#the witches roald dahl

[adaptations-polls]

Which version of this do you prefer?

[franki-lew-yo]

About the 'Roald Dahl edits'

Can someone please just show me an actual, undoctored picture of the changes being made to which books?

That's all I ask! I keep seeing absurd clearly liberal-mocking fake scans that no book company would ever make being presented as "evidence" of the changes. Don't do that. Show me a list of the changes.

Welp, I'm writing about this because, as I've expressed before, I love Roald Dahl as a writer but I don't like him as a person. That's the thing about some people's work- it just comes with the territory that they are at LEAST 'problematic' given the creators worldview; Dahl, Lovecraft, Tezuka, Uncle Walt, even my German-crabapple daddy Ted Geisel. I'm not gonna @ these dead ppl for DARING to not be up to my modern liberal standards no more than I am gonna paint them as REAL LIBERATORS bcuz I want them to be -! When it comes to removing books from circulation or editing out words, I understand.

Regarding the changes though...I really haven't seen anything that's too wild?? Yet.

As a brief aside, I think it'd be better for everyone if The Witches was just removed from publication. It's Dahl's most offensive book when you combine it with his real world politics. And again I say screw the accusations that this book is 'sexist' when the problem with it is that it's antisemetic and so was Dahl.

But honestly? Changing the line to be "some ladies do wear wigs and there's nothing wrong with that" works with Dahl's writing style. Same with calling Augustus Gloop 'enormous'. Same effect in place, just without the sting of just calling a child fat.

Now, if these lines are left in place while Luke's grandma's explaining in the text how "no, don't pick at people's hair even if they're wearing gloves they aren't all witches" are given the boot, I can understand some outrage. But, again, to me I think this is better proof as to why Witches should just be left alone and maybe not published anymore. The og text did provide context, the problem is that the book itself is racist by asserting that all witches are 'evil', and that the only reason to not bother women with wigs and gloves is they "may not be a witch". That's messed up, even if it weren't alluding to any real life antisemetic-isms. Asideaside-- I'd be very curious to see how the The Twits is changed if it's changed at all. Twits has this very poignant description of how, no matter how unconventional you are, you can never be 'ugly' if you are good and sweet- where no matter how "pretty" you are, if you are an ugly person inside people will see you that way. It's a really good breakdown of that phenomena even though it's still technically bodyshaming. Also, they're monkeys, not people (take that as you will) but The Twits is about an abused family of stolen monkeys and birds tricking the Twits, who are their captors, into killing themselves and then returning to the wild where they belong. --- Anyway...removing the part of BFG where the giants says humans of different country's taste different or Mr. Grasshopper's awful quip about Mexicans in James and the Giant Peach isn't any skin off my nose. Especially if they are going to read to young kids today, kids don't need to hear that kind of language. Philly Pullman can disagree with me all he wants but personally I think these books, not their author's squeaky image or politics, deserve to live on.

That being said-

I would be upset if changes were made that started insisting that characters who were fat AREN'T fat, now. Or that the white cis cast Dahl wrote were now being described as bipoc or genderfluid when they weren't. Let's not pull a JK Rowling here. Yes, it is true that for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Roald both a) wanted Charlie and the Buckets to be a black-British family and b) removed racist descriptions of the Oompa Loompas within his lifetime from real life pygmies to a fantasy-race. That's awfully neat of him for someone so much of turdwhich. Those kinds of changes are best for adaptations and reinventions of the stories. But it'd be indecent of the publishers to suddenly push the idea that the Buckets are black and always have been now, and/or that the Oompa Loompas can't still be racist somewhat just because they aren't depicting a real life ethnic group. To alter the original text of the books well after Dahl's death to be more 'friendly' IS the kind of censorship and historical revisionism to be wary of.

It's there that Pullman's comments of 'read another book' ring true: If you can't take that the book has some problematicisms in it, I tell you there are other children's books to read! By making the text of the books 'progressive by modern audiences' standards, that'd be erasing this very discussion and, more importantly, the concerns of BIPOC/Jewish people everywhere.

That'd be like if Disney rereleased Fantasia and had a redesigned, less offensive Sunflower in the background. That'd be disgusting, not because Sunflower shouldn't be reclaimed or redesigned, but because that's a company wanting to hide from the mistakes of the past in order to sell more stuff to you and make you trust them. I'd love me a black Charlie Bucket, but in a new version of Chocolate Factory, not an attempt to hide liberals from the fact that uncle Dahl was racist.

That's what I think should be continued, both as a way to keep his work alive and also to diss Dahl from beyond the grave: adapt his works!!!

Fantastic Mr. Fox, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, BFG, and Willy Wonka are awesome. Dahl hated changes to his stories being made for film....so change his stories for film! Some things have to change and should change. While the 2020 Netflix The Witches was bad, I could get on board making Luke and the humans in the story people of color. That has the potential to turn the connotations of the original on it's head; instead of witches being a metaphor for 'secret societies' they'd be an illusion to real life organizations that tout themselves as kind and homely and traditional but are actually pure evil. How the witches specifically target children of certain demographics only for the dog to bite back and fight them with their own medicine- also keep the nice witch from the 80s film.

None of these changes would ever fix the fact that the og book is what it is, but they're an example of why adaptation, not revisionism, is so important.

Don't hide from mistakes of the past. That's why I'm as upfront with you all about my inspiration for my works being Dahl and Dr. Seuss. These people are not perfect and they're also not my own essence of creativity- but you can believe I was inspired to write because of them. Dana Terrace absolutely has Harry Potter to thank for The Owl House-it doesn't mean Owl House should pay for Harry Potter's sins. Let Owl House pay for it's own sins, thank you!

When it comes to problematic/ offensive work of the past, we should not be hiding from them. Teach kids and adults to think critically and learn that their white-made nostalgia is biased and bad sometimes. When it comes to problematic/ offensive works by still living authors, please just don't by Hogwarts Legacy.

That's all I got. Feel welcome to @ or message me if there's something my white-Gentile-ness forgot or am leaving out. I want to have an actual conversation about this cuz I think it's important. This post also kept me from falling asleep midday again.

[kiwibirb1]

Okay, I was thinking about Witches earlier today so I came up with a new amphibia au. But, plot twist, not witches like magic and shit, but witches as in The Witches by Roald Dahl. Yknow that one where they hate children, can smell them when they're clean, and turn them into mice? Yeah that one. Haven't read the book in a hot minute, but like whatever.

It got really long so details under the cut

Basically, Anne runs into a creepy lady in the woods who gives her this potion and says it idk does something cool. Anne drinks it (bad idea kiddos don't drink random potions made by creepy ladies with way to long nails), and all of a sudden, the ground seems very close and the trees very tall. She shouts in confusion, but all that comes out is a very small squeak. She glances down at her hands but instead finds two paws. Anne looks around for the weird lady who gave her the potion, but she is gone. Sooo yeah, Anne's a mouse now. She spends a very scary night in the woods (giant bugs when your human don't pay much attention to a little mouse, but the smaller ones sure do) and is found by Sprig in the morning, as he went out looking for her when she didn't come back the previous night. She can speak, don't think too hard about it it's for conviences sake. Her voice is really tiny tho because she's tiny. They get Maddie to brew a counter potion, and Anne is back to normal! Anne, exhausted and dirty from sleeping in the woods, takes a nice long soak in the bathtub. Halfway through, just when she started to feel clean, the room is suddenly too big, and she is paddling on four legs. Her squeaks are loud enough for Sprig to hear, and he rushes her back to Maddie. Maddie gives them another potion, but is just as confused as they are as to why Anne turned back. She quizzes Anne on what she was doing when she changed, and the best they can come up with as a group is that Anne somehow washed the effects of the cpunterpotion off. So, Anne waits until the next morning to clean, only to be rushed to Maddie again as a tiny little mouse. They eventually figure out that for some reason Anne being clean triggers the curse (Maddie is losing her mind trying to figure out how someone put a curse in a potion), but not knowing what the curse is exactly Maddie can't undo it. So yeah, Anne is extra grungy and will just chill around the Plantar house as a mouse sometimes because she showered and didn't feel like taking a potion.

That's just what I have so far for this idk might figure out how to draw rodents just for this. Marcy is very interested like Anne kinda hides it from her in Newtopia but when Marcy comes to Wartwood Anne forgets and is currently moused up so like skitters out the door to greet marcy (idk if that's how it goes but like is now) and Marcy is like "Oh! A [mouse species]! I didn't know these existed here! Oh hey little buddy wow you are just climbing up me huh." And right as she goes to pull out her journal Anne shouts in her ear "Marbles!" And like hugs the side of her face all cute bc she's tiny and a mouse and marcy is so confused but then it clicks and she snatches Anne who just remembered that she hadn't told marcy- "Anne!? Oh my Forg you're so cute!!! You need to tell me how this happened oh wait is this bad do we need to find a cure I don't know I kinda like you like this your so small and cute-" and Sprig has to save Anne from being squeezed and then explanations and junk.

[leer-reading-lire]

Suggestions for your first classic

[sopranoentravesti]

Not directly inspired by anything except for *gestures vaguely at the surrounding shitshow* but I do think more people could stand to read this article by Dara Horn about Roald Dahl from 2021.

I’ve included text of the article as well, under the cut. And to head off the whining of those who will perceive this as an attack on their favorite children’s book writer or whatever: read the damn article. This isn’t about “cancelling,” someone for being bigoted (hell, if I boycotted books or plays because the author was virulently antisemitic, there would be precious little to read). It is about understanding a really dark part of human psychology that is at play in conspiratorial thinking— which of course is at the heart of antisemitism— that Roald Dahl capitalized on. Developing a more mature sense of morality, rather than indulging in the bloody politics of blame and vengeance is crucial.

There’s nothing quite like the realization that what you thought was an empowering work of art is actually a 200-page exercise in trolling. It took me more than 30 years to figure out that I’d been trolled by Roald Dahl.

Dahl, who dominated juvenile publishing when I was growing up, revealed himself late in his career to be a vicious antisemite, who thought “powerful American Jewish bankers” ran the US government. He told the New Statesman that “there is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity, maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews. I mean, there is always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” This was in 1983, the year in which Dahl published The Witches, his 13th novel for children.

Apparently, Dahl had been an antisemite his entire life, but it didn’t prevent him from being essentially canonized after his death in 1990, and it didn’t much affect my thoughts about him either. I had adored his books as a child, and I’ve never taken much interest in the now-obligatory grunt work of connecting artists’ personalities (often horrible) with their works (sometimes great). And although Dahl was not only an antisemite but also (and even more damningly these days) a misogynist and a racist, he hasn’t been canceled yet. Who doesn’t love Roald Dahl, or at least his stories?

Hollywood certainly does. The most recent Dahl adaptation, which began streaming on HBO Max this Halloween season, is called Roald Dahl’s The Witches (note the value of the authorial brand), directed and written by Robert Zemeckis, with the help of two younger Hollywood powerhouses, Kenya Barris and Guillermo del Toro. It stars the high wattage Octavia Spencer, perhaps best known for her Oscar-winning role in The Help, and A-lister Anne Hathaway, not to mention the voice of the comedian Chris Rock. In fact, this is the second big-budget version of The Witches, the first having been a 1990 film starring Anjelica Huston.

But The Witches was on my mind long before I’d heard about the new movie. It was one of my favorite books when I was a child, one I read repeatedly and pressed into the hands of friends. I was eager to share it with my own children and hesitated only because, as a child, I’d also found it somewhat terrifying. But when I read it aloud to my eight-year-old son last month, I discovered that it was far more terrifying than I remembered, and for entirely different reasons.

The key to Dahl’s success as a children’s author lay in how he pitted children against adults, making children into a beloved underdog class whose moral victory lay in vanquishing their powerful exploiters. His heroes are blameless boys and girls tortured by diabolically abusive adults, whom they destroy in outrageous revenge sequences of the sort even the most fortunate child occasionally fantasizes about. In James and the Giant Peach, for instance, the orphaned James, enslaved by his villainous aunts, squashes them to death with the titular fruit. In Matilda, a kindergartener uses magic powers to terrorize a school principal who routinely locks children in a nail-studded closet. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the starving Charlie, living in the sort of poverty that would make Oliver Twist qualify as a one-percenter, inherits a fantastical candy factory—but only after a book-length morality play in which wealthy children and their entitled parents are absurdly tortured and maimed. In George’s Marvelous Medicine, a boy forced to care for his heartless grandmother concocts a potion that makes her shrink and disappear.

In short, Dahl is like a modern Charles Dickens, except instead of social justice and spiritual redemption, Dahl’s books offer only revenge. Kids, like all emotionally and morally stunted people, eat this stuff up. Dahl tapped into something primal and hideous in the human psyche: the desire of disenfranchised people to feel righteous precisely by demonizing others. As a kid, I bought this too. The sheer sadism of it went right over my head until I shared these books with my children and saw how I’d been punked. And The Witches was the worst.

The Witches is about a boy who is orphaned in the opening chapter—pity points are always crucial for Dahl—and then adopted by his loving Grandmamma, a kindly old lady who fills him in on a little-known scourge. Witches, she explains, are real. They are demons disguised as women, and their sole purpose is to entrap and destroy innocent children through their diabolical magic. One unfortunate boy, for example, went off with a witch and returned unharmed—but later hardened into a stone statue. After vanishing with a witch, a girl reappeared only in a landscape painting in her family’s home, changing positions whenever the family wasn’t watching and even aging as years passed. (That one haunted me for decades.) Other children are “disappeared” in ways worthy of an Argentine junta. Kids better watch out.

One summer on a beach vacation with Grandmamma, our hero wanders into a hotel conference room occupied by a group calling itself the “Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.” In fact, it is a coven of witches discussing their latest plan, a potion designed to turn children into mice. They discover the boy and immediately mouse-ify him, but now that our talking mouse hero knows where they keep their potions, he and Grandmamma hatch a clever plot to administer them to the witches themselves. Hijinks ensue, evil is vanquished, and although the narrator remains a mouse, he doesn’t mind. He and Grandmamma embark on a crusade to take out the witches of the world, and he never has to go to school again.

The book chimed perfectly with the stories of “stranger danger” that other 1980s children and I were constantly fed in state-mandated school curricula, but it made that threat delightfully preposterous—and manageable since all one had to do was believe that certain adults were actually demons with recognizable tells. It was a highly rewarding fantasy. After all, it was clear to me, as it was to every young reader, that even adults who didn’t molest children in shopping malls were nonetheless conspiring against us, making us do dehumanizing tasks like making beds and taking tests. The book was empowering. With its frisson of secret knowledge, it made us feel righteous and invincible. Unfortunately, revisiting it as an adult revealed that the book was cribbed from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion—and helped me understand, for perhaps the first time, antisemitism’s seductive appeal.

“Witches,” Grandmamma explains, “are not actually women at all . . . They are demons in human shape.” How do you spot one? Well, since they’re demons, they have toeless hooves instead of feet and claws instead of fingers, disguised by fashionable shoes and gloves. You can’t spot those, but you can spot their “larger nose-holes than ordinary people” (the better to smell you with, my dear). But the real tell, of course, is that witches are bald—which is why a witch always wears “a first-class wig,” which she puts “straight on her naked scalp.”

As I read this aloud to my enthralled son, it was hard to miss how much these witches resembled women in, say, Stamford Hill (the London version of Borough Park). It was also hard to miss how much they resembled caricatures from Der Stürmer or a medieval blood libel. Was I overinterpreting?

You be the judge: “Wherever you find people, you find witches,” Grandmamma tells her innocent grandchild. “There is a Secret Society of Witches in every country. . . . An English witch, for example, will know all the other witches in England.” If this was too subtle, Grandmamma clarifies: “Once a year, the witches of each separate country hold their own secret meeting. They all get together in one place to receive a lecture from The Grand High Witch of All the World.” The boy’s question about this fun fact is, at this point, predictable: “Is she rich?”

Grandmamma replies, “She’s rolling. Simply rolling in money. Rumour has it that there is a machine in her headquarters which is exactly like the machine the government uses to print the bank-notes you and I use.” The boy then asks, as any normal child would, “What about foreign money?” You already know the answer: “Those machines can make Chinese money if you want them to.” Here, the boy turns skeptical: “If nobody has ever seen the Grand High Witch, how can you be so sure she exists?” Grandmamma counters, “Nobody has seen the Devil, but we know he exists.” All of this isn’t merely true, we are told, but “the gospel truth” (the italics are Dahl’s). After all, Grandmamma “went to church every morning of the week and she said grace before every meal, and somebody who did that would never tell lies.” As Grandmamma warns her dear boy, “All you can do is cross your heart and pray to heaven.”

Alas, crossing his heart and praying to heaven doesn’t protect our hero from his encounter with the Elders of Witchdom, at which point Dahl drops all pretense. The Grand High Witch, we learn, “had a peculiar way of speaking. There was some sort of a foreign accent there, something harsh and guttural, and she seemed to have trouble pronouncing the letter w. As well as that, she did something funny with the letter r. She would roll it round and round her mouth.” The Grand High Witch, in her Yiddish accent, explains to her secret society how they will lure England’s children by buying high-end sweet shops and poisoning the candy, since “Money is not a prrroblem to us vitches as you know very well. I have brrrought with me six trrrunks stuffed full of Inklish bank-notes, all new and crrrisp” (italics mine).

Few children can resist the lure of witches. My son loved the book so much that he wanted to see the movie. Perhaps you are wondering: is the 2020 Hollywood version, whose creators unsurprisingly included plenty of Jews, antisemitic? The short answer is no, or not exactly, but that’s also the wrong question.

Adapting from a source this hideous was never going to be easy or entirely uncontroversial, and the new film has already been slammed for portraying limb differences as evil (instead of the claws mentioned in the book, the film’s witches are depicted with missing fingers). Despite that tone-deaf choice, it’s clear that the filmmakers were aware of the book’s larger problems. To their credit, they knew they had to fix something, and they went big: instead of contemporary England, Roald Dahl’s The Witches takes place in 1968 Alabama, and the protagonist and his grandmother are Black (Octavia Spencer’s Grandmamma is even a voodoo healer). Unlike the 1990 movie, the witches no longer have big noses and are, in fact, racially diverse. At first, this does seem poised to dilute some of the book’s inherent awfulness: when a Black witch attacked the protagonist in an early scene, I had high hopes for a story where “evil” was depicted solely through Marvel Universe methods of pancake makeup and special effects. But that scene proved to be half-hearted tokenism, since the rest of the film focuses almost entirely on, to use the current term, white-presenting witches—and most tellingly, what really distinguishes witches in this film is that they are rich. As we watch a flashback of the lily-white and fabulously dressed Anne Hathaway as the Grand High Witch attacking an impoverished Black child in a 1920s Alabama shantytown, Grandmamma tells us that “witches always prey on the poor.”

This class warfare idea is utterly absent from Dahl’s book, but it perhaps unintentionally provides a trendy update to his rather old-school racial antisemitism: the idea that a secret society of fantastically wealthy “global elites”—often, but not inevitably, Jews—prey on the poor. This means that bigotry against them, rather than being retrograde, is, in fact, a fresh and righteous way of “punching up.” Instead of just protecting innocent children, this new Grandmamma now also shares her truth to defend the downtrodden, like every righteous nutjob tweeting about the Rothschilds or George Soros. In the book, nothing much happens with the Grand High Witch’s counterfeit cash. But here Grandmamma commandeers it at the film’s triumphant end and hands out hundred-dollar bills to the hotel’s exploited Black employees.

If this sounds tedious, it is. Roald Dahl’s The Witches is wretched less because of the book’s wretched premise than because it is a conventionally lousy children’s movie, full of Hollywood pieties (in the climactic scene, Grandmamma actually lectures the Grand High Witch about the Power of Love), canned stereotypes and recycled animation. That doesn’t mean kids won’t love it, of course. As Hollywood knows well, everyone loves a good conspiracy theory—and that’s the problem.

My kids laughed their way through the movie’s animated mice and cookie-cutter triumphs, enjoying everything that conventional children’s stories do best—reinforce their audience’s expectations, vanquish villains, and make powerless people feel superior. Conspiracy theories make for great stories, but in an era when a nontrivial proportion of the American electorate apparently believes in the QAnon conspiracy theory that a secret cabal of satanic pedophiles preys on American children and the country, I couldn’t help feeling that this film was, at the very least, ill-timed.

It is so easy, after all, to believe in a conspiracy, so self-indulgent, so appealing—and, as I now finally understood, so much fun. Watching this mediocre and unremarkable movie left me shockingly ill at ease, precisely because it was so mediocre and unremarkable. My discomfort was compounded by the knowledge that the eight-year-old me would have loved it too, not knowing any better. Few children do. In the elaborate, magical long game of luring innocents into handing over their hearts, it turns out that the Grand High Witch was actually Roald Dahl.

[bdazzlebooklover]

Father's Day gift from about 5-6vyears ago.

I love me some Roald Dahl

[horror-aesthete]

The Witches, 1990, dir. Nicolas Roeg

[laboratoryrats]

[haveyoureadthisfantasybook]

vote YES if you have finished the entire book.

vote NO if you have not finished the entire book.

(faq · submit a book)

[sauxyan]

Formula 86 Delayed Action Mouse-Maker

[pamithebunterfly2007]

I was looking through the page of Violet from The Roald Dahl fandom until I notice this:

So here are are few What Ifs I had with this being here:

What if Both CATCF and The Witches take in the same place? Like sure these two books made into movies are part of the Roald Dahl universe but what if every book takes place IN that universe

What if The Grand High Witch finds out that Violet was there? well Violet is a child and in the book, either she could be living in a apartment building or she’s talking about a flashback where she’s at a hotel during the summer where she . . . . . . . did this . . . . (What she did was kind of gross tho cuz book Violet is gross no offense) and Sure The Grand High Witch could tell that it was Violet who done this. Well her and her family left the hotel and sure the Grand High Witch and her army of witches are plotting revenge on her. Cuz they hate children.

What if Violet was turn into a mouse instead of a giant bloated blueberry? Imagine in an alternate world if Violet was caught by The Witches, the Witch will give her gum laced with Formula 86 Delayed Action Mouse Maker potion, since Violet love gum so much, she takes it, Sure that only ONE drop, Violet will turn into a mouse in 1 hour, 2 drop equals 30 minutes into transformation, and 3 drops, will turn Violet into a mouse right away! And there you go, If the whole Violet transforming into a big blueberry and the entire blueberry inflation kink didn’t happen, It will be that now Violet was turned into a little mouse, The Entire Infamous Blueberry kink that only deviantart people can get aroused with wouldn’t exist at all.

Also if you don’t believe me here’s the link:

Also what are your thoughts?

[promptcorner]

Okay dudes, queens, mortals, and gods— hear me out.

I had a dream many months ago on a Thursday and by golly it put me in a tizzy.

The dream was a fusion between DC, DP, and Roald Dahl’s The Witches, specifically the 1990 movie with Mr. bean.

In it Damian (15), Danny (15), and Grandma Mason (???) were placed into a dreamscape/vision by the spirits of all the children the Witches had killed— and a third party— to warn them of their newest scheme.

We all know Manbat, right? Good, because the Witches took inspiration from the serum but made it less monstrous and created Formula 86 out of it. Their plan is similar to the movies and books, just buy candy stores and turn all the kids into rodents— except they turn into a different species of bat instead.

Danny, Damian, and Grandma Mason work together to stop the threat with a few twists and turns along the way. And yes, the boys get turned into bats.

Along with that, Tim and Tucker become coffee buddies and discover a big coffee syrup manufacturer may have more secrets then what they let on.

Also Sam, Jazz, and some of the batgirls uncover a mysterious set of giant figures wondering about at night. All the while, Sam and Grandma Mason talk magic.

All these stories connected into one another and it’s been in my mind for months. I’ve been struggling to write this. It’s chaos incarcerate, and that Death by Coffee Post and little blurb I posted after it are from this puzzle of a wip. I’ve been calling it, ‘The Witches did What?’

Here is the unedited summary I have written for it:

Danny and Damian share a mysterious vision/ dream that quickly turns into a nightmare. With both too many and not enough clues to make sense of the horrors that lied before them, they tried their best to navigate it before they ran into a danger neither of them were familiar with. That is, until they find Sam’s grandmother in the dream too. With the promises of an explanation and guidance, the three make plans to meet again in the waking world.

Little did the two boys realize just what type of trouble they’ve uncovered, wether it be on purpose or not. A type of trouble with a sizzling hatred unlike any hatred felt by either the living, or the dead. A sizzling, burning hatred towards children, and apparently… Teenagers aren’t excluded from it. They may have grandma and their various abilities…

But will it be enough to fight against The Grand High Witch?

If anyone is interested in hearing more, let me know. I have like, around forty something pages written out at this point, but I’m not confident in the beginning part of the story. The pacing needs work. But I do have a full chapter.

I guess this is a call for help? Ehh?

I don’t know, I just live here.

Thanks for listening to me rant about a fic idea at the very least!

[i-upset-to-dead-65]

Which Roald Dahl Book Are You?

[invertingbunny]

GUYS

THE WITCHES MUSICAL MUSIC AND LYRICS BY DAVE MALLOY

It's on at the National Theatre in the UK which is actually the nicest stage to visit

[fckedupnerd]

Another new project for Mat!! Looks really good, and I adore both Ruth Wilson and Rob Brydon so I’m definitely excited!

[themousefromfantasyland]

I love Roald Dahl's work but The Witches get so uncomfortable after you learn that he was a self-professed antisemite.

Because the plot revolves around a race of rich hooked nose creatures who go on a secret meeting to plan ways of killing children. Then the leader of the hooked nose creatures gives them money to open businesses all around the world in order to capture and kill children.

And in the end the solution is to transform the hooked nosed creatures into mice and kill them all.

@ariel-seagull-wings @princesssarisa @the-blue-fairie @thealmightyemprex