#I think they share a universe with anise and Jasper

[hawnks]

are kelsi and dr pragma established characters or are they your oc’s ? you write beautifully btw

KAKSKKDKDKDK thank u!!! 🥺💕🧁

I WISH they were from an established series. but alas. they are from my brain. 😔

[tipsycad147]

7 Sure Fire Jar Spells That You Need Now

SL Bear

I used to like jar spells because of their aesthetic value. Pop one on your desk, in your car, on the altar, and bam a space is instantly more witchy. Not to mention, it was great finally finding a use for all those bottles I’d splurged on at the craft store. Spell jars were vaguely reminiscent of the sand bottle art I used to get at amusement parks (which I would inevitably uncork, dump out, and ruin), but beyond that, because they don’t do anything except sit there, I didn’t give them much thought. After all, what was different about having stones or powders in a jar versus just leaving them on my altar? In my opinion, a spell involves a lot of working parts and time, so a little jar filled with flowers and oil wasn’t going to do much.

That’s when it hit me. A jar spell isn’t just a trifle of unfocused ingredients, it’s a bottled spell. You can absolutely put the same effort into making a jar spell as a more traditional spell, and the best part? You can carry it with you anywhere. The spell transforms from something you do once, into a talisman or charm you can keep close for as long as you like. How fantastic is that!

Luck Jar

Like a lot of witches, I’ve been asked by people to do spells for them. Even the most cynical people eventually come around and ask me to whip up some magic for them “just in case.” Although I’m happy to do so, when I do spells I like to be alone. So when I tell someone, yep, it’s done, there’s no experience for them. They haven’t been through the spell with me, so it’s even harder for them to get behind the magic. For some, this isn’t a problem. For others, they need to see with their own eyes to believe it will work.

Enter the jar spell. I can still perform the spell alone, then give them this small token of the spell that they can keep with them. Since luck spells are a specialty of mine, this is the most requested jar spell and the first one I’ll share today with you!

Ideally, this spell should be performed on a Sunday while burning dragon’s blood incense.

What you will need:

A jar. I prefer smaller jars as they travel better, but size doesn’t particularly matter.

Cinnamon

Sugar

Chamomile

Aventurine chips

Amethyst chips

Jasper chips

Star anise seeds

Lemongrass oil

Bay leaf

Green candle and a fireproof work area

Lucky Duck powder, or luck-drawing powder of your choosing

So, in my life’s quest to purchase all the crystals and stones, I’ve come across stone chips. At first, these held no interest for me and I figured they must be for jewelry makers. I like big, beautiful stones I can find something new about every time I look at them. But then I started making jar spells and stone chips became very exciting. They are the perfect size for this task and you can usually find a huge lot for a reasonable price. Needless to say, I’ve overindulged.

On your bay leaf, simply write the words “I’m lucky,” or any version of that you’d like. Bay leaves are pretty waxy, so it’s not easy to write on them — keep it short and sweet. Then with your incense going, light the green candle and anoint with a little lemongrass oil. Hold the bay leaf with some tweezers and use the candle’s flame to ignite the bay leaf and send this message out into the universe. Save the ashes, and don’t blow out the candle yet!

Now it's time to layer. Start with the aventurine, then the sugar, then the chamomile, jasper, cinnamon, amethyst, the star anise seeds, the luck-drawing powder, and the ash from the bay leaf. Carefully add a few drops of the green candle’s wax, and seal the jar. Fill the jar to the top so there’s no room for anything to mix and lose the effect. If you like, you can draw a sigil or rune on the outside of the jar, but I like to leave them plain. When everything is assembled, blow out the candle.

Money Jar

For obvious reasons, having a money jar around is a good idea. This jar spell, unlike my other money spells, requires the use of an actual bill. Like attracts like, so they say, and the money in the jar will be the lure for more money in your life!

What you will need:

Pyrite chips

Moolah powder

A green candle

Honey

A dollar bill

Light your green candle (on a Thursday) and lay your bill out flat. Dress it with the Moolah powder, then roll it up as tightly as possible and stick it in the jar with the honey. Add your pyrite chips to the jar.

Holding the jar, repeat these words, and imagine what you’d do if you had the money you need:

"A magnet pulls and pushes

But throw a lure where fishes swim

Cast a line in golden waters

And reel some greenbacks in!"

Seal the jar and you’re done! You can keep the jar with you depending on size, or keep on your altar or window ledge.

Protection Jar

This is a house protection spell and can be hung by any door. I made one on a whim, and let me say, this thing works in mysterious ways. The day after I hung it up, I noticed that 3 fire alarms in my house needed new batteries and there was a frayed cord in the corner of my garage I’d never even knew existed — I was instantly more aware of little things about my home that needed immediate attention. Now there’s a jar at every door!

What you will need:

Sea salt

Cascarilla powder

Labradorite chips

A gold ribbon, wire, or chain — anything gold that can be wrapped around the jar

Mix your cascarilla powder and sea salt together, then drop your labradorite chips into the jar. Add your cascarilla powder and salt mixture, and top the jar off with more labradorite chips and seal. Wrap the gold ribbon around the jar and you’re done. If you’re using a golden chain, I suggest using a piece that once belonged to your mother if available. Mothers are the embodiment of protection and having that little extra something to represent her, and protect your home, will make this jar that much more potent. However, any form of gold you choose will still be effective. When using gold of any kind, it’s best to leave it somewhere the sun can touch it at least once a day to charge.

Attract Witches Jar

This is a fun one. Most witches don’t walk around in big black hats ] or announce themselves when out in public. This handy little jar is meant to draw good witches to you organically so you can widen your circle a little.

What you will need:

A white candle

Meadowsweet

Angelica root

Juniper berries

Passionflower

Basil

Salt

Sugar

Your favourite stone chips (to send your energy back to them)

If you wish, you can mix these herbs together or layer them, adding your stones first. While assembling the jar, light a white candle and think positive thoughts. There aren’t any words to recite, but in your mind imagine yourself as glowing slightly, radiating good vibes that other witches will be able to sense. Carry with you when you travel and be on the lookout for new acquaintances that suddenly come into your life!

Break Bad Habits Jar

Humans are creatures of routine, which makes breaking bad habits particularly difficult for us. Some habits are relatively harmless, while others can negatively impact our lives and changing them is a must. This jar will provide both motivation and a daily reminder that you’re tough enough to kick the thing holding you back from living a better life! This jar can be placed in your home where you will see it regularly, or carried with you.

What you will need:

Dragon’s blood incense

Catnip

Dried onion flakes

Purple ribbon

Light your incense while assembling this jar and focus very hard on how your life will be improved once you’ve made this positive change. Place the herbs into the jar, then tie the purple ribbon around it. When you’re feeling particularly unmotivated, drop a little of the mixture in the flame of a purple candle and perform your favourite grounding exercise.

Safe Travel Jar

Another great jar to give as a gift. My cousin is in the military and my aunt always has me make her one of these before deployments!

What you will need:

Comfrey

Feverfew

Garnet chips

Tiger’s eye chips

Yellow candle

Layer the jar in any order you’d like, but make sure it’s herb, stone, herb, stone. Light your yellow candle and recite these words while holding the jar:

"Wind, rain, fog, and snow

Will never my travel slow

Safely will I ever arrive

Wherever I choose to go!"

Seal the jar with a few drops of the yellow candle wax, and keep in your car.  

Altar Box “Jar”

Not technically a jar spell, but it works in the same way. You’ll need a small metal tin with a slidable top. These can be found online or at places that sell empty bottles (I got mine at Natural Grocers). This isn’t a travelling altar because it’s not to be used for spellwork per se. Its purpose is to carry the “spirit” of your altar with you wherever you go. I can’t give you a list of ingredients because I don’t know what you have on your altar or what you use it for, but what I did was take elements from my altar and miniaturise them, then sealed them in the tin. This way, you can feel connected to your altar, not to mention its power, whenever you’re away.

Note: Not everyone will see the purpose of this, but I know a lot of witches adore their altars — myself included. Turning it into a talisman of sorts and carrying it with me has been a great comfort.

All my favourite components from my altar: Stone chips, powders, runes, bay leaves, star anise seeds, and more.

Find the best configuration.

I sealed mine with a paint and sealant because I added powder and didn’t want it spilling everywhere. You can decorate your altar box in any way you wish and carry with you (in the left pocket is best)!

https://thetravelingwitch.com/blog/2018/8/26/7sure-fire-jar-spells-that-you-need-now

[handsingsweapon]

okay, so I am not at all tired of and in fact adore your Victuuri, but 17 seems so very Georgi.

i love this prompt! i ended up taking it in a different direction than the prompt itself but i really like what came to mind right away. (under the cut again in case of any anti-halloween sensibilities). 

also idk how to say this without being blunt so, in this fic, team russia (georgi, mila, yurio) have inherited a mystery manor from yakov. be advised accordingly.

The character makes a new friend who claims to be an actual witch. They end up proving it to them with an impressive display of magic (if the preferred character is actually a witch, feel free to change the POV)

Georgi puts the van into park as Mila leans forward in her seat and whistles. Netherseal Manor practically looms over the car. It’s an eight-bedroom estate on several acres outside of Edinburgh, where the sweeping Scottish plains roll on unhindered for what feels like miles. Tonight it’s a little overcast and crisp, leaving a muted night sky without stars.  “I get the room in the turret,” Yuri insists from the back seat, and when Georgi and Mila share a Look via the rear view mirror, he rubs his hands together and blows on them pointedly, as though either Georgi or Mila has forgotten Yuri’s elemental affinity. 

“Whatever,” Mila says pointedly, grabbing her lighter off of the dash before hopping out of the car. “Bet you it’s a closet and the window’s just decorative.”

They all know it’s not a closet, either: this was Yakov Feltsman’s house, until he passed, it’s been in the family, so to speak, for generations, handed down from coven to coven with only one specification, typically, in the contract, which Georgi knows is a contract that is both magically and legally binding: make no modifications to the pool, the gardens, or the manor itself, and keep the household collection together.

When Yakov designated Georgi as his heir he’d waved a hand over these details. “Think of it as living in someone else’s house,” he’d insisted. “You’ll figure it out.”

Together they unload the van. Mila and Georgi carry easily twice as much as Yuri can. Mila wins a best two-out-of-three Rock, Paper, Scissors game for the biggest bedroom, but in the morning she tells Georgi she doesn’t want it. “It’s drafty,” she complains, while they take sheets down off of the furniture in the library. The place has been packed up like this for a month; Yuri’s been going around throwing windows open and encouraging air in; Mila’s lit fires to ward off the chill, is already burning little pockets of sage. Georgi prefers earth magic, which is protective and solid if unremarkable.

They’re missing a water witch, and sometimes what they really need is a white one, but according to Yakov nobody’s seen either around these parts for decades. 

Mila uncovers a large portrait, hanging on the wall. It’s a painting of a man with silver hair and bright, crystal-blue eyes. He’s smiling, rare for this kind of old portraiture. Mila whistles again. “Hell-o, handsome,” she coos, and puts her hand to the frame, brow furrowed. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” says Mila, who isn’t about to admit that she thinks she just got winked at by a painting. “What do you want Yura to pick up when he runs into town tomorrow?”

“Lavender,” Georgi says off-hand, and then adds: “Yarrow.”

He tries and fails to pretend like he’s not thinking about Anya again. Mila mutters something impolite and dusts off a shelf. That night, Georgi moves into the big bedroom. He thinks drafty was Mila’s way of describing the way he feels a little bit like he’s being watched: it’s late and he’s writing another letter to Anya in a notebook full of notes he’s never going to send: I just don’t understand how you fell out of love with me so quickly, Georgi writes. We were happy, weren’t we?

The being-watched feeling never quite goes away, so Georgi sighs and lights a candle, finds a piece of chalk. In his Grimoire, there’s a spell meant to calm a restless mind, and so he works through it, holding up the jasper stone he wears on a pendant around his neck as a focus while he grinds anise seeds and murmurs a blessing on this new endeavor.

After what happened with Anya, everyone knows Georgi’s luck could use a change.

In the morning, the chalk circle is still there, but his notebook has been flipped to a new page, and on it, in a fresh hand, is the following writing:

I see Mr. Feltsman has neglected to inform Netherseal’s new charges of all of the manner of our arrangement. Please vacate my room at first opportunity. The room with the most Northerly view is located on the second floor and looks out over a grove; I daresay you’ll find it to your taste.

Yours,

VN

P.S. Would you mind terribly sweeping up the chalk? It’s rather inconvenient.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Yuri snarls after he’s read the letter. It’s decidedly at odds with the tablespoon sized lump of jam he’s just plunged into his tea. “He didn’t tell us the place was haunted.” At this, one of the kitchen cabinets opens and shuts, practically in offense, which has Mila nervously playing with her lighter and makes Yuri’s scowl deepen further. “You don’t scare me, you bastard!”

A bar of soap rises ominously from the sink and Georgi can’t help it: he’s laughing, now. It’s been a while since he laughed; not since Anya called to tell him they were over and then was seen at University a week later with a brand new beau. Georgi still has his mother’s ring in his messenger bag; he was ready to propose, just waiting for the right moment. Mila and Yuri are furious about the whole thing, of course. They feed off of each other sometimes, and not always in a good way.

Anyway, the laugh: it feels good and a little bit foreign. “I think our new friend is trying to tell you to watch your mouth,” he murmurs.

“Or what,” grumbles Yuri. “He’s a ghost. I bet there are spells …” This time, every cabinet slams, one at a time, open-shut, open-shut, open-shut. 

“Bit dramatic,” Mila murmurs thoughtfully. “I like you already,” she informs the air, and this time nothing happens: whatever presence was there is gone.

“I’m getting some air,” says Yuri Plisetsky, which is exactly the kind of thing that comes out of his mouth at least three times a day. He leaves his coat on the hooks by the door. That happens a lot, too.

“I’ll take him into town,” Mila murmurs, once they’re alone. “You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“You know what,” Georgi replies, fingering the piece of jasper that hangs around his neck, “I think I will.”

In the afternoon he takes the notebook back into the bedroom, cleans it up as promised. Then he walks over into an adjacent sitting area, sits down at a desk, and writes:

Who are you?

For a moment, there’s nothing, and Georgi thinks he’s had all the excitement he’s going to have for the day. Then the pages flutter, almost as though trailed by a thoughtful hand. Inside the desk, he thinks he hears something click. “You really want me going through your personal effects?”

I already read your journal last night for entertainment, confesses a fresh line of ink on the page. In my defense, the bed was taken.

… 

It seems like a reasonable exchange.

Georgi’s not sure how to feel about this. For a moment something painful constricts in his chest and he takes a moment to center himself on his breath, to plant both of his feet very firmly on the ground. There’s no reason to think that he can feel the vibrations of the earth beneath his feet, but it always focuses him, and after a moment he sighs, heavily, before he starts to open drawers. “Anya,” he tells the thin air, by way of explanation, “is my ex-girlfriend.”

I gathered as much.

Georgi does not want to admit that he still has her photo in his wallet, but he still has her photo in his wallet. He takes it out and leaves it on the desk, not sure why he’s trying to convince a ghost that she was pretty, that she was worth it, that he wishes she’d change her mind. “I just thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives,” he admits quietly. “She thought otherwise.”

How old are you?

That, Georgi thinks, is a strange question to ask. “Twenty-eight.” When nothing else appears, he looks around, brow furrowed. “ … Why?”

… You will find out soon enough. Compartment’s in the back.

Sure enough, as Georgi reaches, a package of documents fall into his waiting hands, bulkier than he expects. He unravels a piece of red string tied around the contents and opens the envelope. What he finds first is a navy blue book, leatherbound, beautifully tooled on the front. It reminds Georgi of his Grimoire, but it’s inexplicably lovelier, and when he receives no words of protest on the page, he opens it, looks at the first page. There’s a whole list of names, and plenty of room for more. 

The last name, the last witch who possessed this book was a man named Victor Nikiforov.

“Well, Victor,” he says, trying to be polite. “I’m Georgi.”

When Mila and Yuri return from town they’re surprisingly well equipped. “Found the most darling store in Old Town,” Mila explains, as she sets down a bag that smells like sweet, fresh herbs, and offers a second one to Georgi so that he can take a look. Herbal teas, incense, and –

“Why is Yura holding a kitten?”

“Because the clerk at the store was an idiot,” the teenager grumbles.

“I thought he was plenty nice,” Mila observes. “Just shy.”

“Dog people,” Yuri mutters, to the tiny creature who now lives in his hoodie. The kitten is all black, with dazzling green eyes. It’s so stereotypical Georgi almost wants to laugh, and when the little beast gives out the most pathetic mew he’s ever heard, he nearly does.

“What’d you find out about … you know?”

“Well,” Georgi murmurs carefully, because this is a serious topic, “For one thing, Victor isn’t a ghost.”

And this is how they learn to live with Victor Nikiforov, the water witch trapped inside of the manor. There are strange foils between him and Victor: for the past few months, all Georgi wanted was to be engaged, to be planning his own wedding.

Victor is in this situation precisely because he refused to get married.

“I don’t get it,” says Yuri.

“He got into an argument with his Grandmother, evidently,” Georgi murmurs. They’ve gotten refrigerator magnets now; word poetry and letters to give Victor a fast outlet. “She wanted to see him wed before he turned thirty, and, well.”

“Well, what?”

The letters on the fridge rearrange themselves promptly. CANNOT appears in primary kinder-colors, red, yellow, blue. 

Georgi hesitates, and then sighs. Even if he is breaking a confidence, he’s never had secrets with this little coven. It’s not in his nature. “It was impossible. Then. Marrying someone he really loved.”

“Oh,” says Mila. “I get it.”

“I don’t,” retorts Yuri.

“Yura,” Mila says sweetly, like she’s explaining something to a very small child, “he’s gay.”

“What, so, he’s cursed because he’s gay?”

“Gay marriage was illegal. He wouldn’t have wanted to make vows he couldn’t keep …” Trust Mila to catch on; Georgi has been her Token Straight at at least three different pride parades while Mila sashayed around with the bisexual flag draped over her shoulders, hunting for handsome girls or pretty boys to kiss. Georgi wouldn’t dare call it easy for her; he knows there’s a certain amount of judgment that goes on. Still: Mila is beautiful and bright, and people come to her like moths to a flame. “Don’t worry, though, ducky,” she says, cheerfully. Ducky is her new nickname for Victor. “Now you can marry whoever you want. We just have to get you unhexed.”

The letters on the refrigerator scramble one more time, so fast that Georgi nearly detects hope. WHITE? they spell, this time, in anything but.

“Baba-yaga,” Yuri grouses, “For something that dark he’d have to have a really powerful white witch. Have you been keeping one in your back pocket this whole time, and not telling us?”

“Quit being so fucking insensitive, Yura,” Mila snaps, with gasoline-temper. Slowly the letters get pushed out of order again. “We’ll figure it out, Victor.” 

There’s no response. Georgi imagines him, invisible, bound to the house, an eternal bachelor. 

It’s heartbreaking, which is why he understands it so well.

Georgi waits until Yuri’s gone to whisper a hypothesis to Mila. Do you know how old Yakov was, when he married Lilia?

She doesn’t, but Georgi’s done the research. “Twenty-nine and nine months,” he says quietly. It’s the start of Autumn. He turns twenty-nine in December, and Anya is never going to marry him.

Victor was thirty when the curse hit. On Yuletide.

Weeks pass. They take to talking to the fourth presence in the house, to leaving a place for him at their circle. Slowly Victor becomes a known quantity, predictable, almost like a friend. There’s a piano in the conservatory that Georgi tinkers away on, and sometimes Victor comes alongside and presses down the nearby keys to play a duet. Yuri insists that he’s teaching their invisible witch about fashion, curse words, and how to dance.

It’s All Hallow’s Eve when a pounding comes at the front door, interrupting the game of cards they’ve all been playing in the library. “I’ll get it,” says Yuri, probably because he doesn’t have patience for the game and he’s been losing all night. Mila shrugs. Fine. 

Georgi listens to the predictable trudge of Yuri’s feet, to the brusque greeting at the door, and then sits up as he hears shouting. Now two pairs of shoes are making their way this direction, and he finds himself face-to-face with a mild-mannered looking young man wearing blue glasses. 

“Katsudon, what the fuck?”

Evidently he and Yuri know each other. The brunette frowns and looks pointedly at all three of them. “Stop. Hexing. People,” he grinds out. “I have seen Anya Vasilieva alone nine times in two months. Nine. Nine times. To break bad luck charms, and truthspeaker spells, and assorted other nastiness, and I’m here to tell you if you don’t stop and –”

“Nine?” Georgi is incredulous, but in the face of the outraged look this strange is sending him, he has to admit to a tiny, petty truth. “I did a small thing once,” he admits. “But I was very drunk. Mila was there.”

“Three times,” says Yuri Plisetsky with a scowl, apparently counting for himself. 

 “Five,” Mila hums, like an angel.

But the young man in the glasses isn’t looking at any of them, anymore. Victor’s portrait is up on the wall, and if Georgi were to look back at it, he might think it looks different, somehow.

Like a changed man.

“Who is that?” Katsudon wants to know, taking a hand out of the pocket of his coat. There are prayer beads twined around his wrist, of the clearest quartz, and already he’s ignoring the rest of them, patting down his pockets as he pulls up a chair and stands on it, looking a painting of Invisible Water Witch, Victor Nikiforov, eye-to-eye. “He’s smiling, but he looks …”

Sad. Georgi knows the word like he knows his own death sentence: he’s the next heir to this house; unless the enchantment over it is lifted, he can expect to join Victor in eternal invisibility, locked to this estate, sooner than any of them would like.

“His name is Victor Nikiforov,” Georgi says, with care. “I’m Georgi Popovich. You know Mila and Yuri?”

“Yuuri,” says the stranger, distantly, without looking back. He carefully touches the brushstroke that makes up Victor’s mouth, and behind him Georgi hears the sound of thirteen cards fluttering to the floor, because evidently real, invisible Victor has dropped his hand entirely. 

“… Yuuri Katsuki.”