this is a banger tho
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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@hiddenchildrenofthegoddess
this is a banger tho
To Counter a Curse
Take a small narrow necked vessel, be it of glass or pottery, and place within it the hair and nail pairings of the one to be protected to provide a decoy for the curse, the red ‘Witch Powder’ to destroy the evil influence, a tangle of sewing threads to trap and confuse evil spirits, nine bent pins and three large blackthorn spines to ever prick a d stab at the originator of the cute. Close the vessel with a cork and seal it with wax. The vessel may be secured within a chimney, buried beneath the hearth, or else buried in a churchyard path or crossroads.
-Gemma Gary, “Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways” page 136, second edition.
The Secret Garden (1993)
by Loading Artist
It's always interesting to see where you've been. I was clearing out my boxes in my mams attic and stumbled across one of my old Book of Shadows. I wrote this when I was 14/15 nearly 10 years ago and just coming out of my Fluffy-Bunny phase. (which every witch had and in my opinion is entitled too). Looking back I got a twinge of nostalgia and thought I would share it. Also the other picture is of the book I use in my current practice, the slightly more mature cousin of the one used all those years ago.
The stories never said why she was wicked. It was enough to be an old woman, enough to be all alone, enough to look strange because you have no teeth. It was enough to be called a witch. If it came to that, the book never gave you the evidence of anything. It talked about “a handsome prince”… was he really, or was it just because he was a prince that people called handsome? As for “a girl who was as beautiful as the day was long”… well, which day? In midwinter it hardly ever got light! The stories don’t want you to think, they just wanted you to believe what you were told…
Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men (via shardshunt)
“Dance, Lady, dance- on the Oak King’s tomb,
Where he lies half a year in thy quiet womb.
Dance, Lady, dance- at the Holly King’s birth,
Who has slain his twin for the love of Earth.
Dance, Lady, dance- to the Sun God’s power
And his touch of gold on field and flower.
Dance, Lady, dance- with thy blade in hand,
That shall summon the Sun and bless thy hand.
Dance, Lady, dance- in the Silver Wheel,
Where the Oak King rests, his wounds to heal.
Dance, Lady, dance-for the Holly King’s reign,
Till his brother the Oak shall rise again.
Dance, Lady, dance- in the moonlit sky
To the Threefold Name men know thee by.
Dance, Lady, dance- on the turning Earth
For the Birth that is Death, and the Death that is Birth.
Dance, Lady, dance- to the Sun on high,
For his burning splendour, too, must die.
Dance, Lady, dance- to the year’s long tide,
For through all change must thou abide.
Dance for the Sun in glory,
Dance for the Oak King’s passing,
Dance for the Holly King’s triumph-
Dance, Lady, dance-
Dance, Lady, dance-
Dance, Lady, dance…” -A Witches Bible
Happy Summer Solstice and blessed be!
People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen.
Neil Gaiman, American Gods (via kvngslayer)
The Art of Shambles, by Miss Tick
A shamble: A handmade device for the focusing of magic. Like a lens, its primary uses include detecting, magnifying and projecting - in this instance - of magic.
‘Coincidence’ is an arrogant sort of a word, I’ve always thought. It takes all the glory and does none of the work.
It’s a word for when ‘fate’, ‘magic’ and, sometimes even, ‘miracle’ have been sat on the naughty step for being altogether too interesting.
The fact your mother and your father were of compatible genders, and indeed species, was an overwhelming stroke of luck. That they happened to be in the same place, on the same day and furthermore, though that it would be a jolly nice idea to knock boots to see what happened, well that depended on an astronomical array of variables. Remarkably, their mothers and their fathers managed a similar unutterably unlikely feat. As did their parents, and their before them. In fact, the chance of you existing in this place at this time is nothing short of magnificently, awe-inspiringly, jaw-droppingly improbably or, if you prefer, a bit of a ‘coincidence’.
The here and now is the pinnacle of hundreds of millions of little ‘coincidences’, of chances, all lined up in the exact fashion needed to produce this precise moment. This is where I find the power of my shambles. It is the coming together of objects which, against all probability, somehow conspired to be right here, right now, right when I needed them. The magic lies in the moment. Too often we let parts of ourselves wander off to the future, wondering what;s for dinner or allowing our memories to drag the past into the now. Building a shambles focuses the mind. It anchors you to one precise moment, and believe me, when a witch gathers all of herself in one place at one time, she can have a significant bearing on the next poor unsuspecting moment that comes along.
Of course, this is simply my way. We each make and use them differently, and a shambles in itself is not to be considered magical, but rather as a tool of magic. After all, owning a chisel doesn’t make one a sculptor, but it doesn’t half help. Shambles can be used for many things in many ways, but there are rules. The shambles must be built at the time it is to be used and from items that happen to be around you. It doesn’t hurt to have a few suitable items about your person in case of emergencies; after all, why can’t a well-stocked pocket serve as an eldritch agent of destiny on occasion? A shamble must contain an element of life; a beetle, an egg, a seed perhaps, and it must look the part (after all we are witches), but most importantly it must feel right.
- from 2016 Discworld Diary: A Practical Manual for the Modern Witch, by Terry Pratchett, aided and abetted by the Discworld Emporium
Probably my favorite article from the Discworld planner @upthewitchypunx got me for Yule/Sockstice. ♥
Good to know that there’s a name for when I tie garbage together with discarded shoe strings.
Also gives reason as to why I pick up random things and why there is always a few handfuls of detritus at the bottom of all my bags just in case.
So now i've finished uni I can start reading for pleasure again without feeling guilty!!! As a result I went on a little spree, which leaves me with the age old question... Which book should I read first!?
Poor Satan…
I’ll be updating this blog with a new comic every Friday. Stay tuned!
This did not go where I expected
I would read the graphic novel
Poor Satan…
I’ll be updating this blog with a new comic every Friday. Stay tuned!
This did not go where I expected
They’re married!!!!
has anyone seen that lady since?
“Did I stutter?”
I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breathes and work can be done. Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts. The past, never at rest, flows through it.
May Sarton, from “Gestalt at Sixty: Part 1″ (via oofpoetry)