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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Love Begins
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trying on a metaphor
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Jules of Nature

JBB: An Artblog!
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Acquired Stardust

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@lambonthealtar
requested by thefloorofkarasunosgym
“How foolishly destructive one can be.”
— Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters
If you have to use a kiddie pool for your ritual, do it. If you have to use dollar store candles, then do that too.
We have this image of ancient witches using incredibly expensive things because those things are expensive *now*. Now, we have hand blown glass witch balls – they used to be discards from the fishing industry.
Now, people spend thousands on cauldrons. When they were just a big iron pot into which you put stuff because big iron pots were readily available.
Utilitarian = witchy.
Do what works for you and ignore the naysayers. As long as your will and your power flow, then it’s working, no matter whether you spent nothing or thousands on the tools.
i wanna be a cowboy baby
[Image Description: A tiktok cropped to just show the text where single words have been edited that reads, “This month I’m doing a challenge called *edited* August it’s where I try to make it through every day of *edited* August.” End ID]
requested by sadclosetedmf
Made by cocoglez
serifsans:
God, if only she knew. Vladimir did his best to keep a healthy distance from known alien haunts for the sake of the continued wellbeing of his memory, but the strange and unusual crept in anyway.
“I’ve lived in many cities and I will tell you something. Maroa? Strangest. Was in the 80s, still is,” Vladimir says. “I worry about it sometimes.”
Which is to say that he worried all the time.
Maybe that really cemented it, that Maroa was so out of the ordinary. How many close calls had Emm had before the worst one? Could anyone in Maroa have gone their whole life without an encounter?
“I’m surprised? Like--I haven’t travelled far at all. But isn’t, I don’t know, LA, or NYC, wilder?” Emmett swirled her coffee cup, thinking. “I mean, you hear stories.”
serifsans:
“They are.”
A slight smile, small but present. The crash that took his husband also took away much of his ability to emote facially. Forty years and scores of surgeries to piece him back together improved what they could but doctors weren’t miracle workers.
“We have been together a long time. A very long time,” he continued. Paulie and their relationship was something he very rarely spoke of with other people because the fear of losing each other cast its shadow over everything else, but Vladimir was so tired. Just this once, he and Jean-Paul could be regular people living as regular people do, unafraid of things so small as simply mentioning each other too much lest the wrong person get the right idea.
“We met around here, actually. Moved back a year or two ago, I do not know, time passes too quickly. It’s…different from when I lived here before, when they lived here. Not a bad thing. I hope it is kinder to Jean-Paul this time around.”
Emm felt that undercurrent of stress, a little static tinging every other emotion with just a bit of a bite to it. It felt worn and well-trodden. She was familiar with such things by now, the reflexive kind of feelings that were almost ingrained.
“I hope so, too,” Emm said, and while it was a polite, expected response, she did mean it. “It’s been getting better for me, recently, but, man. It’s a weird kind of place, huh? Seems like something’s always happening.”
serifsans:
Now that was the question of the hour.
How could you possibly describe the situation at hand?
‘My boyfriend has been keeping secrets and playing strange games and vanishing to who knows where and I’m afraid they’re brokering deals with the vampire mafia?’ Yeah, best outcome of that is people thinking he’s crazy and the worse outcome is he wakes up with half of his memory gone.
‘My partner has been keeping secrets and playing strange games and vanishing to who knows where and I’m afraid she’s brokering deals with the non-vampire mafia?’ Haha, no.
‘My partner has been keeping secrets and playing strange games and vanishing to who knows where and I don’t even know what’s going on with him but every time someone knew walks in, I hope it’s him?’ Well…accurate. Did make it sound like his wife was cheating on him and he really did not want to explain certain details of their relationship to strangers.
“Ah…no,” he said. “No. Maybe silly but every time I see someone with white hair like that, I think for a second that maybe it’s my partner.”
“Not silly,” Emmett replied with a shake of their head. It didn’t happen so much to them anymore, not since noticing how unique everyone’s empathic signatures were, but someone tall and broad-shouldered out of the corner of her eye could still play tricks on her. “Especially if they’re always on your mind.”
It was a gentle, subtle nudge, hoping the man would keep talking. He was conflicted again, and Emm was nosy to know why, and perhaps a little desperate for a problem of the mundane, non-vampire variety.
one of the ugly truths you have to acknowledge if you want to be a good ally to empaths is that we are more prone to road rage, and it is because other drivers' anger infects us, not because we're angry people. sure it doesn't fit most people's idealized vision of an empath, but it's pretty damn hard to find one of us that doesn't have at least one reckless driving or assault charge connected to a road rage incident, and that's okay. just remember that we're ultimately innocent of culpability, because our reactions are based on other people's flaws and not our own
various pokemon things