#kind witchcraft

[cockatielcocktails]

Do you suppose you could make a “voodoo doll” of someone but instead of sticking it with pins to hurt them, you actually do nice things to nurture them? Like whisper positive affirmations to the doll, gently rub the doll’s back to relieve back pain, put it on a bed of lavender at night to help them sleep.

[that-cunning-witch]

"Aphrodite loves terfs" do you really think a goddess of love formed from a literal penis and the mother of Hermaphroditus, an intersex god who was associated with androgyny and feminine men, fucks around with transphobia?

she is a literal trans icon and to deny that will get you smited by all the gods

[andy-clutterbuck]

Rick Grimes in The Ones Who Live | 1x04 - What We

[thyming]

My little corner is all set up! 💭

[rillils]

🌸 wakanda stucky + rich

His mother was the first to warn him, back when Steve was knee-high to a grasshopper: sometimes, things simply don’t go the way you had planned them, or wanted them to go.

If he could have had it his way, he would have laid the world’s weight in gold on Bucky’s lap. But life has a wicked sense of humor, and so Steve comes to him just as he once was: with no home, no shield, nor a penny to his name. In fact, with nothing but the name itself, and a bad reputation attached to it.

Bucky has seen him like this before, Steve knows; it’s no more and no less than Steve had for most of their lives. He won’t scorn Steve for it.

This doesn’t stop Steve’s hands from shaking when he sits with Bucky by the hearth, late in the afternoon, with dirt from the garden under his fingernails, and the smallest of three tabby kittens waging a vicious war against the toe of his boot.

“The truth is,” he confesses softly, because after all he’s done, after all he’s seen in this ever fickle world of theirs, he’d rather swallow his pride now than waste another day waiting for the right time, and risk missing his chance all over again. “I’ve got nothing to offer you. Except for. Except for myself.”

Surprisingly, Bucky laughs. It’s not scornful, though: it’s a soft, a tender sound.

He sets his mending aside, and slips his hands into Steve’s own.

The palm of his flesh hand is rough and warm, and against his skin, Steve feels the calloused fingers of a man who’s been tending to soil and cattle day after day; a man who’s been spending his evenings whittling clumsily shaped animal figurines for the neighbors’ children out of scraps of firewood, just to watch them laugh in shrill delight at his misshapen dogs, at the oddly rectangular horse he attempted last week, and the chunky little block that was supposed to be a cat, but turned out bearing a remarkable resemblance to a piglet instead.

“You think that’s nothing,” Bucky rumbles, rubbing gentle circles on Steve’s knuckle with the pad of his thumb, “but it’s everything to me.” He finds Steve’s eyes, love written openly in each crease and dimple of his features, and the heart of the heart beating in Steve’s chest clenches with the sweetest pain of all. “You’re everything to me.”

The world, Steve wishes he had enough voice to whisper now, The whole world, the sun, the stars, I’d give it all to you.

He curls his fingers around Bucky’s, slipping to the edge of his seat to rest their foreheads together.

Here he was thinking his hands were empty, and yet – they’ve never felt so full before.

[greenscreen-dress]

Brain wouldn't shut up until i drew Joey and Lauren as the iconic Malfina and Clark. Witchcraft SMP is very very fun :D

(closeups of the sillies below, quality is very crunchy bc phone doodles & poor canvas size choices whoops)

[maythestormsnevertakefromme]

The world when pagans, wiccans and witches acknowledge that divine feminine is literally just repackaged tradwife propaganda and dark feminine is oversexualisation of pagan women and their bodies:

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Deep Water Prompt #3362

The slug is clear, meager insides visible through its slimy skin. “Slip this onto the target’s body, and they will become vulnerable, no matter what other wards they might have active.”

[maryhale1]

Love magic

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You can create a personal prayer expressing gratitude for love, such as

✨✨May my heart be open to giving and receiving love.

Grant me the wisdom to appreciate the joy and beauty that love brings.

Help me express gratitude through kindness and deepen the bonds that connect me to those I love. So mote it be ✨✨

[lostinvasileios]

Okay so we can agree we sometimes get the dancey, zoomie urges from deity love but oh my gods have you ever wanted to start making loud noises out of nowhere and clawing and biting at them out of affection or am I desperately in need of some sort of mental reevaluation?????? kind of like how when a cat tries to play with you they start kicking and biting at your hand or whatever idk

[anionnnnn]

My silly nonsense contribution to the fandom

I keep thinking abt how Charlie's head shape looks kinda like a banana,or a jelly bean (idk if it's just me pls tell me I'm not alone/j) so ofc I gotta draw it out or else I can't sleep shhsgs

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[marypaol]

Small Deeds, Small Tea Cups

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nothing that I’m informed of :)

Summary: Reader wakes up one morning and Draco decided to make her tea, forming a small kind action he can do every morning.

Note: No use of Y/N, and just fluff because I love it. -Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, I was hanging out with family!

___

The sun’s rays beamed on her skin exposed, and the girl couldn’t help but hum softly in contentment, rolling on her side to feel more warmth. Orange laid beneath her eyelids as she did so, eyelashes fluttering as consciousness slowly came to her. Her arm subconsciously went to her side, searching for the person who routinely slept beside her, hand only coming in contact with wrinkled sheets. Her eyes fluttered open all the way this time, hands coming up to run the sleep out of them as she slowly sat up, stretching arms overhead as her lips open wide in a yawn.

Her body exposed itself to the chilly air as she took off the duvet, feet touching the cold carpet that lay beneath.

She automatically started searching for her love, legs tiredly moving around taking her to her assumed destination that she thought he would be.

She ended up being correct, his broad back to her and the back of his messed up pale hair strands going to and fro in the air. She slowly walked over, hands reaching out to him desperate for his soft skin. He was wearing a t-shirt, so her hands easily made their way underneath it, fingers caressing the skin on his waist.

His body recoiled at the sudden touch but the light kiss to his shoulder gave him the sign it was only her. (She had to stand on her toes to reach of course.)

“You usually sleep in.” He stated plainly instead of saying a proper greeting, eyes fixed outside of the window above the sink, watching as the world woke up for another day. She smiled against his back bone, running her fingers over his lower stomach.

“Well I woke up and you were gone.” She answered simply, going on her toes again to place her chin on top of his shoulder. Her response seemed to silence him for a moment, his eyes fixed on outside still as his teeth gently bit his lip in deep thought.

He eventually cleared his throat softly, tilting his head to lay it on top of hers. The action was small, but it filled a big place in her heart.

He did it only for a moment, and known him he didn’t like showing affection for too long, but the fact that he took time to do so let her know he at least showed some of his love and that right there was better than nothing.

His fingers went in front of him and he scooted over a small tea cup, steaming liquid inside as the bag inside swayed from the action. Her eyes lit up, lips pulling back into a small smile as she knew what it was.

She got out from behind him and placed her fingers in the ceramic cup, picking it up from the plate it was on and to her lips, sipping the warm tea as she tasted a hint of sugar sweet. Her smile got wider, knowing he made it just the way she liked it.

She couldn’t help but notice the anxious look in his eye as he watched her, deep down desperate to know if he made it wrong. She made her smile warmer than it already was, putting the cup down and wrapped her arms around his neck. He inhaled at the boldness of affection, not quite expecting it.

“It’s made perfectly, Draco. Thank you.” She assured quietly, stroking the hairs on the back of his neck. He didn’t say anything, eyes instead searching hers for any sign of a lie, but didn’t end up finding any. She was being one hundred percent sincere, proving it with just a simple look.

He nodded because he didn’t know how to respond, not used to being recognized for a kind action for once. He’s never done them, that’s for a fact, and when he met a lover he wanted nothing more than to not be a snob, although that’s what he was raised as and sometimes he couldn’t help but show that side of him, but therefore that’s what showed her she was trying.

And she loved him for that.

He was trying.

For her.

The baby step effort was there and she couldn’t be more grateful for the hard work he’s done; it’s hard changing yourself from what you’ve grown up to be and be generous, especially for Draco.

__________

__________

So Draco from then on tried to provide a cup of tea every morning to his love, for by then he wasn’t hesitant or anxious to do it; since before the nervous feeling of her reaction being negative was stirring in his stomach.

It was all for the little smile that would stretch on her lips when she entered the kitchen, her pink lips he loved to kiss every so often but wouldn’t admit it. (For sometimes he wasn’t just hesitant to show kind actions, but also hesitant to express his feelings.)

But the sparkle in her eye was also a reason he loved to do it. She would make eye contact with him and so many thanks were displayed in her eyes he knew she didn’t have to say it, but she always did, muttering “thank you, loves,” and lightly kissing his cheek before sitting on the counter- even though he was bothered by that since she was the one who liked to clean out of the two of them- and sipped contently while watching him read the Daily Prophet.

Sometimes he would make breakfast, even though he didn’t know much. (Despite his hesitation to express his feelings, he once told her he learned a few things from watching the house elf that once roamed his childhood home.)

He couldn’t help it, he was a curious kid, but at one point and age in his life he couldn’t be curious anymore because of his father’s unspoken orders.

__________

__________

So she found herself facing yet another morning, orange once again beneath her eyelids and soft sheets warmed from the sun’s rays.

She got up, bare legs being exposed to the cold as his oversized Quidditch t-shirt went down to her thighs.

She traveled downstairs, searching for her love and was met with an empty kitchen, the absence of her lover chilling to the space. He brought a warmth the house only he could provide and not seeing him there made her cold inside.

Her eyebrows furrowed, confusion filling her as she searched for him, eyes scanning areas as she passed. It was then that she spotted a soft light coming from his office, her feet lightly walking across the hallway to see him.

She saw him, back to her in the chair he was sitting in as his pale hands worked through papers, sorting them into stacks that she didn’t understand but to his mind it made all the sense.

She didn’t want to startle him, despite the desire to wrap her arms around his tense shoulders and rub the stress away. So instead she brought her knuckles to the doorway, softly knocking so he knew she was there.

His head turned and his eyes met hers, and while doing so she didn’t fail to notice the soft grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

She slowly walked to him and preformed her previous desire, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he turned to face her, his hands landing on her hips.

He was feeling a little confident that morning and she knew so as his fingers sneaked underneath the shirt, stroking the skin there as she squealed softly, squirming in his hold.

“You weren’t in the kitchen, loves.” She stated once the soft giggles settled down, stroking his shoulders as he turned back around, hands fiddling with the papers once again.

His head bent down as she heard a soft sigh coming from him. He looked over his shoulder so he could see her in his peripheral.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I forgot to heat water.”

She chuckled a little. “It’s okay, loves,”

“I just was confused when I didn’t see you in the kitchen; you’re normally there in the morning, that’s all.”

He nodded, sighing once again but it was because her fingers stared softly massaging his shoulders, rubbing the tenseness away with such a simple touch.

“Yeah I had to do some paper work.” He said, letting her once again think about what he said. He would often reply with simple answers, ones that left her with some questions but not many, for most of the time they left her wondering what he meant based on the various tone of voice he used.

She liked that about him; whatever came from his lips left her wanting more.

“I could make us both tea, if you’d like.” She softly offered, fingers coming to a pause on his shoulders because of her hesitation of asking the question. His head laid back, softly landing on her stomach and her fingers subconsciously went to his hair, stroking the strands as they easily flowed through her hands. The pale mob of hair was always so soft, so delicately taken care of. He licked his lips, hands coming to to her elbows to keep her arms from moving away, not wanting the moment to end just yet.

“That could be quite lovely.” He said boldly, fingers massaging her elbows. She smiled, lips coming down to kiss his head and keeping them there for a couple seconds.

“Sugar?”

He paused as he thought. “Maybe a little bit, loves.”

-Apology for any errors!

Love you all and thanks for reading! 📖

[thyming]

Care to eat some muffins and have tea with me? ✨️ | @earthscent

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

JOHN: just made dinner!

Dave: what the fuck is that

JOHN: steak! i cooked it well done. :)

DAVE: that is NOT steak thats a pile of wood chips

DAVE: "well done" my ass that shits congratulations

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.