#morning of the magicians

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Louis Pauwels, Jacques Bergier - The Morning of the Magicians - Mayflower - 1971

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[driveintheaterofthemind]

Guardians Of The Earth

Art by Dan Schkade

[queenlucythevaliant]

harder than you think

i. When the Narnians stole Edmund away from beneath the Witch's blade, they told him he was safe. This wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

ii. They brought him to the Stone Table. It was night. Edmund doubted very much that he would find safety there, for he still recoiled at the name of Aslan. He slept fitfully and woke the next morning before the sun was up.

iii. A sliver of gold just beyond the tent flap captured his attention, there in the dark. Unaccountably, Edmund felt the urge to rise and go towards it.

iv. And there was Aslan, who was supposed to be fearsome, supposed to be dangerous, supposed to be powerful, and he was he was he was. Dimly, Edmund felt himself hitting the ground.

v. But then Aslan said, “Come, Son of Adam. Let us walk a while, and reason together.”

vi. And as they walked together, in the cool dewy grass of early morning, the Lion told Edmund everything that he had ever done.

vii. They were standing in front of the Table when the conversation turned. Aslan spoke a riddle of a house blasted into rubble which he would piece back together overnight. He spoke of flesh being pierced, blood being shed, and of rejected stones being used for new foundations. He spoke about water welling up forever, washing you clean of everything you ever did wrong, all the blood that you ever thought of shedding, everything you ever tried to steal, and a river that carries you home when you can't walk anymore and spits you out brand new when it reaches the sea.

viii. Edmund's head swam. Silently, he yearned for the wisdom to understand what he was being told; or, failing that, at least to remember it for as long as it took him to puzzle it out.

ix. And then, the Witch. Then, the battle. The thrones. A year passed, and winter came. In its time, it melted back to glorious spring.

x. “Edmund,” said Lucy one day. “There's something we need to tell you.” She and Susan were cloaked in springtime gossamer, like fairy queens in poems he only half remembered. They sat on the window seat in his study, holding hands white-knuckled: his two beloved sisters.

xi. “It's about Aslan,” Susan said. “And the White Witch, and how he made her renounce her claim on your blood. The night before Beruna, he went back to the Stone Table.”

xii. “He let her kill him,” Lucy cut in. “Instead of you. And then, because he hadn't done anything wrong, the Emperor's Deeper Magic brought him back to life.”

xiii. “We've been arguing all year about how much to tell you,” said Susan wryly. Then, a little gentler, “We don't want to hurt you, but we feel you ought to be told what he did for you.”

xiv. And Edmund, who had never forgotten what Aslan told him on that cool, dewy morning before the sun came up, shut his eyes and whispered, “I know.”

xv. I know, he said. I know that he died. I know that he did it for me. I know he lived again because I saw him the next day, and the next, and the next. I think I know what it means - or at least, I know the shape of it.

xvi. “Oh,” said Lucy. “We should have realized that he would have told you himself.”

xvii. “Yes. But please, tell me the story all the same.”

[blitheringbongus]

Morning Magician Mumbo doodle

[lizardkingeliot]

Eliot Waugh in The Magicians s01e10 Homecoming

[jeffcross5000]

"You know those guys?”

“I swear I’ve seen them somewhere before...”

[muscari-melpomene]

You

Are

Kidding me

[midnightmagicks]

//Okay. I am TIRED.

I have been dealing with someone on and off for MONTHS sending me random anons about how much they hate me/my blog/my characters/etc etc. I blocked the anon and now they're BACK.

IDK who this is. IDK what personal beef you have with me. But please just come talk to me if you are really upset by something I did. I am a grown ass adult and can have a conversation to correct myself or make amends if I did something wrong. If it's not that. Please just stop. It's unfair and hurtful to hear this stuff randomly for no perceivable reason. It has a genuine impact. And maybe that's what you want. If so, you're just an ass.

I hate calling attention to hate anons usually because they feed off of that but I'm going to pull my hair out about this nonsense. And yes, I blocked the anon again. Ughghgh

[persona-arcanas]

[MAGICIAN SERIES] After a short break (had to move), here's Junpei Iori! This guy's probably got the most fleshed out character arc in any Persona game bar maaaaybe the Persona 1 gang. I love him and Chidori <3

[joycrispy]

(I love tarot tiktok SO MUCH because people will draw a single card, like the 2 of Coins or whatever, nod sagely, and then proceed to say the most batshit thing you've ever heard.

According to my FYP this morning, I am an extra-dimensional being in a human body, I am in constant telepathic communication with my twin flame, but I mistake those transmissions for mood swings, and also

[this one was said in pure fury]

SOMEBODY is performing SEX MAGIC on me.)

[caeledron]

Say goodbye to your MONEY

[insidethekaleidoscope]

Every year our neighbors two doors down throw a very loud and very large clown themed small children’s party that runs until about 2am. Tonight is that night.

[hellogoodbyegirl]

Roger Hodgson of Supertramp performing 'Asylum' in Paris '79

[mihai-florescu]

Whatever. I kinda miss genshin a lot with the teaser for fontaine:(

[lizardkingeliot]

Title: until i come back from the dead for you | Chapters: 2/? | Fandom: The Magicians | Pairing: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh | Rating: Explicit | Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply (see fic for tags and author's notes)

Eliot woke half-numb beneath a fading brume of narcotics. Blinking, sight of the Brakebills infirmary swimming before him like a deep, dark body of water dotted with crimson light. He knew without even looking that there was an IV in his arm. Fluids moving into his body one steady, wet drip at a time. Only maintaining his grip on the world via a big sloshing bag of someone else’s blood.

There beside him, someone was holding Eliot's hand in their own. Slender fingers slipping against his palm gently, gently. Margo, of course. Face like a dim silver moon in the dark. Plucking her hand from Eliot’s the moment she noticed he was waking. “Drink,” she said, pressing what felt like a straw to his mouth at once. “And don’t you even think about passing out on me again, you cock.”

[click here to continue reading chapter two on ao3]

or

[click here to start from the beginning]