panickywitchcraft:

I laugh nervously at your question. “Do I practice witchcraft? Well, I… dabble.”

Right on cue, several mice tumble out of my pocket with overpriced crystals strapped to their backs. My mug of tea starts frothing and shooting beams of light everywhere. 

Maniacal voices are chattering right outside the window. “USE QUARTZ FOR EVERYTHING!” they say. “HERE, HAVE ANOTHER RECIPE FOR A SALT SCRUB!” 

We both hear faint singing, and we instinctively know it’s coming from the moon. The words are hard to make out, but it sounds something like 🎶 You’re a fucking liar…🎶 

The fae, emboldened by my weak-ass answer, bring their hunting party straight through my living room. We’re left sitting in the wreckage, and I’m clutching my mug of tea. It’s still giving off faint sparks.

“It’s… It’s just a hobby,” I say quietly.