#witchalf

    ok ok ok ok  im  LATE WITH THIS, IT WAS LAST NIGHT  but  still,  happy  21st  birthday  my honorary sister ----------------- honestly it’s been  a  BLESSING  having known you for all these years, and ever since then I’ve always associated  both  Noora and Sabrina Spellman since  forever so I decided to make you this edit (  even tho my PS skills are QUESTIONABLE RN KJSNKJNSF )  but it’s true; you have all the best friend qualities of  Noora  as well as the PERSONAL AESTHETIC OF SABRINA SPELLMAN;  you also got me into skam which, I will be forever thankful for because what was life before that show lmao, but no fr fr one day, we will all hang out and do paper face masks and watch korean dramas together, AND DRINK, but look, ok i love you and im glad we met, and i love how you get me to impulse make blogs and join either rpgs you’re in, or rpgs YOU MADE. you’re an amazing writer and smart cookie, i literally am floored with everything you write no matter what blog you’re writin rn;  you’re the best don’t let anyone tell you different ILY. 

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            𝕸ichael   folded   his   arms   behind   his   back,   blue   eyes   piercing   right   through   the   girl   standing   in   front   of   him.   there   was   no   smile   on   his   face,   if   any   emotion   was   visible   at   all   right   now.   ❝ if   you   lie   I   will   know,   if   you   try   to   trick   me   I   will   know. ❞   then,   slowly,   he   nodded,   giving   her   a   sign   to   start   performing.   if   her   display   of   powers   pleased   him,   he’d   consider   not   taking   her   life,   not   taking   the   life   of   the   other   witches   around.   if   she   didn’t   ...   michael   hadn’t   decided   what   exactly   would   happen   if   she   didn’t   yet.   

       “hey, ‘brina! wait up!” it only takes him four long steps to catch up to her, and when he does his smile manages to brighten further. eyes fall to focus on her face and he feels one, two thuds in his chest. she feels like home. she always has. “hey, uh--- what if i walk you home?”

He walks slowly beside her, shadows of the spindly gate and crooked trees lining the long path to her house -- a path he’s walked a million times or so, but this one feels longer, more full of dread. And perhaps it’s the heaviness of their conversation that weighs down his feet, or that when they get to the end of the road there should be some kind of final decision made. Not that he’s the one who has to make it. He’s simply trying to understand what’s going on with her, with her family, with everything. “So you have to ... Choose,” he repeats quietly, voice seeping into the haunting peace all around them rather than breaking it. Human. Witch. Human. Witch. “How long? How long do you have before you have to decide?” Human. Witch. 

                                              @witchalf

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