She Said Clud

deskgirl:

nonbinaryviola:

talk street magic to me

drawing power from the metro lines

illusionists busking illegally, shimmering lights disintegrating as they run

plant mages tending tiny rooftop and windowbox gardens

elementary school kids learning basic sigils on the playground

wixen taking a while to key into the magic in new cities when they move

alchemists dealing on the side to support their experiments

middle schoolers making friendship talismans and amulets for everyone

numerologists who’ll do your math homework for $5 or divine your fortune for $10

kids mass-texting luck and speed spells when their parties get broken up by the cops

Hell yeah, let’s talk about magic.

Like elementary kids learning silly (or inappropriate) charms from each other on the bus, the same way we learned our first swear words. Clapping games across the bus aisle, but with spells instead of rhymes.

Worrying that your friend is getting into dark magic, but not knowing how to talk to them about it. Intervention programs for kids abusing hexes and runes, because magic has given them control over something for once in their life, and they’re starting to make some dangerous choices.

Psychic teachers knowing when you’re cheating. Knowing when you’re having trouble with homework. Or at home. Knowing when you need tutoring or an AP course because you’re just not being challenged or a different teaching method because you can’t process what you’re learning in class no matter how hard you try, and the teacher tells you it’s okay, they know. They know.

Magic graffiti. Graffiti in wild places, and graffiti that vanishes when certain people roll by like the police. Or graffiti that only appears when the police walk by to insult them. Murals. Swirling, living murals on the sides of buildings. Murals that—if you listen closely—can be heard, not just seen.

In the evenings, kids hiding out in someone’s backyard or an alley passing around a joint and casting minor illusions to watch while high.

Chalk artists making works that are so realistic, they come to life off of the sidewalk.

One man bands in the park, with instruments floating around playing themselves.

Punk concerts in empty lots with amped out music and lights, but noise-cancelling spells and illusion hide them in plain sight from anyone outside of the lot.

Mediums predicting people in need, and making sure to be there at just the right moment to lend them a helping hand. “You seem upset, do you need to talk?” “Oh, you’re a dollar short? No, don’t put the milk back; I’ll cover you.” “You really ought to try taking your resume to this store. Trust me.”

Necromancers in forensics speaking with the dead to solve homicides and cold cases. Living lie detectors as beat cops and detectives and DEA agents.

Strangely cheap five star food diners that bake actual love into their apple pie, and they always know your dietary restrictions without being told.

Service golems in various sizes and shapes, making sure their magic users aren’t crowded, get medical attention, go where they need to, etc. They don’t get distracted, they can be hollow to hold things like medications, and in rare instances, they seem to develop loving attachment to their users despite not being alive.

Little old landladies who dabble in witchcraft brewing homeopathic remedies for people in their apartment complex.

Street magic is an amazing concept.

nerdnuggets:

jelliclephantomfaces:

chandraleeschwartz:

six-months-from-never:

*sees broom*

*picks up broom*

"TELL THEM HOW I AM DEFYYYYYYYYYING GRAAAAAVITTYYYY"

*starts sweeping broom sadly*

"There is a castle on a cloud…"

*holds broom horizontally*

"Never need a reason, never need a rhyme. Up on the roof top step in time!"

*sweeps broom angrily*

"IT’S A HARD KNOCK LIFE!"

I think Natalie Portman said something brilliant about modern-day female action heroes, about how even though they’re strong you need to also see the messiness of everyday life, that complexity. Even with Peggy Carter… Can we see her have a really shit day, put her pyjamas on and eat loads of ice cream and weep into chick flick? Can we have her be neurotic, hysterical, funny, depressed and all those things that we all relate to that aren’t regularly depicted because they’re not seen as sexy or comfortable for men to watch and masturbate over?

And in that moment, we were all Bolin.

cthulhu-with-a-fez:

adlersassistant:

worthyourweightinfanfiction:

ghostdrive:

#hello #i hate what you’ve done with the place 


Oh you’ve redecorated…
I don’t like it

i acknowledge that this house has had a renovation, but given that it’s a stupid-ass renovation, i’ve elected to ignore it.

cthulhu-with-a-fez:

adlersassistant:

worthyourweightinfanfiction:

ghostdrive:

Oh you’ve redecorated…

I don’t like it

i acknowledge that this house has had a renovation, but given that it’s a stupid-ass renovation, i’ve elected to ignore it.

And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it’s all in my mind.
Jack Kerouac, Lonesome Traveler (via pyur)
Where can I go
then, with a new face, another name,

if the body is a temple I
have too many gods. I owe
too many favors that only
I will recall.
Brandon Amico, “Eve of the Carnival,” published in Cartridge Lit (via bostonpoetryslam)

thesoundofonebrainthinking:

People in Ferguson Still Need Help!

This website contains a wealth of useful information on ways to help the people in Ferguson, how you can organize and participate locally, and helps to spread the word and keep the message strong. 

maxkirin:

Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing, a remake of this post. Source.

Want more writerly content? Make sure to follow maxkirin.tumblr.com for your daily dose of writer positivity, advice, and prompts!

But you must have thought about things," I said. "About your life, about the human condition."

Chris became surprisingly introspective. “I did examine myself,” he said. “Solitude did increase my perception. But here’s the tricky thing—when I applied my increased perception to myself, I lost my identity. With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand. I didn’t even have a name. I never felt lonely. To put it romantically: I was completely free.”

That was nice. But still, I pressed on, there must have been some grand insight revealed to him in the wild.

He returned to silence. Whether he was thinking or fuming or both, I couldn’t tell. Though he did arrive at an answer. I felt like some great mystic was about to reveal the Meaning of Life.

“Get enough sleep.

The Strange Tale of the North Pond Hermit

"That was nice. But still, I pressed on, there must have been some grand insight revealed to him in the wild.

hahaha.

(via kenyatta)

blacksquares:

callingoutbigotry:

These leafdogs soothe my soul

this is the highest level of wizard

momentofmemory:

Out of all my sisters, you were the one I hated least.

{insp}