I’ve seen a few asks/comments running around about how the witches of Tumblr seem to have all their ducks in a row and do magic spells 24/7 and are generally “perfect” because of it. I can tell you this is probably not the case. At least for me its not. I am not a Perfect Witch. I don’t rigorously follow the phases of the moon, most of the time i forget anyways. I don’t do spells on a regular basis (at least not what i consider to be spells) Heck most of the time the most witchy things i do is reblog stuff to this tumblr.
So for newbie witches and hidden witches please understand: It’s completely okay to not be a “perfect” witch. Once you’ve discovered that you’re a witch you don’t have to cast spells 24/7 in order to protect your title. The Title of Witch is yours as soon as you decide you want to Claim It. No one can or should tell you how to run your path. That is something you will have to discover for yourself, and honestly that’s the best part of the journey. So you forgot a sabbat, big whoop. Sabbats come and go and i rarely do anything for them anyways (maybe halloween but thats tradition haha) Another full moon pass you by? That’s okay, some people don’t like working with the moon and that’s also okay. Try casting a spell and you don’t think it worked? Trust me i still do spells and most of the time they don’t work too.
So to all the newbies and hidden witches: Do not fret. You have plenty of time to come into your path and please please please do not feel like you HAVE to be perfect in your path. I am proud to follow my path with all its bumps and turns it throws at me
One thing I absolutely love about manga/Brotherhood Roy and Riza is that, despite them holding different ranks in the military where one is technically subordinate to the other, it’s clear that they overall respect and treat each other as equals.
Now, I hadn’t planned to drabble this but it has been on my mind for hours nooooow!! It’s the start of Spring and lambs are allowed to skip around their excited hearts in the grass and there’s the small rows of ducks following in their mothers trail!!
Now guys, can you believe how Isak and Even took a walk today? Their hands joined together like super glue, spring-inspired lips and swimming stomachaches dancing in railroads all the way to their knees. They stop once a while, watch the lambs play tag with each other between their mothers legs. They hug and for the first time they hug outside and can actually feel it. Their arms so so close to eachother because the jackets are thinner and their hearts are that tad bit thicker.
But, it’s pink visioned on emerald green when Even looks up and sees Isak cross legged on the ground next to the lake. His jacket all falling down his shoulders but he doesn’t really bring himself to care. He looks so, vividly pastel around the new forming apple blossoms and Even’s heart blooms into the brightest fushia around his ribs.
Because Isak is sitting there, jacket forgotten and light pants going green stained too, with the tiniest of yellow black ducks on his lap. Hes smiling that little bit, the way that breaks a scream to a tiny whisper, down and it just yaps happily at Isak’s fingers. Even hears him laugh ‘auwch’, like the way he does when he kisses him too hard or teases fingers around his bones, when it bites a little bit.
And, god damn, Even wishes his eyes were a camera. Because if he could, he’d forever want to remember how the one that’s his started his favourite season with a chorus of birds chirping and all, without Even even needing to taste a bit of sticky sweet lemonade against his lips.
Reasons I like entertaining the idea that Ed is actually playing the double agent (even though I know it’s unrealistic):
-Ed telling Oz to remember he is his best friend takes on the meaning that Ed is going into deep cover with Babs to stop her power play and he wants Oz to know he is not plotting against him (at the moment).
-Ed doing it because now that Babs knows Oz is in love with Ed, Ed has become a point of exploitation. He already was, in that he was a valuable asset as Chief of Staff, but nobody kidnaps a business relation for leverage. A romantic one, though? Oh heck yeah.
-Rather than potentially becoming a ‘damsel in distress’, Ed uses his agency to make Babs think that he is playing her game, even though he is playing the long con.
-Once Babs trusts him and he gets all his ducks in a row (i.e. assures that she will not try to use him as leverage to get to Oswald in the future, and sets up a scheme to overthrow and outwit her) he will betray her with a clever trap that takes away all of her power and influence.
-Ergo the only person in Gotham who knows Penguin’s weakness can now do nothing to act on that weakness in order to control him. Her knowledge is not longer power, and I’ll explain why in the next point.
-She still knows Oz is in love with Ed, sure. But she will never tell anyone else with actual power, because then whoever she told would be the one to dethrone Penguin, and SHE wants to be on top. This is her dilemma: tell someone with power and watch them take control in her stead (in which she gains nothing except perhaps their ear or their favour), or keep her knowledge to herself, biding her time until she is strong enough to actually use it again. Obviously she will do the latter, the girl’s a smart cookie. But it will take her a while to rebuild, and in the meantime the boys are safe.
-Finally, Oz is now safe from Babs’ control, and Ed doesn’t have to worry about being used as a bargaining chip against his best friend.
Where do they go from there? I don’t know. The possibilities range from: -romance -back to the old bromance, everything is forgotten and forgiven -a more distant, reserved friendship and camaraderie because Ed can’t quite forgive everything but is still fond of Oswald -Ed seeking a more personal revenge against Oswald now that he knows no one is going to abduct him and/or try to use him against Oz like a pawn (Ed is nobody’s pawn).
professionals and hustlers: gemini, leo, virgo, libra
out of all the signs, Gemini, Leo, Virgo, and Libra are the four most obsessed with appearances. even if they say they don’t give a fuck about what people think, they care a WHOLE lot about how they are perceived and the public opinion of them. they break down into two groups: professionals and hustlers.
professionals: leo, virgo professionals are always put together. all their ducks are in a row. they have a plan a, b, and emergency c as well as a few side plans they can execute in the off chance of a less likely situation that they still feel they should prep for. when things aren’t organized or their plans get unexpectedly changed, they tend to get upset – they don’t like having unnecessary problems or changes, especially when they had everything planned just right from jump. they don’t like people to get in their way, especially if they’re supposed to be friends. if you block them by accident, they’ll be annoyed, but impede them on purpose and they’re liable to cuss you out. they like having all the trappings and appearances of being put together – nice clothes, hair just right, great at what they do, and doing it without anyone to prop them up. this leaves them susceptible to ego trips and to self-destructive behaviors by way of not reaching out for help when they really need it. they truly believe that they should have it together without someone else having to extend charity to them. this is also because, deep down inside, they rarely believe anyone else can be right (this is the reason they work so hard to be self-sufficient). so if someone comes trying to hep them, they don’t truly believe they should need help when they know best and especially when others are likely to let them down. this is why they seem cold to people and like they believe they’re better.
hustlers: gemini, libra hustlers are a lot like professionals on the surface – they like to have their shit together, they like to look put together and like they have it down pat. the main difference? usually, they’re only concerned about LOOKING like they have it together. where virgos and leos may smile through their world crumbling around them because they don’t believe they need help to get their shit together, geminis and libras will know full well that their worlds are crumbling and that they can’t stop it and that others know best… but they hate to LOOK like that. appearances are very important to libras and geminis (which is why they both also are in the fakers and freezers categories, respectively) and they hate to have the IMAGE that they have it all together torn down. unlike professionals, who who really work to BE together and refuse to accept help because they’re so capable, hustlers work hard on making sure they come off as adjusted and doing great at all times. even when they admit it, they tend to downplay how bad it is and instead focus on others. however, because they bottle things up, they tend to have emotional explosions or radical changes of heart that seem to come out of nowhere, but have actually come after long periods of quiet, unseen reflection.
Dana stumbles and nearly faceplants in the wet grass, the weight of her bookbag throwing her even more off balance. Damn it. Recovering her footing, she squints at the lanky form pulling away in front of her and wonders how in the hell she got herself into this mess.
Two weeks ago, at the start of the semester, she had all her proverbial ducks in a row: thesis research well underway, med school applications submitted, just a few short months away from graduating with honors. Now she’s chasing the TA for her intro psych class through a graveyard in the rain.
It was supposed to be an easy elective, a soft science class to fill out her schedule and give her a breather from the rest of her rigorous course load. And the class itself is a bit of a snore, the bland Dr. Blevins not exactly an intimidating figure, nor a particularly motivating one. His TA, on the other hand…
“Come on, Scully!”
Mulder. He runs the recitation session for the course and insists on calling everyone by their last names. She should have known the first time she walked in the room and saw him not so much sitting as lounging at the front, should have known then that this class was going to be unconventional, to say the least.
He’d nearly plowed into her this evening, bolting by in front of the library as she was leaving it, and when he’d given a hurried, “Come on, I need your help!” she had… followed him? She doesn’t even know why. Across campus, off campus, over a lawn and into the cemetery they’re running through now.
“Where are we going?” she pants, finally coming to her senses enough to ask.
“Just a little further,” he shouts over his shoulder, vaulting over a small headstone and ducking off to the right. He skids to a stop in front of the church and points. “There she is! You see her?”
Still several steps behind him, it takes a couple of seconds for her to catch up, but even then she can’t see anything through the rain and the spots of water and mud on her glasses.
“I don’t know what you’re–”
“Through the window! Sister Mary Agnes. Or rather, the former Sister Mary Agnes.”
She pulls her glasses off but only succeeds in smearing them with her damp sweater. “I don’t understand. This isn’t a Catholic church. There shouldn’t be nuns here. And why did you drag me out here to look at a nun through a window, anyway?”
He turns to her, and even through her blurred lenses she can see the huge grin on his face. “Not a nun. A ghost.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “Is this a joke?”
“Of course not. I would never joke about spectral phenomena.” When she only manages to gape dumbly at him, he adds, “What, you don’t believe in ghosts?”
“Of course I don’t believe in ghosts! Because they don’t exist!”
“Oh, I think Mary Agnes in there would beg to differ.” He nods toward the church window again, where Dana still can’t actually see anything. “Though technically she only exists here as a corporeal apparition for a few hours on the 28th of January. I’ve never managed to ask her what she gets up to the rest of the year.”
Either this is some sort of prank (to which he’s currently committing 110%), or he’s completely insane. She’s honestly not sure which scenario she’s hoping for.
She stares at him for what feels like forever before finally relocating her voice. “Look, Mulder. I am standing out here, in the rain and the mud, because you said you needed my help. So unless you need someone to give you directions to the campus counselor’s office, I really have to get home.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “You think I’m crazy. All right, I’m sorry I wasted your time. Have a good night, Scully. I’ll see you in class next week.”
He turns and starts to walk away from her, across the grass toward the church. No explanation, no justification for any of this, and while the rational part of her understands, in the interest of self preservation, that she really ought to leave right now, there’s another part of her that wants answers. Needs them, even.
“Wait.” He stops and turns around, and she takes a step closer. “Why did you bring me out here, really?”
He shrugs. “You’re a senior in a freshman-level psychology class, which means you’re probably not a liberal arts or humanities major. Something in the hard sciences instead, or maybe engineering. I figure you’re probably the sort of person who, when confronted with a ghost, wouldn’t run screaming, but rather would want to examine it, put it in quantifiable terms. Plus there’s the saint’s medal on your backpack, and I was hoping Sister Mary Agnes might be willing to interact with a fellow Catholic, but I’ll admit that’s probably a long shot.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, unable to decide whether she’s impressed or unnerved.
“I wasn’t looking for you specifically or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he continues. “I was already on my way here when I ran into you, and I thought you’d be intrigued. Obviously I thought wrong, but that’s okay. Anyway, I’m gonna go. She doesn’t usually stick around much later than about seven o’clock.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns again and continues walking toward the church’s side door. This time she doesn’t stop to think about it before following him. If nothing else, it will be warmer in the building than out here, and she can at least dry off a little before heading home. There are lights on and undoubtedly other people in there; it’s not as though she’ll be stuck alone with Mulder if he really is off his rocker.
“So you’re telling me that the ghost of a nun haunts a Methodist church once a year, for several hours in the middle of the evening, when there are likely people here for meetings or study groups, and yet no one finds this odd or surprising?” she says as she catches up with him.
He pulls the door open and holds it for her, grinning. “They don’t know she’s a ghost.”
“I hope you’ll forgive the obvious question, but… are you sure she is one?”
“Well, unless you know of any living nuns who’ve figured out how to vanish into thin air, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
The door closes behind them, shutting out the sounds of the rain and wrapping them in the hushed stillness Dana has long associated with church. She tries to quietly wipe her shoes on the mat and is looking down when Mulder taps her on the shoulder. She looks up at him, and he’s pointing with his other hand down the hall to their left. In the distance, Dana can just make out a swish of black fabric before her view is blocked by Mulder, taking off in pursuit. She hurries to catch up without breaking into a run, her strides no match for his, and she’s half a step behind him when she sees a woman, wearing what certainly seems to be a nun’s habit, open a door off the hallway and walk through it.
Seconds later, Mulder’s pushing open the same door, and Dana follows, so caught up in the moment that she’s abandoned caution and the usual concerns about knocking before entering a room. And then she immediately runs right into Mulder’s back, because they’ve not entered a room so much as a storage closet.
A very empty storage closet.
She backs into the hallway, trying to peer around him. Mulder flicks on the light switch and steps back to stand beside her, gesturing with one arm toward the tiny room where there is most definitely not a soul, living or otherwise, standing inside.
“But… but she was just…” she stammers.
“Here one second, gone the next. Guess we just missed her.”
She walks back into the closet, pulling the door aside to peer behind it, crouching to look futilely under the bottom row of shelves, turning several fruitless circles before coming to a stop and staring out at Mulder once more. She can’t believe it, doesn’t believe it. And yet…
His grin is kind, rather than smug. “C’mon, Scully. Let’s see if we can’t borrow some umbrellas, and I’ll walk you home.”
I just realized as I clicked “submit” that the life insurance company was asking if I’d ever FLOWN a plane, not flown IN a plane. Guess I’ll have to clarify that when they contact me with my quote, lol.
“Dyrim, a musical bell of clear and pretty tone. Dyrim can return the voice that the Dead have so often lost, but Dyrim can also still a tongue that moves too freely.”
This Cirimeni knows all too well, having her own voice stolen from her long ago, by a cruel Necromancer and an Abhorsen’s mistake. Now the Abhorsen-in-waiting has come to the small forest town along the fringes of The Westway, to track down The Girl Whose Voice Was Lost with a promise to help her reclaim it, if she and her companions will aid him against a growing darkness, and whispers of a Necromancer who comes with the mist.
Sooooo, planning an Old Kingdom AU because I love the series and wanted to do something with it. Getting all my ducks in a row and plotting things, so here’s the first of a few aesthetic collages for the characters.
“They’re getting their ducks in a row, but they’re hoping to move you by next week. They’re taking no chances and they’re building some pretty nasty stuff to keep you contained,” said Grindelwald’s contact. “A week,” Grindelwald repeated. “That does not give me much time time loiter…” “Exactly. You could’ve left at any point, but we know you’re still here cuz of Goldstein. You gotta let her go, sir. She aint gonna help and she aint gonna turn her back on all this,” his contact glanced around to see if anyone was coming this way. “I suppose I’ll have to,” Grindelwald mused. “Shame… she’s a wonderful woman. You know the plan, we’ll begin executing it tomorrow after interrogation. Follow my instructions to the letter and I’ll be gone in three days…”
Tina felt a tightness in her chest every single time the topic of execution or extradition was discussed. It was the hot subject around MACUSA at that moment, and it made the Auror tug her sleeve down as if terrified that someone would see which was ridiculous. They would have to be a mind reader to know anything, she always kept the mark covered no matter what.
At lunch she found herself restlessly fidgeting with a quill, nerves leaving an unsettled sensation that Tina really wanted to go away. Instead of abating it only increased in intensity, until finally she grabbed the book on Jewish Views on Souls and tried to appear nonchalant heading to the elevator. There was no interrogation scheduled so she would have to find her way to the jail cells.
Thankfully the guards were thin because of it being the shift change, it wasn’t too difficult to find the cell. She was bashing herself internally for being here and doing this… What the hell was wrong with her? Tina attempted to look uncaring, failing miserably at it, looking more annoyed than anything else. More so at herself then at him. “Here, I got you more reading material.”