#the-witch-is-void

[ennywey]

I do not think that word means what you think it means

[celesse]

Back to school 🐈‍⬛📚✨

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The ache will go away, eventually. 

That was what the Professor told them, the day they got back. When they tumbled from the wardrobe in a heap of tangled limbs, and found that the world had been torn from under their feet with all the kindness of a serpent. 

They picked themselves off of the floorboards with smiles plastered on child faces, and sat with the Professor in his study drinking cup after cup of tea. 

But the smiles were fake. The tea was like ash on their tongues. And when they went to bed that night, none of them could sleep in beds that were too foreign, in bodies that had not been their own for years. Instead they grouped into one room and sat on the floor and whispered, late into the night. 

When morning came, Mrs. Macready discovered the four of them asleep in Peter and Edmund’s bedroom, tangled in a heap of pillows and blankets with their arms looped across one another. They woke a few moments after her entry and seemed confused, lost even, staring around the room with pale faces, eyes raking over each framed painting on the wall and across every bit of furniture as if it was foreign to them. “Come to breakfast,” Mrs. Macready said as she turned to go, but inside she wondered. 

For the children’s faces had held the same sadness that she saw sometimes in the Professor’s. A yearning, a shock, a numbness, as if their very hearts had been ripped from their chests.

At breakfast Lucy sat huddled between her brothers, wrapped in a shawl that was much too big for her as she warmed her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat and kept reaching up to his hair as if to feel for something that was no longer there. Susan pushed her food idly around on her plate with her fork and hummed a strange melody under her breath. And Peter folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at the wall with eyes that seemed much too old for his face. 

It chilled Mrs. Macready to see their silence, their strangeness, when only yesterday they had been running all over the house, pounding through the halls, shouting and laughing in the bedrooms. It was as if something, something terrible and mysterious and lengthy, had occurred yesterday, but surely that could not be. 

She remarked upon it to the Professor, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “They’ll be all right,” he said, but she wasn’t so sure. 

They seemed so lost. 

Lucy disappeared into one of the rooms later that day, a room that Mrs. Macready knew was bare save for an old wardrobe of the professor’s. She couldn’t imagine what the child would want to go in there for, but children were strange and perhaps she was just playing some game. When Lucy came out again a few minutes later, sobbing and stumbling back down the hall with her hair askew, Mrs. Macready tried to console her, but Lucy found no comfort in her arms. “It wasn’t there,” she kept saying, inconsolable, and wouldn’t stop crying until her siblings came and gathered her in their arms and said in soothing voices, “Perhaps we’ll go back someday, Lu.” 

Go back where, Mrs. Macready wondered? She stepped into the room Lucy had been in later on in the evening and looked around, but there was nothing but dust and an empty space where coats used to hang in the wardrobe. The children must have taken them recently and forgotten to return them, not that it really mattered. They were so old and musty and the Professor had probably forgotten them long ago. But what could have made the child cry so? Try as she might, Mrs. Macready could find no answer, and she left the room dissatisfied and covered in dust. 

Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Susan took tea in the Professor’s room again that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. They slept in Peter and Edmund’s room, then Susan and Lucy’s, then Peter and Edmund’s again and so on, swapping every night till Mrs. Macready wondered how they could possibly get any sleep. The floor couldn’t be comfortable, but it was where she found them, morning after morning. 

Each morning they looked sadder than before, and breakfast was silent. Each afternoon Lucy went into the room with the wardrobe, carrying a little lion figurine Edmund had carved her, and came out crying a little while later. And then one day she didn’t, and went wandering in the woods and fields around the Professor’s house instead. She came back with grassy fingers and a scratch on one cheek and a crown of flowers on her head, but she seemed content. Happy, even. Mrs. Macready heard her singing to herself in a language she’d never heard before as Lucy skipped past her in the hall, leaving flower petals on the floor in her wake. Mrs. Macready couldn’t bring herself to tell the child to pick them up, and instead just left them where they were. 

More days and nights went by. One day it was Peter who went into the room with the wardrobe, bringing with him an old cloak of the Professor’s, and he was gone for quite a while. Thirty or forty minutes, Mrs. Macready would guess. When he came out, his shoulders were straighter and his chin lifted higher, but tears were dried upon his cheeks and his eyes were frightening. Noble and fierce, like the eyes of a king. The cloak still hung about his shoulders and made him seem almost like an adult. 

Peter never went into the wardrobe room again, but Susan did, a few weeks later. She took a dried flower crown inside with her and sat in there at least an hour, and when she came out her hair was so elaborately braided that Mrs. Macready wondered where on earth she had learned it. The flower crown was perched atop her head as she went back down the hall, and she walked so gracefully that she seemed to be floating on the air itself. In spite of her red eyes, she smiled, and seemed content to wander the mansion afterwards, reading or sketching or making delicate jewelry out of little pebbles and dried flowers Lucy brought her from the woods. 

More weeks went by. The children still took tea in the Professor’s study on occasion, but not as often as before. Lucy now went on her daily walks outdoors, and sometimes Peter or Susan, or both of them at once, accompanied her. Edmund stayed upstairs for the most part, reading or writing, keeping quiet and looking paler and sadder by the day. 

Finally he, too, went into the wardrobe room. 

He stayed for hours, hours upon hours. He took nothing in save for a wooden sword he had carved from a stick Lucy brought him from outside, and he didn’t come out again. The shadows lengthened across the hall and the sun sank lower in the sky and finally Mrs. Macready made herself speak quietly to Peter as the boy came out of the Professor’s study. “Your brother has been gone for hours,” she told him crisply, but she was privately alarmed, because Peter’s face shifted into panic and he disappeared upstairs without a word. 

Mrs. Macready followed him silently after around thirty minutes and pressed an ear to the door of the wardrobe room. Voices drifted from beyond. Edmund’s and Peter’s, yes, but she could also hear the soft tones of Lucy and Susan. 

“Why did he send us back?” Edmund was saying. It sounded as if he had been crying.  

Mrs. Macready couldn’t catch the answer, but when the siblings trickled out of the room an hour later, Edmund’s wooden sword was missing, and the flower crown Susan had been wearing lately was gone, and Peter no longer had his old cloak, and Lucy wasn’t carrying her lion figurine, and the four of them had clasped hands and sad, but smiling, faces. 

Mrs. Macready slipped into the room once they were gone and opened the wardrobe, and there at the bottom were the sword and the crown and the cloak and the lion. An offering of sorts, almost, or perhaps just items left there for future use, for whenever they next went into the wardrobe room.  

But they never did, and one day they were gone for good, off home, and the mansion was silent again. And it had been a long time since that morning that Mrs. Macready had found them all piled together in one bedroom, but ever since then they hadn’t quite been children, and she wanted to know why.

She climbed the steps again to the floor of the house where the old wardrobe was, and then went into the room and crossed the floor to the opposite wall. 

When she pulled the wardrobe door open, the four items the Pevensie children had left inside of it were missing. 

And just for a moment, it seemed to her that a cool gust of air brushed her face, coming from the darkness beyond where the missing coats used to hang.

[ayyyyysexual]

Slay The Princess textposts because I am obsessed with this game and they are so so silly. and horrifying. and silly 👍

Here | 2 | 3 | 4

[rainbluealoekitten]

love reading old spell books/religious instructions like "pour in the blood of a person who died a violent death" okay girlie ^^ should i get that at tescos??

[fairy-magick]

[cloud-ya]

hovtober: witch of the void

[fandomnerd9602]

Gambit approaches Y/N…

Gambit: sowatsitlike datinthatlittlemintjulep ofyours?

Y/N: she’s phenomenal.

Gambit: and her…uh…

Gambit waves his fingers…

Y/N: don’t even get me started on her magic fingers. Heavenly.

Wanda saunters by…

Wanda: and don’t you forget it (winks)

[kathrenax]

okay so i started this thing like a year ago and there's no chance i'll ever finish so there's that

(rykard, ranni and radahn respectively)

[dino-zombie]

Looking like cheese

[sleepy-bebby]

Trick or treat. 🐈‍⬛

[rogdona]

[ro-bee]

Oh also the funniest thing happened today in goat's cult

First Kiran asked me to kill him.. And I would have done it but I wasn't really feeling it in that moment and I needed the bones for other rituals

The fucker wasn't happy at all and this is what I had to witness after coming back from crusade

Like... Ok queen you got what you wanted, happy now?

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Drowning

[ayyyyysexual]

im sure no one can tell i have favourites (lying)

1 | Here | 3 | 4

[rainbluealoekitten]

this is definitely not a witchcraft blog but regardless i do participate occasionally with online witchy theatrics and i have an opinion i'd like to share.

there's too much pressure on learning the basics and not enough resources that teach damage-control.

this is in relation to fear-mongering discourse, bc almost every witchy "content creator" (hate that term) and almost every witchy book, podcast, whatever, seems to put a focus on protecting yourself, putting up wards, easy peasy baby beginner witchcraft. which! yes, that is important, but it also means that it perpetuates the idea (and often full out says) that you should never do blood magic. you should never talk to these entities. you should never make bargains, you should never do divination without cleansing, you should never curse, bla bla bla don't go outside at night!! it's spooky!!!

great, now we've got a bunch of witches who are scared shitless and won't actually do anything beyond blow cinnamon through their front door.

there are a lot of people who claim to be teachers, but a good teacher is someone who pushes you. not someone who limits you.

some witches love to tell you to fuck around and find out, but again, only provide resources on warding. we've got witches who ward so much that they can't even get friendly spirits to talk to them. banishment is seen as a basic skill, but if everyone is too scared to practice their craft, they're not going to even end up with an entity to banish!

i'm starting to ramble, but my point is that i want to see more content, more books, more generalised resources that teach you how to unfuck a situation. not prevent it, unfuck it.

you did blood magic? great, it's not always going to work out, here's how to unbind yourself from this entity, now you know to do this slightly differently. you've done a curse and it's backfired? don't panic, these are some ideas on how you can undo your spell, and next time you might want to choose your words/ingredients more carefully. you wandered into the wrong part of the woods and upset some ancient spirits? it's more common than you think! luckily, there are plenty of ways to go about this situation.

etc etc. people do dumb shit. that is part of life. just like with sex ed, teens aren't going to abstinate, they're going to be too scared to go to an adult when they get an sti.

yes, some practitioners will basically stop practicing out of fear of doing things wrong, and many others will do things wrong and end up entirely alone, scared, and with no resource that can guide them out of it, all because you should have known better, you should have warded, you should have stuck your head in a fucking hole.

anyways. this is the end of my rant but i hope it also comes off as encouragement to anyone who is in some way sharing their practice and sharing resources, especially the much wiser witches who have fucked around, please share what you've learnt. <— i'm asking this in a very sincere, very hopeful way, i really wish it was normalised to share spells and prayers and basic actions to help witches through really tough times.