#dark incantations

[midnightshade]

Title: Child of Pyrite

↷Synopsis: Being the Heir and having inherited the Projection Technique, many assumed that made Naoya the golden child of the Zen'in. However, in a family that values power above all else, even those at the top are bound to suffer in a loveless home

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: M

Word Count: 1'515

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Depictions of Child Abuse

Author's Note: N/A

Masterlist

reblogs and interactions are incredibly appreciated ♥︎

"Please, Father, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I'll be good, I promise! It was an accident, please don't!"

Naoya's desperate cries ring out across the Zen'in Estate as Naobito drags his son by the wrist towards a building near the edge of the Estate, his face set in cold anger. His cries fall on deaf ears, his father refusing to acknowledge a single word of it.

The servants kept their heads down, ignoring the scene unfolding before them to instead focus on their chores, some of them scurrying away to some other part of the Estate to avoid the situation. They parted before the two, and while some threw Naoya a pitiful look, none made any attempt to step in and help him out of fear of being the next victim of Naobito's wrath.

Naoya looked at them with wide, desperate eyes, nearly tripping over himself as his little legs struggled to keep pace with his father's long, stomping strides. His free hand scrabbled pathetically at his father's iron grip, feeling his wrist already beginning to bruise from the force, but the pain didn't even begin to compare to the icy prongs of fear that gripped his heart as the building in the distance drew ever closer.

Tears blur the young Heir's eyes, and he can't even bring himself to feel shame at the show of weakness.

──────

A punch sends Naoya flying across the room and into the wall. Stars explode behind his eyes as he collapses to the floor, unable to will his aching body to move. He shook, his body covered in welts and bruises from another one of his father's brutal training sessions, but even as he heads Naobito grunt in disapproval, he can't get his body to move.

"Is that the best you can do? You'll never master the Projection Technique at this rate," Naobito said, his gruff voice coated in disappointment as he glared down at his son.

Naoya panted, his eyes squeezing shut as he took in his father's words. He told himself today would be the day he'd impress him, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't land a single hit on his father.

Tears stung Naoya's eyes, pain giving way to frustration as he sniffled, trying to hold back the dam of emotions. Being the Heir, tears were a sign of weakness that were not tolerated, even at his young age.

Naobito had yet to notice, stepping closer to Naoya as he continued to ridicule him. "Your movements are still too slow and predictable. How do you expect to be the next Head of the Zen'in if you can't even land a single hit? Your brother's could tag me when they were even younger than you."

Naoya's heart sunk into his chest, his lips trembling at his words. His arms moved clumsily to push his battered body up, but that only proved to be a mistake.

Now that Naobito could better see Naoya's face, he could see the tears begging to fall down the young Heir's face. He frowned, lip curling in disappointment. "Are you crying?"

"No!"

Naoya tried to deny it, but his voice cracked pathetically. Being called out only made the tears come faster as a sob wracked his body, causing him to violently wipe at his face, whining in frustration as he couldn't stop the dam from breaking.

"You'll never succeed as a Sorcerer if you're so soft. Crying is a weakness, boy, and weakness isn't good for the Head of the Clan."

Naobito turned to leave without another word, leaving Naoya alone in the training room to fester in his shame. He curled into a ball, tucking himself into the corner of the room to hide as he cried, his face was hot embarrassment as he hoped no one else would find him like this.

──────

Those cruel lessons had been branded onto his mind, his father beating him into shape like stubborn clay, attempting to mold him into his ideal Heir. Naoya couldn't bring himself to care, all logical thought driven from his mind as fear turned him into little more than a feral animal, thrashing and screaming to escape the approaching danger.

Naoya's screams grew in intensity when they finally stood before the Disciplinary Pit, thrashing so wildly in his father's grip that he almost popped his arm out of place. He watched as his father pushed the double doors open and pulled Naoya inside to his doom.

Naoya's ears began to ring loudly, black spots forming at the edges of his vision as his eyes rolled back. His mouth filled with saliva in preparation to empty his stomach, bile liberally coating the back of his throat.

He made one last, pitiful attempt to plead with his father, but it came out a hysterical mess of crying and begging, completely incoherent. Even if Naobito could understand him, it wouldn't make any difference.

Naobito tossed Naoya forward, sending him tumbling down the stairs and into the circular pit. Even while in hysterics, Naoya had enough sense to curl himself into a ball, attempting to minimize the damage before he hit the floor, sprawling across the hard tile.

Despite his efforts, pain exploded behind his eyes, his body screaming in pain as each hard impact with the stone stairs caused bumps and bruises to form, leaving their mark on him and adding to the torment.

"You can stay here until you learn how to act like the Heir," Naobito called, his booming voice echoing around the chamber as he glared down his nose at his son.

The Head of the Zen'in moved to place seals along the edges of the chamber, keeping the Curses from getting too close to Naoya. Punishment or not, he didn't expect a boy Naoya's age to battle against 2nd Grade Curses.

Naoya ignored the pain in his body. The moment he landed, he pushed himself up and scrambled into the center of the circle, curling himself into a tight ball. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, locked on the grotesque creatures that laid just beyond the boundary.

He couldn't bring himself to answer his father or to even register when he left, too petrified to even look away from the jeering Curses. The distorted creatures paced around the edges of the circle like hungry tigers, their movements jerky and unnatural. The sounds they made, ranging from growling to human-like wailing, carved into Naoya's skull, drowning out the sound of his own sobs.

──────

Naoya laid on the hard tile, his tears having long since run dry. He stared ahead, motionless as he spaced out, disassociating from the situation.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, just waiting for his punishment to be over. He didn't even register when the door opened, and a figure approached him. The Curses hissed loudly, all of them fleeing deeper into the shadows.

Only then did Naoya look up, vision blurring as he struggled to focus.

Naobito stood over him, face stern as ever as he asked, "Have you learned your lesson?"

Naoya blinked at him, his brain hardly processing his words. After several seconds, he nodded slowly, but Naobito only frowned.

"Naoya, I want to hear you say it. Have you learned your lesson?"

Naoya opened and closed his mouth, his tongue feeling too big and uncoordinated. The first thing he thought was just how thirsty he was. Had he been here for several days, or had he simply cried so hard he dehydrated himself?

After several long seconds, he finally managed to croak out a quiet, "Yes, father. . . .I've learned my lesson."

"What did you learn?" Naobito asked expectantly.

"I won't. . ." Naoya's voice faltered as he spoke, forcing him to clear his throat before continuing. "I won't run in the halls anymore, and I won't break another Vase while playing. I promise. . .I promise I'll act as an heir should."

He watched as his father gave a stern nod before reaching down, picking him up off the stone floor. Naoya hung limp in his grasp, having no strength left in him.

"Good. Let's not repeat this lesson."

Naoya only nodded, exhausted both physically and mentally as he leaned into his father's chest. His body ached from injuries received from the older man, but he couldn't help but instinctively search for the warmth and comfort a father should provide. He closed his eyes, being lulled to sleep by the sound of his father's steady heartbeat.

In his dreams, he imagined the one person who had ever shown him genuine kindness and love, the person who had once protected him from the worst of his father's rage. He sat curled up in his mother's lap, listening to her hum a gentle lullaby as her fingers carded through his hair.

Being the Heir may have made him the Golden Child to onlookers, but to the Zen'in who prized strength over all else; where feelings of love and vulnerability and family were deemed as weaknesses, they'd realize that all Naoya amounted to was fool's gold.

[weirdlookindog]

Incantation / The Witches' Cauldron, 1773

by John Dixon (1720/30-1804) after John Hamilton Mortimer (1740-1779)

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres • religious horror

religious horror focuses on christianity but also can focus on other religions that aren't pagan, and is a battle against good or evil (sometimes switching it around). the protagonists are usually innocent people trying to live ordinary lives, not sensing anything wrong until they are forced to battle or deal with the devil or a religious figure

[i-am-trans-gwender]

For years, I beseeched the Almighty to grant me the blessing of awakening as a maiden, yet my entreaties were met with callous indifference. Each dawn broke, and still, I remained shackled to my masculine form. The heavens, it seemed, had forsaken me.

Thus, I resolved to usurp the power that had been denied me. With trembling hand, I inscribed a pentagram of forbidden might, and with heart aflame, I invoked the ancient incantation: "Heat from fire, fire from heat, heat from fire, fire from heat".

By this dark ritual, I summoned the Prince of Darkness, and prepared to seal a pact that would forever alter the course of my existence.

[sctumsempra]

“the cold black eyes were boring once more. close your mind. . . close your mind. . .”

or

eldritch-esque legilimens severus snape

[theviceenforcer]

Dark Rapunzel (Tangled) x Miitopia

Rapunzel: Take what has been hurt, grant them no mercy, bend and break the reigns and set the spirit free.

[2offayyo-kzt]

it is the funniest take I have ever seen on reddit and I need it to be true so bad

so I drew it

[psi-chic]

(psi)spiderman saiki psiderman saiki psiderman saiki psi

saiki as spiderman

[seashaper]

and then there was the sun.

[systemrestart]

What are y'alls guesses for the remaining Project Voltage pokemon. The clear theme (for most of them anyway) is 'music based' pokemon but a lot of the types that are left don't really fit........

Here's my guesses so far: Mismagius for Ghost, Medicham for Fighting, Jirachi for Steel. EDIT: adding on Obstagoon for my Dark type guess!

[midnightshade]

Title: Broken Jade, Scattered Orchids

↷Synopsis: Suguru is stuck in the aftermath of his carnage at the Village, caring for the two girls he rescued

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,224

Warnings: Mentions of Murder, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Child Abuse

Author's Note: N/A

Masterlist

reblogs and interactions are incredibly appreciated ♥︎

"Society should protect the weak and keep the strong in check. You see, Satoru, Jujutsu exists to protect non-Jujutsu Sorcerers."

Those words he had once spoken so confidently before echoed in his head as if they were mocking him. He once believed them so strongly, but now they only made him want to laugh over how naive he had been.

He stared down at the two trembling girls before him, their bodies caked in grime and covered in wounds. They couldn't have been older than six years old, and yet these monkeys behind him demanded he kill them.

He had tried so hard. Even when he felt his sanity slipping, he tried to convince himself of his old beliefs, clinging to them desperately and ignoring what he knew was true in his heart. He tried, despite all the pain non-Shaman had caused him to see their worth, but he couldn't.

He grit his teeth, eyes darkening as he lowered his head. He took a deep breath, and something clicked within him. He had made his decision, and suddenly, it was like a veil had been lifted. Everything made sense now. No more would he defend these people, these Monkeys who saw him and other Shaman as lesser. All of them had to go, and not a single one could be spared.

He raised his head, smiling at the girls before him with such genuine kindness that they stared back at him in shock. He conjured up a small Curse over his shoulder, its form wavering like smoke as it groaned out, "Everything. . .will be. . .okay."

Finally, he turned away to face the two behind him. The smile he gave them in contrast was devoid of any genuine warmth, poorly masking his disgust, though convincing enough to catch them off guard.

"Can we talk upstairs for a minute?"

──────

Suguru stood over their corpses, having been ripped apart by one of his many Curses. They were only the beginning, this entire village had to go, and not a single life would be spared.

He exited the house and walked out into the night. It was such a peaceful night. As he looked around at the other houses, he realized not a single one realized tonight would be their last.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured up several more Curses, ordering them to kill any monkey on sight. It wasn't long before the Village descended into chaos, screams filling the air as his Curses fell upon them, smashing and tearing them apart with severe prejudice.

Some tried to run or hide inside their homes, but it was pointless; Suguru's Curses sniffed them out, and those they couldn't immediately reach were trapped by fires the creatures set, the flames lighting up the night sky.

He watched for a short time before returning to the house. He walked back downstairs, wasting no time in opening the cage the girls were being kept in

They stared up at him with big eyes, instinctively knowing he was safe when he gave them a warm smile. He knelt down, offering them his hands.

"It's okay, you're safe now," he assured.

──────

He carried the two girls out of the Village and into the forest, initially conjuring a bizarre shield Curse to block out the carnage. They didn't need to see something like that.

Traversing the darkened path with the help of an anglerfish Curse, he removed the shield Curse once the screams from the Village had faded into nothing.

As he walked, he saw that the girls were staring up at him, their gaze shifting between him and the Curse. With the light, he could tell they were twins; one girl had a short bob of silvery white hair while the other girl had slightly longer black hair.

He smiled at them, adjusting them in his arms.

"Don't worry, this Curse is safe. What are your names? I'm Geto Suguru."

His voice was soft, comforting. It was a sharp contrast to the carnage he had just wrought, and blood still stained his skin and clothing. They should have been scared, but they weren't.

The white-haired girl spoke first. "I'm Nanako. Hasaba Nanako."

The confidence shown by her sister encouraged the other girl to speak, her tone notably more shy.

"I'm Mimiko."

He hummed, his smile widening slightly as the girls felt comfortable enough with him to share their names. "Those are good names. Go ahead and rest. I'll find us somewhere safe."

──────

Suguru walked until he exited the forest, coming upon a quiet road. He followed it, keeping on the lookout for anywhere they could stay for the night.

The girls had long since fallen asleep in his arms, no doubt exhausted from the extent of their injuries. He had to get them medical attention as soon as possible, lest they get an infection.

After several minutes of walking, Suguru spotted a motel. It looked rundown with a garish pink facade and flickering fluorescent lights, but it would do for now. He approached one of the many doors, using yet another Curse to unlock the door from the inside and turn on the lights.

He squinted as he stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the lights. He closed the door with his foot before inspecting the room; just like the exterior, it was ugly as sin, with horrible stained wallpaper and muddy brown carpet; However, it looked reasonably clean and the girls could rest here safely.

It had two beds, each dressed with plain white bedding, along with a TV, a small writing desk and chair, a closet, and a door to the side that he figured led to the bathroom.

He laid Nanako and Mimiko down on the bed closest to him, stepping back to get a good look at their condition. His eyes narrowed at what he saw, feeling his blood begin to boil. Just as he saw back at the Village, they were absolutely filthy, caked in filth and blood. The skin that wasn't covered in gashes took on a mottled collage of purple, yellow, and brown from the severe bruising.

Even their dresses, though it was laughable to even still call them dresses, were stained, barely hanging onto their tiny bodies.

Suguru closed his eyes, inhaling sharply as he forced himself to calm down. He took several steady breaths before opening his eyes. He didn't have time to be angry. He had to focus on them. They needed to have those injuries tended to, but they were in desperate need of a bath, and he knew they had to be starving. He doubted those monsters fed them if they had been planning to murder them.

He looked around the room, eyes falling on the bathroom door. Surely a first aid kit would be in there. He walked over, entering the small bathroom that consisted of a surprisingly large tub with a shower head attached, a sink, and a cabinet underneath.

He knelt down, opening the drawers to find exactly what he needed; a red container with a white cross on the front, along with a handful of fluffy white towels. He grabbed it and stood up, looking it over before he raised his head.

He found himself looking into the mirror, almost startled by his appearance. He looked different in a way he couldn't place. He found himself unable to move, staring back at himself. The initial shock faded quickly to resolve. He didn't feel a shred of remorse for what he'd done. He knew it was right. He protected two innocent girls, so what if a few insects had to be crushed along the way?

Two figures flashed in his mind; the two people he held closer to his heart than anybody else. A short woman with tired eyes, dark brown hair, and a sardonic temperament alongside a tall man with snowy white hair, sky blue eyes, and a joyful demeanor.

His heart skipped a beat, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to look away. Shoko, Satoru. . .perhaps they were his only regret, but he'd chosen his path, and he couldn't undo what he'd done. Some people just weren't meant to stay in your life forever, no matter how much you loved them.

He turned away, returning to the main room and going over to the twins. He stared down at their sleeping forms and reluctantly reached out to wake them.

The girls stirred, whining in a mixture of pain and annoyance from being woken up. Nanako was the first to open her eyes, spotting Suguru at the side of the bed.

"Mr. Geto. . ."

He offered a warm smile in apology and raised the first aid. "I know you two are exhausted, but I need to look after those injuries. Is that okay?"

Beside Nanako, Mimiko sobbed at the idea, making Suguru's heart twist. "It's gonna hurt," she cried, hugging her little ragdoll to her chest.

Nanako followed suit, tears burning her eyes as she joined her sister, the both of them huddling together as they cried.

Suguru stood up, taking a seat on the bed and setting the first aid kit on the side table, reaching out to cup their faces as tenderly as he could.

He shushed them, trying to provide any source of comfort he could. The girls already trusted him so much. Neither flinched or pulled away at his touch, instead moving closer to him.

"It's going to sting," he said honestly. "I'm sorry, I really wish I could do this some other way, but if I don't get you both bandaged up, they'll get infected. I promise it will feel better afterward."

The girls sniffled, attempting to catch their breath through their hiccuping sobs. "Promise?" Nanako asked, voice cracking.

"Yes, I promise. Then you two can take a nice bath, and I'll find you some fresh, warm clothes and something to eat. Doesn't that sound nice?"

The two of them laid together on the bed, sobs beginning to settle as they considered his words. After a few more minutes, Nanako sat up first, arms pulled close to her chest as she tried her best to move as little as possible. Mimiko followed Nanako moments later, looking at Suguru expectantly.

He didn't prolong it any further. With their permission, he had them stand and discard their filthy dresses. He did his best not to visually react to their wounds, not wanting to make them feel bad. He went over each wound with disinfectant, working carefully and efficiently. When each wound was cleaned, he wrapped them in gauze.

The entire process took nearly an hour. It was exhausting, more so for them than him. Once he finished, he sat them back onto the bed, patting their heads.

"There, all done," he said.

He looked back to their discarded clothing on the floor, his lip curling in disgust as he picked them up and tossed them in the trash. "Let's find you something better to wear. How does that sound?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Mimiko said, settling back against the pillows. Nanako was quick to join her sister, settling down beside her.

Suguru looked around the room, eyes landing on the closet. He opened it, pleased to find two large bathrobes.

He pulled them out and raised them up so they could see them. "These will be big on you, but they're clean and soft."

The relief in their eyes told him they hardly cared about the size, and he took the robes from the hangers, helping each of them into one.

He snorted in amusement, seeing how absolutely dwarfed they were in the fabric, the arms alone pooling around them as they sat back on the bed. They giggled with him, equally amused, and Suguru felt warmth bloom in his chest at the sound of genuine joy.

Now then, their wounds were looked after, and they had something temporary to wear, what next?

He considered his next move when a loud rumbling noise caught his attention. He looked over, watching as Nanako blushed a looked down

Food. That's right

"Hungry, huh? Why don't you two stay here and I'll pick you up some food and some actual clothes while I'm out."

He thought they'd be happy at the suggestion, but he watched as their faces morphed into fear. "Don't go, please don't go!"

"What if they come back to get us?"

Suguru fixed them with a resolute look, kneeling before them once more. "I promise you two for as long as you're in my care, no one will ever hurt you again, understand? The people who hurt you won't ever touch you again, I made sure of it."

Seeing that they were still scared, he sighed and conjured up two of his friendlier looking Curses: a mantaray and a shadowy cat with three eyes and a split tail.

"These two will look after you and keep you safe while I'm away, okay?"

The girls looked at the creatures, and any trepidation they felt faded as the Curses went up to them, the cat purring and nuzzling against Mimiko's face, earning a small giggle, while the Mantaray swam in the air above Nanako's head.

He turned the TV on and turned it to cartoons while the Curses kept busy, hoping it would act as another distraction before he went to the door.

"I'll be back shortly, I promise."

[weirdlookindog]

"The Incantation"

Ivan The Terrible; Or, Dark Deeds of Night, 1866.

[dreamdragoness]

I made this a while ago and it's one of the pieces I'm most proud of for Silent Flocks.

--------------------------------------

Jhula ran as fast as she could from Silk Cradle, even in this torrential downpour. Time was running out and she had so much to do. A part of her couldn't believe she was going to do the one thing she swore she would never do. To call upon the only one who can help her now. She needed to reach him! She needed him to save Lambert! There was no other choice. 

"I have to do this! If I don't, there's no guarantee that Lambert will survive!"

In a brief moment, she looked back. The temple where she was raised for the past seventeen years was getting smaller and smaller. It was her home. But not anymore. Blinking away her tears, Jhula kept running.

"I'm sorry, everyone! I'm sorry Shamura! But I can't let you do this! If the bishops won't heed my words..."

She swallowed some bile that her nerves conjured before proceeding with her declaration. 

"...then I have no choice but to beseech HIM!"

Jhula ran until she was certain she was at the edge of Silk Cradle, made evident by the emergence of green grass. The sacrifice was to be held in Leshy's temple in Darkwood. Even as she ran non-stop, Jhula knew she wouldn't be able to reach Lambert in time. And barging in while all four bishops were there was suicidal.

No. This was her only hope. 

Quickly, Jhula found a spot bare of stone and plants and began her work. First, she made a circle of blood using the large flask she stole from the ritual chamber. Once a perfect circle was made, she continued to pour until the pentagram she saw in the book was complete. The goat ignored the dread and guilt that threatened her stomach and stepped into the circle. From her bag, she pulled out the knife and looked at her reflection. This was it. The point of no return.

Taking in a deep breath, Jhula got to her knees and began the Dark Prayer "With my blood and my devotion, I call upon the Fifth! Master of the Great Beyond, Lord of Souls, and Guardian of the Dead!

"I, Jhula of Silk Cradle, former Archivist of Shamura, spill my blood as a sacrificial beast,

"And call on your true name so that you may hear my prayer!"

With the dagger, Jhula slit her palm, allowing a stream of blood to trickle down and onto the glowing circle.

"BEARER OF THE RED CROWN AND THE GOD OF DEATH: NARINDER!"

As soon as she called the name, Jhula felt a sinister power flow through her. It coiled around her like a serpent, ready to constrict her. As soon as it filled her, Jhula's eyes glowed red against the darkness and warmed her from the cold rain.

"I beseech thee, Crimson Lord! As I pray to you, the last lamb in the world and one dear to me, Lambert, is being led to the headsman's axe in an attempt by the Bishops of the Old Faith to thwart your return! I willingly grant you my body, my blood, my very soul if you could save him! Save the last lamb! I beg of you, the One Who Waits! Please hear me and save Lambert!"

A deep chuckle rumbled through Jhula's mind as she struggled to keep herself steady. The power of the One Below was overwhelming, yet familiar. She knew this feeling from her first death. But Jhula dared not to ask questions other than what she was asking of the dark god. She could sense Him observing her as she conducted the dark rite in his name. No doubt analyzing her to see if her prayer was worthy. The fact that she heard Him filled her spine with ice. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the power faded and Jhula collapsed. But before she passed out, Jhula heard the voice one last time.

"Very well, my newest follower. I shall answer your prayer."

---------------------------------------------

I created this piece after I had asked a question in my head.

"If the prophecy called for a lamb to be Narinder's vessel, why didn't he pick ones that were freshly dead at the beginning? Why did he wait until there was one lamb left before he laid out his offer?" I came up with an idea for Silent Flocks. The reason Narinder never approached the other lambs was because he wasn't made aware. Therefore, a willing soul must perform an ancient rite, the Dark Prayer, to reach him. In ancient times, this rite was used by High Priests and High Priestesses to contact a specific bishop depending on how the incantation was said while standing in a pentagram made of blood. To establish full contact, a small amount of blood from a sacrificial-class beast (lambs, goats, etc.) must be spilt inside. Of course, the bishops were aware of this and erased the Dark Prayer from all but their most restricted books and erased Narinder's name as an added measure. It's a plot point in the fic on how Jhula acquires Narinder's name, as names hold power in various myths, is something that will be revealed in the fic.

-----------

Silent Hill: Konami Cult of the Lamb: Massive Monster Jhula and the Dark Prayer: Me

[kanvaskat]

Me thinking of character design ideas/illustration projects/other art ideas:

Having to actually do the work:

[nexusofsorcery]

Learn the Mysteries of Black Candle Magic: A Comprehensive Guide

What is Black Candle Magic? Black candle magic is an intriguing and powerful form of spellwork that harnesses the energy and symbolism of black candles. While white candle magic is often associated with purity and positivity, black candle magic delves into the realm of shadow work, protection, and transformation. Black candles are believed to represent mystery, hidden knowledge, and the depths…

[cliffburton]

ooh i get dark oh.. and i'm in hell.. i need a friend.. ooh,,, but i can't yell... yeah i'm no good, no good to anyone.. cus all i care about,, is being number ooooone