A woman with blonde hair and red lipstick sitting cross-legged on a pink yoga mat indoors, surrounded by houseplants and shelves with various items, wearing a black lace dress and jewelry.

🕯hexes. love spells. protection rituals. banishment rites.

🖤 the sacred, the spiteful, the survival-based.
🖤 trauma alchemy + post-apocalyptic femininity.
🖤 spells i wrote mid-breakdown. or mid-revenge. or both.

for those who survived the fire—and kept the matches.
this is not a safe space. it’s a sacred one.

f*ck it. they always said we were w(b?)itches. 

✦ what’s a spell? ✦

technically?


a spell is a set of words,
arranged with intention,
meant to influence reality.

less abracadabra,
more fuck this—
stay gone, stay blocked, stay cursed.

historically,
spells were whispered,
sung,
carved into bone,
or scratched into dirt
by people with no power—
so they turned language into a weapon.

in this space?
a spell is anything i wrote—
while furious,
shaking,
or disturbingly calm.

it’s what happens when silence stops working.
it’s grief with good handwriting.
it’s emotional evidence—lit on fire.

🖤

speak with your whole chest.

remember exactly what you already lived through.

this isn’t witchcraft.

  • Illustration of a human heart with flames on top, surrounded by roses, leaves, stars, and a crescent moon on a gradient background.

    it’s a written warning.

the spellbook

A woman practicing yoga or meditating in a cozy, brightly decorated room with pink lighting and fairy lights, facing away from the camera.

manifestation for the emotionally neglected & stunning.