#death magic spell

[shiftythrifting]

My Little Pony book with a death spell inside. Yes, it most definitely came home with me

[wizardsaur]

So fun fact about my practice:

I don't like having practical tools with only magical use. My athame is a plain old pocketknife. I use it to physically cut stuff. My normal broom is blessed & is what I cleanse with (so is my vacuum, because, carpet). My ritual jewelry is worn daily. My ritual mugs are just my morning coffee mugs, but I pick out which one is best for the working I'm doing (Death work, Ouija mug). And my herbs, hoooo boy, it's my normal spice rack.

Just because it's mundanely practical & useful, doesn't mean it isn't magical. If anything, being interacted with more makes it more powerful.

This is my rant, so as per ushe,

Go Forth & Get Weird With It

[whump-galaxy]

A Magic Healer can only heal by using the energy of things around them. When their friends are fatally wounded, they use all the energy of their surroundings. Every bit of grass turns to dust. Every person, enemy or foe, crumbles to bones and ash. Every bug, bird, and beast is drawn and drained of energy.

They turn the battlefield into a crater of death, all in the name of love.

[bet-on-me-13]

Oliver Adopts Danny

(Note: I have no idea what exactly happened on the island and made up my own thing. Also I had no plan when making this and it shows)

...

So! When Oliver landed on that Deserted Island, he wasn't alone.

On the Island, there was a Little Kid.

He was about 7, and he was just as confused as to why he was there. Apparently he had been sleeping at home when all of a sudden he felt himself falling, and seconds later he hit the ground in the forest. He couldn't remember anything past that, or really anything before that as well. He had seemingly lost his memories.

So, Oliver was stuck helping a Random Kid while trying to survive on the island.

He did learn that the Kid was a Metahuman with the ability to make Unmelting Ice, but the kid seemed disappointed by his powers. It was like he expected them to be stronger than they were. When asked, he said that he didn't actually know why he felt that, like it was something else he had forgotten.

And that was how the situation stood for a few years. He and the Kid, who he eventually learned was named Danny, became closer. He took up a paternal role in the kids Life, trying to keep him safe from the dangers of the island.

Danny was also a huge help on the island, his Ice was useful during Hot Nights, and the fact that it was Durable and Didn't Melt made it a good material for their tools. He also knew a lot of random skills, like the basics of how to shoot a Bow and how to set up a Campfire.

By the time they had been there for 3 years, Oliver already saw Danny like a Son. He had decided long ago that when they finally left the island, he would adopt him.

Then, on the 4th Year, Oliver found something strange. There were tracks in the Dirt on the less explored side of the Island, Human Tracks.

Following them, he found the source, An Illegal Slave Trading Ring.

The Base seemed to be new, so they had probably set up shop a few weeks ago at most. He and Danny must have missed them because they didn't usually go to that side of the Island.

He returned to the Camp that night and contemplated what to do.

It took another few days for him to resolve himself to go and save those people.

It took another few weeks to prepare himself.

It took less than 30 minutes to get the Job Done.

By the end of that night, every Slaver on the island was Dead, and the slaves were set free. They still didn't have a way off the island, since a few of them had managed to sabotage the boat before they died, but Oliver and Danny were there to help them.

By the 5th Year, they basically had a Small Village set up back there their Camp used to be. It was a community of all of the people Oliver had managed to save that night, all working together to survive on that Mysterious Island.

Then one day, finally got some luck. A Fishing Boat had gotten lost on their usual Route, and had spotted the SOS Signal that they had set up on the Beach.

After that it didn't take long for everyone on the Island to be saved. Oliver asked the former slaves to keep his heroics a secret because he wanted to keep him and Danny safe from the press, and they all agreed.

So, Oliver went home and adopted Danny.

He also decided to become a Vigilante.

And then eventually he joined the Justice League.

And one day while showing his son around the newly build Watchtower he ran into Constantine, who then proceeded to ask "Why the hell do you have a mini-death god holding your hand?"

...

I have no idea what this was supposed to be. I wanted Oliver to adopt Danny, and I wanted it to be on the Island, but I had no idea how to do it.

My basic idea for it is that Danny accidently wished for a Good Dad one day and Desiree heard him. So she turned him into a Kid, sealed away most of his Powers, and sent him to the Island with no memories past age 7.

Maybe this was "Ghost King Danny"?

Idk, I like it more as "King Danny who rejects the Throne but is still basically the leader because he keeps helping people no matter what" but that's just me.

Thoughts?

[rainbluealoekitten]

this is definitely not a witchcraft blog but regardless i do participate occasionally with online witchy theatrics and i have an opinion i'd like to share.

there's too much pressure on learning the basics and not enough resources that teach damage-control.

this is in relation to fear-mongering discourse, bc almost every witchy "content creator" (hate that term) and almost every witchy book, podcast, whatever, seems to put a focus on protecting yourself, putting up wards, easy peasy baby beginner witchcraft. which! yes, that is important, but it also means that it perpetuates the idea (and often full out says) that you should never do blood magic. you should never talk to these entities. you should never make bargains, you should never do divination without cleansing, you should never curse, bla bla bla don't go outside at night!! it's spooky!!!

great, now we've got a bunch of witches who are scared shitless and won't actually do anything beyond blow cinnamon through their front door.

there are a lot of people who claim to be teachers, but a good teacher is someone who pushes you. not someone who limits you.

some witches love to tell you to fuck around and find out, but again, only provide resources on warding. we've got witches who ward so much that they can't even get friendly spirits to talk to them. banishment is seen as a basic skill, but if everyone is too scared to practice their craft, they're not going to even end up with an entity to banish!

i'm starting to ramble, but my point is that i want to see more content, more books, more generalised resources that teach you how to unfuck a situation. not prevent it, unfuck it.

you did blood magic? great, it's not always going to work out, here's how to unbind yourself from this entity, now you know to do this slightly differently. you've done a curse and it's backfired? don't panic, these are some ideas on how you can undo your spell, and next time you might want to choose your words/ingredients more carefully. you wandered into the wrong part of the woods and upset some ancient spirits? it's more common than you think! luckily, there are plenty of ways to go about this situation.

etc etc. people do dumb shit. that is part of life. just like with sex ed, teens aren't going to abstinate, they're going to be too scared to go to an adult when they get an sti.

yes, some practitioners will basically stop practicing out of fear of doing things wrong, and many others will do things wrong and end up entirely alone, scared, and with no resource that can guide them out of it, all because you should have known better, you should have warded, you should have stuck your head in a fucking hole.

anyways. this is the end of my rant but i hope it also comes off as encouragement to anyone who is in some way sharing their practice and sharing resources, especially the much wiser witches who have fucked around, please share what you've learnt. <— i'm asking this in a very sincere, very hopeful way, i really wish it was normalised to share spells and prayers and basic actions to help witches through really tough times.

[justaz]

god!merlin

druids can NOT speak in people’s minds. when they are before a high priestess, they can pray to her directly and she can hear them (hence the scene between morgana and mordred when he spoke in her mind).

merlin who constantly has this buzzing in the back of his head that he can never understand besides the occasional odd word which makes no sense. but when he’s closer to a druid or when their prayer is super strong, then he can make out what they’re saying.

merlin who brings up the fact that druids can speak into peoples minds to gaius who casually unfurls a scroll containing his ongoing list of reasons why merlin is/evidence of merlin being a god of the old religion.

[violet-hearth]

Blessing Bouquets

Blessing bouquets are bouquets of flowers made using Victorian flower language or cultural flower associations. They make excellent gifts, are great for home blessings, an can be made either fresh or with dried flowers.

Some deities also have flowers associated with their stories and folktales such as paeonia and hyacinths for Apollon, and anemones and violets for Aphrodite. They also make excellent offerings to ancestors and spirits in most western practices (exceptions are Judaism and Islam)

Adapt to make flower crowns, wreaths, press flowers and hang in garlands etc.

Prep your stems and greenery, if fresh remove the bottom leaves and snip the stems at an angle

Build the base by adding flowers at an angle one by one, turning your bouquet after every flower added. The base should be the bulk of your greenery and flowers

Add in your focal flowers, these may the the larger blooms or brighter colours, you can feed them into the middle of the bouquet

Work in the smaller blooms and greenery, you can feed them into any part of the bouquet

Secure with twine, ribbon, paper or an ecstatic band

Some Flower Meanings:

Rose - love, passion beauty

Lily - purity, virtue, devotion,

Peony - prosperity, good fortune

Daffodil - rebirth, new beginnings

Poppy - sleep, rest, mourning

Anemone - anticipation, fragility

Primrose - youth, love, fidelity

Iris - faith, wisdom hope

Chrysanthemum - longevity, love

Resources (links):

Floriography

Flowers in greek myths

Flower in different religions

Funeral flower etiquette

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Hey so I'm curious, if y'all have ever thought about this reblog/tags/notes with your favorite spell casting sound (the little music notes/sounds that play as you cast a spell)

[psychopomp-recital]

Yall gotta stop seeing Death as just the end of life.

Theres so much more to it you can utilize!! Get out there and petition Death to help you break those generational habits! Death to the cycle! If you ask really nicely I’m sure it’ll help you kill those insecurities too.

[amateur-ornithology]

oh, Little Miss Perfect thinks she's too good for fried owls now, does she?

[chimerafeathers]

there's an essay jumbled up in my brain about dunmeshi's beginning and how clever and deceptive it is as a sleight-of-hand trick that distracts the audience from the depth and scope of the worldbuilding and foreshadowing that's being set up the entire time by dangling zany characters and wacky dishes and biology fun facts in front of us, and how that serves to catch invested viewers off guard when those elements come to the forefront, but also how it works against it with other viewers wanting "more" and not seeing it because the plot bait isn't laid out up front

how people getting frustrated with the characters "not taking things seriously" is mirrored and refuted in the confrontation between Laios and Shuro. how the characters' attitudes aren't just a result of shallow low-stakes "comedy rules" where nothing matters, but are an extension of their personalities (Laios's nonstandard expression of emotions being offputting even to people he knows) and the world and social environment (adventurers being desensitized to death and injury because resurrection magic is commonplace). the way the party refers to "saving Falin" instead of "retrieving Falin's corpse," indicating that they still see her with full personhood, and how that phrasing leads to some readers/viewers believing that Falin is alive in the dragon's stomach, conscious of being slowly digested while the party carelessly fucks around "wasting time." how the weird tonal dissonance makes sense in-universe and yet is deliberately challenged more and more the deeper the party goes

all the character building and pieces of lore slowly weaving together the shape of the larger world, laying the groundwork for the major themes that will surface later. so much is right there in the "low-stakes" early episodes if you know what you're looking for (or pass the perception checks).

it can be so satisfying to see new viewers/readers pick up on the clues even in the earliest "simple" episodes, or notice new things and make connections yourself....and it can also be frustrating to see people dismiss oddities and dissonance as shallow or bad writing because they don't expect a "cooking anime" to have depth like that. why try to question and understand and peel back the layers when you don't expect there to be any layers?

why can't laios take things seriously for once?

[elliart7]

*rabidly converts all of my favorite things into 19th century fairy tale novels*

(click to see book texture 😁)

[earlycuntsets]

[frank's beautiful guitar feedback/improv before ghost of you]

01/09/2022  letnia scena progresji, warsaw, poland from the academy is my beautiful romance on yt

[ressu-rection]

Okay so I was asked to elaborate on the 🔥 special spicy candle 🔥 that allows for oral play. This is my favorite spell so don’t mind if I do…

My husband and I already had it set up (thanks to a previous infernal I worked with) where he could feel it when we have sex but when it came to other things it was pretty much just a pretty picture, he couldn’t feel anything. I got tired of daydreaming about it so the intention for this candle is pretty straight forward: I wanted to make it possible for him to actually feel my mouth.

I took a regular dollar store prayer candle and corrupted it for this perverted scheme 😂 I laid out my intention, used divination for corresponding runes that would unlock that door for us, found the corresponding crystals and herbs to further back up the intention, finished it off and tried it out.

Only when that candle is lit does it work. We don’t really need anything full time so that works perfect. We have our toy that we use, he got himself aligned with it and voila 🪄💝

We even did a little experiment where I blew the candle out to see and he went back to feeling nothing. He can’t feel my hands or anything with this candle either, just the head and tail so to speak lol

[candles-by-mokosh]

Emoji spells for comfort 🧸

Peace

🧦🐏🤍🧸🧼🧺🛏🗝🛌🧺🧼🧸🤍🐑🧦

Sleep

🧸🛌🖤🌙🌬⭐️🌬🌙🖤🛌🧸

Love (romantic)

🌹💝🌈💐🫖🍧🫖💐🌈💝🌹

Love (platonic)

🌼🧡🔑🪝🍯☀️🐕☀️🍯🪝🔑🧡🌼

Sweet Dreams

🔮🪄💜🦋🌚✨🌚🦋💜🪄🔮

Calm

🪁🍵🔐💙🧺🧿🧺💙🔐🍵🪁

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin…merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.