#make sure its a village with plenty of witchy

[ali-ali-al1]

Im having one of my "technology fragile addicting Bad" phases and need to yap about it. Of course the internet is such a valuable tool, but please remember that it's not forever. Order those freeprints- you don't know if you're lose access to your best friend's face when you can't see them day-to-day anymore. Write or print those poems. WRITE THOSE RECIPIES bc God knows there's no usable recipe websites left for all the ads. The internet is getting less and less inhabitable by the day, bunged up with AI bullshit like phlegm and mucus. Abuse free newspaper trials (after checking their credibility first ofc), READ FREE LOCAL NEWS (big ups LeftLion). Idk. I get more and more nervous about the internet every time I have one of these.

[witchyintention]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕗𝕥?

As of late many have found themselves taking steps into the wondrous world of witchcraft. However it is a lot more than just an aesthetic. It is a lifestyle that is both beautiful and dangerous when you don't know what you're doing. Witchy Intention is to help guide you in your craft and teach you through my experiences and research. Along with many other experienced witches through interviews.

When you hear someone say witchcraft you instantly jump to satanic or devil worship but truth be told it's not. Satan is a figure in Christianity and has absolutely nothing to do with witchcraft. So what is witchcraft you ask. Witchcraft is an earth based religion or practice, and has been practiced in almost all the societies and cultures across the world. Though each craft is different according to local beliefs and traditions.

According to scholars of witchcraft, it was a belief system whose origin predates the majority of well known religions. It dates back so far many do not know the exact date, but we have seen it in many cultures such as ancient Egyptians. It also has been evolving since then and its present form is quite different from what it was thousands of years ago. And different areas practiced it differently. Even today from person to person and Coven to Coven it is practice differently. To each their own. It's a unique experience in itself. 

In the ancient times, Witchcraft was known as ‘craft of the wise’ as the wise persons were those who followed the path of nature and were in tune with its forces, had the knowledge of herbs and medicines, gave wise counsel and were held in high esteem as Shamanic healers and leaders in the village and community. They understood that nature was superior to human beings and that human beings were simply one of the many parts of nature, both seen and unseen that combine to form one whole. As Chief Seattle said, “We do not own the earth; we are a part of it.” They understood that what we take from nature or use, we must return in kind to maintain the balance and equilibrium. The modern man has, however, forgotten this and has paid the price in the form of many ecological and environmental disasters.

Unfortunately for the past several hundred years the image of the witch has been associated with the evil, heathenism and unrighteousness due to prejudices created by the Christian church. Somewhere along the line Christians accused the Pagan Horned god as the devil because these pagans didn't believe in the same god as them. So what does some Christian of high power do? Calls it devil worship. Despite the fact the bible never tells us what Lucifer looks like upon going to hell. 

However, as of late people have started understanding and practicing witchcraft as the true religion of God and Nature. There is renewed interest in witchcraft and witches profess to believe and practice the craft with a sense of pride and confidence. The believers in the New Age movement have understood witchcraft in its true perspective.

Modern witchcraft attracts believers from all walks of life and positions in society all over the world. They come together to understand the life, nature, evolution and mysteries of the universe through witchcraft. Witchcraft is the most democratic religion and practices in the world. There is no rigid dogma and no hard-line regime except for a simple premise that we should not do evil and if we do, know it will come back in multiple. Though not all witches bide by this but many of us do. Secondly, we should not misuse the generosity of nature by disturbing its balance. This is certainly something we all bide by. 

There are many forms of witchcraft like I had said earlier it differs from person to person. I will have a separate episode going into the top most popular kinds of witches but for now let's just explain a few things. A lot of other belief systems have set rules of what is good and what is bad, think the ten commandments, or Orthodox Jews are not allowed to use anything mechanical on the Sabbath, or Muslims are only allowed to eat certain parts of the animal. Witchcraft isn't like that. It's more about the big picture and how our actions contribute to that big picture. 

I would also like to clarify that being a witch doesn't mean your Wiccan or even pagan. You can very much still be Christian and practice the craft. Remember I said witchcraft was all about the mother earth along with whatever god or gods you worship. This includes the Christian god. I personally know a few Christian witches.

 However note that if you are a Christian witch you will be working with only that god. If you plan to work with other gods perhaps you need to rethink your religion's standpoint. "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me" is one of the Ten Commandments found in the Hebrew Bible at Exodus 20:2 and Deuteronomy 5:6. With that said the craft is something unique and interesting but be careful because it is real and it can be dangerous. 

When new witches find themselves wanting to get into the craft but they really have no idea where to start. Try the history. There is a lot more history than I could even hope to cover in a single session. This is nothing more than an introduction to it. When you are learning about its history you will find many different kinds of practices. 

Though it's perfectly fine to be drawn to a practice and wanting to do it. Make sure you first do research on whether the practice is a closed or open practice. Closed practices are closed for a reason and most times you have to have approval to practice it and be sworn in. So if you find yourself wanting to do a closed practice make sure you do the research on how you can do it and do go through the proper procedures. 

Some might not let you in at all. For example Voodoo. Voodoo is one of the ones you work with your ancestors, an African folk magic. Those gods (spiritual beings? I really don't know.) are not going to be very accepting of one who is of European descent because your ancestors did their ancestors wrong. 

If you are considering the craft, know this, you will spend your whole life learning about the craft. Even the most seasoned of witches are constantly learning. The craft in a sense is like a hypothesis. You will constantly be learning, writing down your findings, doing this and that, to see if it works and figuring things out as you go. But before you even think about getting a head of yourself you need to do lots of research. Don't think 'oh I read a book I can now do a spell'. Witches read a lot. Even if we have already read something on a topic we will keep on. Cross reference everything you read. There is plenty of false information. Especially on the internet, but there are some good sources too.

You need tons of training and maybe even guidance from established witches before you cast your first spell. However we know full well that you learn by doing. So go for it but start with small simple spells. Note that writing a spell or doing a spell does not require a coven, animal bones, and full moon, as fun as nights involving these can be. In fact many witches don't have covens and many do not use animal bones. 

Sometimes it’s not about forming the biggest circle under a full moon, but just having a good time with other witches. Or even yourself if you prefer to do Magic solo. It's fine and very much acceptable. But coven or not it's always fun to do with friends. Nothing's like dancing around a bonfire with your best friends.

Practicing can get expensive. I mean you're going to spend a lot of money on books. Though the internet had everything you could possibly need, nothing beats a good book on witchcraft. I mean who doesn't want a bookshelf full of witchcraft research. Then the actual items you'll need will cost you. Even if it's not aesthetically pleasing. People tend to go a cheaper route using things for the dollar store or reusing sauce jars. Which is good but you will still spend a pretty penny because you'll constantly be getting new ones. Jars break, candles melt, herbs are all used up and crystals can and will break. And no your practice might not always be aesthetically pleasing or photo worthy at all time. Truth be told it can be a bit messy, kinda like arts and crafts. Then again witchcraft is both an art and a craft so it makes sense.

Not all witches are female. Whether you are male, nonbinary, trans, genderless, or anything in between, you can be a witch. It's true that there is a beautiful history of women and witchcraft but magick is genderless. Magik does not care about your gender, sexuality, or religious beliefs. Magik is also not good nor evil, it all depends on how the protactioner is using it.

Popular belief also tells that you have to be born into a witch family or your ancestors have to be a witch for you to be one. That's not true. I have said it once and I have said it twice. Anyone can be a witch. 

Hexes, they are real. Sorry if this scares you, but hexes, cast to inflict misfortune on others, are indeed real. Some witches but not all believe Magic used with ill intent will come back three times on the caster. Some call this The Rule of Three some call it karma. Either way just know it will come back to you some way or another, even if it's by a return to sender spell.

One of the mean teachings of witchcraft by most forms is what you put into the universe is what you get out of it. If you put positivity into the world you'll get positivity back. The same could be said about negativity. But then someone will say 'Oh I have been putting positivity in the world and nothings happening.' If that's the case the negativity you've been put into the world prior to it is still trying to catch up to you. So keep up the positivity even if it's hard.

You don't have to wear all black. There isn’t a standard dress code for witches, and while it’s absolutely acceptable to wear black from head to toe, there are just as many witches who prefer a sundress and sandals as there are who like black fishnets and velvet.

Black cats are not needed either. Though there is nothing wrong with having a black cat and being a witch. Both have been misunderstood for their supposed evil intentions and connections to dark magic for centries.

Remember real magic isn't some Harry Potter mumbo jumbo either. Though let's face it, we can all still pretend that's what it's like. I do. I know the difference between real magic and what the church and Entertainment make it out to be. But I still enjoy the fiction as much as the real. But we do use wands. Though not all of us do and if anything it's to help control where our magic goes to say.

Black, Grey, White, Evil or Good Magic are terms I personally do not use. Some people use these terms, but they probably shouldn't. To start, they have racist undertones. Rituals that are mistakenly believed to be bad are labeled black magic often come from traditions such as Hoodoo, which is traditional African folk magic, that is also a closed practice. Another thing I have said before is that Magic and Witchcraft alike are not good or bad, it's all on how the protationer uses it. I personally tend to stay away from these labels simply because I do not like the negative feeling given and the story behind them. But that is just me, I would hope many follow in those footsteps but not all are going to. I fully understand that.

✩ Don't Steal Other Peoples Work ✩

Written:

May 24, 2020

By:

Reine Alicis

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Witches Get Stitches Fanfic

Title: Witches Get Stitches

Summary: Patton’s ecstatic to take to the skies on his broom for the first time. His familiar Virgil on the other hand? Not so much.

Pairings: platonic moxiety 

Word-Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Panic, Crying, Blood Mention, Injury, Implied Child Abuse, Witches, Magic Discrimination, Hurt/Comfort

I started this fic back in July and I finally finished it!! This was inspired by this wonderful piece of art by @fandergecko

-

The moon views the colorful city below from behind the visage of clouds. The sky guardian is at the height of her rule; the full moon. Bright and bold enough to rival the streetlights and flashing neon signs of the city. The celestial court accompanies their ruler; pinpricks of starlight that scatter across the sky. 

A summer breeze lazily sweeps in. It is not in a hurry like autumn gale in the tune of students scurrying to classes. Or sharp and piercing as the stern winter draft. Nor is it graceful and airy as the spring wind. For it is summertime, a time when children frolick without homework hanging over their heads. A time for snow cones and ice-cream. A time for mischief and tomfoolery.

In the city that rests beneath the moon’s eye there is hardly a peep. One might argue it is almost as peaceful as a sleepy village. Where is the excitement? Where is the bustle and hustle? The midnight mischief? 

The moon looks on in disappointment. The stars whisper amongst themselves, bored and unamused by the humans’ offerings for nighttime antics. Dark clouds creep closer to the moon, covering her almost completely.

‘Come.’ They all seem to say, ‘Let us go and find another place more worthy of our light.’

Before the clouds sweep away their queen, a loud, excited hollar halts their advance.

“WOOOHOOOO!”

“P-p-pa-pa-pa-PATTON!”

On the heels of the summer breeze, comes their midnight mischief. From the perspectives of both the heavens far above and the streets far below, it is a fast blue flash zooming through the air. Look closer, and you might realize it is only a witch with his familiar flying on his broom.

His witch robes are a gentle blue like a peaceful sunny sky. Blue knee-high socks adorn his legs, with a cute cat face where the sock cuts off at the knee. He wears the traditional witch’s hat--big and floofy in all its’ witchy glory. It is dyed a lovely indigo with splashes of yellow that are crude representations of the stars above. This of course catches the nighttime hosts’ attention. For they like many are fond of flattery.

 Wavy amber hair seeps out of the witch’s hat, resting gently on his spectacles. Freckles like stars scatter across his tanned face. His blue eyes shine brightly with excitement, his mouth open agape with awe. Books and other personal belongings fly out from the witch, unnoticed in their fast descent towards the ground.

 It is clear to both the moon and her faithful court that this witch is having the time of his life. His familiar, on the other hand, is a completely different story

Like for many witches depicted in fiction, his familiar takes the form of a black cat. A very terrified, very small scrawny black cat. Hackles raised, ears pinned back, pupils dilated. The familiar’s claws are embedded in the wooden grain of the broom, as he tries to stay on for dear life.

If this was a movie, this might be the moment where the freeze frame happens, stopping on a zoomed-in shot of the screeching familiar. A voice-over recording occurs,  ‘Hi, that’s me, Virgil. You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation.’ 

Fortunately, the Moon is well aware of this pair and their history. How could she not be? It was under her watchful eye the two first met. 

A sniffling young boy with two missing front teeth and band-aid covered knees. A frightened malnourished black kitten barely five weeks old. Two young children lost and alone in the cold, unforgiving dark. All the Moon and her compatriots could do was watch and provide them their dazzling light.

“It’s okay,” The boy said, smiling through the tears dribbling down his cheeks, “I know you’re scared of me but it--it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, promise.”

The black kitten was just an ordinary black kitten. It could not understand the words the boy spoke anymore than it knew the little hand reaching towards it meant no harm. Despite this, the black kitten took a step forward. The boy stayed still. The kitten took another step and then another, until it sniffed the boy’s hand. Satisfied, the kitten headbutted the hand, a tiny purr rising from its throat. 

A shaky breath caught in the boy’s throat. Carefully, he petted the kitten’s matted fur. The kitten didn’t run away, didn’t try clawing or biting the hand. It kept purring, its’ eyes squinting in delight. It wasn’t scared of him anymore. Everyone was always scared of the boy, his parents included. They feared the magic running through his veins and what it could do. The boy tried his best to be friendly, to hide it away, but it was never enough for anyone. Except, apparently, a little malnourished black kitten with a mangy coat.

The black kitten let out a surprised mew as the boy hoisted him off the ground. He wrapped his pudgy arms around its frail frame and sobbed.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” The boy babbled, “I’ll--I’ll take care of you, I’ll make sure you’ll have plenty of food and we can be the best of friends--”

The black kitten once again could not comprehend these words. It did not understand why the giant, towering hairless kitten was so distressed. But it remembered how its mother purred to comfort the cries of it and its littermates. So the kitten continued purring, pressing its head into the boy’s chest. The boy was warm and most importantly just as alone and frightened as the kitten was. Clearly they should stick together for survival. 

Neither knew at that moment, but the two had created a magical pact. One that bonded the two as witch and familiar. It was informal, created without the use of intricate spells and rituals, but as strong and enduring as a bond should be. 

Slowly the kitten grew into not an ordinary black adult cat, but something more. A being endowed with magic and an intelligent mind of its own. As wonderful as this all is, Virgil found this at times very perplexing.

 Imagine being a cat whose sole priority in life had been napping and now suddenly there are a thousand different other things to worry about. Things like possibly falling off a broom hundreds of feet up in the air. Then you might understand why Virgil wishes at times to go back to a much simpler time of existing. 

This is a wish that shooting stars will never grant, for even they can see his love for his boy outweighs his frustrations of becoming more. Virgil loves his witch. He loves him enough to rake his claws across school bullies’ faces. He loves him enough to be the witch’s sole companion for years and years. He loves him enough that his sole priority in life is no longer naps but to protect and keep his witch safe.

Flying on a piece of wood? That is not safe. As much as Virgil trusts Patton, he cannot help but worry. He is no longer just a cat, no longer just Virgil, but a piece of Patton himself. He is the reflection of Patton’s magic. Something that the witch feared for so, so long. Growing up, it’d been best to hide it, to shove it away rather than embrace and understand it.

Virgil knows they’re now in a more magic-friendly town. They’re far away from judgmental parents and peers. Patton thinks it’s safer now. Virgil doesn’t. He remembers all the times Patton lost control of his magic and it hurt others, hurt himself. He remembers and fears the friendly faces of the city turning into hateful, jeering ones.

This is why he clings to the broom, heart thrashing loudly in his chest. It does not help he has a fear of heights in the slightest. Normal cats don’t worry much about heights, but again Virgil is not normal. 

“This is so much fun, Virgil! I can’t believe we haven’t tried this sooner!” Patton laughs, completely oblivious to his familiar’s plight. This is his first time successfully levitating a broom, let alone knowing the thrill of riding it fast through the night sky. Yet another reason Virgil fears how high up they are. He trusts Patton, but he also knows how easy it is for a spell to go south quick.

“I--I can!” Virgil yowls, curling his tail around the broom. He snatches a quick look at the ground below, regretting it immediately. He shuts his eyes as he tries keeping a hairball down. The broom lurches to a stop and he doesn’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. They’re still levitating as high as the city skyscrapers after all.

“Aw Virgil,” Patton says, “It’s okay, we’re safe up here.”

He scratches the spot between Virgil’s furry ears and really, that is totally unfair. Virgil still retains his feline traits, and he can’t help the pleased purr that erupts from that desired spot getting scratchies. He has to fight through it and focus on what’s important; Patton.

“No it’s not, it’s not safe, not safe, Pa-pat--” Virgil says, the unnatural human words becoming garbled in his cat throat in his panic.

Patton’s wide grin vanishes completely as a small frown replaces it. He gently picks his familiar up, caressing Virgil close to his chest.

“Hey it’s okay, Virge. We’re gonna go back home now, alright? Promise I’ll let you eat all the treats you want, and we can watch Nightmare Before Christmas, okay?”

“O-okay.” Virgil agrees. It isn’t Patton agreeing never to fly again, but it does mean no more flying for tonight. They’ll be on the ground, safe once more inside Patton’s apartment. 

“Cool, cool, cool,” Patton murmurs, “Now, um, de-levitate!”

Nothing happens.

“De-leviatify? No, wait, it’s crescendo!” Patton says, “Ascendo? Something latin wordy, ummm stringendo?!”

“Patton,” Virgil begins, his voice eerily calm, “Please for the love of catnip tell me that you didn’t levitate a broom without knowing how to unlevitate it.”

“Would you kill me if I told you I may have gotten so excited about flying that um I maybe kindasoratforgotaboutthatpart?” Patton says, squeaking out that last bit.

“PaTtOn.” Virgil yells, his voice doing that awful echo. It only ever happens when something bad is gonna happen. Such as Patton losing complete confidence in the spell he’s currently casting. 

“AHHH DESCENDO!” Patton yells, right about the time the broom drops downwards. Patton grips onto the wooden broom with two hands, leaving Virgil to cling desperately to the witch’s robes. They’re flying fast down to the ground below, faster than they were moments ago in the sky.

“I--I can’t control it!” Patton yells, tugging at the broom, attempting to pull it upwards for a softer landing to no effect. 

Virgil doesn’t say anything back, his thoughts flying faster than the speed they’re currently falling. There’s absolutely no way they can survive this. Patton is too panicked to use magic and already limited by his inexperience. They’re going to hit the cement sidewalk hard, like bugs getting squashed beneath his clawed paws. He just knows it.

What he doesn’t know is that the Moon is watching. She is always watching from her throne in the night sky. Even on nights she hides her face from the mortals below. She is the protector of the night sky. As such, she has dominion over it.

“Grant them a safe landing.” The Moon urges the Summer Breeze. They acquiesce, but like a teenager they are sullen and testy about it. 

Patton’s broom evens out as the summer breeze takes hold of them. Neither Patton and Virgil realize this; they are both too busy screaming. The Summer Breeze takes pleasure in their terror. It flexes its metaphorical fingers. 

“Patton, what are you doing?” Virgil cries as the broom jerks abruptly upwards. Almost at a near-vertical slant. 

“It’s not me, I swear!” 

Patton still can’t control the broom. An unseen force jerks it around, up and around, from side to side and doing it’s best attempt at a cha-cha. The broom flies up high, high, higher than all the skyscrapers. It comes to a sudden stop. The Moon looms overhead, chastising the Summer Breeze for its’ fun.

Meanwhile Patton is still attempting to remember the correct spell. 

“Descent, wait no, DESCENTUS!” He cries out, and the broom glows bright with his magic.

His spell snatches the broom out of the Summer Breeze’s hold. Patton grips it, letting out a half-terrified half-elated yell as he regains control. The Moon and Summer Breeze watch, stunned, as the mortals they both yanked like a pair of dolls take control of their destinies.

They don’t have to watch for long. The ground quickly approaches the two mortals, ready for a harsh asphalt embrace.

“Patton!” Virgil screeches yet again, for it really is the only thing he’s capable of at this moment.

“It’s okay!” Patton reassures, a manic smile sparking his features again. A witch is only ever truly alive when performing magic. They feel purposeless without it. So even in this harrowing situation, Patton feels at ease. Although they once more fly fast towards the earth, it is from his spell. Not from a lack of confidence or meddling fates like before.

Still, it is his first time landing a broom and cement is hardly the perfect practice zone for such things. As they reach the ground, Patton pulls to a stop a moment too late. Both witch and familiar are sent tumbling down to the cruel cement. 

Virgil instinctively lands on his feet. Patton’s descent is less than graceful. He skids on the ground, rolling, until he comes to a halt a few feet away. The broom is the worst off of the three. Upon impact it has splintered into three pieces, its head flying clean off the handle.

For three heartbeats there is nothing. Then Patton groans, his form slowly rising upwards. That’s enough to shake Virgil out of his stupor. He marches right up to Patton, words spitting out of his throat, “We are never doing that again. That was the stupidest, most moronic thing you’ve ever pulled, you could’ve gotten us both killed--”

Virgil stops, pupils growing wide, “Is that blood?”

“No!” Patton loudly denies, but his screwed-shut eyelids and grimace of pain betrays him. Virgil also isn’t blind. He can see the blood pouring out of Patton’s knee, soiling his knee-high kitten sock with its crimson color. It’s bad, so much worse than a mere scratch or scrape even.

“Holy shit, you’re going to die,” Virgil whispers, settling on top of Patton’s chest.

“I’m not gonna die--”

“Hey, are you two okay?!” A concerned voice shouts from afar. The two of them look up to see someone approaching them. A man, older than Patton yet too young to be his father. Perhaps in his thirties? He seemed nonthreatening with his Steven Universe shirt and pinched look of worry but Virgil knows better.

“Stay back!” Virgil hisses, hackles flaring up. He keeps his claws sheathed, not wanting to deal more harm to Patton than already dealt.

The stranger takes a few steps back, hands raised in a placating gesture. Virgil doesn’t relax a single muscle. 

“Virgil,” Patton tries, silencing at the glare his familiar sends his way. Tears gather in the corner of his witch’s eyes now. So close to spilling over his freckled cheeks and down to his shirt. Patton’s knee is hurting him much more than he’s letting on. 

“Listen,” The stranger says, ignoring Virgil’s yowl of disapproval, “I just want to help, promise.”

He crouches down, lifting something out of his coat pocket. A brown wiggling furry something with a long pink tail. A rat. 

“Hiya babes,” The rat speaks, “The name’s Remington, Remy for short. This here tall glass of coffee is Thomas.”

“Y--you’re a witch?” Patton gasps, although if it’s from shock or pain Virgil can’t tell. 

“Yup,” Remy says, seemingly confident to speak on Thomas’ behalf. He struts over to the two, ears and whiskers perked forwards. Virgil is taken aback by the gall of this rat. 

“I could easily kill you, you know,” Virgil says, unable to keep this thought to himself.

The rat lets out a short squeak of laughter, “Oh honey, I’d like to see you try.”

Virgil’s tail flickers, “Don’t worry, I will--”

“Virgil.” Patton warns again, a hiss of pain escaping through clenched teeth. The rat treads closer to the affected knee. Virgil’s ears flatten, but he does not attack. He knows Patton would disapprove of that. Instead he waits, body tense and poised for action if needed.

“Oof, it looks like you’re gonna need stitches, Buttercup.”

“Stitches?” Virgil yowls.

“It’s alright, Virgil. I’m fine.” Patton says, smiling but it comes out all wrong. Like a rubber-band all stretched out and worn.

“No, you’re not. Y-you’re hurt.” Vigil rumbles, because he can feel it. Patton’s pain pulsates through their connection, like waves crashing against the shore. Magic caused this. Patton would be fine if they stayed in his apartment where it’s safe. Not out performing magic in the late hours. “Fuck, you’re hurt, and everyone’s going to hate us again--”

“Whoa,” Thomas interrupts, the first words he’s spoken since bringing out Remy, “no one is going to hate a Glistenstone student for not having proper control of their magic just yet.”

Patton shifts his gaze downward, hugging Virgil closely like a stuffed animal. Virgil, for his part, doesn’t protest. Instead he purrs into Patton’s chest in an attempt to soothe him. Glistenstone is a sore point for the both of them. For years it’d been their beacon of hope. An university solely for magic users--who sent their acceptance letters for those eligible at the age of eighteen.

Patton never received one.

“I’m afraid I’m not a Glistenstone student, sir,” Patton says with a shaky breath.

Thomas and Remy exchange a look.

“Well kid, would you like to become one?” Remy asks.

“What?!” Virgil and Patton burst out in unison, the latter with a yelp of pain.

“I, um, have connections--”

“Connections, alright, you have more than connections.” Remy inputs.

“But anyways,” Thomas continues, sending a quick look Remy’s way, “we can talk more on that later, if you’re interested. We should probably get that leg of yours checked out. Lemme help you up.”

He offers a hand towards Patton. Virgil coils himself around Patton’s shoulders, glaring distrustfully. Patton accepts the hand, leaning heavily on the older man for balance. 

“I’m going to use a teleportation spell, alright?”

And with a flash, they’re gone.

----------------

An apartment, late at night. It’s a tiny one-room apartment cluttered with books and clothing spewed all over. The Moon peers through its sole window, watching a familiar pace in front of his witch. Patton sits on the edge of his bed, his knee all cleaned and stitched up. Silence reigns in the apartment, an uncomfortable one at that. One neither occupant can stand much longer.

“I’m sorry, Vee,” Patton says, breaking first, “I should’ve really thought before I attempted flying like that. You were right, I almost killed us both.”

Virgil swishes his tail, looking up at his witch. He can never remain upset with Patton for long. Especially when he holds back a sob, curling into himself as if expecting a blow. Any residual anger in Virgil’s veins solidifies into guilt. 

“No, I’m sorry,” He says, “I--I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Patton insists, “I know you were just worried.”

“Still doesn’t make it right.”

Patton sighs, “I forgive you, can we just cuddle now?”

“If you want to, I guess.” Virgil murmurs, but it’s an act. The way he immediately purrs after wedging himself in Patton’s arms betrays him. His witch laughs, petting his silky fur.

“What...do you think?”

“Of what?” 

“Glistenstone.”

Virgil’s ears twitch downwards. Thomas had given his contact info to Patton, telling him to call him in the morning if he was interested in pursuing Glistenstone. 

“I...don’t know. It seems fishy to me. Like, why now? Why didn’t you get an acceptance letter before? And what type of connections does that Thomas guy have? I don’t trust it. But I also know I’m just paranoid about everything.”

“You’re not paranoid, you’re just overly cautious. I know this and I love you.” Patton says, pressing a kiss on Virgil’s forehead.

“I love you too, Pat,” Virgil hesitates, “and that’s why I think you shouldn’t let me hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back,” Patton pouts, and really how does he expect Virgil to handle this level of positivity? It’s too much for his small feline body.

“What I mean is, if you want to go for it, go for it. And if it turns out to be some sort of con, then you can just, like, hex ‘em or something.”

“Like Bart Fischley in fifth grade?” Patton asks, stifling a giggle.

“Sure.”

Patton nods measuredly, scratching that magical spot between Virgil’s ears. Really, totally unfair. Virgil leans into it, purring louder.

“Hey, do you still want to watch Nightmare before Christmas?”

“That depends...do I still get as many treats as I want?” 

“Of course! But for tonight only!” Patton tells him. Virgil smirks as best he can--for it’s something he’s heard numerous times before.

The moon’s eye turns away the dingy apartment, clouds drawing a curtain over her. The summer night is slowly drawing to a close, as has the midnight mischief. The mortals she is so fond of are safe within their dwelling. For the moment, all is well.

[didilysims]

Hi! If you had 8 hoods (no unis or vacation hoods, but with Downtown) and 8 life states (alien, zombie, bigfoot, vampire, witch, plantsim, warewolf, robot) as a main plot for each hood, how would you match it? (eg. Strangetown / alien because of Smith family; Desiderata valley / warewolf because Natasha Una becomes one; Bluewater V. / bigfoot because Tinkers capture one to help their business...) Hope you understand me...I have some ideas but zombie one I cannot match in any hood or family xD

Hello! This is such an interesting question–I love it! After a little bit of thought, here are my ideas: 

Pleasantview: Zombie. Not sure why, but I really like the idea of a zombie here. Maybe because Pleasantview is the most popular premade ‘hood, it feels like it just won’t die. :P 

Strangetown: Alien, definitely. No contest there! 

Veronaville: Werewolf. It seems like the most violent option and this is the most violent neighbourhood. Plus I can see this as the kind of place where people have secrets they don’t want getting out, and werewolf seems to fit that for me. 

Downtown: Vampire. It’s hard to divorce EPs from the supernatural state that came with them, but so many of the lots in this ‘hood are built for vampires and it has a tonne of nightclubs so the vamps have something to do with their long nights. 

Bluewater Village: Witch. This town has a lot of really big houses–plenty of space for secret cauldron rooms! And I can totally see a lot of the residents as witches/warlocks of different alignments. 

Riverblossom Hills: Bigfoot. I like your idea of him in Bluewater Village because all those gold badges would be very useful for all those businesses, but I think of Bigfoot as very nature-y and rustic and RBH is the most rustic and nature-appreciative ‘hood, I think. (And yes, that means a Plantsim would fit in really well here too, but they already have Rose and Daisy, and I want to avoid matching another EP ‘hood with its EP supernatural.) 

Desiderata Valley: Plantsim. They have so few motives and are easy to keep happy so they have plenty of free time to enjoy all the hobbies this ‘hood has to offer! I can’t decide which premade here would make the best Plantsim (do any of them actually have Nature as their OTH?) but it’s easy enough to import someone. 

Belladonna Cove: Servo/robot. I just think a robot would fit in best with a big city like this. I can definitely see Benjamin Baldwin being the one to build him and all the techs and gearheads being fascinated and/or jealous of this walking machine. 

Thanks for asking–that was fun to think about, if a bit of a challenge! Now you’ve made me want to start up a Bluewater Village witchy neighbourhood! :D 

[divineclecticism]

More phantom fair!

The Bride: Is your significant other spiritually minded? Do you wish they were if not? If you are single, what do you look for spiritually or religiously in a mate if anything?

This is an awesome question, because, my boyfriend is super open and curious about what I do, and he asks questions all the time. However, he doesn’t really practice himself. I try to teach him as much as I can. :)

The Familiar: Do you have an animal or spirit familiar? Write about them, what their name is, what they look like, and how they have helped you.

I do have a familiar! Her name is Petra, and she is a little tortoise shell calico kitty. She helps to keep me grounded, and she’s just this little companion I’ve got whenever doing something magickal.

The Oracle: What would your ideal witchy-self look like? how would they dress? How would they speak? Where would they live? What would their hobbies be?

Honestly.. I’m not sure I would change much about myself. I’m really close to my ideal witchy self. I just wish I had more money to get more fasionably witchy items LOL. I’ve made plenty of jokes about being the village bog witch and just being the cool healer the people look to. Because I am apparently stuck in the middle ages. (Totally thought of Keira Metz from The Witcher 3 while writing this.)

The Warrior: What are you fighting most with your spiritual journey? What are your biggest fears?

I think I am fighting myself the most, sometimes I get so down about myself and feel like I can’t really make my magic work. Or that I sometimes have a hard time feeling energy. Or that I am a bad companion to my spirits because I feel down and have no energy to do anything but sleep. That sort of thing. My biggest fear is to let everyone down.

The Hierophant: What has been your biggest struggle on your path? Do you have to hide it from anyone? What has aided you on this journey?

Honestly...I haven’t had many struggles that were not self inflicted. I am really hard on myself, so when I have a hard time doing something that I normally can do easily, I beat myself up a bit. I have never had to hide it, my family has been so supportive (guess that is what happens when it runs in the family?) I have met so many awesome friends through this path, and their support and help has been so great.

The Queen: Is there a change you wish to bring about inside yourself, and is there any way that spirituality can do this for you? What do you hope to achieve? 

There used to be, but as of late I have been making so many new changes and stepping outside my comfort zone and just TAKING ACTION in my life, and spirituality has helped me because its given me something to believe in, and given me reason to want to be a better person.

@magickalmenagerie

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

A submission for 'One Hell of a Faimily'

If you are willing to take such from un-Tumblred folks such as I.

Yana Gavrilovna had a plan. Possibly not a very good plan, but, eh. In this economy, there really wasn’t many options for a high school dropout in a village 70 miles from St Petersburg. She had no desire to be a housewife and she wasn’t pretty enough to be a whore. So, summoning the devil it was. She’d found the spells in a book in the old house in the woods north of the Markovs’ potato field, the one that had belonged to Yekatrina Fyodorovna, who everyone said had been a witch. Apparently everybody had been right because there were plenty of supplies and a giant mortar and pestle just lying about the place. All Yana had had to do was nick a few herbs from the Markovs to replace the ones that had gone moldy, and then puzzle her way through the really old fashioned text.

It was handwritten on mismatched pieces of parchment stitched together into a ragged leather cover and covered in writing, some in weird, spikey letters, some in a weird, long-voweled language, and half the time with Russian notations underneath. There were also a few spells in what she recognised as Church Slavonic, but they were all for good luck and plentiful harvests and that sort of goody-goody shit. The foreign spells were much more interesting.

She found no less than twenty three summoning spells for ‘spirits’, which she assumed was the polite witchy term for demon. She found herself torn between summoning a spirit of Heavenly Fire, which certainly sounded like Lucifer, and a spirit of shadow-dwelling snakes, which also sounded like the devil. The need to play music for the latter spirit decided it. Yana had all the musical talent of a brick, and no desire to risk offending some demon with her crappy voice.

She stumbled her way through the verses of the summoning, burning herbs and lighting candles at the appropriate moments. She was sure that the spell was supposed to be all aetherially beautiful and mystic sounding, but since she had no idea what she was reading out and kept stumbling over words, it just sounded like a six year old reciting poetry. Eventually, she got to the end, lit the last bundle of herbs in the candle and drew a wonky circle around the flickering lump of wax with the smoldering sage.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Yana began to feel like an idiot. Then, the candle sputtered, and the circle burst into multicoloured flames and all of a sudden there was a thing inside. Thing was definitely the right word, because Yana had no idea what she was looking at. It certainly wasn’t the sleek-looking horned gentleman in a suit she had expected. Television had clearly lied to her. Instead it seemed to be a thing made of sheets of light, almost like the aurorae they sometimes got this far south. After a short period of squinting it resolved itself into an immense face, almost that of a dog, but longer in the muzzle, with sharp fangs and catlike eyes.

It spoke without opening its vast maw, its voice echoing inside Yana’s head like a seemingly infinite choir. Sadly, it spoke in whatever the Hell language she summoned it in, so it might have been demanding her soul or complaining about the herbs for all she knew. Unsure how to respond, Yana just shrugged and asked, “You speak Russian?”

“Do I speak- of course I speak Russian,” it looked around, “this is Russia. Of course. First time I’m summoned in over a century, and it’s to some dingy hovel in Russia. I guess that explains the crappy incantation. You can’t speak a word of Finnish, can you, girl?”

“Finnish.” Satan spoke Finnish. Satan was a Finn. That… made a disturbing amount of sense actually.

She dismissed that train of thought with a wave of her hand, “I want to make a deal. Demons love that right?”

It looked at her blankly. Yana took that to mean she should go on. “Anyway, you lot always want the human girl to bear your spawn or whatever, and you got the magic, so, hears the deal, make me immortal and eternally young, and I’ll carry your kid. Sound good?”

“Please let me leave.” It looked almost despairing.

“Agree to the deal and I will.”

After a moment, in which the demon seemed almost like it was considering just staying there forever, it sighed, which felt really strange, and said, “Fine, alright, whatever. Just let me leave.”

“Awesome,” Yana clapped her hands together, “so, d’you need to do anything to knock me up or what?”

“I suppose this would work better if I was solid,” it said miserably, “human shaped too. One moment.”

The demon did… something, and it became smaller, and solid, and somewhat to Yana’s surprise, a fox. A disturbingly large fox, about the size of a horse, but otherwise, just a normal fox, the kind she sometimes saw in the woods. Then, the demon did something else, which sort of made reality go all twisty for a moment, and it became a young man, with bright red hair and glowing fox-eyes. He was actually kind of cute, all awkward and naked and- holy shit that was the biggest cock Yana had ever seen outside porn.

“I, uh, attempted to recall what human females prefer in a mate. My kind does not reproduce in such a… physical way.”

“No, no, we’re good.” Yana supposed that human men probably ought to be disappointing after demons, but still.

“There’s a bed over there, um,” she broke the circle with the toe of her shoe, “let’s, y’know.”

They did. It was very awkward and the demon, who apparently had no name pronounceable by humans but who Yana dubbed Vasiliy after a favourite pet dog, had no idea what he was doing.

“So,” she said after they were done, and Vasiliy was just standing about looking confused, “Assuming this takes,”

Yana looked a question at Vasiliy, who said, “It will. I am certain.”

“Then you just need to come back in nine months to give me what you promised and pick up your kid. ‘Cause I’m sure as Hell not looking after it.”

Vasiliy nodded, then asked, “Should I stay around or can I leave?”

“Go, go,” Yana waved him off, “ just remember to come back and gimme my payment.”

Yana walked back to the village with a limp and a feeling of smug accomplishment. Phase one, complete. Time for phase two.

Finding an actual witch, and not some random-arse Wiccan or neopagan, was actually a lot harder than summoning a demon. Google didn’t seem to work for this, so, at four months and already starting go show, Yana was forced to rely on somebody she really hadn’t wanted to. Her Babushka, her hyper-superstitious, extremely devout church-scrubbing, headscarf-wearing grandmother, who knew all the gossip, seemingly, in rural European Russia. Her babushka who would definitely know she was pregnant out of wedlock and lecture her for hours about sin and Hell and suchlike. Not that Hell was going to be a problem.

Still, her babushka could never know that.

Never.

Four hours of fire and brimstone later, she was able to ask about witches. Subtly.

“I don’t remember doing anything carnal four months ago, the only thing I can think of was I poked around in Yekarina Olekova’s old house, and everybody knows she was a witch. That’s why father Boris had to run her over with the combine harvester. Twelve times. So maybe she cursed her house and now I’m cursed and a what if it’s the kind of curse that needs another witch to remove it.” Yana used her best puppy eyes and crocodile tears. Apparently, it worked. Supposedly, there was a witch four villages over who kept trying to bargain for peoples firstborn. Babushka had told her that so she could avoid Anastasiya Karamazova, but, ehh. A week later she had borrowed her brother Aleksei’s car, purportedly to go see a doctor at the nearest hospital, and driven over to see Karamazova.

Karamazova’s house was a lot nicer than Olekova’s. Not just because it hadn’t been left to moulder for two years either. It was newer, built only a few years ago when Karamazova had moved here from the big city and had yet to try and buy babies. She looked about thirty, with stringy blonde hair and a kind face, laugh lines around brown eyes.

“So, I hear you’re a witch.” Yana said when she opened the door.

“Not another one,” she sighed, “I will call the police on you girl, don’t think I won’t.”

“No, no,” Yana held up her hands, “I’m not here to bother you. I’m here to talk business.”

Karamazova raised a brow and stood aside, gesturing for her to come in, “Then I apologise for my rudeness in making you talk over a threshold.”

When they were seated at a neat looking dining table, tea steeping in a pot in front of them, Yana began, “You are a real witch, right? Baba Yaga’s granddaughter, that whole deal, not just some Wiccan.”

“I am. Not that I like to publicise such.” Karamazova poured the tea and offered the bowl of sugar cubes. Yana took one and put it in her mouth, drinking her tea around it, while Karamazova did the same.

“Then, I have a deal for you. I’m knocked up, see,” Yana gestured to her belly, “and I hear you’re looking for a kid. This’d be my firstborn, and I don’t actually want a kid. So, I propose a trade.”

“Well, this is new,” Karamazova said, “Never heard of someone actually offering before. I’m guessing you don’t even want ten years with him or something.”

“Nope,” a thought struck Yana, “him?”

“I’m a witch, girl. Do you really think I can’t tell sex and gender, even in a fetus? Both male, in this case. A shame, I would have preferred a daughter, but needs must, and this boy will have power, I can feel it. I am interested. What do you want, then?”

“Money. I want to be wealthy beyond my wildest dreams for the rest of my life.”

“Doable. I will have to pull some strings, but it can be done.”

“Awesome. See you in, what, five months?”

“Yes. 13th of March, around 8:45 in the morning.”

“Cool. I’ll arrange to be at Mariinskiy hospital that morning,” Yana said, “think you can magic up the papers so they say he’s you kid not mine?”

“Easily. I will be there also. What name should I put down, then?”

Yana shrugged, “How about Timofey Vassilieyovich? Timo’s my favourite brother, and the father’s called Vasiliy.”

“That will do. Will I have to deal with the father?”

“Up to you. You’re a witch, I’m sure you can handle him. Although,” she smirked, “you might want to keep him around. Boy has no idea what he’s doing, but damn, he has got a good foundation to work on, if you know what I mean.” She waggled her eyebows and held her hands almost a foot apart, and Karamazova almost choked on her tea.

“I’ll see myself out,” she said, whilst Karamazova sputtered, “see you March 13th. Mariinskiy hospital, in Petersburg, and remember what I want.”

Winter came, and it went, and the only thing that really seemed memorable was that she got hugely fat, little Timmy seemed to decide bruising every organ he could reach was a great game, and there were far more aurorae than usual. Almost every night in fact, and a bunch of scientists kept turning up to poke at things with weird instruments and stare at the sky whilst scratching their heads. Other than that it was just the usual haze of her relatives’ and neighbours’ disapproval, she lost her job at the local pub, not that she really cared, and Timo agreed to put her up so she wouldn’t have to live with her parents. He really was her favourite brother. Also, he lived in Petersburg, and had a job as a journalist with the BBC, and could therefore be openly gay, which meant babushka would not bother her. She liked his boyfriend, too. Henri was nice, and Canadian, and told her stories about Montréal and his big, weird family and said that they’d happily put her up if she ever wanted to go.

Spring came and the canals filled with slush, and Yana became truly vast. Henri and Timo kept bringing her food and weird vitamin thingies and offered to adopt the kid if she didn’t want it, though they said they’d have to do that in Canada, where it was apparently legal for gays to do that and also get married. Yana spent a lot of her time looking up places she wanted to visit on Henri’s old laptop, and going to an English class that Henri taught. She figured English would be useful when she did travel, and she intended to travel and awful lot. She poked around museums and art galleries and looked longingly at fancy clothes and jewelry and expensive booze. And, come March 13th she made sure to be at Mariinskiy hospital bright and early around 6am, just in time for her water to break.

Two and a half hours of pain and swearing later, she was presented with a scrawny little thing by fearful nurses, while the obstetrician was on the phone and babbling about birth defects and journal articles and scans. Timmy had red hair. She supposed she ought to have expected that. Still, she was curious so she unwrapped the little bundle to take a look. The first thing that struck her was the tail. Well, no the first thing that struck her was that he was definitely a boy, but this was her son and a baby and that was just weird. Anyway, he had a tail covered in red fur, a when she turned him over the fur climbed up his back, and down his arms and legs to peter out on claw-tipped fingers and toes. When ne opened his mouth to cry there were fangs, and when she opened his eyes they were shiny and golden, the irises so large she couldn’t see the whites. This came out of her. Awesome. Anyway, Karamazova had apparently bullshitted her way in and was staring at her new kid with an expression of shock.

“So, uh, full disclosure,” Yana said, “Timmy’s dad is a demon. But hey, here’s your kid, gimme my money.”

Karamazova handed over a credit card silently, and picked up the boy, wrapping him back up. She appeared to be still in shock.

“Might want to make the doctors and nurses stop talking about weird birth defects and journal articles, before they start taking pictures.”

Anastasiya Vladislavovna Karazova had known the girl had been keeping something from her when she’d made the deal. She had though that it was something minor though, probably about the father. That he was black or Jewish or something a rural Russian would worry about, which wasn’t likely to be an issue since she intended to move to a Western country where they’d be less likely to be murdered, or that she had HIV or a drug problem or some genetic disorder, all fairly easily dealt with for a witch of Ana’s calibre. She had not expected this.

The father, she assumed, entered the room shortly after she had retrieved Timofey. She assumed it was the father anyway, because he was shrouded in some very impressive shapeshifting magic. He went over to Yana and spoke to her, then he did something that imbued her with some of his power. Then, she pointed him to Ana, who steeled herself for an argument.

“You are not a demon,” Ana opened, “some sort of nature spirit I’m guessing. A fox? You feel like fire and the aurorae have been oddly active.”

He nodded, “She summoned me and seemed convinced I would want a half human child. She demanded that I agree to her deal before she would release me. It was a kind of ignorant determination that I have never known to be swayed by facts.”

“So, now you want the kid so the deal can be fulfilled, yeah?”

“That is so.”

“Well, tough,” Ana said, “She made a deal with me too. Her firstborn for riches beyond her wildest dreams, and I held up my end of the bargain, so Timofey is mine.”

“But I also held up my bargain,” He - Vasiliy, wasn’t it, the hell kind of name is Vasiliy for a fox spirit – said, “Eternal life and youth for her half human child.”

“She played us,” despite herself, Ana was actually kind of impressed, “I’ve never even heard of somebody being ballsy enough to sell there firstborn to both a witch and a demon. Let alone bully a spirit into this sort of bullshit.”

“We seem to be at an impasse,” Vasiliy said, a thoughtful look on his borrowed face, “we could duel for the child. I am fairly certain I would win. However, not here. Too many mortals. Do you know of a good place nearby?”

“Yeah… how about no,” Ana said, “It must have been a long time since you last dealt with humans, but we’ve got a thing called joint custody now. I have him for say, a week, then you have him for a week, and we take turns like that.”

“Oh.” It seemed like the idea had never even occurred to him. While Vasiliy processes this radical alteration to his worldview, Ana took care of altering the doctor and nurses’ memories, so they only remembered a sad still birth by Yana, and a perfectly normal birth by Ana herself. Vasiliy stood in silence while she filled out the various forms, so that her son would have a birth certificate, and not long after Timofey Vasilieyovich Karamazov was officially registered as such, he spoke up again.

“Where do you live?”

“A few villages over from our mutual friend,” she gestured over at Yana, who waved back, “but not for long. I intend to go somewhere far from Russia, where we will be safe. England, maybe. Or America.”

“How about Canada?” Yana called out, “Kid’s gonna have family there. My brother Timo’s marrying a Canadian guy, he might be able to set you up.”

She though about it. By now, the demon hunters had heard about the strange goings on in the region, and she had already had to ward her home like a fortress, and the only reason that had worked was because they were looking for something bigger than some witch. They’d be after her soon enough, and Canada was a good choice. Low key. Not the kind of place anybody would think to look. And Timofey deserved to have as much family as he could, especially family that could help track down his birth mother if he ever wanted revenge.

“Sounds good,” Ana said, “unless you got a problem with that?”

Vasiliy shook his head, “It is good. Canada is close to the poles, I can visit without drawing too much attention.”

“Cool, go look up Timofey Ivanov, with the BBC. Tell him you got my kid and he’ll help you.” Yana said, then seemed to fall asleep.

“What is the Beebeesee?” Vasiliy asked.

Ana sighed and looked at Timofey. He was going to have one hell of a family to out up with.

Three months later, they touched down in Montreal airport, papers declaring them political refugees in hand, and Anastasiya Karamazov walked out into the chaos of a Canadian airport and into the slightly terrifying arms of her sponsors, the seemingly unending relatives of Henri Larivière, Timofey’s newly-minted uncle. Gods help her, for she was going to need it.

Do with this what you will. I am done with it.

---- DUUUUDE THIS IS GREAT THANK YOU FOR SHARING!!

[artist-witch-icarus]

Advice #1: start making a list of activities or hobbies you have and other things you enjoy, whether you think they're witchy or not. Just write them down. Now that you've written them down try to figure out what kind of magic you can make them into. Do you like tea? Tea potions! Do you like mingling in the quiet? Meditation, maybe! Do you like drawing? Creating drawings can be turned into magic too or just to decorate and it will carry YOUR energy and magic in it! Are you crafty? Perfect, try to make your own witchy supplies, its often cheaper and will carry your energy and magic and be much more personal, too. Do you wear jewellery? Crystals and magic jewellery! Or research the properties of stones and metals you wear on the regular. Can you cook? Excellent for herb magic and brews! Do you like dressing up? I do and I really want to get or make a cloak to feel more witchy when I'm doing magic! Do you like candles or candle light? Candle magic! Do you like smells of herbs but you cant cook (like me)? Herb satchets! Are you into any certain kind of aesthetic or colour? Personally I've always been a fan of dark colours and a bit of a scary mysterious aesthetic and that makes me feel all the more witchy and really helps me in getting into the mood. Do you play an instrument? Use it to do magic, music is considered air magic :D Donyou like animals or know a lot about them? Familiars and animal magic is a thing too! do you have any other kind of hobbies or talents like weaving, stricking, dancing, singing, sewing, etc? Really, ANYTHING can be magical if you search the magic in it.

Advice #2: start with what you know and then go from there. Follow the paths and things and themes that interest you. If you are of African descend then there is plenty to use and learn about or get inspired by (although I know next to nothing of it so I steer clear of it). I'm from Latinamerican descend and I've found out there's plenty. Even if you arent Christian, many many things can be turned and transformed just a little to fit since a lot of Christian practices come from other cultures before or alongside Christianity. For example the evil eye is a big thing in Latinamerica (and many other cultures) and we have a lot of magic like that weaved in our culture. Even if you're from Europe or a country you think doesnt have much to do with witchy stuff (like i feel with germany where i live) look into history and you'll be surprised! And this goes for any other culture you are either part of or know. Sure, people will tell you you have to be careful because of cultural appropriation, which is true, but there's no use in tiptoeing your way with fear. Be brave and research and learn and try and if you find whoops I've been appropriating this culture and didn't even know then find a way to transform your activity or find a different one that serves the same. Being an eclectic with is hard due to this in particular, but everything is forgivable if you learn from it, grow from it, and respect others.

Advice #3: look into witchy types. There are sea witches, green witches, fire witches, etc. Many many witches and although you dint have to choose a type many find it easier or are simply drawn to a particular practice and type. Start out with what interests you. Personally I have it hard to choose a type that interests me so I'm pretty much all over the place but that's ok.

Advice #i stopped counting but this is the last advice: Look what's available to you in ressources. People who live in a village or small town with forests have it easier to be very nature-connected. Forest witches are a thing too. Witches living in big cities (like me) might have it harder but that only means we have the great opportunity to revolutionise the old ways and fit them into modern lives. People use glass jars the most bc those were the neutral equivalent of a vessel. Nowadays we also have plastic. Less aesthetic but just as effective. Look at your office suplies and think what they mean to you and use them in spells. Paper clips hold things together. Tape is binding or covers up mistakes. Erasers. Sticky notes. Coloured paper., look up colour correspondences or create your own if it works for you. What herbs and supplies can you find at your grocery store? In your garden if you have one. What trees exist in your city or living place? Etc etc

I hope I could help a little :)

Does anyone have any tips or advice for a beginner eclectic witch? If so thank you so much and your help is greatly appreciated. I love you all💙🔮🌞🌙💙🔮