crying?” Draco wanted to curse himself. Had he really just asked that? “On the
verge…” (Name) replied with a halfhearted laugh.
know why I wanted to cry, though… I guess I got so embarrassed…” The girl
sighed again and scooted over on her windowsill to let Draco sit beside her. He
complied, unsure of how to answer her previous statement.
There was a
long moment of silence before (Name) spoke up, looking Draco directly in the
“I know you
stare at me.” He sputtered, eyes narrowing.
know what you’re talking about! I am not as lowly as to-“
it, Malfoy. There’s no purpose in lying.” He grunted, not replying.
“So why do
you stare at me, then?” She spoke up, eyes sparkling with newfound interest.
(Name) leaned back and crossed her arms, waiting for a response. Draco studied
her, missing the sight of her features from a closer angle.
“I… Am not
sure, actually.” His tone was soft, but sincere. “I suppose you just stand out
from other people.”
please. I’m a good-girl student who is too caught up in her own daydreaming
that she leaves class with her skirt hiked up. I can’t be that unique. But
thank you… For the compliment that is…” Draco nodded once as if saying ‘you’re
delicate and kind, yet somehow you also manage to be tough. You’re not a
pushover, nor are you overbearing. And most of all you don’t make a fool out of
yourself in front of me.” Draco laughed softly to lighten the mood.
wouldn’t say that. I basically gave you an entire view… I would say that’s
pretty bad.” (Name) smiled in return.
see some other girls… What happened today was nothing,” he mumbled, entranced
by the smile she offered him. (Name) giggled, tugging on her sleeve nervously.
“So, um… Why exactly… Did you tell me about that? You could’ve easily just let
me humiliate myself in front of everyone…” Draco froze. What was he supposed to
say? ‘Because I’ve mildly stalked you for months now because you had me hooked
ever since our one Potions assignment?’
“I… Uh… It
just happened to catch my attention… It was distracting me and…”
you?” (Name) repeated with a raised eyebrow.
mean…!” She looked at the Slytherin struggling to form words and placed a
comforting hand atop his.
yourself. You can tell me later.” Draco’s breath hitched and if his face wasn’t
already a bold shade of red, then damn was it now.
down from the windowsill, leaving a lingering feeling on the hand that she
suppose I’ve idled here for a few moments now. Thanks, again.” She smiled and
started to walk away before she was pulled back gently. Draco gently grasped
her hand with an almost pleading look in his brilliant gray eyes. She was
almost taken aback at his brashness.
She tilted her head and looked at him.
understand this must sound sudden, but um… Would you like to accompany me this
weekend to Hogsmeade? Or it doesn’t have to necessarily have to be there… Just
anywhere, really…? Just the two of us?” Draco’s eyes were soft and gentle. His
hand grasped hers as if she was a gem that could shatter with the smallest
expression fell at her response. He retracted his hand, turning to leave. “Wait!”
She looked at him with a confused stare. He looked back at her, mirroring her
a ‘no’, silly… I was simply just surprised! In fact, I would love nothing more
than to accompany you somewhere… Just the two of us.” She smiled and nudged him
playfully. He grinned back at her, showing a rare side of him she had never
seen. (Name) approached him with a rosy tint dusting her cheeks and planted a
dainty kiss on his cheekbone before bidding him a goodbye.
He stood in
the corridor, grazing the place she had kissed him with his fingertips, his
expression dazed and dreamy.
(Name) did the same, almost thanking her bad luck for the skirt incident.
Prompts: 13-”If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”, 106-”Stop being so cute.”
Summary: Reader accidentally finds out that she’s a witch and has a conversation about it with her boyfriend Klaus.
The times were hard for Mikaelsons. Every supernatural being in the city was turning against them and the enemies seeking revenge were emerging from every corner of the world.
So once weird things had started to happen to me I had decided to keep it to myself rather than bothering Klaus with it. I still hoped that maybe I was just being paranoid, but the hope was slowly leaving me as more unexplainable stuff was happening.
Isak is holding him tight in his arms right now, his warm breath on his neck, Isak’s cold feet pressed against Even’s toasted toes. Even’s arms holding on to Isak’s across his chest. and their hearts beating in unison.
Even is smiling as he asks Isak “what are you thinking” (it’s their own special game where they have to say the first word that pops into their head)
Isak responds with “kebab"
Even chuckles deeply and turns in Isak’s arms so he can face his beautiful boyfriend
"you’re thinking about food while in bed with me?"
Isak shrugs "i’m hungry” then asks Even what he is thinking.
Even responds with “you. always you” and Isak rolls his eyes with deep pink cheeks and shouts “you are cheating!"
Even shakes his head "no i’m not"
"YES that’s cheating"
Even tackles him and holds him down as he nose kisses his angel
"You think there are rules here?"
Isak smiles fondly up at Even before pulling him down and holding him tight against him, Even’s head resting in the curve of Isak’s neck.
"I was thinking about you” Even says softly after a moment, making Isak’s world turn into a bright glow of warmth and love.
he smiles before leaning over and whispering in the man of his life’s ear…
If your medications come to you in a bottle, save it! You can use them for holding small items, act as a small spell jar, use them for holding different types of water, all kinds of things!
Make sure to clean them out as necessary before re-purposing them.
I myself am a closeted witch, and I’m using one right now to hold water to be charged under the moonlight. I plan to use my moon water to add a little to my baths, or my tea! Or even pour it into my water bottle. I don’t need a whole lot for these, so a small medication bottle is perfectly sized.
To remove any stickers that are on the bottles:
Try your best to take them off by hand first. Then you can use a warm rag, and soak the stickers. This will make them easier to peel off! Then you can put your own labels, or anything you like on them if you wish.
A lot of medication bottles are orange, so they could be useful for spells and such that would benefit from that color!
Fenris could bear the giggling no longer. “What?” he snapped.
“You’re in love,” she accused, and alarm flashed through
him. It was a familiar feeling, that sense of dread, the cold that rushed down
his spine, the quick, sick surge in his belly. Fenris jerked, and missed a
step. He looked, quickly, to Hawke, several paces away. The mage’s back was to
him, and he gave no indication he had heard. That didn’t necessarily mean
Merrill was never cruel, but she was, often, thoughtless.
When he looked to the little witch, her satisfied smile made it clear his
reaction had told her everything she thought she needed to know.
“I am not,” Fenris
hissed, low, guilty, afraid. Hawke did not know. Hawke could never know.
Merrill did not take the hint. “You keep looking at Hawke
with those sad puppy eyes every time his back is turned!” she said, too loudly.
He jerked his glare from her to Hawke, but the man wasn’t looking. No one was.
He heard her. He had to hear her. They all did. He felt sick.
“There are no
puppy eyes,” Fenris growled, his head lowered, his hands clenched. Hawke had to
believe it. The only way for Hawke to be happy was for Hawke to believe it –
for Hawke to feel free to move on, to give his love to someone who deserved it.
Hawke’s hands were
worshipful on his body. His voice was reverent in his ear. “I love you. I love
you. I lo
Merrill touched his arm. Fenris jerked violently away. He
snarled. The wretched witch only smiled.
“It’s all right, you know,” she told him gently. “Even you can be happy once in a while; it won’t
Hawke’s ears were red. When he glanced back, he was
stone-faced, unreadable. Fenris quickly dropped his eyes. His hand fell to the
favor on his wrist. He shouldn’t keep wearing it. He didn’t have the strength
to remove it.
“But!” Merrill went on, failing to notice this exchange. She
was cheerful, delighted in her discovery. “Your face might crack if you smile,”
she told him. “So be careful!”
By the time Jamie caught up to Ian and Claire, Ian had worn down much of Claire’s resistance. When she saw Jamie and the pleading in his eyes, the rest dissolved. She had come for more than just herself; she had come to bring him news of his daughter and was slightly ashamed to have been so quick to run away.
That didn’t make the prospect of meeting with him in the house he shared with another woman any more palatable, however.
With Ian accompanying them on the walk to that house, there was little either was comfortable saying to the other. Luckily, the lad––who had come to Edinburgh to surprise his uncle and enjoy himself––was more than happy with the excitement of the unexpected turn of events.
“Mam says ye’re the one told her to start plantin’ potatoes and that it’s a right miracle ye did,” he informed Claire as he worked on recounting everything he’d ever heard said of her, the mysterious aunt who healed folk and seemed to have the sight––might even be a fairy or possibly a witch.
“That’s right,” Claire confirmed for him.
“Dinna talk yer auntie’s ear off before we even get home,” Jamie chided, then flushed as he caught Claire looking sideways at him.
Claire took a deep breath as Ian ran ahead to the front door of what must be Jamie and Mary’s house; it looked like the two houses on either side had crowded in on it and in response it had sucked in it’s stomach and raised itself on its toes in an attempt to be taller and skinnier.
Jamie’s hand was suddenly on her elbow helping to guide her up the steps and through the door behind Ian.
It smelled wonderful. Mary had meat roasting in a deep skillet set at the edge of the hearth and Claire thought she smelled some vegetables and butter alongside them. The space, while small, was clean, warm, and inviting. There was already a small pallet in one corner with blankets that Ian was arranging for his use that evening. There were a few shelves with books, a shadow of the study and library he’d had at Lallybroch; perhaps he had even printed those copies himself. A pair of chairs sat opposite each other near the hearth, a basket of knitting and mending next to one, the other in reach of the bookshelves. Claire could easily picture them sitting together in the evening, Mary mending Jamie’s shirt while he read to her.
Jamie kept contact with Claire, his hand drifting from her elbow to the small of her back as he led her inside.
Mary appeared from the doorway that led to the kitchen and dining area and smiled encouragingly at Claire.
“Supper will be ready presently. Jamie can show ye upstairs to wash if ye like.”
Claire turned to Jamie who nodded but she could also see the self-consciousness in the flush creeping up his neck.
The stairway was narrow and steep and Claire was incredibly aware of everything around her as Jamie opened to what could only be the bedroom he shared with Mary. The bed sported two distinct depressions––she couldn’t help noting the space between them; there was a single small table that they clearly shared with Mary’s brush and hair pins on one side and a small stack of paper with a bottle of ink and a single quill marking Jamie’s side.
Claire spotted the second smaller table with its basin and ewer and a small mirror next to the door and moved to do something that, after years of surgery, she found incredibly calming. Jamie poked around the room while Claire poured the water and scrubbed away the dust and sweat of her journey then dampened a nearby cloth to wipe it from her face and neck too. She caught Jamie’s reflection in the mirror watching her from a seat on the edge of the bed as she toyed with some loose tendrils of her hair, repinning them and patting down the frizz.
It was easier for her to begin while not looking at him directly.
“I thought he was your son,” she said quietly.
“I ken what ye thought,” Jamie admitted. “He’s more a son to me than any of Jenny and Ian’s other bairns––they’ve six and near twice as many grandbairns now… But I’ve no children with Mary.”
There was a beat and Claire waited for him to finish the thought or by any other women but when his eyes found hers––even in the reflection of the mirror––she could see that it wasn’t coming. His fear that she would flee again was also evident when his eyes drifted from hers to the door just a foot away. She swallowed then carefully rinsed and wrung out the dirty cloth she’d been using before folding it and setting it next to the basin.
“I do have a son, but I need ye to let me explain,” he begged.
Claire nodded and moved to sit beside him on the bed, her hands flat on the fabric of her skirt.
“Go ahead,” she told him keeping her eyes on the fading redness in her fingers from where she had scrubbed the skin hard from habit.
Jamie told her about his time at Helwater and Ardsmuir before that; about Major Grey and how his brother had spared his life after Culloden; he told her about the cave and the one night he shared there with Mary.
“When we wed––Mary and I––she said that night had been consummation enough though it was years before. That night before I was handed over… she was right––it gave me something that helped me when I went to Ardsmuir… but it took something from me too,” Jamie tried to explain. He couldn’t look at Claire but he could feel her sitting there beside him listening and saying nothing. “I think she didna want me to lose more of whatever it was… that what there was to gain wasna enough to justify that loss.”
“And… you lost some of that with… with the woman at Helwater?” Claire asked.
Jamie nodded. “I dinna quite ken what it is but… I think it’s to do with you… with the man I was when I was with ye; the man ye made me.”
“Did the boy––your son––did… did he give some of it back?”
The corner of Jamie’s mouth ticked up but Jamie shrugged. “Perhaps. He was a braw lad and did bring me joy though I couldna claim him for my own. I didna see him much when he was a wee thing––more when he got so he could walk and would make his nurses mad wi’ findin’ trouble. His mother’s family would ha’ let him commit murder wi’out taking him to task but he minded me well enough and the horses fascinated him. I could see… He didna have my hair––and thank the lord for small miracles for that… but I could see a bit of myself in him and the way he looked. I always… wondered…” Jamie peeked up at Claire then but she was still looking at her hands in her lap. “I wondered… did he look like his brother? Was Brian that old when he walked first or started talkin’… I didna think you would be so indulgent as William’s nurses were.”
“Brian?” Claire blinked, momentarily confused.
Jamie watched tears flood her eyes as his meaning settled and Claire reached for something in her skirt pocket, something that rustled.
“You can see for yourself,” she explained extricating a small packet that had some sort of shiny film encasing it. “But, your William doesn’t have an older brother,” she handed him the packet. They seemed to be some sort of printed paper but of a thick stock and with a shiny finish that was different from the transparent film that Claire had removed. “I called her Brianna,” Claire told him, adjusting the item in his hands so that he could make out the image of a swaddled newborn. “She’s named for both your parents, actually––Brianna Ellen. She did inherit your hair…” Claire pointed to one of the images that was brightly colored, the lass’ ruddy hair vibrant enough to touch. She moved that image behind to stack to bring a new one to the front. Brianna looked out from the photo with annoyance and disgust as laughs escaped both Jamie and Claire. “She’s got more than a bit of your temper and stubbornness too.”
“She’s beautiful, Claire,” Jamie said, his voice full of tears and his fingers gripping the photographs tightly.
She looked up at him with worry. His eyes were still locked on the photos though she knew he couldn’t see them through the tears.
“I’m… I’m so sorry I couldna… that I canna…” he mumbled.
Instinctively Claire slipped an arm around him and guided his head till it came to rest on her shoulder. The photos fluttered as his grip loosened and they drifted to the floor, his freed hands and arms tightening desperately around Claire. She clung to him, too.
“Do ye think… Do ye feel…” Jamie mumbled into her hair.
“What do I feel?” Claire asked before sighing and letting her head rest against his, her cheek pressed to the warmth of his throat. “I feel… tired. I’m tired of missing you; I’m tired of being angry with you for making me go; I’m tired of being scared of what you’ll think or what you’ll say.” As she spoke her tears flowed freely, wetting his throat and dribbling down the back of his neck. She was vaguely aware of his tears dampening the collar of her dress. “I’m tired of living without you.”
“Aye… In twenty years there’s not a day I’ve not thought of ye and longed to have ye with me… that I’ve no wanted to talk to ye or just have yer hand to hold,” he murmured. “Now ye’re here… If ye go again…”
Claire sniffed and turned her face away from his neck, keeping her cheek pressed to his shoulder but looking at the table with Mary’s things on it.
“And what about Mary? If you didn’t have another wife…”
Jamie’s deep breath shuddered through Claire causing her to pick up her head and pull back to look at him. He rubbed at his red and watery eyes.
“If… If Mary weren’t my wife any longer…”
“I didn’t come here to break apart whatever it is you’ve built with her,” Claire interrupted firmly but with evident pain. “I’ve been close enough to the other side before––”
“Frank had a wife before ye and she came back for him did she?” Jamie quipped but Claire wasn’t amused. Jamie bent to begin retrieving the fallen photographs.
“I might not have loved Frank the way I love you––maybe not even the way you care for Mary––but I’ve been close enough to having someone else upend my entire life without asking. I’m not about to do the same to someone else––especially not someone who’s done nothing wrong,” Claire argued.
“Ye’re right… It’s no the same wi’ me and Mary as it was for you and Frank,” he said rising from the bed to retrieve the scattered photographs from the floor. “She never sought to replace ye or made me feel guilty for no bein’ able to let ye go. She’s been a comfort and no mistake but you…” He set the carefully stacked photographs with his things on the table and crossed to take Claire’s face gently between his hands, making it impossible for her to look away from him. “You alone heal me down to my very soul. Havin’ ye near makes me feel whole again, makes me feel stronger. Ye’re the heart of my life.” He bent his head and kissed the tracks of her tears along her cheeks until she took hold of his wrists and offered him her lips.
The kiss left her breathless and the silence stretched between them as he rested his forehead against hers. They could hear the commotion downstairs as Mary told Ian that supper wasn’t ready just yet and the over-eager teen whined about how hungry he was.
“I should go see if she needs any help,” Claire whispered. “It’s the least I can do.”
Jamie nodded and helped pull Claire to her feet. She led the way while he secreted the photographs of Brianna away.
Once his stomach was full, Ian curled up on the pallet in the corner and promptly fell asleep.
“Did anyone notice whether he turned around three times first?” Claire asked quietly.
It had surprised her how calm everything had been after she and Jamie came back downstairs; Mary smiled and asked Claire about her journey, about where she’d been and what had happened, how she’d heard about Jamie and found him after all this time. It was impossible not to relax confronted with such warmth and welcome. Ian too had chimed in with questions––what was life like for her in France, had she kept in touch with the other Jacobites who had managed to escape, why hadn’t she written to his parents once she was settled to let them know she lived.
“I’m sorry if it feels like I’m questioning ye too much,” Mary apologized, rising to remove the bowls and dirtied plates. “It’s just… ye always were such a mystery even before.”
“Let me help you wash up,” Claire offered taking her own bowl to the kitchen area. She heard Jamie rising and locking the house up for the night, adding a log to the fire and pulling a third chair over.
Alone with Mary, Claire felt compelled to apologize.
“If I had known about you and Jamie…”
Mary waved a dismissive hand at Claire. “If either of ye had kent the truth about the other bein’ still alive, there wouldna be anythin’ for ye to worry yerself over. It shouldna take too long to straighten this mess.”
“You… truly don’t mind?” Claire asked, still unconvinced.
Mary smiled to herself. “I ken ye didna notice me so much about Lallybroch when ye were there––no wi’ what ye had just gone through yerself.”
Claire blushed at the memory of those early days back in Scotland after everything that had happened in France. It did take a while for the comforts of Lallybroch and the reassurance of having Jamie with her where they belonged had healed those still-fresh hurts.
“I noticed you,” she assured Mary. “I don’t know that I ever told you how sorry I was about what happened to your husband––to Ronald, that is.”
Mary nodded. “I tried to dissuade him, ye ken. After the beating Jamie gave him and Rabbie goin’ to work in yer stables. I tried to get him to leave it but he wouldna heed and… Ye’d done my Rabbie a kindness and I tried to repay ye… tried and failed. And Mistress… that is… Jenny––she and Ian showed still more kindness givin’ me a place at Lallybroch too after the fire. And when ye came back and Rabbie had his fits…”
Claire heard the thickening of Mary’s voice as she rambled and the somewhat strangled noise as Mary swallowed her tears.
“I ken what ye would say––that ye’d have done as much for anyone––and I’m sure ye would. You and Jamie both… It’s just yer way. But it’s meant so much to me and mine… Yer Jamie needed someone to turn to when ye were gone and I’ve tried to be that for him since I couldna prevent what Ronald did before… I think I’ve done him some good though what he needed of me wasna what I first expected. Now ye’re here the best good I can do for both of ye is to let ye be. No… I truly dinna mind.”
Claire crossed and wrapped Mary in a hug surprising the other woman into briefly laughing before returning the embrace.
“Thank you,” Claire whispered. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
“Ye’re welcome, Mistress.”
Claire shook her head. “Claire. Please… call me Claire.”
“Ye’re welcome, Claire.”
Pulling back and wiping her own damp eyes, Claire rolled up the sleeves of her gown and moved to fetch the large kettle from where it was warming near the hearth, then brought it to the washtub where Mary was depositing the dirty dishes.
“Do you have an idea for what you will like to do once everything is settled? I don’t expect you’ll want to go back to Lallybroch.”
“My Rabbie’s settled in London now––with a wife. He’s asked me to come for a visit a few times now but I’ve no been in a position to do so before…” She looked to Claire conspiratorially casting her glance toward the light from the other room where the crisp sound of a page turning could occasionally be heard amongst the crackling of the fire in the hearth. “I’ve no told Jamie yet––the letter only came yesterday and I didna have a chance to go through it till this morning––but Rabbie writes they’re expectin’ a bairn.”
“Congratulations,” Claire whispered with sincere relief.
“Aye. Ye needna feel ye’re puttin’ me out. Like as not were ye here or no I’d be goin’ to London for a time anyhow. Now I dinna have to feel so torn about comin’ back or no.”
Jamie offered to sleep on the floor by Ian so the two women could have the comfort of a proper bed but Mary wouldn’t hear of it.
“You ken better than anyone how easy I sleep in that chair,” Mary teased Jamie. “I enjoy the stories well enough but the sound of his voice sends me straight to sleep,” she explained to Claire. “He tried carryin’ me to bed once and put his back out and I scolded him enough he’s never tried it since.”
Claire pursed her lips as she took in the redness of Jamie’s face.
“Are you sure you don’t sleep better down here because you don’t have to listen to his snoring?” she asked, earning a glare from Jamie.
“I dinna snore so loud as you do, Sassenach.”
“Then I’ll sleep doubly well so far from both of yer snoring,” Mary said ushering the two of them to the stairs with a knowing grin that had Claire blushing alongside Jamie.
Nerves overcame Claire when she and Jamie were alone in the bedroom again. She crossed to where she saw Mary’s things and grabbed up the first things that her hands found.
“Mary will be needing these,” she stammered heading for the door again. “I’ll be right back.”
Mary already had a blanket spread in her lap and her feet propped up on a small footstool when Claire hesitantly approached.
“I thought you might want these,” Claire said, placing them on the floor beside Mary’s chair.
“He’s as nervous as you are,” Mary said quietly, her eyes still closed.
Claire rolled her eyes and slipped away again. Knowing Jamie was nervous too didn’t help quell the anxious fluttering in her stomach but it did steel her resolve.
A sole candle lit the room when Claire eased her way back in. Jamie’s clothes had been folded and set aside next to his boots and stockings. She could make out the shape of him sitting up in bed, waiting for her.
Reaching behind her, Claire took a deep breath that she let out as she pulled the zipper of her dress down to the base of her spine, the loose fabric slipping from her shoulders and baring her torso. The rest of the dress fell to the floor in a whisper of cotton a moment later. She swallowed as she stepped out of the dress, out of her shoes, and approached Jamie’s side of the bed in just her stockings.
“Jamie,” she breathed, extending one leg towards him in the dim, flickering light. “Will you help me with these?” There was nothing teasing or sultry in her voice, just a simple invitation to help them ease their way back into something that had once been accomplished with a look, a touch, a sigh.
Jamie shifted to the edge of the bed, his legs sliding free of the blankets. He took hold of Claire’s calf and gently raised her leg higher, resting her foot on one of his knees. His fingers skimmed their way up the silk stocking to find the garter holding it in place a few inches up her thigh and finding the gooseflesh his touch had raised when he overshot his mark.
The silk of her stocking was replaced by the light touch of his lips on her sensitive inner knee. Lowering one leg, she offered him the other and he did the same, resting his hand on her hip when he was done and guiding her closer to him till she stood between his knees. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling his head back so he had to look her in the eye.
“Ye’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted ye more than I do right now.”
She believed him and leaned into his kiss. He pulled her to him, easing back onto his elbows as she knelt above him on the bed before reaching between them and taking him into her. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head lolling back, then a smile lit his face.
“I thought when ye walked into the print shop ye must be a vision––one of my dreams escaped the night and found its way to me in the day,” he murmured as Claire slowly rocked her hips.
“Do you need me to pinch you to prove you’re not dreaming?” Claire offered. Her hand slid through the sparse hair on his chest as she reached for and found one of his nipples, gently squeezing between her thumb and forefinger and making his breath catch, his hands tighten on her waist.
“No, I ken ye’re no a dream,” he said, his hands applying pressure to her hips guiding her slowly forward and then back. “I could always tell when I took ye in a dream that there was something missing––I could feel my blood poundin’ wi’ yearning for ye but my chest felt empty. It’s full now, though; you are my heart restored to me. I am whole again.”
“We are whole again,” Claire informed him before bending to kiss him once more and smiling against him as his need refused to be contained and he rolled with her so he could ride her hard and fast. They had all night and twenty years to make a start of remedying.