#the november witch

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

i-D, NO. 53, magazine, Levelprint ltd., November 1987 (cover pic of Mariko Mori by Kevin Davies)

[assassin1513]

⚜️November Witch⚜️

[thehobbitchronicles]

Hello November

please be kind to me. bring me cool weather, crisp brown leaves, happy days, warm smiles and lots of love 🍂☕️

[thepumpkin-queenn]

Goodbye October 🔮

[callunavulgaris]

A cozy November house, surrounded by yellowing trees, lights up like a candle against the marbled sky of a chilly fall evening.

[drag00ni]

this Qifrey art that I never posted

[mc-lukanette]

"I'm the least-witch witch ever," Marinette groaned, burying her head in her arms on the table. A book titled History of Witch Fashion, thick but shockingly lacking in substance, laid open in front of her, turned all the way to the last page.

She understood it to some degree. Witches of the past had little need to change the way they looked due to their circumstances, as they tended to live far out in the woods where no one would see them anyway. It was a "waste" to worry about updating their look, and wearing all black tended to make camouflaging spells go more smoothly if they needed to go anywhere potentially dangerous at night.

Even in the modern day, there remained reasons to stick to tradition, such as to ensure that people knew what they were. Anyone who looked like a "genuine witch" was someone people could trust for potions or spells once magic became more socially acceptable.

But Marinette's problem was simple: she hated it. She couldn't pull off the all black look and found the generic pointy witch hats to, quite bluntly, look like traffic cones that just came back from a funeral.

"I don't even have a black cat!" she cried out in distress.

"Mrrah?"

She pushed herself up, turning to the white short-haired cat sitting nearby. "It's not your fault, Clawton! You're perfect just the way you are!"

The cat puffed out its chest with pride, a tiny gentlecat without a tuxedo.

Marinette smiled, feeling a little cheered up by it, but faltered when she looked at the book again. Centuries of witch fashion laid before her, yet there were only tiny, insignificant changes made over time. Even seasonal changes recommended temperature-related spells to show off instead of dressing for the weather like a normal person.

"It's fine!" she told herself, hitting the table with both hands. A surge of magic caused the book to float upwards, and Marinette ordered it into the garbage, deciding, "I'll just... have to take the witch fashion world by storm, all by myself!"

Clawton let out a concerned mew, but didn't protest.

—————

Step one of Marinette's lack of a plan was finding inspiration, and there were few better ways of doing that than walking around the town and taking in the sights. Clawton walked next to her, tiny pawsteps sounding beside her own footsteps as she scribbled anything that gave even remotely "witch-y" vibes. It was like making a mood board.

Nothing solid was forming in her head thus far, but it was better than nothing. While it wasn't likely to happen, she did hope for that special spark, that magical thing that'd make her go—

"Mrreow!"

Marinette stopped, surprised to hear her cat speak up when it was usually so quiet in public. Looking down, she called out worriedly, "Clawton?"

It didn't even glance at her, taking off like a shot down the street. She gasped, shocked but reacting quickly enough to chase after it.

"Hey, come back! Where are you going?"

She only hoped that her mood as of late hadn't been affecting it. Cats were sensitive to magical and emotional fluctuations in witches, making them solid pets but ones that could also take on or share a witch's stress if they chose to.

If that did end up being the case, she probably owed it a few treats.

Clawton turned on a dime to dart around a corner, Marinette not far behind. She heard someone yelp and fall over just as she turned that same corner, though slightly clumsier than her cat had been.

Sitting on the ground was a teenage boy, probably around her age, though she focused on little else when she saw Clawton purring in his lap. Horrified, she hurried to the two, plucking her cat from him and settling it in her arms.

She rambled off, "I'm so sorry! It's not usually like that, but now it knocked you over and—did it rip your clothes?! I swear I'll sew them up—I'll make it better even, I—!"

"They didn't scratch me."

Marinette paused mid-sentence, somehow managing to hear his soft voice over her panicking, and blinked at him. Taking in what she had assumed were "cat scratches," she realized that they were actually purposeful rips in the clothes. Even the knees of his pants had similar ones when she actually looked, and they more obviously weren't caused by a cat.

As the boy stood back up, entirely calm despite what had happened, Clawton hopped down from her arms to do figure eights around his legs. Marinette was still busy taking in his fashion, eyes scanning him up and down to fully capture it.

His pants and shoes were notably black, but not too much even with his black hair. He kept it interesting with the white and shades of blue he wore on his upper body, in addition to the blue highlights in his hair that were either natural or dyed. The rips she'd mistaken for cat scratches did still give off the same energy in a way, and if they were in another place, then maybe—

Marinette's eyes widened. Without another thought, she stepped forward, taking the boy's hands and clasping them together in her own. Looking him right in the eyes, she asked spontaneously, "Will you be my muse?!"

He blinked.

—————

The embarrassment took a few seconds to strike, after which came a slew of apologies and a promise to make up for the onslaught from both her and her cat. He insisted it was fine, but she insisted right back.

They eventually ended up sitting on a bench together at a public flower garden, complete with iced tea that Marinette had bought for them. Apparently, the boy often went there himself for his own inspiration - just as a musician rather than a fashion designer - so he smelled strongly of flowers that her cat adored, which explained why it had jumped him.

While Clawton rolled around and stretched amongst some thyme, the boy took a sip of his iced tea and wondered aloud, "So, changing witch fashion all on your own, huh?"

She whined, wishing she could hide behind her own cup. "I know. It sounds insane."

"No, I like the sound of that." He turned to her with a gentle smile. "I'm Luka, by the way."

She shot him a skeptical look. "Marinette. Are we exchanging names because you want a restraining order?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're fine. Honestly, I want to help you if I can."

"Really?" She paused. "Clawton didn't hit your head, did he? I know I said when we were getting drinks that you'd get benefits if this took off, but..."

He leaned back against the bench and swung an arm over the top of it, shrugging with the arm holding his cup. "I think if anyone can do it, it's you. You have incredible energy, Marinette." He grinned. "Enough to ask a stranger to be your muse."

He somehow felt positive enough about the experience to joke about it. Marinette knew then that either she had overreacted, she had struck diamond in finding this boy, or both. Either way, giving him up would be the most foolish thing she could do.

It helped that he, now that she was truly looking at him and not just his clothes, was exactly her type. He dressed in a style that was clearly his own and carried himself as such, confident and comfortable in the clothes he wore without coming off arrogant. Better yet was that he still had cat fur on his pants from when Clawton had rubbed itself on him, yet he seemed totally unbothered.

Gods and goddesses above, he was perfect.

Of course, if he was going to be her muse for such an important task, then it would have to be strictly professional, so she tried not to think about it too hard. She'd been told before that she could be a bit much, so she would have to be all business about this.

"Can I add a condition?" Luka asked suddenly.

"Huh? Yeah—er, yes." She tried to say it formally, straightening her back in perfect posture even if the colorful cup of iced tea kind of ruined it. "What is it?"

The corner of his lips twitched into a brief smirk at the action, but he carried on, "Can you be my muse too?"

"Ah?" Her shoulders slumped, already ruining the poise she'd been trying to maintain. "Me? You mean Clawton?"

"You," he insisted. "I like your cat too, but I think you're interesting, Marinette. If we're going to get to know each other, shouldn't we do it the best way creative people like us do?"

The logic was hard to argue with, especially with the slew of emotions he'd just caused her: bafflement that he'd want her of all people as a muse, shyness at the look he'd given her when he'd said it, and all of that preceding sheer joy.

"S-so you'll really do it then?" she realized, bouncing up out of her seat and facing him. "You'll be my muse?!"

He nodded, reaching a hand up to her for a handshake. "We've got a deal."

"Yes! I could just kiss you!" she blurted out. A second later, she caught herself and quickly corrected, "Ah, not really—not now—unless you—ah, thanks!"

She put her own hand out to complete the handshake, the two positively beaming, and thus began the relationship between the two teenage business partners that just happened to be each other's muse.

[rainystressed247]

I was thinking about huevember and then I ofc got really busy all of the sudden. Hahaha, so there you have it. Witch Dream sending off October and welcoming November! >.<

[akkifuar]

Снег шел не переставая, ветер неприятно щипал лицо. Чувствовалось, что осень неспешно попрощалась и уступила зиме. Всё замерло. Лишь кое-где игривые зелёные листья, подобно опоздавшим гостям, отчаянно цеплялись за осенние воспоминания, не желая облачиться в холодный зимний наряд забвения. Цветы бересклета выглядывают из-под шапочек снега, шепчут тебе своё значение: "Ваши чары выгравированы в моем сердце".

[ribboncutzzz]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞 ────୨ৎ────

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Awake!, magazine, Watchtower Pub., November 22, 1989

[lolathelooptyloop]

rip galinda upland you would've loved criticizing met gala outfits while in your pajamas

rip galinda upland you would've loved paris fashion week

rip galinda upland you would've loved chappelle roan

rip galinda upland you would've loved my boy (witch) only breaks his (her) favorite toys by taylor swift

[toyastales]

Geology Rocks - Fluorite Crystal

https://toyastales.blogspot.com/2024/11/geology-rocks-fluorite-crystal.html

[ashes2caches]

finally

[keysatthecrossroad]

Hekáte's Night

Mother, I honor You,

Mother, I thank You,

Mother, I praise You,

Please accept my offerings, blessed Goddess,

Hekáte, I worship You,

Hekáte, I magnify You,

Hekáte, I revere You,

Please accept my devotion, mysterious Goddess.

[petaltexturedskies]

But days, too, of the wild blackness of great autumn storms, followed by dank, wet, streaming nights when there was witch-laughter in the pines and fitful moans among the mainland trees.

L.M. Montgomery, The Blue Castle