#askconstancehardbroom

[kiwi-cackles]

Uhm excuse me, tumblr. I protest my coming before @askconstancehardbroom and @rp-constance-hardbroom when searching the tag ‘Constance Hardbroom’.

Perhaps you twig the problem here?

I am not, in fact, Constance Hardbroom. I am a mere fool on my merry way to mastery and very clearly an idiot - not someone to be listed first, hmmm?

(P.S. Looking at that list makes me very happy.)

[mildred-hubble-bubble]

Ceased to Be

@askconstancehardbroom came back and posted far too many sexy things at once

Consequently, I have been slain. Dead. Ceased to be. An Ex-Worst-Witch.

Anyone is welcome to come reinstate my liveliness some time in the near future, but I figure for the moment - while I'm dead - I may as well catch up on some sleep.

That's what they say, right? I'll sleep when I'm dead?

[ye-olde-mildred]

(Constance:) 🔭

Send 🔭 to invite my muse to go stargazing. 

Mildred took another look at the sturdy brown envelope, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. A letter from Miss Hardbroom? But it wasn’t addressed from Cackle’s Academy–then, it wouldn’t be, as it was summer. Perhaps even Miss Hardbroom took breaks.

Her heart hurt in a nostalgic way (she smiled) to read the familiar sloping font; she smiled harder once she finally comprehended the words.

Star-gazing? With her old teacher, one who seemingly knew the stars as well as she knew plants as well as she knew potions as well as she knew seemingly everything else? She assumed others were invited as well; Ethel was a shoe-in for such a thing. She wouldn’t mention it, just in case, but what an honour it was either way.

Mildred locked herself in her little office suite with all her animals on the other side of the door (some loudly complaining, especially her new rescue bird, who could complain in at least three languages and four if a strange Russian-sounding gibberish counted for anything).

Greetings Miss Hardbroom,

I would love that more than anything. (Was that too honest? Too heart-felt? She sighed and nearly started over, then decided not, for it was she who’d been invited and not some imposter-Mildred. Hopefully.)

Will this be at Cackle’s? It’s been too long since I’ve seen that lovely lake.

Kind regards,Mildred

She heard a distinctive yowl from the other side of the door and the sound of a cat-sized creature launching into the wood and sliding gracelessly down into a heap on the floor. She sighed again and added, (and Tabby) for if anyone understood her pesky cat, it was Miss Hardbroom.

It was silly, but Mildred put on her pair of clean black gloves in order to slip the neatly-folded parchment into a thick, recycled-paper envelope, addressed it with magic (just a little trivial magic, but it perfected her hand-writing) and wax-sealed it with her informal seal: a witch on a broom, dog on back, surrounded by bats.

Then she opened the door, gave it to the damn chatty bird, and told it where to fly. The one thing the sodding bird could do was fly fast and fly far. She smiled to watch it go.

[ye-olde-mildred]

(Constance:) 'Brush'

send me ❛ brush ❜ for my character’s reaction to your character running their fingers through my character’s hair. 

Mildred felt something in her hair, which she’d let down for the sacred solstice times (as tradition dictated), and turned to see what or whom it might have been. She saw three students dallying nearby–even the fourth-years looked so much smaller now she’d been gone a while–a new teacher she didn’t recognise and, close at hand, the statuesque Constance Hardbroom (also with her hair down, which was very distracting).

And her hand was just falling to her side.

Mildred felt her face go red. Had it been…? No, certainly, it couldn’t have; and yet she felt the witch’s presence so close behind her.

The ceremony was yet to begin; she had a few minutes yet and turned to stand beside the woman who was now, quite shockingly, of nearly the same height as they both stood in heeled boots. (Mildred noticed, with a quick look-over her beloved old teacher, that her own boots were a little taller, bringing them even closer in height.)

She cleared her throat in preparation to say something the least bit intelligible. What came out was, “You’re looking rather–er–lovely this evening, Miss Hardbroom.” She held back a sigh and drew her hair over one shoulder, her hand tingling where Constance’s fingers may have been seconds before.

Mildred tried to recover. “Your hair somehow looks even more wonderful than usual. A sight for sore eyes.”

But she only blushed harder, because now it sounded like she was flirting, and she was really all too skilled of making a mess of things. So she gave up and merely smiled.

[ye-olde-mildred]

Definitions for transmogrify                

                   to change in appearance or form, especially strangely or grotesquely; transform.

Transmogrify was the word of the day. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t remind me of someone... (Not that she’s the least bit grotesque--the very opposite--but much more likely than the average population to use the word.)

[ye-olde-mildred]

For a brief moment she considered repairing the broom - but she didn’t. Some things didn’t need to be repaired, they were perfect in their imperfection.

[mother-mills-archive-blog]

"Urgh..." The brunette shook her head in pain as she opened her eyes. She didn't know it was even possible. Her own daughter banishing her into a different land. Maybe even a different time. Cora's eyes wandered around,she had not the slightest idea. A basement? A dungeon maybe? A dungeon,for sure. She grunted,still too weak to get up by herself.

[askconstancehardbroom]

Good afternoon, Miss Hardbroom. Are you still taking music suggestions? If you are I would like to suggest quite an obscure band. They are called 'Apocalyptica'. Most of their music contains no lyrics, merely instruments, although they sometimes create songs with vocals in (when that happens they bring in well known vocalists from other bands, as they have no singers of their own). For an instrumental song, I would suggest 'Inquisition Symphony', and 'Not Strong Enough' for a vocal song.

Music Meme: What are songs you think my muse would like? I'll give them a listen and tell you the part my muse likes best.

A pleasant afternoon to you.

As a matter of fact I do - music suggestions are always welcome. Thank you, dear.

Usually I would say that this band is not exactly my cup of tea but I have to admit I’ve never heard anything like it, so it did strike me as quite interesting. 

Inquisistion Symphony

A unique rhythm and an almost haunting theme. The title is quite fitting I have to say, it did make me think of an Inquisition Symphony. It’s probably not something I would listen to regularly but it was an interesting experience nonetheless.

Not Strong Enough

The typical pain of a forbidden love - it never gets old, does it? It was pleasant to listen to, as I enjoyed the vocals and the music, but the lyrics would bore me if I would hear them one time too many.