theghostofthevoid

[theghostofthevoid]

And just like that, the power faded from his veins. After years and years of fighting for one last stand it was finally over. He got what he wanted. He got his peace. Now he could rest, forevermore.

[theghostofthevoid]

Listen, listen to me, my doves:

The appropriate number of tarot/oracle decks to own is as many as you desire.

As long as they spark joy.

[theghostofthevoid]

Nightly Prayer - HEKATE

Hail Hekate, Torch-bearer, May You guide my soul with Your eternal light So that I may walk my path, Both day and night, May Your presence give me strength and calm, So that I may always look towards a new dawn.

Hail Hekate, my Mother, May Your warmth surround me in the cold And remind me that I am loved, Whether I am young or old, May Your wisdom always reach my ears And always ease away my fears.

Hail Hekate, Who Keeps Watch and Ward, May You protect my home from those who prey, Be it a spirit or person, Keep their evils away, No unwanted guest or intention may enter, For You are the Guardian of this home’s center.

[theghostofthevoid]

If you've live in Bay City for more than a month you've met at least one member of the wasps. If you haven't yet. Well, you will soon enough. I was born and raised in Bay City. I know of the wasps well. I even know a few of them by name. Rose was new. She didn't know how this town worked. She didn't even know the wasps were a thing. How would she? It's not like the authorities advertise that they're actually run by a gang. Good for the authorities the wasps also don't take kindly to being advertised. Once Rose found out the truth she started looking into things more. Collecting and compiling evidence. Asking locals about the gang. That was her first mistake. Don't ever ask locals about a local gang. You don't which of them are loyal to the gang. Or even which ones are part of the gang. Pretty soon the wasps were watching Rose like a group of vultures. Waiting for her to make one good slip up. I did my best to keep a quiet eye on the situation. 

[theghostofthevoid]

Omg I love this so much!!!

The Bones of the Lake

  There are bones in this lake that whisper so sweetly in the decaying autumn light. They tell of times gone, of old kings and queens. The lake that they sit in is clear and crisp like a settling frost, the bones in its waters are bleached white – as white as the snow drops that swing from the grassy bank on a soft breeze. Around me a soft mist curls and clings like a needy white cat amongst the legs of towering trees, I strain my ears to hear beyond whispering critters and the laughing chilled breeze. They too whisper.

             They too know secrets.

        In ancient voices and old tongues, they whisper – in their nonsense do they make sense. Don’t listen. Don’t listen to the bones. They cry, in rustling leaves and creaking boughs. But the bones are louder- they tell secrets you see – of lovers scorned and cursed, of monster Kings and hungry Queens. It’s hard to pull away so enraptured with these bleach white secrets, to pull away and hear the whimpers of snowdrops, the calls of the trees, the baited breath of the green, green moss.

   Come closer. Come closer! They beckon. I lean over the lake and see myself reflected over those bleached white bones. Closer, they whisper, my nose touches the lake – a ripple like a lone soldier rolls out over still clear waters. Not close enough – come closer! The wind has picked up and tugs at my hair; out of the corner of my eye I see something dark watching. It towers over me with two deer like horns proudly reaching towards the tree tops, eyes a glow in emerald reflections and a cloak of green, green moss thrown over it – casting itself in dark shadows. It shakes its head, but the bones call louder and louder. I look again and a bleached white skull with its dark empty sockets stares back at me.

      Is this me that I see, in hollow bleached bones and empty abyssal eyes?

      Its unchanging grin never fading and blindingly bright beckons again. Closer –come see thine self at last! A siren’s call I lean at last too close to this mirror, over balanced with a splash I fall to the bottom of the lake, bleached white in its chill. I rest looking up at mourning skies, dark clouds skittering past like frightened field mice. It’s here in the calm white chill that I learn secrets – so horrid and vast of faraway lands. And now, someone is struggling by these still waters – my own face is reflected in terror at the bones, looking at my own bleached white bones, but the dark smoky figure behind me is pushing me closer to the water, closer to these bones. Soon its mist like hands hold me down, still waters froth and ripple as I struggle.

      Come closer! Come closer! I call. I know of secret things. I promise.

[theghostofthevoid]

'Why do you scream at the sky when you're upset?' people would always ask me. 'Because I'm challenging the gods for creating this mess.' I'd always answer. They'd always laugh uneasily at that. No one ever quite knew how to respond. No one except for Rose. 'Do they ever apologize?' she asked once. I simply looked at her that day, admiration in my eyes. 'Never.' I answered.

WBC

[theghostofthevoid]

Do you ever look around a town and think "man, this town needs to just be wiped off the face of the earth."? No? Just me? Well Bay City is one of those towns. Run by a gang. Plagued by unsolved murders. Murders that most of the town doesn't even seem to care about. Don't even get me started on the woods and mountains around the town. The areas seem to harbor some very interesting creatures. No one really knows what they are or even where they came from. Believe me I've asked. Everything about this town is just. Wrong. At this point, there's no fixing it...

WBC

[theghostofthevoid]

Welcome to Bay City, Oregon. A small town that sits on the edge of Tillamook Bay. The leaders of the town would have you believe it's a quiet, safe little town. Every one that lives here knows how wrong that is. The wasps run this town. Everyone knows it. The leaders can lie and say they have the wasps under control. Some even lie saying "they aren't actually a thing" and "there's nothing to be afraid of". No one believes them. If you've live in Bay City for more than a month you've met at least one member of the wasps. If you haven't yet. Well, you will soon enough.

WBC

[theghostofthevoid]

They almost immediately ruled her death as a suicide. It was almost common knowledge that it was anything but a suicide. Even the police knew. There was nothing they could do about it though. They had to do what they were told. They weren't fully to blame, but it would've been nice if at least one of them would speak up about the situation. Her family and friends knew it wasn't suicide. They'd all talked to her. They knew what was truly going on. At the very least they had an idea. She had been so close. So close to exposing them. She had so much evidence that the wasps were the ones truly running this town. They found out her plans just barely too soon. A few more days and she would have had enough to publish her findings. She was planning on sending her findings to every major news company that she could. Hoping against hope that they'd believe her and broadcast her findings. The authorities would have to do something then. The whole nation would have eyes pointed at this little town. She had been so close. Rose had been so close...

WBC

[theghostofthevoid]

wanna platonic kiss 😘😘😘

*bites lip*

[theghostofthevoid]

R u gae???

*sweats* whe- where'd you hear that?? I *sweats more* I have no idea what you're talking about

[theghostofthevoid]

Look to the mountains, dully aflame with the colors of autumn. Colors that could be bright and vibrant, if they weren't on their last dying breath. The changing of the leaves marked the changing of the season. The changing of the season marked the changing of time. The changing of time meant things may finally be different. Things may finally start to change. Things may finally start marching slowly on for the better. Of course no one truly knew for certain, but one could hope.

One could hope.

WBC

[theghostofthevoid]

Deep in the void of the woods, an uncommon people make their homes. No one know where they come from, nor where they go when they inevitably disappear. Yet they still come round, every year. If you're brave enough to venture out, and catch them at the right time, you'll see one of their dances. A magickal sight to behold. It makes quite the story as well, if you make it out of the woods alive.

Watch your back

WBC

[theghostofthevoid]

“Congratulations! Your god application has been accepted, please find enclosed, your universe…”

[theghostofthevoid]

All eyes and teeth and horns and wings

These are a few of my least favorite things.

They'll come for you broad day or night

Nothing can stop them not even a good fight.

If they take your hand and lead you there

Nothing is sacred or safe so please beware.

They aren't inheritantly evil merely a bit temperamental

However their powers far surpass even an elemental.

All eyes and teeth and horns and wings,

These are just a few of my least favorite things

[theghostofthevoid]

The explosions looked like flowers, blooming across the once great city..

No one was quite sure how it had managed to get this bad. And in such a short amount of time...

[theghostofthevoid]

The breeze through my hair, the rain on my hand;

Times like these remind me that I'm still alive...

Our bodies close in a blanket, our hands held in each others;

And times like these remind me why...

I love you