#I dunno probably cause its dramatic teens that want attention and are in it for the clout

[ofcloudsandstars]

Daily witchcraft ain't that exciting lol

To give some people an idea of what I've been up to from time to time.

Yesterday my work schedule got shifted around so I had a sudden day off. I was having a Mental Health Moment™ so I decided to do some shadow work and got some helpful clarity for now. I also read a bit of 'How To Heal Yourself When No One Else Can' by Amy B Scher which had some helpful advice in there. I also washed my hair and long showers always become a bit of a magical cleansing routine like its all about focusing on clearing energy and starting anew. I only use scentless soaps and have a charcoal soap block a witch friend in NYC gifted me to clear energy that I use on my skin.

Other than doing a bunch of errands that was it lol.

The day before I cleaned the SHIT out of my room it feels so good in here. I then finished the task with smoke cleansing.

Today I just woke up and did some dream oracling cause I had a weird ass segment of my dream that was concerning and stress-inducing. It was about a friend. I am still debating telling my friend about it but it didn't feel like a premonition just an unfortunate observation that I don't think will help him right now.

Today also has two intense astro aspects. We have mercury conjunct chiron and Mars square neptune. (be careful with your health and over exertion guys!) So if your mental health or even physical ailments have been flaring up the planets are being rude today lol. It's probably why I have been trying to work with it and do some shadow work cause I have been suppressing a lot of emotional pain that I am now trying to address like a haphazard sock drawer begging to be organized cause its nearly the end of my first saturn return transit and I am trying to get my head straight.

Tomorrow I have another full shift at work so maybe not much will happen. I may start working on May's Astrological forecast if it turns out to be a slow day.

I guess I am just rambling to give people an idea of what its like doing daily witchy things. It's not that exciting lol. I feel like the most exciting daily witchy things are like when synchronicities happen but they are hard to capture and hard to prove they are just like the most wonderful coincidences that make life feel special.

Sometimes when I am running late I try to channel mercury and do spells to get myself there right on time or sometimes everyone else just somehow ends up late so my 5 minutes means nothing lol. Sometimes things just work out to my favor in unforseen ways that make me feel kind of guilty cause I sometimes feel like I don't deserve it. I dunno I mean its just stuff like you have to be there for it. Cause even if it's just coincidence its more about the delivery and timing and the fact that I really wanted something in that moment and the universe was like: aight.

I think this topic bothers me a lot because capitalism really convoluted a lot of people's perception of witchcraft. It's not a job (unless you want it to be) I feel like its closer to the 'spiritual practice' category though its not really one either its more of a practice (that can help amplify your spiritual practice lol). It's more like a sense of awareness of your energy, the energy around you and using that energy to your needs. Sometimes this can develop into more complex magical craft making or ritual doing but on a daily basis this is like visualizing outcomes you want, divining and shifting your energy to shield yourself or put out glamours to get ahead lol.

I feel like the capitalism part bothers me because it does two things. Either makes witchcraft seem inaccessible unless you have a shit ton of money and time (and witchcraft to me is like anticapitalistic)- plus selling tools that are usually unethical cause they are mass produced now when it should be about making your own from local nature in your backyard. As well as making it so that you feel you have to be 'productive' in order to call yourself a witch

and the other thing is that it takes the practice, reduces it to a brand and then distorts the meaning. So people just getting into it are like lost in the sauce. I mean they did this with every counter culture but the original meaning just gets lost as it gets boiled down into an aesthetic. I feel like with witchcraft it was particularly malicious cause witchcraft is such a $free.99 finding your own empowerment/connection to yourself and nature that capitalism sought to turn it into something profitable and reduce it into some new age fantasy brand.

Anyway don't fall for capitalism's suffocating chokehold of feeling like if you want to be something, ANYTHING, that you have to perform it everyday and take pictures for proof to post online. This isn't just about witchcraft I am realizing this is destroying like all of our hobbies and anything we do for fun or that defines ourselves.

An example: I have trouble creating visual art because of social media now, when art should just be about you finding joy in expressing yourself. Now I do feel like you gotta post it online for validation even if you're not as experienced as you like to be. You feel the need to compare your journey to others and what you make to others. It's exhausting. Don't let capitalism do this to you. Especially your spiritual practice or your witchcraft practice. They are really personal practices. It's about your personal journey.

[imtryingthisout]

Coffee, Afterglow and Palmistry

[based on @nachosforfree Au @sanderssides-magicalgirlau check it out]

It takes place after one of Virgil’s and his sessions. The back room of Bean Juice is small but the warm buttery yellow of the lighting mixed with the aroma of coffee beans smoldering in from the kitchen makes it more cozy than cramped.

Virgil is sitting on one of the tables, feet dangling aimlessly off the edge. His eyeliner is smudged, his hair ruffled up and his body positively engulfed by the large hoodie his has draped over his shoulders. He also seems more relaxed than Remy has seen in weeks.

Virgil always looks more relaxed after their time together, more confident too. He’s always been a naturally anxious sort of guy- but in the in-between of their actions and the cold reality of the world outside their little homely closet- Virgil seems like a different person.

(A person Remy is desperately in love with)

He had made them coffee before hand, putting the cups in the microwave to keep warm. Remy, despite his flaws, could make a mean cup of joe and Virgil didn’t even bother getting up to get his, eyes still closed in bliss he sent a shadowy tendril to retrieve his cup. (He knew the room inside and out now, spending so much time in it.)

Virgil’s hands gripped the coffee mug, a light smile on his lips as he breathed in the steam. Virgil’s hands were one of the things Remy loved most about him (and his beautiful eyes, the way his lips curved into a smirk, the soft texture of his hair, the sound of his real laugh, his biting tongue and sarcastic comments and and and-) Remy never really got the chance to study them. His fingers were long and spindly, with short nails (to keep him from biting them) and clean violet and black nail polish (Purple was his favorite color, had been all his life, but Virgil preferred the darker shades to the Lilac that Patton adored).

“Looking at something?” Virgil asked, startling Remy from his musings. A lazy smirk laid on his face- a single eyebrow raised in amusement. Virgil was a smug bastard after sex (this was another reason Remy loved him).

“You’d think you would be used to them by now?” Oh right Virgil’s shadows were dancing along the wall behind him, blooming in all manner of shapes and shadow puppets- flowers and stars circled his head the way they did when he was happy. Amusement took the form of a wily serpent curling along his feet.

Nodding his head as though he had been looking at the shadows and not pondering how utterly smitten he was with Virgil’s hands he watched as Virgil took a deep sip of his coffee before continuing, “Though you did freak out pretty hard when you first saw them”

Understatement of the century. He and Virgil’s arrangement had been born -before- Remy knew about Virgil’s powers. Coming back to check in on him after stepping out- only to catch him putting his shirt on, as literal shadows swirled around him holding his coffee cup mid air- was a shock to say the least.

Remy rolled his eyes, “Gurl don’t give me that look, you’d be freaked out too if I suddenly showed reality-bending powers.” Virgil snorted into his cup. “Don’t know if I’d call ‘em reality- warping, but yeah that would be freaky” another sip before staring at Remy consideringly “though are you sure you don’t have any powers?”

“What do ya mean babe?” He asked slightly confused. Virgil just sighed, “I dunno you give off this… vibe?” He made a long sweeping motion with his free hand. “Kinda like the others do- God that sounds ridiculous, I dunno what I’m saying. “ he said shaking his head.

Remy pondered his words, leaning back on the wall. “Pretty sure if I had powers they would have shown their magical asses by now hon. You showed yours when you were what? Five?”

“Six” Virgil gently corrects.

“Right, Six” Remy thought to himself for a pause. “This vibe thing, could it happen if one of my fam was magic-like?”

Virgil considered it. “Maybe” he said, “Logan could probably tell you, he’s the one with all the theories about our powers and stuff. Why, someone in your family has powers?”

Remy nodded, “Never been told explicitly, but it’s kinda an open secret in my fam that something is up with Grandma Giovannie” Virgil tilted his head to the side in a motion that was frankly to adorable for words. “The Italian one?” Remy made a noise of agreement.

“Yep, she just..knows things- even if she hasn’t been told about them. She also says things that make - absolutely no sense- till something happens weeks later and then you’re hitting your head cause now it’s so obvious. My mammina always told me ‘take special care of what Nonna tells you, and always listen well to her advice’ cause that’s not ominous at all”

There where few rules Remy Hypnos’s family, but one of the major ones was ‘Listen to Nonna Gina, especially when she doesn’t make sense’. That’s why when Remy’s Mother was two years old his family, who had lived in Italy since before the fall of the Roman Empire, packed their bags and headed to America. Where they made a killing in the food business, opening restaurant after restaurant and even a small coffee shop chain which they let an eleven year old Remy name as a joke. Bean Juice was the favorite of many a sleep deprived teen and college student.

(Remy slept on the counter most days and used the backroom as a personal sex closet. If his family didn’t own the place he definitely would have been fired by now.)

“Really” Virgil leaned forward as Remy was ranting, interested. “That could explain it, what sort of things has she told you?”

“You know when I went to visit my extended fam last month”- “and you couldn’t look me in the eye for a week?”- “yes but shush. I come in, have a blast cause ya know me and my cuz’es are partying up a storm. Gossip a bit with my Aunties till my Uncle comes in saying how Nonna Gina was asking for me- so I go to her little parlor room and you only go to that room when she doesn’t want the rest of the fam to hear. So I’m being real attentive as she goes on about my ‘amore ombra’ - that's you by the way-“

“Got it”

“And now I’m sitting there in her fancy cushion-y chair with its fancy upholstery and lace doilies, listening to my Grandma talk about my sex life and trying not to sink into the ground.”

“Yikes” Virgil winces in sympathy, but Remy can see the hint of humor in his eyes as he’s picturing the scene. Remy’s pacing back and forth at this point, making grand and dramatic gestures with his hands- in an oddly Roman like fashion. “Then she goes off about how ‘The Devil Has Blue Eyes’ and how I need to work out more? Honestly one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had in my life and I talk to Remus on a semi-daily basis!”

Virgil snorts into his hands, his cup firmly in place with his shadows. Virgil’s scrunched up nose and boyish smile laid a direct hit to Remy’s heart that it stops him in place. A deep fondness overtakes Remy, one that has him reconsider his Nonna’s words about the boy in front of him. Whatever future she had seen fit to warn him about, Remy would see to it that Virgil was safe.

(Remy was eight years old when Nonna Gina traced out his destiny on his palms. “ See this Mi Erede, this is your heart line. See how it is long, how it ends splitting downwards. You are willing to sacrifice anything for your love child, make sure they are worthy of that”.)

(Virgil was worth it)

[tisfan]

A Foot in the Door

Title: A Foot in the Door Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - <image: Awesome facial hair bros> Ship: Stephen/Tony Rating: teen Major Tags: magic and science, awesome facial hair bros, first date, pre-slash Summary: Stephen wants Tony to build a magic missile… Tony wants to get a foot in the door for dating.

Word Count: 1,695 Created for @tonystarkbingo

"You want me to build a magic missile, what?" Tony didn’t bother to look up at the holocall. He was, actually, grateful that Strange had made a call, even if he didn’t have one of the projection phones so all there was in the image was a static picture of Strange, selected from one of the many that Tony had taken. The fact that Strange was eating a hot dog and Tony had caught him mid bite had nothing to do with the picture chosen.

That was his story, and Tony was sticking to it.

"No, I want you to build a technical delivery system for magic." All hail the pedantic. Honestly, if Tony could get past the whole magic thing, Stephen Strange was pretty interesting. And he made a great straight man for Tony’s jokes, because Tony was almost positive the man did not understand humor at all.

"Magic Missile, that's what I said. It’s magic, and it’s in a missile casing, and you want me to build it,” Tony said. “I’m failing to see what’s wrong with my name.”

“There’s a failure to explode that I think would be a key component to missiles, but if you want to have your name on a dud rocket, I suppose that’s up to you,” Stephen said.

“My tech rarely fails completely,” Tony pointed out. “Sometimes it gets a bit big for its britches and tries to destroy the world, but it doesn’t… fail.”

“Exactly why I need you for the job,” Stephen said.

“Oh, that wasn’t condescending at all,” Tony remarked. “So, what can I do for you, and how exactly--”

Tony stopped talking, because Stephen took a few steps through a portal right in Tony’s workshop, touching down lightly on the floor, his overly dramatic and loyal piece of outerwear flaring.

Show off.

“--do you think you could, you know, knock or something, before you do that?”

“I called you,” Stephen said. “Was there something else I was required to do?”

“So, magic missile,” Tony prompted.

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” Stephen said. “That’s not what I have in mind, at all.”

“So, what are we not blowing up, then?”

Stephen gestured, something mystical and weird, that would look a lot less cool if it wasn’t attached to some special effects. Honestly, if Tony could ignore the brilliant blue runes that snapped to attention and the circles of power that sprung up around Stephen’s wrists, it mostly just looked like Stephen was playing one of those kid games, like Mary Mack.

Miss Mary Mack, all dressed in black…

“This is Nico Minoru,” Stephen said, and he caused a wavering image to spring up, a teenage girl with a very emo vibe to her. Gothy witch chick. Black lipstick, crazy hair, dressed all in black and purple. Carrying a glowing rod. “She’s had some difficulty with her magic, recently, and as the Sorcerer Supreme, it’s kinda my job to make sure that people don’t… well, fuck up reality too much.”

“I can see that as being bad for business,” Tony remarked.

“Indeed,” Stephen said. “In a recent… encounter, Miss Minoru might have accidentally set up a chain reaction that will, given time, unwind our entire reality. Naturally, I thought you might want to help me stop it.”

“You’re surprisingly calm.”

“Gibbering in a panic doesn’t really get the problem solved,” Stephen said. “Besides, it’s contained, at the moment.”

“It’s the conditionals that worry me.”

“Right.” The image between Stephen’s fingers shifted. “This is the anomaly. A little rift of nothingness that, left unchecked, will consume the entire universe. This dimension.”

Looking at it was… hard. There was a glowing purple dome somewhere in--

“Is that Central Park?”

“Yes,” Stephen said. “I managed to pin the nothingness down, and I’m holding it inside a stasis shield. Immense amounts of mystical energy are flowing through me, into the shield. When I die, and I will die, eventually, my heart won’t be able to withstand it for too long, the shield will be entirely consumed, and then the nothingness will go on to consume the park, the island of Manhattan, the planet. Within a week, it will grow to consume the solar system. And, the bigger it gets, the faster it will consume. Consider it… a magical black hole, converting everything in our reality into… well, a negative mystical force.”

“Aside from the whole I don’t want anything to happen to the planet because I keep my stuff here,” Tony said, and he found that Stephen’s calm was infectious, and that was good, because Tony’s heart was pounding in his chest, “what else does this cosmic vacuum cleaner do?”

“I assume it’s powering some other dimension; something through the rift is drawing up the energy and using it. Right now, the tear is only the size of, perhaps the spread of my fingers.” Stephen’s hands were shaking, but his fingers looked pretty damn long, actually.

“So, the thingie on the other side could, theoretically, stop drawing power?”

“Maybe, but my experiences with interdimensional thingies says they usually don’t. And if it did, it might decide to come over here and have a look see,” Stephen continued. “Which, also, generally not good. It might be that dimension’s version of a fox, but--”

“We’re probably this dimension’s version of chickens, got it.” Tony scratched at his chin. “So, now that I have the doom and gloom part, what can me and my mere technical wonders do for you?”

“I have two shields in place right now,” Stephen said. “One is a mere physical block, to keep out the curious and the stupid. The other cannot be penetrated by magical means, but it is accessible to more conventional modes of transport.”

“A missile?”

“A missile.”

“And so, what are we putting in this missile?”

“That’s the fun part,” Stephen told him. “I’m going to load your missile with a particularly clever little spell that will close the tear from the other side. A magical spell cannot penetrate my second shield, and I can’t take it down without allowing our thingie access from his side. It might use the opportunity to get a foot in the door.”

“Thingie is my technical term, you can’t borrow it,” Tony grouched.

“So, I load an inert magical spell into your missile,” Stephen continued, the side of his mouth twitching up, “and I lower the physical shield. You fire the missile right through the tear, my spell goes off when it hits the other side, seals the tear.”

“Awesome facial hair bros for the win,” Tony said, holding up a hand for Stephen to high five.

“Not even a little bit,” Stephen said. He did not give Tony a high five, which Tony thought was decidedly unfair.

“Oh, come on, you can do it,” Tony said. He didn’t put his hand down, just waited with a bright smile and gleeful anticipation. Stephen would give in. He’d be a grump about it, but he would do it, eventually.

“I hate you,” Stephen said, sighing. He slapped Tony’s hand.

“Yes!” Tony smirked. “All right, how much time do we have?”

“Less than you want, more than you need,” Stephen said.

“Sounds like my kind of deadline,” Tony said. “You can, like, run along for a bit, I’ll contact you when I’m ready for your payload.”

“So, what happens when this goes off?” Tony said. He adjusted the launch angle again, peering through the purple haze of shielding. There was, of course, a huge crowd of idiots gathered around the shield, gawking, because people were stupid.

“Hopefully nothing spectacular,” Stephen said. He wasn’t adjusting anything, although his Cloak was rippling dramatically. “Fire the missile, the tear closes, we kiss, we schmooze, we go home happy.”

Tony blinked. “Are you asking me on a date, Doctor Strange?”

“What? No,” Stephen said. “Absolutely not.”

“I dunno, it kinda sounded like you were… or at least, looking for some extra curricular activities.”

“Fire the missile successfully, and maybe -- maybe -- we can go out for a coffee.”

“Score!”

“Back away from the purple magic dome, people,” someone yelled. It sounded like Fury. Probably smart; other Avengers would probably get more attention and push toward the rift, not less. Fury, on the other hand, was scary as hell to most people.

“The crowd is dispersing,” Stephen reported. “I’ll give you a sixty second countdown, lower the shield, and you’ll have ten seconds to lock on and fire before I have to put it back up to contain any backlash.”

“You didn’t mention backlash,” Tony muttered. “But ten seconds is more than enough. Ready when you are, Doctor.”

Stephen started the countdown, a fancy fiery display of magical pyrotechnics that Tony thought were highly unnecessary. “You can’t just count down like a normal person?” He put on his HUD goggles to ready the missile.

The countdown ended. The shield dropped.

Tony fired.

The missile went right where it was supposed to go and vanished in three seconds.

In six seconds, something shot out, green and terrible, aimed straight for Tony.

Stephen crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. The Cloak swirled around them as Stephen’s magical shield snapped back into place.

“Well,” Tony said, looking up at Stephen, who was laying across him. “That was exciting. Ten seconds was seven seconds too many?”

“They were waiting for us,” Stephen said.

“Well, I’m glad you have a quick reaction time, Doctor, or I might be a little crispy.”

“I had to,” Stephen said, “we’re awesome facial hair bros, after all.”

“Well, it would have been worth it,” Tony mused. “Now… about that kiss?”

“I didn’t say anything about a kiss,” Stephen protested. “I said a date.”

“I distinctly heard kiss in there somewhere,” Tony pointed out.

“I hate you, so much,” Stephen sighed. He got to his feet and offered Tony a hand up.

“I’m told that’s normal, for dating me,” Tony said, grinning.

“One date is not dating.”

“You keep protesting,” Tony said, “but when you needed to make some magic, you came to me.”

“One date. We’ll see what happens from there.”

“All I need is a foot in the door.”