#whichwitchiswhich

*GETS YOU*

* @crownguards-light, ** @whichwitchiswhich and *** @woochew07!

Halloween aint over yet! I declare it to continue foreva! 🎃#whichwitchiswhich #creaturedesign #entenn #thewitch #horrorforthewicked (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVxx1PwqXvY/?utm_medium=tumblr

So most know 🦋 I am wiccan so let's have a look what witchy woo you would be ⭐👆👆👆 I'm libra ♎ so Music 🎶 witch 🧙‍♀️ ... pretty accurate to be fair 😁 #wiccanlife #wiccans #whichwitchiswhich #Scentsualvibes #fridayfunday #starsigns #witchyvibes #witchythings #witchlife #wiccan (at United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKXGZogrfZL/?igshid=nasi44xo9vhw

           It was like someone had aerosolized Halloween. I was wading through the fog of a crisp night in a foreboding woods.  The bright moon was scattered, reflected, and refracted by the water droplets in the mists and was obscured by the tall trees, only silhouettes and imposing black shapes in the distance.  I couldn’t see 15 feet in front of me, but I was supposed to find her in this.            The mists enveloped me, filling my lungs with a humid heaviness as I tried to make my way through.  The fog was thickest on the ground, completely preventing me from seenig what lay on the ground beneath.  It was a miracle I hadn’t tripped over a root or stumbled into a ditch. Further about the ground, the fog wasn’t as thick, and I could make out black shapes, animated by the moonbeams and shifting mists.            My lady Annabeth was out here somewhere.  Her moonsilk dress teased of translucence. Her golden hair shimmered like the dew in the morning.  Her eyes were like the crystalline seas of Neptune.  Her voice would be the one to greet my homecoming every evening.  She was lost in the woods, trapped by a spell.            I dared not cry out for fear of awakening the beasts and terrors that roamed these woods at night.  I may have been as invisible as they were to me, but a raising a distress beacon was sure to attract unwanted attention.            I wove my way through trees, expecting to see a clearing or my sweet Annabeth somewhere.  Instead, all I got was more mist, illuminated by the full moon.  An unknown fiend could have stood motionless, and I would have walked right up to it thinking it were a tree.  I crept along, quiet and surefooted, searching for any sort of sign Annabeth had walked that way.            Finally, I did come upon a clearing.  The gravity of a forlorn night pulled the fog to the grass, and I could just make out the trees all along the clearing.  It was a long shot from clarity, but it gave me enough to see that there was a shape off to the left that wasn’t a tree.  The top part moved and held that position for a few seconds.  Then, it floated off, back into the trees behind it.  I dashed across the clearing after it, wondering if it could have been my Annabeth.            I reached the other side and barreled right through the trees, oblivious to the sting of branches on my arms and praying I didn’t trip over roots.  I lost her, somehow, behind these tress.  I was so close.  Slowing down, I looked around closely.  I turned methodically, scanning as far as the dense haze allowed to identify the best route to take.  On the path behind me, I saw a figure.  She had the silhouette of a woman in a dress, and my heart leapt for joy.  It must have been my Annabeth.            I approached slowly, tentatively, scared to trigger magic that might make her float out of my life forever.  She looked up at me, and reached out her hand.  The air filled with the honey sweet song of her voice, beckoning me to come and save her.  I hurried up my pace.  I was almost upon her when I realized her mossy hair was full of sticks.  But my Annabeth has blonde hair!  She opened her moonstone eyes and a blood red mouth full of teeth.  I pulled up short three feet from her, but I was too close.            She disappeared in a cloud of mist that at once expanded like an explosion and threw me back into a tree.  I heard a crack and was relieved to realize it was the tree and not one of my bones.  I stood up, wincing, as I took stock of what ached, stung, and throbbed.  Verifying I had full utility of my faculties, I looked up. In front of me were two more apparitions of the mists.  Panning my head, I realized I was surrounded by them.  There had to be at least ten, and they all looked like my Annabeth.            Well, except for one off to the back left side. She was wearing a crimson dress. I knew her to be another imposter. That left another nine, and hopefully one was my Annabeth.  Unfortunately, I didn’t know if I’d survive a second mistake of judgment.  I only lived through the first one because a tree sacrificed itself for me.  I had to be more discerning.  There were nine around me, all singing to my heart.  I’d recognize her voice anywhere, but one imposter had it wrong.  Her voice was deep like an ancient forest, so I ruled her out.  Before my eyes, she vanished into the mists.            Turning to inspect the next apparition, I tried to figure out what was wrong with her.  She seemed just like my Annabeth.  I didn’t want to tarry, but I just didn’t have the confidence anymore. I kept looking.  The girl beside her didn’t even have legs underneath her dress. I had no idea how it took me so long staring at her to realize that.  Even as I passed to look at the next one, I noticed her fly backwards into the oblivion of night.            I ruled out another two for having buttons for eyes and vacant voids instead of eyes.  Five, I halved the field.  Bolstered in my confidence that one must be an enchanted Annabeth, I was sure I only needed to discount 4 more.  I walked closer to the first spirit I thought might have been Annabeth to get a closer look. As I did, she smiled, and I saw her mouth was full of fangs.  I jumped backwards like a cat that almost stepped in a puddle.            Four familiars surrounded me, all convincingly looking like my Annabeth.  “Annabeth?” I whispered, trying to draw out the right one.  It was no use; all four cocked their heads at me.  Actually, it did have some usefulness.  I realized one fake Annabeth’s head wasn’t even attached to her body.  Her body shimmered and wavered, growing translucent.  The head dropped into the mists, and I swear I heard a splash.            For a second, all three remaining apparitions rippled before regaining tangibility.  It seemed my time was running out; the moon has begun to set.  I considered each woman, sure my heart would lead me to my true love’s.  One woman just did not resonate with my heart, and as soon as I discounted her, she shattered in a million shards of hate and fury.  Having made up my mind, I approached the woman of the mists on the left.            She came alive in my presence, eager to see me and touch me.  I reached out to take her hand, and I found there was soft flesh in my hand.  She had been real, and I had found my Annabeth. “We can’t stay her, or we’ll be lost forever,” she said, and then she turned back towards the clearing.  She began to pull me in a tight grip, and it was all I could do to stay standing.            After hours of carefulness to dodge the roots, I forgot all caution in my haste.  My foot snagged a root, and I was held frozen, suspended in the air.  My foot was caught, stretched out, and Annabeth had my hand.  She turned at the sudden resistance.  Maybe she thought I had second guesses.  Maybe she couldn’t see the root.  Either way, she snarled at me to hurry up.  It was a most unpleasant and ungracious sound.  I shook my head, realizing I had made the wrong choice. This wasn’t my Annabeth at all. My realization only infuriated her more as she grew in size and I resisted her pull.            Then, I felt firm arms around my waist, pulling me backwards.  I leaned into the familiar bosom and lilac meadow aroma.  Two against one, we managed to break free of the fiend surely trying to take me to my demise.  With her defeat, she screamed an earsplitting lament and imploded like a vacuum sucking all of the fog into nothingness.            In the clear light of the moon, I saw I wasn’t snagged on a root at all.  Annabeth’s arms were around my waist, and her head was on my shoulder, but all I could see were the milky whites remains of those who had chosen wrong before me. “But how?  What was the difference?” I murmured into the golden locks.            “She had a dead heart of hate, but my heart has undying love for you, my dear.” Back to Table of Contents (x)

My day five pick for the #XpressYourselfVinylChallenge is gonna be Which Witch is Which from New Brunswick. There's a few well known NB locals making up this four piece that you should 100% check out if you have not already. I thought a bit about this and the only way I can sum it up is a bit ridiculous but I feel quite accurate. Basically, if you pretend the Ramones, Motörhead, The Cult, and Joy Division loaned some of their sounds to some Stevie Nicks meets a big ol slap of 90s grunge/punk/80s thrash-esque vocals in there - your head might just fucking explode because you'd end up with this band. Lysanne Lombards vocals are just too fucking good. This is another ripper from my collection and probably one of the top ten of my favorite albums of 2018. The whole album is deadly! If this band doesn't make you want to get up and move - you should immediately go to the nearest hospital because you're probably fucking dead. #WhichWitchIsWhich #Postpunk #punk #hardrock #NBMusic #supportlocalmusic #eastcoastrockandroll #monctonlocals #theviperden #supportyourlocalrecordstore #localrecordstore #nowspinning #brantfordont https://www.instagram.com/p/CE0ShgDM5ud/?igshid=18tb30dp3v8tv

The Tempest #OurGang #children #witch #wicca #whichwitchiswhich #homeschool #adventurers #family #blogger #adventure #familyblogger https://www.instagram.com/p/BuVsuUZBVHV/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=4hdljyhu462

Hahahahahaha #WhichWitchiswhich Oh that bitch witch. Lol she needs intensive therapy 🙏♥️God help her please??? https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp8VQJ7nPSF/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1k6qvg9gtldno