You know your a witch when you hurriedly run to wal-mart at 300am and buy 30 dollars worth of assorted candles and a mountain dew. And the 70 year old lady checking you out looks at you like your bat shit crazy. And you have to look her strait in the eye and say “I know this looks bad but I swear to your God I am not exercising a demon out of a table lamp.”

This is glorious.

(via echoesofenchantment)


When I first heard the stories of my tradition, I emersed myself in them completely. I wove them into the fabric of my being. These were story’s of people who had to make choices. No good, no evil, just choices. Lines they crossed and foes they took down because of it. Story’s of mistakes and flaws. Hubris and over confidence. Truly human stories. Lessons in failure and triumph and the price paid for both. We tell story’s of the fallen and the glorious dead, great deeds and greater sacrifice. Tales of the Gods and their champions, their plots, and their fall. We tell stories of whispered names to old to be remembered and to powerful to let lose. There is power in these stories. Well crafted words and the inevitable drink hail. We tell them to celebrate, we tell them to please the Gods, we tell them to teach. We name our fledglings after the heroes in these stories, so that their strength will empower them and help shape who they will become.

I like my tea dark, like I like my force powers.

Anonymous asked: I need advice, and you're my friend and I trust you.

Look I’m going to lay down some hard hitting truth right now.

Deep breath.

You CAN dance it you want to.

You can leave your friends behind.

Sorry I’m not much help without knowing what the problem is.


Agostino Arrivabene.

Louhi  is a queen of the land known as Pohjola in Finnish, Karelian and Lappish mythology.

Cranky in his natural habitat: phone in hand.

I like how my natural habitat is apparently olive garden.

Bai Assem