flying books!

imagine wizarding universities tho

  • dodging ppl landing/taking off on their brooms
  • also the assholes that fly too low
  • muggleborns that still prefer skateboards/bikes
  • floo rush hours
  • when ppl stand around in the fireplace instead of immediately moving out of the way
  • running late but not being allowed to apparate bc several hundred times people miss their mark and land right in the middle of a class
  • being near that one person that smells v strongly like the magic equivalent of weed
  • when ppl bring their kids and they fuck shit up have accidental magic
  • muggleborns taking ge muggle studies and wanting to fight the outdated instructor
  • so many oral exams good god
  • you mourn the fact that time turners were destroyed while you’re trying to finish an essay 10 minutes before class
  • buying your own potions ingredients?? $ y $ i $ k $ e $ s $
  • trying to find books for research but they’re always floating around and incorrectly reshelving themselves
  • accio was banned in the library but everyone uses it anyway
  • ppl just have to practice constant vigilance to avoid the books flying to the spellcaster
  • the magic fucks w the phone signal and wifi
  • half the teachers dont accept typed work
  • getting lost on campus but the maps keep telling you different things
  • trying to have a snack but the chocolate frog gets away
  • accidentally bringing weasley’s wizard wheezes as a snack
  • comes to class 15 minutes late with pumpkin frappuccino
Where do you feel most at home?” he asked.
She thought for a moment and then answered, “Up in the clouds; where it never rains, where I can be in the middle of a thunderstorm. Up where sunsets last forever and sunrises can be chased. Where I’m just a little closer to the stars and the constellations sparkle. Up where huge cities are just tiny twinkles of light and mountains are the size of my thumb. Where I remember that I’m smaller than a speck of that city light, but I am composed of microscopic atoms. I feel most at home when I have no idea exactly where I am; when I’m in between places. Something about being in an airplane, feels so familiar.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write, 56
“From an airplane window”

anonymous asked:

You should write some mute lance, whether its him having been mute in the past, being a selective mute, being injured and becoming mute, or straight up not talking anymore, i think you'd write it well

Okay!! 

I kinda went on my own here, Whoops

On contrary to belief Lance didn’t like to talk. Well scratch that, he loved talking but he didn’t like to be talked over. Everytime he was talked over he immediately clamped up and he felt a lump form in his throat. Being the youngest in his family only lead to Lance being talked over constantly. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Lance to stop telling a story because everyone started a different conversation. It wasn’t uncommon for Lance to never finish a thought because someone would constantly interrupt him. 

Lance wasn’t a fighter so when this happened he would just clamp his mouth shut and listen to what the other person had to say, because it was obviously more important. 

Lance found himself talking less and less around his parents, siblings, and classmates. Nobody ever commented on Lance’s new quietness so Lance had no reason to start talking again. Lance would go days without saying anything to anyone. He communicated through shrugs and nods. 

Why should I talk, everyone is happier when I don’t. 

-

Fast forward to the Garrison when Lance met his roommate Hunk. Hunk wasn’t loud but he wasn’t quiet either. Sometimes Lance didn’t even hear him enter the room while other days Lance would hear him hallways away.  He liked Hunk, Hunk never pressured him to talk, Hunk just kept him company throughout their days. 

Hunk would ramble about projects he was working on and homework and Lance would listen quietly. It didn’t even dawn on Lance that he had never said anything to Hunk before in his life. 

They were both in their room, Lance on his bed reading a book while Hunk was laying on the floor building something. 

“Dang it, these wires all look the same, I can never tell them apart.” Hunk ran his hands through his hair in annoyance. 

Lance looked at his distressed roommate and looked down at his book. “Why don’t you put colored tape around the different wires.” Lance’s voice slightly cracked due to the lack of use and Hunk screamed. Not like a small scream but like ‘help someone is getting stabbed scream.’ 

Lance jumped causing is book to fly across his bed and he stared at Hunk who was staring at Lance his hands over his mouth. 

Lance swallowed around a small lump that was forming at the base of his throat. He inhaled “Sorry I didn’t mean to…scare you?” Lance wasn’t sure what he did wrong exactly. 

Hunk blinked a few times and slowly removed his hands from his mouth. His breathing started to slow down as he continued to stare at Lance. 

Lance started to shift where he sat. Why he is just staring at me? Lance was about to bolt out of the room but Hunk regained his bearings before he moved. 

“I’m sorry for screaming! You just have never talked before and I thought you were mute or something. Then you just spoke and I got scared. Like I wasn’t expecting that at all.” Hunk inhaled until his lungs ached “Sorry I’m rambling.” 

Lance smiled at his roommate “Hunk you ramble all the time, I’m used to it.”

Hunk started to laugh and before Lance knew it he was laughing with Hunk. They only stopped when they heard a knock on their door. 

“Officer Davis, opened the door. We have a complaint of a noise disturbance.”

Hunk and Lance shared a look and started laughing and Hunk went to open the door. 

-

Hunk and Lance became best friends within a week. They had shared everything with each other, and Hunk didn’t interrupt Lance once when he was talking. If he accidently did he would apologize immediately and beg Lance to continue what he was saying. 

Lance started to love talking again. 

-

The only time Lance would have trouble talking would be when he came back from a break. When Lance was around his family long enough he would clamp up again, but slowly Hunk would bring him back out of his shell. 

-

Hunk could only do so much and sometimes it wasn’t enough. They had just saved a planet from the Galra and they were all meeting up with the leader. 

Now Lance didn’t usually talk during diplomatic missions but he felt obligated to speak up when it concerned him. The leader was discussing how helpful the blue lion was and how it help save the planet. 

“You must tell me Blue paladin, how does the ice work?” The leader placed his (hand?) tentacle on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Well you see, Blue and I ha-” 

“That’s interesting but like was it just the lion acting on their own?”

“Kinda, you see I have to put my bay-”

“So are you not needed to fly Blue? If she does all the work what do you do?”

“Well I have to fly he-”

“But they are magic lions, surely they can fly on their own.” 

Lance opened his mouth to respond but slammed it shut before any words were formed. Then Lance did what he did best, he shrugged. That was all he did. 

The leader looked at him a bit skeptical before nodding “So how does the ice get formed?” 

Lance shrugged again. He kept his eyes directly on the leader and his lips sealed. Lance was nudged by Shiro, he didn’t care he wasn’t going to talk. He looked at the leader one more time before walking towards Blue and flew back to the castle. 

-

Lance didn’t bounce back like Hunk prayed he would. It had been about 2 weeks since the last time he said anything. He just shrugged and nodded. Never even opening his mouth except to eat. The castle was quieter than any of them wanted it to be. Mealtimes were filled with force conversation and Lance scarfing down his food in order to leave. 

Even during missions Lance wouldn’t say anything, Blue would send the other lions messages so everyone knew that things were going well but Lance never talked. 

When they met new species Lance would stand in the background silently, just watching everyone. 

Hunk tried his hardest. He would talk about things he knew Lance liked, but Lance would just smile and pat him on the back and walk away. 

The team couldn’t get Lance to talk, and they tried. They did everything they could but Lance would just sit in silence. He didn’t even talk to Coran, and that broke the older man heart. 

-

The paladins were hosting a party in the castle with about 7 species from different planets. They all worked together and received a huge win. 

Everyone was talking and enjoying the party and Lance was standing by the wall sipping his drink. He watched a boy, around his age, walk towards him. 

His arms and neck were covered in tattoos and he has pointy ears with piercing all over his body. His skin was a soft blue and his hair was a bright red. He smiled at Lance and stood by him. 

The boy thanked Lance for saving his planet, and of course Lance caught onto his flirting techniques. 

Lance laughed, like a real laugh. The first laugh in weeks maybe months. It echoed through the room and every paladin heard it. They attempted not to make it obvious but they were all listening to see if Lance would do anything more. 

Lance, who was completely oblivious to what his teammates were doing, stuck his hand out to the boy. “The names Lance.” 

Self-Projecting? Do I Know Her? 

Hell yeah I was self-projecting. 

I’m basically how I write Lance XD 

I hope you like it!

Sorry it took so long!!

Thank you for this!

Btw give it up for my bisexual son ❤💜💙

Witchy commission for such a magical person: Anthony. “Crazeemuse”  He is amazing, go check him out, lovely ones! I loved working on this for him and there was a lot of good vibes while doing it. <3

“I wish I were one of them.” She muttered, her eyes following the flock of birds sitting on the power line above them.

“Why is that?” her friend laughed.


“Well,” she started. “I think we all have periods where we just want to escape, you know? To just pack all of our things away, change our hair color, our style, our name, anything to start brand new-”


“But life prevents that.” she smiled sadly. “We have too many obstacles, too many expectations, and too many pressures to do things a certain way to be happy.”


“These birds have it so easy, though.” she spoke softly, “they just fly away.”

—  Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #146
Rebirth.

Fall in love. Write a book. Paint the skies. Fly with the wind. Sleep with the stars. Dance with the rain. Swim with the river. Sing with birds. Travel with art. Meditate. Build bridges. Listen to trees. Inspire others. Feel emotions. Serve people. Fill them with positivity. Be expressive. Be faithful. Be weird. Give hope and strength. Spend time with freedom. Explore reality. Conquer fears. Fulfill dreams. Learn from mistakes. Appreciate everything. And when it’s time to die, go home. Then, there will be rebirth of consciousness.

Just a reminder.

I keep getting a lot of asks and messages saying things like “These spells sound like superstition or folk beliefs.” and I’d like to just cover that for a moment.
That’s because they are. 

Witchcraft is a skill rooted in superstition and folklore. 
Folklore is the recorded beliefs of the people at any given time. 
For traditional witches, they mainly base their craft around folklore from the European and American (there’s a tiny bit of a difference) Early Modern Period, but many go beyond that as well. 
That folklore gives us key insight as to what witches and cunning folk would have been doing and how they would have been practicing. 

I actually would encourage using folklore rather than witchcraft books to learn the ways. You would be carving the meaning from those stories and using it in your own practice, finding your own definitions, fashioning your own techniques. Really think about these things. 

I’ll give you an example. 
Blue Jays are, in the Southern states, thought to go to Hell on Fridays, bringing sticks and other things down to the Devil. 
So if you wanted a little assistance on your spirit flight down to the Roots of the World Tree, what spirit do you think would be useful? 
You might take a page out of the old books and fly on the back of a blue jay spirit right down to whatever Nether world you’re looking to explore. Obtaining a blue jay spirit is another post for another time, but there’s the point.

Even things as little as “Roses are for love” is folklore. It’s an association made a long time ago and kept up until this point in history. 

Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.
—  Erica Jong, Fear of Flying