#future teller

[papercatlab]

(via Resin Rune Set, 25 Runes, Black Gold and Blue Glitter - Etsy Italy)

#glitter #runes #futhark #epoxy resin #divination #witchcraft #the craft #blue #glitter blue #gold #etsy #wicca #paganism #future teller #handmade #etsyshop

[blairstales]

Historic Halloween: Predicting the Future

"Love charms, indeed, form an important group of wishing superstitions. To this class belong Hallow E’en rites, such as eating an apple before a mirror, and sowing hemp seed." “Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs” by James M MacKinlay (1893)

While it might seem strange now, predicting the future was once an important part of Halloween festivities. In fact, it was a tradition that was absolutely expected at gatherings.

"As the evening wore on, the young people gathered to one house, and an almost endless variety of games (cleasan) were resorted to, with the object in every case of divining the future lot of the company." “Witchcraft & Second Sight in The Highlands and Islands of Scotland” by John Gregorson Campbell (1902)

Some of these even carried over to America, such as the tradition of bobbing for apples (dooking for apples). While very much so also a game, the reason for it was to foretell who would have the best luck.

"Apples and a silver sixpence were put in a tub of water. The apples floated on the top, but the coin lay close to the bottom. Whoever was able to lift either in his mouth, and without using his teeth, was counted very lucky, and got the prize to himself." “Witchcraft & Second Sight in The Highlands and Islands of Scotland” by John Gregorson Campbell (1902)

Other traditions might not be recognizable now, but were done with much laughter and teasing.

"A dish of milk and meal (fuarag, Scot. crowdie), or of beat potatoes, was made, and a ring was concealed in it. Spoons were given to the company, and a vigorous attack was made on the dish. Whoever got the ring would prove to be the first married. This was an excellent way of making the taking of food part of the evening’s merriment." “Witchcraft & Second Sight in The Highlands and Islands of Scotland” by John Gregorson Campbell (1902)

There were many different customs to predict the future, and some were designed to be done with the group.

Burning the Nut:

Amongst the spells practiced inside the house was burning the nuts. As the company sat around the fireside, they named a lad or lass to each nut as it was laid on the fire, and according to the behavior of the nuts, so would the course and issue of the courtship be." “Primitive Beliefs in the North-East of Scotland” by Joseph McKenzie McPherson (1929)

While others were specifically for a girl to sneak away and perform while alone.

Sowing Lint-seed:

"When the shades of evening were falling, the maiden had to steal out quietly with a handful of lint-seed, and walk across the ridges of a field, sowing the seed, and repeating the words: “Lint-seed I saw ye, Lint-seed I saw ye; Lat him it’s to be my lad Come after me, and pu’ me.” On looking over the left shoulder she saw the apparition of him who was to be her mate crossing the ridges, as it were, in the act of pulling flax.” “Folklore of the North East of Scotland” by Walter Gregor (1881)

All in all, these “future telling” customs were a fun way to tease friends or family, or a way to (maybe) secretly see something that would make you hopeful for the future.

Historic Audio Recordings:

(link) 1974 — A Halloween divination custom.

(link) 1978 — Halloween divination; an instance when it came true.

(link) 1977 — Orkney Halloween customs, including divination; tricks at Halloween and other times

#samhuinn #samhain #halloween #scotland #scottish #scottish mythology #scottish folklore #scottishfolklore #ImportantScottishDays #history #witchblr #folklore #mythology #myths #witchcraft #future teller #future telling #divination #apple bobbing

[fkartcreations]

#lenormand #lenormand printables #lenormand printable #download lenormand cards #download digital #digital download #print at home #printable #tarot readers #tarotcommunity #taro #tarot collection #tarot deck #tarot community #lenormand community #oracle #oracles #oracle reader #oracle community #oracle cards #oracle dc #lenormand karten #lenormand dc #withcraft #witchblr #witches #witches of tumblr #future teller

[nelkcats]

The Medium and his assistant

Amity Park was a roller coaster, but after eliminating the GIW, talking to the Fentons, and getting some sort of alliance with the ghosts, Danny felt like he didn't have much else to do. He took Ellie's advice to travel a bit, but tried to make it a little more exciting.

Although the money he had been given could last forever (and longer with Vlad's card in his pocket), he wanted to earn his own money. So he made his trip a fun job, turning part of his vehicle into a trailer. Thus was born his career as a medium and fortune teller, traveling around the world, listening to the dead, advising people, etc.

Technically, thanks to Clockwork Danny could see the future, but he doesn't need it, or at least not always. And talking to the dead was practically his day-to-day, so he thought he had chosen well.

During one of his trips, when he passed through Gotham he found a zombie (which turned out to be a halfa!), the poor thing was lost, and wandering, so he helped him and did the most sensible thing possible: he offered him a job. Jason, who hadn't been back for a long time and his memories were scrambled, decided that he needed a vacation anyway, for his own sanity (not seeing the Joker's face was a bonus) and accepted the offer. Of course, he covered his face in case someone recognized him as the son of a millionaire, Danny approved.

Both traveled around the world, offering their services and bothering a certain Constantine who complained every time they had the same client (Danny replied that it really wasn't his fault, but the British man was still upset). A year later they returned to Gotham.

The Batfam assumed that Danny's business was a scam. But Bruce was desperate, he wanted to talk with Jason, to hear about him, even if it was a scam, so he visited them. When Danny asked who he wanted to contact, Bruce replied "Jason Todd."

Danny, who knew full well the identity of his employee, raised an eyebrow and glanced surreptitiously at his assistant, who was avoiding his gaze. He sighed before continuing his 'work', glancing at Jay from time to time.

A few days later, Dick Grayson showed up with the same request, and Danny made sure to kick Jason as soon as he left.

#dpxdc #Fortune teller Danny #he can see the future #and give advices #but he's not going to do it all the time #just with people that really need it #dead on main #technically he's a medium #he can talk with ghosts and all #he's just a ghost too #not that people know that #He actually summon ghosts if they want to talk with the client #dp x dc #dc x dp #Danny doesn't know what to do with Bruce Family #Jason keep avodiding them #and they keep coming back #Constantine have a rivalry with them #most of his clients contact the medium too and is annoying #Jason is happy as an assistant #he accepted impulsively but it was a good choice #Talia didn't found Jason because Danny did so he was not near the pits this time #Danny heal him with his ecto and it worked #Medium Danny

[blackopals-world]

Idia: So what's my future?

(???)Yuu:(dressed as a fortune teller) You will die in three days.

Idia:WHAT?!

-Three days later-

Idia: You meant in a game.

(???)Yuu: Death will come. When it is earned. There is no free death here.

#no they dont know why they were put in the fortune teller tent #they don't even know how to tell the future #i think? #(???)!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland incorrect quotes #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #twst incorrect quotes #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #idia x y/n #twst idia

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, bradley being a nervous first time daddy, wc: 3.8k

…

“This… doesn’t look right.” Bradley pulls back and rests his hands against his hips, staring at the car seat with an unimpressed gaze frown.

“Sure it does.” You answer, peering around him to examine the situation in front of you. The straps are secure at the top of his chest, his plush cheek resting against the padded restraints.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look comfortable.” Bradley answers you with a shake of his head. This is his second practice of the day. He doesn’t want Tom to be in the car seat too long, but he knows that his most significant job in all of this is getting the two of you home safe.

He leans forwards and begins to fiddle with the straps again. Your newborn doesn’t seem fussed by his neurotic, worried dad anyways. Bradley hums. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll figure it out.”

“The Bradshaws! — How are we this morning?”

This, Thomas is fussed by. Over the last six days, the first six of his life, you’ve figured that your son has some pretty sharp reflexes. Even just blowing on his cheek makes him flinch. He jumps, arms and legs tensing at once, his still unfocused eyes blowing wide open as the doctor strolls into the room.

His lip begins to wobble and his nose scrunches up tight, his hands trembling under the confines of his mittens. You nudge Bradley out of the way and unclasp the straps right as Thomas begins to cry.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to spook this little sweetheart.” The doctor is smiling and reaching out to tickle the infant’s back and on your end, everything is forgiven. Bradley, however, glares at her as he reaches his son.

You hadn’t been expecting the same guy who once jumped off of the roof of a neighbouring frat house and into their pool to be such a nervous nelly when it came to parenthood. Especially not the same guy who told you he wanted no part in any of this.

You roll your eyes, rocking softly, shushing the baby. These past six days have taught you a lot of things. That the birthmark on the bottom of Thomas’ back is kind of the shape of Italy. That even though he can’t see much yet, he likes to look around while he’s being fed. That Bradley is not fast enough at changing diapers yet to avoid getting peed on.

That somehow, you and Bradley might have just created the most perfect little boy in the entire world. With his thatches of brown hair and his tiny fingers and toes, his sloped nose and poured lips. Those funny, jumpy reflexes.

“I’m just here to do some tests, see if we can get you guys home today.” She tells you with a bright smile. From the way that your face changes, she can tell that this is the news that you’ve been waiting for. Six days of barely walking, hearing other people’s babies screaming — you’ve been ready to go home for a while.

“Today? — Nobody said today. They said tomorrow.” Bradley interjects loudly. You scowl across at him and he shuts up, but the nervous way he fidgets on his feet tells you everything you need to know.

“I know, I know. But he’s doing just fine so far, and I’m sure you two are eager to sleep in your own beds again.” The doctor coos softly, learning from her initial mistake as she takes the baby from your arms. She follows your pattern of soothing and rocking and Thomas seems to consider quietening down.

Bradley pushes his hands into the pockets of his sweat shorts and just leans back against the end of the hospital bed. He’s so focused on watching this stranger with your baby that he doesn’t even hear you move until you’re pressing in against his side.

“You’re doing fine.” You promise him, stretching your open palm against the fabric of his black t-shirt, stretching your neck to look at him. “Stop stressing.”

He doesn’t say anything, and that worried frown on his face doesn’t soften either. Bradley swallows, brushes a hand over his upper lip and reaches out for you. You close

Your eyes as he secures an arm around your waist and tugs you closer, leaning down and resting his mouth against the top of your head.

He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of unfamiliar shampoo and hospital borrowed soap.

“She called you a Bradshaw, you know.” He whispers finally, just before he straightens back up. You scoff, jabbing the tip of your index finger into his side.

“Don’t get any ideas, Pops. It’s bad enough you talked me into letting Tommy take your name.” You’re joking, of course. The amusement in your voice makes his chest feel that little bit less tight. You’ll say yes, one day. He’ll make sure it’s special and you’re not giving birth next time, and you’ll say yes.

He pinches your side playfully and tugs you closer again. “Pops? — I thought we agreed on you calling me—“

He grunts as you jerk your elbow back into his stomach, just enough to make him jolt but not enough to actually hurt the idiot you’ve come to be so fond of. There it is, he grins behind you, his chest rumbling with a soft chuckle.

Minutes later, the doctor turns around to you and gives you the go-ahead. Suddenly, the little boy in the roomy onesie is all yours, and yours alone. Well, not that suddenly, there’s paperwork first. But sudden feels the only appropriate word when you’re walking out of the hospital, with no one to guide you.

Bradley’s knuckles are white around the handle of the car seat in his right hand, a slightly softer approach to the way that he’s holding your hand in his left.

“You’re sure you can walk? — They said you could have a chair, if you want a chair.” He checks, for the second time since you stepped out of the elevator.

“I’m fine.” You give his hand a soft squeeze and groan softly as you step out into the mid-summer suffocation of the Florida heat. “Now walk with purpose. It’s too hot for this.”

Settled into the backseat beside Thomas, sleeping in his car seat, you catch Bradley frowning worriedly back at the both of you before he turns the key in the ignition.

The drive home is slow, and uneventful. The baby is asleep. Bradley’s eyes are trained seriously on the road, his hands holding a steady ten and two position on the wheel. You don’t dare suggest that he turns on the radio.

There were plenty of things that you had prepared yourself for when you had decided to have your baby. Your body changing, fine. Your career plans changing, okay. The hormones and the responsibilities and the tiny human who would depend on you for probably the rest of your life, sure.

Some things about such a drastic lifestyle change simply cannot be planned for.

Nine hours ago, you brought your son home from the hospital. This is something that you would never admit out loud, but in those last few days of your pregnancy, the concern had flooded your mind that maybe your feelings for Bradley were purely hormonal. You were carrying his child, it makes sense that your body would want him around. It was the after that had concerned you.

But, you had watched today as Bradley had carried the car seat in one hand and secured you by his side with the other. He had buckled your son into the car, and he had driven home under the speed limit the entire way.

You exhale softly as you step out of the shower. That’s growing easier now, six days later, but your body is far from healed. Your legs still tremble when you try to stand too long, and your back aches in a way you’re starting to worry might be permanent.

It’s quiet in your apartment now. You listen out as you towel dry your body, trying to find the pitch of a sports narrator or some soft music — anything. It’s almost dead silent.

You wriggle into your pyjamas and wrap your wet hair, walking slow out of the bathroom and down the hall. You’re barely dry, your warm feet padding along the carpet, wrinkled fingers pushing open the door to the bedroom.

One of the things that none of the articles you had read seemed to mention, is what to do the first time that you see the father of your child at home with your baby.

Bradley’s sitting up against the pillows with Thomas nestled against his chest. His hand eclipses the infant’s torso as he pats his back softly. Thomas’ cheek is resting against Bradley’s pectoral, you can’t see from where you are but instinct and your son’s uncharacteristic stillness tells you that he’s sleeping.

Bradley’s singing. He’s patting the baby’s back gently and he’s singing softly, trying hard to push the usually deep rumble of his voice into lullaby territory.

Your mouth falls slack, cold feet becoming still against the soft floor. This tiny first apartment and its discernible wooden doors that creak at every opportunity give you away and he stops just as quickly as he is perceived.

His gaze flickers up and his lips twist softly into a small smile. You watch him take account of your matching maternity pyjamas which threaten to be too big without the stretch of your bump. Amusement floods the hint of the smile on his lips — he loves to laugh at these pyjamas.

His hand stills against Thomas’ back, those glittery brown eyes flicker up to study the look on your face.

“Hey, babe,” He hums, keeping his voice low so that he doesn’t startle the baby. “How was your shower?”

“I didn’t think I would miss our shitty water pressure, but I’m just so glad we’re not at the hospital anymore.” You pad across the carpet towards him and crawl into bed, pulling back the sheets and draping yourself across Bradley’s brawny thighs.

He looks down at you and secures the infant close to his chest, freeing one hand to brush tenderly across your cheek.

“What was that song were you singing him?” You ask. The ceiling fan whirs above you like a thrumming, excessively loud lullaby. The warmth of his thigh props up your cheek.

There’s something about it all that feels too much like a dream. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The NICU isn’t exactly a luxury retreat, despite its price point. Tonight is your first night home from the hospital. Your son is six days old and yesterday, he officially crossed the threshold into five pound territory. Tonight, he’s huddled against Bradley’s bare chest, wearing a diaper that had seemed too tiny for an actual human to wear and zipped into a onesie printed with little ducks on it. Geese, maybe, actually.

You lift your hand and reach out, watching your fingertip follow the soft cotton covering those wrinkled lines on the sole of Thomas’ foot that you’ve come to be so familiar with already.

The infant curls his toes and unclenches them again, scrunching his knees. Bradley watches, lips twisted into a smile that he couldn’t fight back if he tried.

There’s something about the steady, heavy thrum of Bradley’s heartbeat that puts the kid right to sleep. The warm bath and the ounce of milk that came before he was set on his dad’s stomach may have helped too. Bradley’s hand cups the back of Thomas’ neck, keeping the sleeping baby steady.

“Wildflowers by, uh— Tom Petty, I think?” Bradley shrugs. In truth, he knows the song inside and out — it was the first song he learned to play on piano. He’s used to playing that down. Girls find guitars hot, not his years of classical piano lessons.

You smile, lifting your head and pressing a gentle kiss to the sole of the baby’s foot, soft blue cottons

against your lips. Then, you lower your mouth and press it softly to Bradley’s stomach. Just once, before you drop your head back down and set it against his thigh.

“He’s so good, and I’m still exhausted.” You murmur, exhaling deeply. Behind heavy lids, you make a mental note to look into which ingredient in the smell of baby soap acts as such a good sleeping agent.

“You should sleep. He’ll be up again in a couple of hours.” Bradley reminds you, stroking damp hair back off of your forehead. Closing your eyes, you nod with him, but make no effort to move. He smiles. “Come on, I don’t need to sing the both of you to sleep, do I?”

You huff a soft sound of amusement, giving a small shake of your head. “Not tonight, Pops. Put him to bed, let’s get some sleep.”

Bradley chuckles, carefully shifting your son off of his stomach and instead laying him across his thighs as you sit up.

“Mom and Dad… isn’t that crazy?” He muses, stroking his thumb across the soft hair on the infant’s head. Thomas is still so small that Bradley’s palm makes him look even tinier. You lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder and stroke the baby’s cheek.

“I know.” You agree quietly.

Big, round cheeks and pursed lips, dark eyelashes and a soft little nose. His tiny hands balled into fists, his knees curled up to his middle. Blue clouds adorning his onesie. Half you, and half Bradley.

“Alright, we’ll see you in a couple hours, little man. Yell if you need something.” Bradley half jokes as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns to set the baby into the bassinet. With the lung capacity he has already impressed you with, you know that he’ll have no issues letting you know if he wants something.

He crawls back into bed beside you and flicks the beside lamp off, pulling the covers up around the two of you. Readily, you press yourself close to him and close your eyes. He smells like baby soap.

“Are you still hurting anywhere?” Bradley’s voice lowers to a whisper now, his breath fanning across the nape of your neck as he leans his head into the crook of your shoulder and cautiously rests a hand against your hip. Into the dark, your mouth twitches at a smile.

Your hips feel both squished and torn apart at the same time. Your back feels like it might never feel quite right ever again. But even with him a cautious distance from you, you can feel the perpetual warmth from his body.

“Everywhere. But I still want you to hold me.”

Slowly, he slides an arm under you and another over you. Draping his body around yours, he pulls you close and suddenly you get whatever it is that sends Thomas off to sleep so easily. The faint musky smell of his fading cologne. The steady, heavy thrum of his heartbeat. The long, deep pattern of his breathing.

Just when you think he has beat you to it, he reminds you that he’s still awake. A soft, chaste kiss presses to your throat, his voice low as he mumbles, “I love you.”

As much as Thomas is a good baby; he’s still a baby. A small one at that, with plenty of growing to do. Even now, he just about finishes an ounce of milk at a time — half of the time. That means a lot of wake ups. A lot of diaper changes with your eyes half open.

The first four days of parenthood pass you by before you’ve really come to terms with the reality of it all. Constant feeds through the night, surviving off of instant noodles and pizza — all of this doesn’t feel too far of a stretch from your recent college days.

But it’s harder now. The responsibilities are never ending. It’s hard to remain rational about any of it.

“If you could breastfeed, would you do it?”

From the other end of the couch, Bradley seems to startle awake. Brows drawing together in confusion, he stares across your dimly lit living room at you, then takes a second to look around him.

You’re at the end of the movie now, so he doesn’t have a clue how long he has been sleeping. Stretching his legs out, he sighs softly, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Your mouth twitches at the fact that he doesn’t even ask you why. He blinks softly and brings both hands up to rub at his eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?”

“Two, maybe.” You shrug, watching Thomas’ eyelids grow heavy. His hands remain balled and tucked in against his chest. He has spent these past four days stretching out occasionally, scrunching himself back into a tight ball frequently.

“No fucking way did I just sleep for four hours. The movie’s still playing.” Bradley protests, awkwardly fumbling to push himself upright and puckering his mouth into a deep frown. You just shrug across at him once more.

“I put the sequel on after you fell asleep.”

He hadn’t ever thought he would be able to have a regular conversation with a woman who had her breast out in front of him, but here he is. It doesn’t even cross his mind to check you out. The only thing he’s thinking about is the fact you’re running on maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep and all you had wanted was to watch your movie with him. And he had fallen asleep.

He fumbles around, checking his pockets for his phone, finding it instead resting between his jaw and shoulder. You close your eyes for a moment as he checks the time. In the split second that your eyes are shut, Thomas makes a spluttering sound.

As quickly as you can lift and turn him, the has already spit the last mouthful of milk back against your skin and all down his chin.

“Oh, Tommy…” You groan, adjusting the strap of your nursing bra with one hand as you support him with the other.

“Here, I’ll take him.” Bradley offers, pushing himself up and starting to scoot towards you.

“We’re fine.” Maybe it comes out a little bit harsh, maybe your tone is a little colder than normal. Bradley frowns at you, sitting still at the opposite end of the sectional. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know you didn’t.” You’re just doubling down at this point as you wipe at Thomas’ mouth with a muslin cloth. Bradley’s brows draw together a bit.

“So why are you mad at me? — Just let me help you.” He pushes forwards again and reaches for your son.

“I said we’re fine!” You bite back. The baby flinches and quickly starts to scream. You slam your eyes shut, darkness behind your lids and a dull ache drilling from your temples to the core of your brain.

Opposite you, Bradley sighs, dropping his head forward into his hands. You’re both silent. The sequel plays on. The baby keeps on screaming. Neither one of you look at each other.

This is what all new parents go through, you know that. It doesn’t make it any less sore in the moment.

“What should I do?” Bradley asks finally, pushing up from the sofa and squeezing against your side, wrapping an arm around your aching shoulders. It’s not worth dragging your eyes open for.

“Never get me pregnant again, for starters.” You mutter half-jokingly. Bradley chuckles at your side and turns his head to kiss at those sore temples, like he can feel where it hurts. Maybe those dad-senses are sharper than you give him credit for.

“Not even once more? — But look how cute the first one wa—“ He’s only joking of course, but he still has the good sense to shut up when you turn your head and glare at him. He grins, and he looks just like he did the first time you were stupid enough to melt for that pretty look.

“You hungry?” Bradley asks. He read somewhere that breastfeeding can cause stronger appetites.

“Yeah.”

“Dad’s got it. We’ll be right back.” Bradley promises you, dipping forwards and kissing your temple once more, stealing the baby in one fell swoop. “Come on, buddy.”

Bradley pads into the kitchen barefoot, bouncing the baby in his arms and you let your eyes fall shut once more. You’re only two weeks in. They don’t start sleeping through the night for another couple months at least — sometimes years. You don’t know how you could do another couple years of being this delirious.

Closing your eyes, it’s easy enough to imagine that you’re not here. That you’re still in school, or still in your parents’ house. Somewhere safer, where you could hide from the limited responsibilities that you had back then. It would be so easy to drift off into a dream about life being that easy again.

Instead, the sofa dips at your side and your boys are back. Bradley announces himself by kissing your cheek softly and pressing a spoon into your hand.

“All we have is Ice-Cream.” He tells you, settling Thomas into the crook of his elbow and passing the tub of ice cream off to you. You blink at the vanilla flavoured frozen treat in front of you, then look up to stare at him. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. We’ll both go. You can stay here and sleep in.”

You look away for just a second, digging the tip of your spoon into the ice cream, and hear him continue.

“We can get whatever we want, Mommy won’t be there to tell us no.”

Despite your best efforts, a smile itches its way across your face. You turn your head and attempt to force at a scowl. All five of Thomas’ right-hand fingers are wrapped around Bradley’s little finger, they both seem to be looking at you.

“I don’t care what you come home with as long as there’s more of this stuff in there somewhere.” You decide, slipping a spoonful into your mouth and savouring the flavour on your tongue. Bradley shifts, leaning his head against yours.

“Share.” He demands, leaving his mouth open. You snuff your nose at him as you dig another spoonful from the tub and shovel it into his mouth. “That’s so good.”

“Probably not what we should be eating. We aren’t setting a very good example.” You hum, ignoring your own advice and gulping down another spoonful, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table.

If only your mother could see you now. She would lose her marbles if she saw your approach to motherhood.

“Eh, this kid pees himself all day long. We’ll start being good examples for him later on.” Bradley shrugs, leaning his weight into you, turning his attention back to the tv. “So can you explain to me what I missed?”

…

Taglist: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley bradshaw x you #my future in you #mfiy

[zoomar]

What Do Your Dreams Foretell?

#dreams #foretell #future #fortune teller #dream

[bradshawsbaby]

Show Me All the Scars You Hide

Pairing: Rooster x Future Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: The title for this one comes from the Rachel Platten song, “Stand By You,” which is featured on my Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw playlist. I would definitely recommend giving it a listen if you’ve never heard it before. It’s a beautiful song! It definitely influenced this story in a lot of ways.

Warnings: Mentions of drunk driving and a car accident, grief and loss, angst and comfort, romantic fluff.

“Do you have to get home just yet?” Bradley whispered against your ear, eliciting a pleasant shiver that had nothing to do with the brisk evening air.

The sky was still speckled with flecks of orange and pink from the vibrant sunset you’d just witnessed, but an indigo darkness was slowly chasing away the last vestiges of daylight.

You and your boyfriend of almost five months had been whiling away the hours of his day off by hanging out on the beach with his friends and fellow aviators. It made you happy how quickly they’d accepted you into the group and how at ease you felt with all of them, especially Phoenix. She felt like the sister you never had. You could tell it made Bradley happy, too, to see you getting along so well with the people who meant so much to him. Nothing could beat the sight of your boyfriend’s gorgeous smile.

He’d been smiling all day—smiling and laughing and letting loose in a way you loved to see. It didn’t take much to know that his job was an extremely stressful one, so you were glad when he took any opportunity possible to relax and unwind.

After weeks of hearing about it, you’d finally gotten a chance to see a game of dogfight football up close and it certainly did not disappoint. You, Penny, and Amelia had enjoyed watching from the sidelines while simultaneously working on your tans. It was hard to tell who the winning team was, especially by the end when everyone was declaring themselves the victor, but regardless of who the winner was, Bradley insisted on pulling you into the ocean with him for a celebratory swim.

You’d all capped off the evening with a bonfire on the beach, making a mess out of the s’mores and laughing over ridiculous stories as the sun set on the horizon. At one point, Bradley slipped his hoodie over your head and bundled you closer against his side, which you happily snuggled into. Your boyfriend warmed you down to your toes in a way even the fire couldn’t manage.

Now everybody was packing up and getting ready to head home, but clearly Bradley had other things on his mind.

“No,” you whispered in return, turning in his arms so that you were facing him properly and wrapping your arms around his neck. “My schedule’s wide open,” you added teasingly, smiling as he lowered his head to peck your lips.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” he grinned, brushing a loose tendril of hair off your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. “I’m not ready to say goodnight yet,” he added softly, caressing your cheek as his thumb lightly grazed your lower lip.

His words made your stomach do a little somersault, your cheeks growing warm and your pulse quickening ever so slightly. No man had ever made you feel the way that Bradley Bradshaw made you feel. He didn’t play games. He didn’t try to hide how much he loved you. Every time he looked at you, and with every word he spoke to you, you knew how much he cared. For a man in such a macho profession, a man who so many might mistakenly assume to be cocky and arrogant, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for you. And that was a beautiful thing.

“Me either,” you told him truthfully, smiling as you slipped your hand into his.

With his free hand, Bradley reached down to grab your beach bag, which was filled to the brim with sunscreen, towels, a beach blanket, and leftover snacks from earlier in the day. He lifted it up in a gesture of farewell towards the others, who were already starting to head in the opposite direction. “See you guys tomorrow!” he called out.

“Good night, Rooster,” they called back, Hangman, Coyote, and Payback all waggling their eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, grow up,” Phoenix chided them, smirking as she rolled her eyes and waved goodnight to you and Rooster.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey,” Penny told you with a knowing smile as she, Amelia, and Mav packed up to head out for the night as well.

“See you tomorrow, Penny,” you smiled, allowing Bradley to tug you away from the group and the burning embers of the bonfire so that the two of you could stroll peacefully along the shoreline.

“I’m pretty sure everyone thinks we’re off to have sex on the beach now,” you giggled after a few minutes of tranquil silence, your cheeks flushing even as you laughed.

“Yes, I gathered that,” Bradley chuckled, his lips twitching into an amused smile as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed you lovingly to his side. “Not that I’d be opposed to that plan,” he said, his eyes twinkling playfully as he looked down at you. “But I was thinking we could just lay out and look at the stars. It’s something my mom and I used to do whenever we’d spend the day at the beach,” he told you.

Your stomach clenched slightly, the way it always did whenever Bradley revealed something about his family or his past. The two of you had become so trusting and open with each other over the course of these past few months. You felt like there was nothing you couldn’t tell him, and you were glad that he seemed to feel the same way. You knew how much he loved his parents, and how much he missed them, so you felt touched whenever he shared something about them with you.

“That sounds wonderful, babe,” you murmured softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “Did you and your mom go to the beach a lot?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, smiling with a tender affection that warmed you to your core. You loved how much he clearly adored his mother. “Yeah, she loved the beach. She’s the one who taught me how to swim. We spent a lot of summers at the beach. And a lot of summer nights looking up at the stars,” he said fondly, gazing up at the inky black sky above. The last glimmers of sunset had completely vanished, leaving a sky full of sparkling diamonds in their wake.

Bradley stopped suddenly and gazed down at you. It almost seemed like the light from the stars had illuminated his eyes as they fell to your face and met yours. “I never really wanted to look at the stars after she passed. Not by myself. And not with anybody else either,” he confessed, his hand reaching up to lightly cup your cheek again. “Not until I met you.”

Your eyes widened at his admission and you found yourself too stunned to speak.

That didn’t seem to bother Bradley in the slightest. Eyes crinkling as he smiled, he leaned forward to brush his lips against yours. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, reaching up to lightly stroke his cheek.

“Do you want to lay down for a little bit?” Bradley asked, indicating the expanse of sand behind you. The beach was silent and empty, except for the two of you.

You nodded eagerly, which made him chuckle, the two of you working together to set out the large beach blanket that you had thankfully tucked into your bag before leaving your apartment that morning.

Bradley took a seat first, then held out a hand to help you lower yourself down until the two of you were lying side by side, staring up at a sky full of brilliant, twinkling stars.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his gaze transfixed on the sky up above. “I really haven’t done this in years. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen the stars look so beautiful.”

You turned your head to look over at him, slowly slipping your hand into his and lacing your fingers together. “I think it’s your mom. She wanted to make sure the stars were extra special for you tonight,” you breathed out softly.

Bradley was quiet for a moment, but you could see his throat tightening and in the reflected light of the moon, you noticed a single tear sliding down his temple.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, worried you’d upset him. Maybe this was too hard, doing this after so many years, and without his mother here.

“Don’t be,” Bradley told you sincerely, turning his head to look at you. “I’m so thankful to be here with you right now. My mom would have loved you,” he said seriously, reaching over to brush a few loose wisps of hair out of your face. “Just like I do.”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Bradley pulled you closer to his side, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as you snuggled against him and rested a hand on his chest, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. The two of you lay there for a long time in comfortable silence, taking in the breathtaking view of the stars and the calming sound of the waves lapping against the sand.

As Bradley turned his head slightly, resting it against yours, you tore your gaze away from the night sky and looked more intently at him. Even in the darkness, you could make out the scars that marked his chin and cheek. You didn’t know where they’d come from, but they had never once bothered you. You thought they made him rather beautiful, in fact. Neither of you had ever mentioned them before. You would never dare bring them up, never dare presume to ask about them. In the back of your mind, you guessed they may have had something to do with a training accident, but you trusted that if Bradley wanted you to know about them, he would tell you. You would wait, however long that took.

“I’ve never told you about my scars,” Bradley said quietly, so quietly you almost thought you’d imagined it for a moment. There was no way your minds could have been operating on the same wavelength in such a way. But when he turned to look at you, you knew you hadn’t been imagining it.

“No,” you responded softly, shaking your head the tiniest bit. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assured him, resting a warm hand on his cheek.

“I do want to,” Bradley replied, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. “You’re the first person I’ve met who I want to know everything about me,” he confessed, swallowing slowly. “It’s just not something I talk about often.”

“It’s okay. You can tell me as much or as little as you need to,” you reassured him gently, wrapping an arm around his waist as you lay pressed against his side.

Bradley nodded a little bit at that, his fingers sliding through your hair as he looked back up at the sky for a moment. He was quiet for several seconds, but you just waited patiently.

“It wasn’t a training accident. It wasn’t anything to do with the Navy,” he started, blowing your initial assumption out of the water. “It happened when I was in college.”

You nodded slowly, letting him know that you were listening and giving him the space he needed to share whatever he wanted to get off his chest.

“I was a sophomore,” he said, licking his lower lip in an almost nervous gesture. You squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly. “It was the two-year anniversary of my mom’s passing. And I was just—a mess. I didn’t want to be around anybody, but I also didn’t want to be by myself, you know? Some of my friends were going to this party off-campus, so I ended up going with them. But I was even more miserable there,” he explained, holding onto you a little tighter as he recounted the events of that night. “I didn’t drink or anything. I just—I guess I didn’t want to feel so alone. But, truth be told, I’d never felt more lonely in my whole life than I did surrounded by all those people.”

Your heart broke for him, hearing the obvious pain and heaviness in his words, even after all these years.

“I was just going to leave, but then I realized how drunk a couple of my friends were, and so I decided to drive them home first,” he went on, his eyes a little clouded as he thought back to that night. “They didn’t live too far from where the party was, so it wasn’t any trouble getting them back to their apartment. But then when I turned to head back to my dorm—”

His words trailed off for a moment and your stomach tightened in fear. You had a horrible feeling that you knew where this story was going.

“They were drunk. I don’t know if they had been at the party I was at or another party, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. They flew past the stop sign going over sixty miles per hour and T-boned my car as I was trying to make a turn.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, your heart in your throat as Bradley told you more about the accident.

“The funny thing is that they somehow all walked away totally fine. My car—it, uh, flipped a few times,” he said, the words suddenly seeming a little bit more difficult for him to get out. “I don’t really remember much from the scene. I remember everyone telling me that I was lucky to be alive, that I was lucky I wasn’t paralyzed, and I guess they were right. I saw some pictures afterward and it was a really bad accident.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you breathed out tenderly, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tightly.

His arm tightened around you and you could feel him pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “I was in the hospital for a while. And I just remember—” His words got choked off for a minute as his voice flooded with emotion. He cleared his throat and then tried again. “I just remember—that it didn’t really feel like it mattered if I lived or died. I didn’t want to die, but I also kept thinking that I wanted my parents there and I knew they weren’t there. I knew they couldn’t be there. And I just thought, just for a minute or two, that if I died—if I died, I could see them again. I could be with them again.” Bradley’s voice cracked in two this time and you could feel his body trembling.

“Oh, baby,” you whispered, holding his face in your hands. “Oh, baby, I can’t even begin to imagine. You can stop now. You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to,” you told him, brushing his tears away with your thumbs.

Bradley took a deep breath, resting his hands over yours. “It’s okay,” he promised. “It’s okay.” He took a couple more deep breaths, his fingers pressing warmly against yours.

“People came, right? People came to see you?” you asked, your heart unable to take the thought of Bradley being all alone in the hospital after an accident like that.

Bradley was quiet for a moment, taking one more deep breath before continuing. “Mav came,” he said slowly.

You felt goosebumps rise on your skin. For as close as Bradley and Mav were now, you knew there had been a long time when Bradley refused to allow Mav into his life because of what had happened with his application to the Naval Academy. If he was a sophomore in college at the time of the accident, then that meant he wouldn’t have been on speaking terms with Maverick at the time.

“How did he know?” you wondered softly, chewing on your lower lip.

“My aunt called him. She was visiting my grandparents at the time and couldn’t get to the hospital. I found out after that Mav had been stationed at Oceana,” he explained, referring to the Naval Air Station in Virginia Beach—only a few hours away from UVA, where Bradley had gone to college. Bradley chuckled despite himself. “Iceman evidently pulled some strings so that he could be close by while I was in school.”

“So he came to see you?” you asked hesitantly. It had still taken over fifteen years for them to repair their relationship, so you doubted the meeting after the accident had gone well.

“He tried. He drove almost three hours to get to the hospital,” Bradley replied slowly, looking slightly ashamed. “But I wouldn’t see him. I made them tell him to leave,” he admitted, lowering his head.

You winced at that, recognizing the guilt that Bradley felt and imagining the pain that Mav must have felt.

“When I think about it now, it was so stupid. I was such an asshole for making him leave,” Bradley said, shaking his head. “But I was still so angry. I was so, so angry at him. I almost felt like letting him in just so I could throw it in his face. Just so I could tell him that maybe this wouldn’t have happened to me if he had just stayed out of my way and let me go to the Naval Academy like I wanted.” You could see the pain flash across his face from the memory. “You must think I sound so horrible.”

“I don’t,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “I think you sound like a nineteen-year-old boy who was grieving more than anybody should have to. I think you sound like you were in a lot of pain. And I’m so sorry for that,” you told him, lightly caressing his scarred cheek.

Bradley looked at you gratefully, tears still swimming in his dark eyes. “He never held it against me. And he didn’t try to force his way in. He respected my wishes. He just left,” he continued. “My aunt came back home as soon as possible and I lived with her for a while. I had to do some rehab and physical therapy. For a while, I was afraid that my dream of joining the Navy was really over. But I—I worked really hard and my therapists were really great. They really helped me a lot. And I guess at the end of the day, I am lucky. It could have been a lot worse. Even my scars could have been a lot worse.” He chuckled in a slightly self-deprecating way. “So that’s the long way of me telling you where my scars come from.”

You lay quietly beside him for a few moments, absorbing everything he had told you. This man, this wonderful man who you fell more in love with each day, had just bared his heart and soul to you in so many different ways. It wasn’t about the scars that marked his face. He had told you about so much more than those physical scars—he had revealed to you the deepest scars and wounds of his heart. He had been brave enough to show you every bruised and battered part of who he was, and to trust that you wouldn’t turn away, that you wouldn’t leave.

And you wouldn’t.

You loved this man. You loved him so much, scars and all. You didn’t love him in spite of his scars, but because of them. They made him exactly who he was—the loving, loyal, hardworking, generous, trustworthy man that lay beside you.

Sitting up slightly, you leaned over him and looked deeply into his eyes, your fingertips lightly dancing over his skin. Bending your head, you pressed tender kisses to each one of his scars, lavishing each one with love.

“Bradley Bradshaw, you are the most beautiful man I have ever known,” you told him, resting your forehead against his. He reached up to touch your face as your hair fell forward, creating a curtain that hid you two away from the rest of the world. “I love you. I love every piece of you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” Bradley murmured, running his fingers through your hair. “I feel like for the first time in my life, I actually want someone to see every part of me, no matter how broken or messed up. And it’s you, baby. It’s you.”

Lowering your head, your lips met Bradley’s in a kiss that was more pure and tender than anything you had ever known in your life. You both had scars that you carried, but for the first time, you weren’t afraid to show them. You weren’t afraid to let someone else offer to help you carry them.

You slowly settled back down against Bradley’s side, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you clung to each other. The night air was cool, and the rush of the waves roared nearby, but it felt like it was only you two wrapped in a wide blanket of stars.

“Thank you, baby,” Bradley whispered into the darkness.

You didn’t need to ask him what he was thanking you for. You could have thanked him for the same thing. It was for all the million and one ways, big and small, that you reminded each other that you weren’t alone. It was for the ways you had opened your hearts to each other and welcomed the scars and the pain without judgment.

It was for the ways you were healing each other.

You weren’t afraid of the mess. You weren’t afraid of the pain or the ugliness or the scars. None of that mattered so long as you had this man right by your side.

“The stars really are so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on the sky above.

Bradley nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just like you.”

#rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #rooster x future wife!reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

[thecabinsixwitch]

percy jackson & the olympians aesthetics: 10/?

🎨👖Rachel Elizabeth Dare 👩🏻‍🦰🌻

“You have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are you sure you want this?”

“It’s my destiny.”

I'm not bad, I'm not good / I drank every sky that I could / Made myself mythical, tried to be real / Saw the future in the face of a / Daffodil / We practice resurrection every night / Raising the dead under the moonlight / And in the gloaming, I start to cry / You're a perfect pearl hung in the sky

~ “Daffodil” - Florence + the Machine

#rachel elizabeth dare #rachel dare #percy jackson #percy jackson & the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson aesthetic #pjo aesthetic #pjo #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #percy x rachel #greek oracle #oracle #oracle aesthetic #greek mythology #camp half blood #future #fortune teller #seer #artcore #pjo moodboard #rick riordan #riordanverse #florence + the machine #fatm #my moodboards

[qldqueerboy]

Your intention today to unlock your unwillingness to compromise on a decision regarding the status of a current relationship will be a major game changer once you confront your reluctance to speak to the person at the centre of the issue. Although it won’t be easy, constantly remind yourself that there is a blanket of protective light hovering around you that will strengthen your resolve to do it anyway.

#Super Awesome Future Fortune Cards #oracle cards #oracle deck #oracle card reader #oracle card reading #message for the collective #divination #fortune telling #fortune teller #gay pagan

[weirdlandtv]

Fortune teller machine cards!

#fortune telling #machine #cards #future #fortune teller #fair #amusement park #amusement parks

[blairstales]

Spae Craft

Within historic Scottish Folklore, not all what we would consider "witchcraft" by todays standards was considered bad. One example of these were those who practiced Spae-Craft. They could be men(Spaymen) or women (Spaewives), and both would practice Spae-craft. Their main purpose was often fortune-telling, which is why "to spae" means "to tell the future.

"The white witch confines herself to telling fortunes, and my friend will heartily scold the luckless servant-girl who is frivolous enough to laugh at her when she is reading the leaves in a teacup."  “The misty isle of Skye : Its scenery, It’s people, Its story” by Eneas Mackay, Stirling, (1927)

Sometimes visions would just come, but other times they were sought. Tea reading was one way that Spaewives and Spaymen might go about their work. Cup-reading (Leughadh chu-paichean)was once a popular trade for people to seek.

"After drinking the tea, the person for whom the cup is to be read, turning the cup deiseal, or with the right-hand turn, is to make a small drop, left in it, wash its sides all round, and then pour it out. The fortune is then read from the arrangement of the sediments or tea-leaves left in the cup. A large quantity of black tea grounds (smùrach du) denotes substance and worldly gear. The person consulting the oracle is a stray leaf standing to the one side of it. If the face of the leaf is towards the grounds, that person is to come to a great fortune; if very positively its back, then farewell even to the hope “that keeps alive despair.” A small speck by itself is a letter, and other specks are envious people struggling to get to the top, followers, etc. Good diviners can even tell to their youthful and confiding friends when the letter is likely to arrive, what trade their admirer follows, the colour of his hair, etc." Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell

However, they did more than that. Spaewives in particular were known as storytellers, wise-women, midwives, and healers. In folktales, their role as wise-women often leads them to protect people against witchcraft or fairies.

"A girl got work as a servant in the house of a laird of the black arts. A young man warned her about him and she ran away to the young man's mother, who was a spaewife and knew how to keep the laird out by closing off all the entrances where evil might enter. The laird turned himself into a raging beast every night. The spaewife caught him in a bottle by opening a small hole, so that he turned himself into a frog to come through it. The spaewife threw the bottle into a river. Seven years later a fisherman found it and opened it. The laird now had all his powers back, but he had already lost the girl to the young man." (Summary from a 1979 Audio Recording)

Basically, if you needed some sort of advice or a cure(especially in regards to the supernatural), a practitioner of spae-craft might be the best choice.

#folklore #witchcraft #scottish folklore #scottishmythology #scottishfolklore #spaewife #magic #future teller #Folkmagic

[bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing]

I was thinking about W. i. t. c. h lately and i wanted to draw my ocs as guardians...

My persona of course i as an element i choose:Quintessence... Also, it change my hair color and feather in guardian form...

Background version:

Simple version:

My ocs as W. i. t. c. h:

Layla: Fire

Megan the Water melon: Water

Air:Lonely child

Earth: Milky way

#my ocs #layla #milky way #red the future teller #lonely child #luna the moon demon #megan the Watermelon

[bradshawssugarbaby]

does anyone else’s toddler have a large collection of fighter jets lying around or is mine broken? we’re at 13 and counting.

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #maverick #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #nick bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #goose #tom cruise #anthony edwards #glen powell #lewis pullman #miles teller #future pilot?

[nopinestimeline]

Okay, so hear me out.

This map of 1885 Hill Valley is from the Doctor Collector Back to the Future Time Travel Memories Tin [X]. It's probably my favorite BttF map ever because of how detailed it is.

In the upper right corner, we find the first of two legends that name the numbered establishments on the map. And number five, by far, made my imagination spiral: fortune teller.

The Fortune Teller is located just behind the bathhouse (number 4 on the map) in the Chinese camp (3), apparently just out of view when Marty enters Hill Valley at the beginning of Part 3.

Long story short: No Pines Marty totally sets up shop as a fortune teller just to screw with people/ make Doc mad because he's actually telling people about the future/ refuses to live in the blacksmith shop with him.

That's it. That's the whole thing.

#no pines marty #back to the future #bttf #evil!marty #no pines timeline #bttf au #lore #back to the future part 3 #bttf 3 #fortune teller #hill valley #maps #1885

[revoevokukil]

‘I can give you everything you desire,’ said the fortune-teller. ‘Riches, power and influence, fame and a long and happy life. Choose.’ ‘I wish for neither riches nor fame, neither power nor influence,’ rejoined the witcher girl. ‘I wish for a horse, as black and swift as a nightly gale. I wish for a sword, as bright and keen as a moonbeam. I wish to overstride the world on my black horse through the black night. I wish to smite the forces of Evil and Darkness with my luminous blade. This I would have.’ ‘I shall give you a horse, blacker than the night and fleeter than a nightly gale,’ vowed the fortune-teller. ‘I shall give you a sword, brighter and keener than a moonbeam. But you demand much, witcher girl, thus you must pay me dearly.’ ‘With what? For I have nothing.’ ‘With your blood.’ — Flourens Delannoy, Fairy Tales and Stories Tower of the Swallow

#wiedźmin #the witcher books #tower of the swallow #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #i won't even comment upon “fortune teller” being a “person able to predict your future” #avallac'h #the implications of this for the unwritten 2-parter LOTL & Witcher saga on the whole #and how can we forget about the very notion of characters from myths becoming myths #sapkowski not postmodern at all #not playfully messing with intertextuality and breaking the barrier between creator and the created at all #sure-sure #there-there