#sand scattering

[thepmmmwitchproject]

May I suggest the dream witch who looks like a sheep

We already have a canon witch of dreams, and we have Rebecca as well. Though... I'm not gonna leave you empty-handed!!

THE WITCH OF HOTARU YURA

That's right! It's the witch form of a previously established character! AKA Hotaru!!

This is Carabosse, the sand scattering witch. Its nature is eternal slumber.

Originally an excerpt made by @honestlyboringperson (shout-out to their own great witch work!), I thought I'd give it physical form. It's a tad on the simple side, but I think I did it justice.

"In contrast to the master’s sluggish demeanor, this doppel holds an unpredictable and sometimes dangerous nature. From it’s almost gaseous form, It endlessly releases sand that when it comes into contact with the eyes will cause it’s victims to enter a deep slumber which it then absorbs into it’s body. It’s one weakness is due to it being attached to the head of it’s master who sleeps without a care in the world when summoned, it is unable to move leaving it a sitting duck."

[kittyandco]

yet another Anakin post (on Kitty's blog??? breaking news, i know)

but it's relevant to what I said earlier about being fiercely protective of him --

when we go on missions together (kinda under the table... I prove to be a great asset, actually, and it's one way we get to see each other more often than we would otherwise, which is pretty much never), I get SO overprotective of him... I get overprotective of him anyway. but you know what i'm sayin'

I think some of our enemies (like Grievous for example. oh lord don't even get me started. I think about my s/i being on that mission very often) would poke fun at us for it, but idk if they'd make fun of me or him more

Like, "oh, what, big bad Jedi gets his girlfriend to fight for him?" or question my ability to fight in the first place (which is pretty understandable/typical given my s/i's appearance and especially when comparing her to a literal Jedi knight), or warns me that my loyalty and love is too strong and it's only gonna get me hurt in the long run. or they say that about both of us. it's something either very rude or ominous or untrue or all 3 xD

it only makes me wanna fight them MORE THOUGH. I'm like an angry kitten to them. cue Anakin giving me that smile. that "oh, that's my girl" smile. like STOP I'M ABOUT TO FIGHT THIS GUY DON'T MAKE ME WEAK IN THE KNEES

I feel like he'd make me fumble way too often. I already think about him sneaking kisses when we find a hiding spot (they're for good luck and morale, he says)... and now this.

but yeah, I make it no secret that I won't let anyone hurt him even though he can take care of himself. and I'd want this to extend to all the Palpatine stuff... but... you know 🥴

[nexus-nebulae]

every time i learn something new abt oceangate the more it feels like people should have seen this coming. what do you mean not only was the hull made out of carbon fiber, it was lasagna glued together and was full of bubble wrap holes

[bircheye]

The matchiest colors I rolled on my custom progen + two neat combos with unfortunately terrible terts. In order: platinum/wisteria/moon, lemon/slate/goldenrod, caramel/flaxen/umber, sand/midnight, and pistachio/tarnish.

[yuelun]

.... I just really want her to be real. I want it more today than I did yesterday, and I'll want it even more tomorrow. And I worry about it, but I also have such a strong gut feeling. I just, I really want her to be real.

[tweeterwilbury]

Wheel gull spin and glide

You've got no place to hide

It's cause you don't need one

All along the lee shore

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then it was off to Desert Bloom Park in Oasis Springs! Where, to my delight, it was actually NOT FUCKING THUNDERSTORMING. (Yeah, I am still bitter about how I had to buy a weather machine to actually DO the sale in Windenburg, why do you ask?) Also to my delight, I discovered that the gang could hang around together and draw pictures in the sand – I had Smiler do a smiley face while Victor and Alice watched, then had Alice do a star while Smiler looked for the perfect spot to set up the food stand. I had them set up nice and close to the central plaza, by the chess tables, then dropped all the food Victor and Alice had made into the table’s inventory –

And set up the ice cream machine on one of the side slots! Because that is what I wanted it for – adding another treat option to the food stand! I set about having Smiler make some chocolate ice cream (after accidentally canceling the interaction once by moving the food stand slightly out of place – these “live drag” objects can be dangerous sometimes) –

-->And while that was going on, I set about having Victor and Alice wander around the neighborhood and gather metals and crystals from the collectible rocks! Because that was my other main reason for coming here – to get materials for future jewelry-making! Alice found some citrine, a time capsule (I forgot to open it up, though, so have no idea which MySim is inside) and some silver (ironic for a werewolf), while Victor got death metal, alabaster, orange topaz, and another citrine from his wanderings. Not too shabby! :) And it was nice to see how pretty the park is in late summer too.

-->While Victor and Alice were occupied with that, Smiler finished their ice cream – I had them set the garnish as banana slices and the topping as whipped cream (would you expect any different from them), then added it to the stocked food and started their food sale! As usual, things were slow to start, though their buddy Presley did show up to help cheer them on. Victor, done with his collecting and apparently eager to meet her, started over to do a “Howdy Greeting” (must be from Horse Ranch), but she left before he could get the chance. Aw. So I instead had him summon his familiar Darkwing, give himself a quick Scruberoo, then sent him to ponder moves at the chess board while Alice ran down from where she’d gotten the silver to make some BBQ ribs at one of the many available BBQs. Smiler, for their part, had finally gotten a customer and was doing their best to convince said customer, Roxana, to buy something –

[zeta-male]

sparrow having a little sandbath alert!!

[hug-your-face]

via @swatercolour here on Tumblr and also on [insta]

EDIT: I do not interpret "just managing" as "just suffering, just enduring, curling into a fetal position and waiting for it to be over." Managing is an active process.

So I'm using this post as a platform to make the reminder that "the power of the people is greater than the people in power," and we all are cordially invited to:

Take good care of ourselves. Mental, physical, emotional health. Hydrate. Move if we can, get outside if we can.

Keep up a routine. Remember quarantine and we all had to find a routine? This is the same.

Be intentional in our news consumption. Let's not stick our heads in the sand but let's not doomscroll either. Get an RSS aggregator. Subscribe to WTF Just Happened Today, Yoour Local Epidemiologist, Fix The News (for some inspiring hopeful news!). We'll check our feeds a few times a week, but no more than once a day.

Connect with friends and loved ones. Remind ourselves that while SOME people are horrible, for the most part people are awesome... if complicated. Share our fears but also our hopes. Eat together.

Now that we're keeping healthy, safe, sane, and hopeful... now we also fight. Quietly if we prefer, loudly if we prefer. But sustainably. I hate that I had to live through three rounds of this nonsense where a few people use half of us as tools to fuck over ALL of us, but here we are again. So let us take just one moment every week or so to...

Use 5calls to keep blowing up our reps phones. Tell them to either break ranks with the Orange Administration, or to stand up louder than just matching outfits and signs. Or to THANK them for standing up.

Use Vote411 to find elections before the midterms. A lot of villages, cities, townships etc have local elections that will affect where we live... and more importantly, the people in office there will affect things upwards too.

Use Ballotpedia to know exactly what's on our ballots ahead of time.

Protest, because it actually works.

Use Vote.org to make a plan to vote in the midterms. Make a plan that is immune to voter suppression tactics. Get our documents in order. Reach out to our friends to go to the polls as a group. Plan to livestream our visit, up until the point we have to turn our cameras off.

Make and share memes that promote hope, organizing, solidarity, and/or resistance.

Get involved with an action network like Indivisible, MoveOn, or Working Families Party.

Go to a local town hall meeting. Speak up.

Heck, start our own local activism networks, letter campaigns, call campaigns, or fundraisers with Action Network.

And we will remember our self-care. We will remind ourselves and each other that they want us scattered, focus is how we resist.

It IS coming back. Things ARE going to get worse. The world has become a place where a very few people are pulling levers and pushing buttons that are actively destroying much of what is good about living in a society where people care for each other.

Many others are in shock, sputtering "but can they do that?" MANY many others are waiting for someone to come save us.

But there are those who are actively, loudly, opposing.

And there are more people speaking up, acting up, every day. More people saying it's time to get scrappy. It's time to get into some good trouble. The shock is wearing off.

Yes, it's gonna get worse before it gets better (the long-term damage of the acts of the past momentum of all the damage that has been done will take that long to be felt -- but it WILL get better.

If WE will it.

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

A man named Amr sits in the barber’s chair, telling a story of how a mysterious man saved him from a natural disaster,

while a strange bloke trims his hair and beard.

‘The storm rose from nowhere, and I had miles to trek to reach the city. Then, from out of the blue came this red box. From within, a man scattered the sand, ending the storm. This is how I met the Inspector.’

[poison-raika]

砂くず　Піщана підстилка

黒いキャンパスに散らばる砂くず 混沌にキラキラ光輝く彩りを生む 吸い上げられるが如く見上げる民 心揺さぶる不思議な魔法の肖像画 <>

Піщане сміття на чорному кампусі Створює іскристі кольори в хаосі Люди дивляться вгору, ніби їх засмоктує Чарівний портрет, який сколихне ваше серце

<>

[dreadbornesaint-moved]

hc + 👻 + 💰

Thematic Headcanons Meme

Thank you for sending these in and indulging me!! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰~ 

👻 for a headcanon about supernatural occurrences

Beryl wholeheartedly believes in the supernatural and tends to believe those that claim having encounters with things outside the accepted realm of reality. It’s a bit difficult for her not to, given her inherent entanglement with the divine. There’s not much that surprises her in this arena, having so many experiences with it. 

That said, there’s a lot she’s unfamiliar with. She’s not really familiar with ghosts and no matter how much she may pretend otherwise, she is a bit afraid of them. Being a vessel for divine will, dealing with gods, cutting deals with other entities…these all fall within the realm of things she’s familiar with. But ghosts? Absolutely not. She couldn’t even cut them down with a blade if she wanted to, so Beryl would really rather avoid ghosts of any kind. Even a mention of them is enough to make her a little nervous. 

💰 for a money-themed headcanon

For Beryl, money has always been a means to an end. Even before Sainthood, she understood that money is necessary within society and is a power in its own right. As a result, she tends to see currency as a tool to be used, nothing more and nothing less. If it gets her what she wants, why wouldn’t she use it? Even with this somewhat callous approach to financial matters, she’s quite generous and will often give compensation greater than what is asked. 

At best, this is a reflection of her desire to do good, the sincere wish to take care of those around her, no matter how briefly their paths cross. More cynically, it’s a calculated move to cultivate goodwill and loyalty. Either way, she uses it as a way of getting what she wants and it’s a tool she’s always had access to and a tool she’s always been able to use liberally. 

[yuelun]

I'm alive. I'm alive, mostly, somewhat. I have setting up for a new part-time job to do for 2 hours or so soon, but I couldn't resist to log in and do my wish. I know I'm the odd one out of here, I want Neuvillette eventually, but I've wanted and needed Hu Tao to pair with Yelan for my melt comp since those two first ran together earlier this year, and baby girl came home. Now to get Wriothesley, the one I want the very most.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

A HELLO AND A KISS

pairing: aaron hotchner x lawyer!reader summary: aaron hotchner survives serial killers and endless paperwork—but apparently not you breezing past him without a hello, based on this request. (im so sorry, i got carried away and did not include the part of r meeting the team!!! pls dont hate me) warnings | an: jealous hotch, protective hotch, simp hotch, hotch is just down bad for his girl, one bj joke word count: 2.4k

✧ masterlist

You hadn’t come home last night.

Aaron had simply received a brief text: Don’t wait up. A case fell into my lap last minute. It wasn’t unusual—not in your line of work, and certainly not in his. You’d both sent that message before, more times than either of you could count. It came with the territory.

You and Aaron had always kept your professional lives separate. A clean, white, necessary line in the sand. It helped keep the bloodstained parts from crossing over and kept your dinner conversations from becoming post-mortems or courtroom recaps. After all, it was easier not to talk about the men Aaron arrested when you were the one prosecuting them.

He didn’t put it together right away.

But all five of his senses were attuned to you. Honestly? his sixth sense was you. He didn’t need to see you to know you were there—he could feel you, hear you, even smell you before he ever caught a glimpse.  It didn’t take much. Sometimes, it was just the sound of heels—your heels—that gave you away.

It was that click-clack rhythm that he had grown accustomed to over the months, filtering through early mornings when you forgot your keys, then your case notes, then your coffee. It trailed after you in the hallway, embedded in every corner where you’d left pieces of yourself scattered around his home.

And now, that same sound echoed from behind him, followed by the heavy thud of the courtroom door swinging shut.

“Can’t believe he’s actually trying to weasel out of this,” Prentiss muttered under her breath, just as you swept past their row.

The unsub’s public defender had filed a not-guilty plea days earlier—citing supposed evidence mishandling, mistaken identity, even floating some half-baked theory about a setup. It was desperate. Flimsy. But just credible enough to stall the trial, to buy time he didn’t deserve.

You didn’t look Aaron’s way. Didn’t slow your pace. You gave no reaction at all, just glided by, slipping into the prosecution’s chair like it was your usual seat at the office.

“New face,” Prentiss noted, leaning toward Hotch. “She wasn’t at the prelims was she?”

Hotch finally cleared his throat. “No.”

He meant to say more—something neutral, something about new counsel, something properly professional, something more him—but the words got stuck somewhere behind his ribs. Especially when the most him thing in the world was sitting right there, only meters away from a man he’d gladly kill with his bare hands if he so much as looked at you the wrong way.

Though, truthfully, he knew you’d get to him quicker with words, with strategy, with that cool, calculated tone that could cut deeper than any punch Hotch could throw.

You still hadn’t looked at him. Fully locked into that little world of yours, where the second you stepped into a courtroom, you grew fins and dermal denticles, transforming into a shark in couture and four-inch heels.

It stung. Just a little. But he knew why you were doing it. He just couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to sit in a room and watch you give someone like that—worst of the worst—your full, undivided attention.

He’d only had the pleasure (and slight terror) of watching you in court twice before—neither case connected to the BAU and already, he was starting to sweat. Just a little. Maybe.

Aaron clamped his jaw tight, trying to keep his expression neutral, but the effort must’ve been visible because he caught Rossi huffing a laugh under his breath.

Of course Rossi knew. Rossi was the only one who’d actually met you off-duty. And the last thing Hotch needed was Rossi even hinting at the tiny, minuscule, barely-worth-mentioning fact that you wore Aaron’s old college t-shirt to bed, or that just a few hours ago, he’d been ogling your bare legs as you stumbled out of the shower, mumbling at him to go back to sleep.

Because as soon as Prentiss or Morgan—who already looked half-asleep in his seat—caught wind of it, it wouldn’t be a murder trial they were interested in anymore. No, it would turn into entertainment, something far more exciting than sitting at their desks, pretending to work through paperwork they never submitted on time anyway.

He shifted in his seat. No engagement was the best engagement, he figured.

Instead, he forced his eyes off you and onto the defendant, who was fiddling with his tie like that would suddenly make him more credible. Like anyone in the room would forget what he’d done just because he shaved and tucked in his damn shirt.

But the second you stood, rising slowly from your chair, Aaron’s gaze snapped right back to you, so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. Still, you didn’t look his way. Of course you didn’t. You were here to do a job. And right now, that job was dismantling a man with nothing but your voice.

He swallowed hard.

Yeah. He was definitely sweating now.

By the time the trial hit the halfway mark, he could tell your energy had changed—or was about to—with the unsub being called to the stand.

Hotch sat stiffly, watching you shuffle your notes with little effort. Morgan had finally roused enough to start paying attention, and Prentiss was scribbling away in the margins of her legal pad—none of which, Hotch would bet good money, had anything to do with the actual trial.

You stood once more, brushing that stubborn piece of hair away from your face—the one that always seemed to fall whenever you were reading something from above. He wished he could push it away for you, wished he could pull you out of this courtroom entirely, shield you from every ugly, broken thing the world could throw at you.

But then your voice cut through the room, reminding him that this was your job.

"Alright," you began, voice crisp but bored, like you were already three steps ahead. That’s what anyone else might think. But Aaron knew you were ahead five.

"Let’s go back to March 5th," you said, pausing just for a second. "You said you didn’t know Jessica Harlan."

"I didn’t," Tanner snapped back, so fast it almost made Hotch smile.

That kind of panic was never a good sign—and he knew it was one of your favourite tells. The second someone cracked like that, it was like flipping a switch, like flashing a green light across the battlefield. Go get him.

"Right," you hummed, nodding like you were humouring a stubborn child throwing a tantrum. "Right."

Another pause.

You were good at that—giving the poor soul on the receiving end (victim, really) of your arguing capabilities enough time to think. To second-guess themselves. Hotch had picked up on it early on, and when he’d once asked you about it, you gave him a dry, matter-of-fact answer: it gave people enough time to realise how stupid they sounded.

"And yet, a witness places your car parked across the street from her apartment two nights in a row. Same make, same model, same license plate."

Tanner shifted in the witness chair, but you didn’t rush him. You stood there, cool and composed, giving him just enough rope to hang himself.

“I –”

"Parked there?" you cut in, tilting your head like you were offering him an easy out. The trap was already set.

You reached for the remote, clicking the TV monitor on.

"Okay, that’s completely understandable," you considered with a polite nod toward the jury. "Though I’m not quite sure what your explanation is for getting out of the vehicle on the second night and standing in front of Jessica Harlan’s apartment for—" you glanced down at your watch, "—thirty-seven minutes."

You glanced back up, eyebrows raised just enough to look curious but not confrontational. Just a lawyer looking for answers.

Tanner opened his mouth, closed it, then looked down at his hands like maybe they’d have a better explanation than he did.

Aaron recognised the footage immediately, thanks to Garcia’s handiwork. The screen showed Tanner stepping out of his car, glancing around, and then just…standing there. Across the street from Jessica’s apartment building.

Doing absolutely nothing.

For thirty-seven minutes.

The same number of stab wounds Jessica and every other victim had endured.

You didn’t even glance at the screen. Your focus stayed fixed on Tanner like a blade against his throat.

“Maybe you were just out getting some fresh air. Though I’m not sure stalking is generally recommended for cardio.”

"Objection, Your Honour—" the defence attorney barked, already on his feet.

You raised a hand, before the judge even had time to respond. “Withdrawn.”

"I wasn’t watching her,” Tanner argued, drawing the attention back to himself.

"No?” you echoed, cocking your head to the side. “Then what were you doing, Mr Tanner? Practicing your standing endurance?"

He huffed out a weak laugh with no real humour behind it. It was the kind that people made when they realised they were cornered and didn’t have the tools to dig their way out.

“I just... needed some air,” he repeated, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

"I get it, I do," you agreed in faux sweetness. "We all need fresh air. Though it’s odd, don’t you think?"

“I’m sorry?”

“Jessica Harlan was stabbed thirty-seven times…" You took a step closer to Tanner, and Aaron had to physically stop himself from moving. Remind himself that you knew exactly what you were doing. That this was all part of the strategy. Even if, deep down, he wanted nothing more than to stand between you and every monster you faced.

"Which," you continued, "happens to be the exact number of minutes you spent outside her apartment."

Tanner swallowed, but that didn’t seem to faze you.

"Just like you spent thirty-seven minutes outside Eliza Horne’s place of work," you listed off, each word tightening the noose around Tanner’s neck. "Thirty-seven minutes outside the gym where Marissa Cole trained. Thirty-seven minutes at the café Danielle Ruiz visited every Thursday—”

Aaron felt Prentiss lean in beside him. “She’s good.”

He didn’t look away from you long enough to answer.

Good didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were extraordinary. And somehow—somehow—you were his.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, what twist of fate had put you in his path, but he would be grateful for it for the rest of his life.

Grateful that you had let him in.

Grateful that he got to see you whole.

Whether it was in a courtroom, where you left your smile and affection at the door to tear the truth out of some of the worst people, or in the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed—the way you teased him for how he pronounced pecan—he had seen it all. And he wouldn’t trade a second of it.

A nudge from Rossi pulled Aaron out of what felt like a permanent trance—the one you had managed to put him in with no effort whatsoever.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, absently rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"Got you reminiscing about your prosecutor days?"

Aaron let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. "I think if I’d stayed," he said, glancing back toward you, "she would’ve put me to shame."

"Would’ve been one hell of a show,” Rossi murmured. “Don’t let her get away.”

Aaron’s mouth tipped into the barest hint of a smile. He wasn’t planning on it. Hell would have to freeze over before he let even the smallest possibility of that happen.

His eyes found you again—right where they belonged—just as you finished with Tanner.

The day wound down eventually, and Aaron doubted the trial would drag on much longer, not after what you’d done to Tanner and his defence team. There wasn’t much left of them by the time you were finished.

He lingered just outside the courtroom, waiting. He’d managed to come up with a half-convincing excuse to stay behind, though neither Morgan nor Prentiss seemed to question it. They were too busy arguing over whether they could convince Penelope to hack into your trial schedule just so they could sit in on another one.

Not that Aaron could blame them.

The courthouse entrance doors swung open again, and you finally stepped through, files tucked under your arm, eyes fixed on your phone as you breezed past.

You didn’t even glance his way.

Again.

Aaron blinked. Really?

"So I don't even get a hello?" he asked, stepping lightly into your path with a raised brow. “Twice in one day. Must be losing my edge.”

You looked up, startled for half a second before your entire face lit up at the sight of him.

"I’m so sorry!" you blurted, already smiling. "You know how much I hate it when things fall into my lap last minute. I've been running around all day just trying to catch up—”

"No, no," he interjected, keeping his face painfully neutral, though the corners of his mouth twitched, just a little. "It’s fine. I’m obviously not that memorable."

"And I thought I was the needy one." You shook your head, still laughing under your breath as you tucked your phone away and shifted your files into one arm.

“Come here,” you cooed, hooking two fingers into the front of Aaron’s jacket, tugging him down.

He went willingly—no surprise there.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek first, soft and easy, before leaning in for a slower one on his lips. The kind that made him forget you were still technically in public.

"Better?" you asked, pulling back just enough to see the answer written all over his face.

"Only a little," he murmured, and before you could so much as blink, he reached out and took the files and your briefcase from your arms like it was second nature, like he’d been carrying your things for years.

“You carrying my stuff now, too?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to earn my next hello.”

You laughed, the sound unwinding every knot in Aaron’s chest, loosening him in ways only you ever could.

“Keep this up and you’ll have my mouth doing a lot more than just saying hello.”

Yeah.

He was completely gone.

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley

[acespeon]

on a design level, I love that Chronos looks like that. He looks like he hails from Egypt or the Levantine area rather than Greek myth entirely and that scratches an itch

this fucker looks like he belongs in Biblical texts or along the Nile rather than in the House of Hades. Time has been around since the dawn of creation and like your mom has not grown out of that style of dress because his sands were scattered in the depths of Tartarus and he doesn't know what updog is