#spellcasting techniques

[nexusofsorcery]

Manifesting Success: A Step-by-Step Guide to Casting a Spell for a New Job

In today’s competitive job market, finding and securing a new job can be a challenging endeavor. However, did you know that you can harness the power of magic to manifest your desired outcomes? Casting a spell for a new job is a powerful way to align your intentions with the universe and attract opportunities that will lead to professional success. In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you…

[blujayonthewing]

while it is most commonly taught-- and indeed, for most spellcasters, easiest-- to cast spells by strongly visualizing the desired outcome, melliwyk has always found it much easier to picture The Weave itself, her hands twisting into its threads to directly manipulate its effects upon the material plane and direct the magic from its source. consequently many of her somatic gestures are evocative of twisting, grasping, or breaking strings, her fingers splaying through the air as if through a complex cat's cradle

[tiktaaliker]

but can novice do the spell again

nope lol there's literally not enough left of novice to do it anymore. the novice was dabbling in some SERIOUS shit that probably would've killed them anyways if it HAD succeeded, especially since Noxa Krov was an Eternal and significantly more powerful than a mortal could even really comprehend

[windvexer]

My dearest Witch, if you have spell vessels (like wards, amulets, talismans) that are running down every 1-2 weeks and you are fully recharging them with your personal energy, and subsequently you feel exhausted and have almost no energy for anything else,

you are not weak at magic;

I will bet you that you are choosing the nuclear option of high-octane megafuel supernova magic where you pump fast-burning, high-intensity energy into vessels likely not designed for long-term energy storage.

Because repeatedly exhausting yourself is not a good way to increase your magical endurance, I think it is likely that your spellcasting strategy has locked you into a cycle of near constant high-energy output with no reserves left over to undertake techniques that actually allow you to get stronger, nor any reserves left to build long-lasting magical vessels that conserve the power you give them.

[mercifulstate]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ MANIFESTATION METHODS SERIES 𝜗𝜚 PART 2: LAW OF ASSUMPTION.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Let’s make it painfully clear for the girls, the guys, the gays, and the theys in the back. The Law of Assumption is not some wishy-washy “if the universe likes you enough” type of thing. It’s a law. Like gravity. Like the sky being blue. It doesn’t care how good you’ve been or how many crystals you charged under the full moon.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It just says this: whatever you assume to be true, becomes true for you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎That’s it. That’s the whole game. You assume you’re lucky? You start noticing all the ways life bends for you. You assume you’re always broke? Then somehow, every time you touch your wallet, it coughs and dies. You assume nobody likes you? Then boom—your social life turns into a sad indie film with a depressing soundtrack.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You’re always manifesting. Always. Not just when you’re repeating affirmations in your room like a spellcaster. Every second. Every assumption that you believe and persist in. It all counts.

“But Mercy! I’ve tried every technique related to the LOA and still haven’t manifested!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And every time I hear that, I wanna knock gently on your forehead like—hello? You literally just said it yourself: you assumed you haven’t manifested. That’s what the Law picked up on. That’s what’s being projected into your 3D reality. And don’t get it twisted—techniques aren’t bad. Use the ones you love. But you don’t need them. You only need the assumption. The belief. The knowing. That’s the real work.

“But Mercy! I’m having doubts!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And? You’re a person, not a glitchless NPC. Doubt happens. Feel it. Notice it. But don’t marry it. Doubting for five minutes won’t kill your manifestation. Persisting in the assumption that your doubts affect it? Persisting in the assumption that you failed? Yeah.

“But Mercy! Isn’t this sinful? I’m religious!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Babes. Please. This is not some spiritual cult or divine betrayal. This is a law. Just like ads subliminally program you to believe you need the newest skincare product or that your life is incomplete without a car you don't even want—that is the Law of Assumption in action. Society has been using it on you since birth. You’ve been conditioned to believe all kinds of crap and guess what? You’ve been manifesting that crap effortlessly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Now it’s your turn to use the same law, but for yourself. Not for some brand. Not for someone else’s dream. Yours.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎So stop acting like the Law doesn’t work just because you haven’t seen your results yet. The only reason it hasn’t “shown up” is because you keep telling the story that it hasn’t. That’s your dominant assumption. That’s what’s reflecting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You want change? Change the assumption. Change the story. And let the 3D catch up. Because it will. It always does.

[cowboygenesis]

1/2 fatum invenit | gale x reader

part 1 of the "fatum" mini-series. | buy me a coffee?

summary: you've loathed each other since the dawn of his first arrival. it never should've worked, but somehow, as you find yourself chest-to-chest within a sunken crypt with no way out, your feelings finally surface— and Gods, do they cut deep.

pairing: gale dekarios x sorceress!durge!reader tags: fluff, angst, tons of cursing, mutual pining, forced proximity, enemies/rivals to lovers. word count: 5.3k notes: whew, here we are at last. if you've read "knuckle up" you might find the ending a little similar but... what can i say, im a softie. also, the durge aspect of the reader is truly very minimal, i just added it for the sake of flavor, whatevah... oh, and reader is super cheeky and generally curses a lot, im case that's something that bothers you. i want this to be a two-parter eventually, so expect some smut in the future chapter. as always, let me know what you think! enjoy! masterlist.

You… you fucking knew it. The one time in your life you decide to give a wizard the benefit of the doubt he… he screws you the fuck over.

It was supposed to be an easy job: infiltrate Kereska’s chapel, retrieve the relic Raphael demanded, and slip away unnoticed. Hey, no big deal— you’ve handled worse without breaking a sweat.

Most of your companions weren’t so eager to take on the devil’s dirty work after a night of drinking, so, you figured you’d tackle it solo. No problem. After all, you’d just returned home to Baldur’s Gate. The evening was warm, the streets thrummed with energy, and after a night of revelry, you were in a damn good mood.

So when Gale, with his calm, holier-than-thou attitude, offered to “assist,” you’d thought sure, why the Hells not?

And what a mistake that would turn out to be for you. Just as your gut had warned you, things ended up going sideways. All because of him.

You both had made it past the wards, the traps, and even those fucked up, undead necromancers that you hated dealing with—no thanks to Gale’s constant commentary on your spellcasting techniques. It was always some remark about how your magic was “undisciplined,” how you were “too reckless to be at your best.” Fuck, like you hadn’t been doing this shit for years, now.

Warranted, you weren’t exactly the nicest person, either. Meals at your camp were a battlefield of their own, filled with biting comments and passive-aggressive stares, often over trivial matters that had nothing to do with magic.

Plus, combat was no different. It rarely took more than a few minutes before you and Gale were mired in a heated debate over the “best course of action for the situation”. Naturally, these debates only added to the tension, making every encounter feel like a personal clash as opposed to a friendly discussion over technique.

You two were polar opposites, discordant, incompatible.

But you were an idiot, then. A dumb, tender-hearted idiot in a great mood who had hoped you two could eventually get along if the stars aligned just right. But that’s all hindsight.

After all the hard work, you had almost had it— your hand was just within reach of that damned necklace, caution thrown to the wind, when Gale decided to get fancy. A small “adjustment” to the magical aura surrounding the relic, he’d explained— something about minimizing risk and stabilizing the flow of the Weave so you could extract it safely.

You discarded the idea, of course; “fuck your tricks,” you had said (your actual words), rolled your eyes at him, and said goodbye to the remnants of your good mood as he reprimanded you like a teacher would a novice— and that, naturally, you weren’t.

Unlike him, you didn’t need a stack of tomes to inspectthis kind of arcane energy. It felt powerful and intricate, yes— but beneath it all, it was just a trick of the eye. The glowing, golden-tinged sphere wasn’t malevolent whatsoever, and instead served as a cheap ploy to repel those tempted by the artifact.

So, knowing what you knew, you reached for the relic despite his suggestion.

But, just as you were to lay a finger on it, he… he cast his fucking “safety” spell. And everything went to hell.

The forcefield around the necklace reacted— wildly. The air rippled in waves, the ground shifting beneath you, and suddenly, you were trapped in some kind of collapsed chamber beneath the chapel— cut off from the rest of the world, with no way out.

Worst of all, you were in heartbreaking proximity. The dugout was deep, but narrow, allowing you maybe a centimeter of privacy before your chest collided with his. And Gods, did that happen often. Any movement you made, your bodies would collide in one way or another, be it feeling his thigh rub against yours, grazing fingers, or smacking his chin— the last one being a complete accident on your part, of course.

And yes, as two magic-wielders would, you tried your luck. As it turned out, the stone binding your bodies together seemed to have a sort of Weave-repellent property that rendered your only functional skills worthless.

So, here you were, stuck with your arch-rival, and with every passing second, your frustration grew. It must have been half an hour since the disaster struck when you finally felt your head pound with frustration.

“Gale,” you sigh for the millionth time, “Are you even listening?”

He’s been doing a great job ignoring your commentary by seemingly occupying himself with analyzing your surroundings. Smart, sure, if it wasn’t for the simple fact he refused to collaborate with you whatsoever. After your initial scream-off, he seemed reluctant to give you the time of day again.

He finally clears his throat to speak, and you shoot him a glare in the dim light.

"You just had to do your thing, didn’t you?" he sighs.

“And you just had to show off,” you retort through a bitter snark.

Gale glances at you with narrowed eyes, yet his expression remains infuriatingly contained. “I was trying to prevent a catastrophe. If I hadn’t intervened, the entire chapel may have collapsed.”

“Well, congratulations,” you snap, “It collapsed on us instead. I’m so glad we avoided a disaster, Gale.”

He exhales slowly, then gives you a haphazard eye-roll. “Perhaps if you hadn’t rushed things—”

“Rushed things?” Your chest flares, making it collide with his. “I didn’t touch a damned thing. You’re the one who decided the Weave needed tuning or whatever other bullshit.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “You think I did this on purpose? I made the right choice. But you—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” You cut him off, “Honestly, fuck you, man. If you were half as concerned with doing a good job as you are with peacocking we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “Peacocking?”

“Yeah. Peacocking, showing off—Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.” You shrug in mock nonchalance, rolling your eyes as if the circumstances weren’t already driving you up the wall.

You feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with a steadying breath, the sort one might take when trying to stop themselves from saying something they’ll inevitably regret. When it came to containing his bubbling rage, he beat you to it every time.

His casual lilt, when it comes, makes your teeth grit. “Obviously.”

You groan loudly, letting the back of your head thud against the stone wall behind you. A tense silence falls between you, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that seems to grow louder in the small space whenever conversation dies down.

“You would’ve been buried stone-cold dead under the rubble if I hadn’t cast that spell,” he mutters, and just like that, your patience snaps.

“I— I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Your words are sharp as daggers, eyes burning into his as you twist your body just enough to face him head-on. “The barrier was a ruse, Gale. A fake. I told you not to cast that damn spell—”

“And I suppose explanations are beneath someone of your obvious talents,” he snaps back, his words dripping with venom.

You glare at him, feeling your pulse quicken. “You’re a scholar— Gods, don’t you know this kind of illusory magic is Kereska’s whole thing?” you spit, watching his face aptly in hopes of catching a glimpse of something; remorse, sympathy, fuck, even just a bit of pity would satiate you.

But it never comes. His eyes bore into you with practiced reprimanding, and because he must see you on the precipice of breaking down, he continues to poke the metaphorical bear. “You should’ve waited.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you became the authority on everything. In case you somehow overlooked it, I’ve been doing this for years without your lectures.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you,” he retorts, his voice low, treacherous. There’s a mocking smile imbued on his face, and you quickly realize it makes you want to tackle him to the ground and claw it out yourself. If it wasn’t for the minimal space, you probably would’ve even attempted it. “This wasn’t some petty street magic. That relic was infused with layers of defense—complex protections you clearly didn’t even account for—”

“I knew what I was dealing with!” you hiss, pushing against the wall for leverage. You brush against his chest again, sending an electric jolt of tension through the confined space. “I didn’t need your over-calculated, pompous meddling. I had it under control until you—”

“Under control?” Gale’s voice rises, his frustration finally splintering through his quiet facade as he emits a burst of scornful laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Your recklessness nearly got us killed!”

You scoff, pushing back even harder. “You’re so damn smug— acting like the world will end if you don’t micromanage every little detail, but guess what? You don’t always have the answer. And right now, we’re stuck— all because of your fucking arrogance.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it, jaw tight, eyes blazing as he holds your gaze. For a second, you think he’s about to let loose another lecture, but instead, there’s silence—a strange, electricity-charged stillness that envelops you like a cold breeze.

You can’t speak. It crackles between you with a strain, thick enough to feel suffocating. Every breath you take only draws you closer to him, and somehow, it almost feels like the walls enveloping you have only grown thicker throughout your argument.

The closeness, the heat, the sheer intensity of the argument—it’s all too much, and yet, neither of you looks away once your gazes inevitably connect.

The wizard licks his bottom lip languidly, lips smacking as he seems to be taking you all in. His eyes scan over you, and somehow the fact makes you feel vulnerable.

Finally, he breaks the peace.

“If I’m so arrogant, why did you let me join you?”

His eyes are dark, but not just with frustration; they’re searching, questioning, as though he’s daring you to give an honest answer, knowing it’s something you can’t afford yourself right now.

“You asked me to let you come,” you bark out, pushing his chest with the heel of your hand, the contact sending a spark of heat through your outstretched arm. “I didn’t want you here. I figured we’d get through this, grab the necklace, and go our separate ways again. But no—you wanted to come. Play the hero, do all the dirty work, whatever your reasoning was.”

Gale doesn’t flinch at your words, but his eyes narrow slightly— they flicker to the space your bodies connect at, then back to your tautened face.

His gaze lingers on where your hand presses against his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might back down. But instead, his jaw clenches, and when his eyes snap back to yours, there’s a fire behind them that ignites something deep in your gut.

“And you agreed,” he counters mockingly, the smile adorning his face making your head spin. “Why?”

The question hangs between you for a beat. You falter, mouth opening and closing without a reply.

He’s right. He’s fucking correct, and you hate it.

Why did you agree? You could’ve said no, barked back at him, insulted his stupid wizard frock— pushed him away with one of the countless options you had at your disposal.

But you didn’t. You let him come with you, willingly.

You clench your fists, pushing against the surge of discomfort bubbling in your belly. “Well, forgive me for being an optimist,” you mutter, voice tight. “I thought, for once, that maybe— Fuck. Maybe we could get through one fucking mission without trying to jump at each others’ throats.”

He exhales at your explanation, tilting his head to glance through the top of the crevasse and toward the chapel ceiling. You follow suit, albeit subtly, noticing the intricate engravings lining the skylight; in the dim light of the afternoon sun, they look elegant, beautiful, even. How didn’t you notice that when you first walked in?

“And how’s that going for us?” he asks suddenly, the smile curling at the edges of his mouth turning bitter.

You huff, running a hand through your hair. The condensation sticks to your fingers, and you can’t help the joyless chuckle that escapes your lips when you look at him again.

“Well, I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders lazily. Your cynical laughter shifts into the shadow of a smile. Somehow, as he glances down at you, you find yourself with a pang in your chest that overshadows the frustration you’ve been drowning in— it’s deep, and resonant, and feels like it’s swallowing your heart whole when his dark eyes meet yours. “We still hate each other.”

The wizard exhales sharply through his nose, and strangely, you can’t seem to read his expression even as your eyes squint.

His gaze is fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken; you feel it best when his hot breath hits the sweat-slicked skin of your face as he leans in. It’s a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, yet just enough to make your breath hitch with… rage, aversion— or perhaps, most frighteningly, something else you’ve been pushing down for months since your first quarrel.

You’re forcefully dragged out of your stupor when the pad of his thumb grazes your palm— the touch sends a sharp, almost uncomfortable jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving you speechless as you chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. Nothing more, it couldn’t be.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, and though his tone is stiff, the words cut through your pause like a skilled blade.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath catches in your parched throat, heart pounding with a force that would surely reverberate through his body hadn’t his robe been so thick.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, each shallow breath you take only drawing you closer— or, at least, that’s exactly how it feels in the tiny space you’re being forced to share.

His thumb is still brushing your palm, slowly, gently, and deliberately enough that you cannot ascribe it to a simple accident anymore. For a second, your eyebrows arch and there’s this urge to pull away, something thrumming in your head and telling you to hold to principle.

But you don’t… you— you physically can’t. Not when he’s gazing down at you with… with patience. Understanding, maybe. But why?

A beat passes, then another. The tension coils so tight you almost want to scream to break it, and his gaze remains locked on yours, his palm grazing yours.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper.

“You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours. "You’re fucking with me. I… you hate me, Gale, I can’t—"

He glances down at you with a strange glint in his eyes, then exhales loudly again. Did you strike a nerve?

“Why do you always do this?” he questions with exasperation tugging at his tone. You feel his touch momentarily drop from yours, and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself missing it.

“What?” you blink, eyebrows furrowed.

“This,” He gestures between the two of you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re— you’re always picking fights with me. Always pushing, always assuming the worst—”

“I’m picking fights?” Your eyes narrow, the sneer coming back to your lips like armor. “You’ve been criticizing every godsdamn thing I’ve done since day one, making me feel inferior, questioning my skill— and now I’m the one picking fights?”

He shakes his head sharply, then sighs in frustration. When you look up, his eyes are locked on yours—deep brown with flecks of gold, catching the fractured sunlight streaming through the cracked skylight. You could drown in them, given the chance.

“No, that’s not— That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” He stops himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “You don’t— you just refuse to listen to me. When we fight, in camp— even now. The relic, that barrier, you— Gods, you always act instead of—”

“Don’t you dare paint me as the villain now,” you snap, bumping his chest with the pad of your palm again.

“You almost got us killed!” he bites back, “I don’t care for your talents if it means you don’t utilize them properly. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, raw talent doesn’t equal capability?”

Right.

Your lips purse, the pit in your stomach suddenly overpowering your ability to retort. It was a mistake— you should have known the niceties were a convenient gimmick to ascertain his position over you, and not an actual instance of humanity, for once.

But somehow, your false hopes only drive the wrath within you. You let the nausea overcome you and have it fuel your bitter tone as you finally find the power to speak up again.

“All you care about is being right— about having the last word against anyone who dares question your abilities,” you mutter, challenging his stern gaze with your own, “And the rest of us? We’re just supposed to sit by and watch, grateful to be in the presence of Gale Dekarios, the great, tragic wizard who thought his tricks could satiate a fucking Goddess!”

You’re fuming. The words that come out of your throat are only half-baked as you shrill at him, but… but at the moment, it feels right— warranted, somehow.

So when you catch him give you the space to continue, you take it.

“…But the truth is, you need to feel superior. You need everyone to see you as the sleekest in the room because deep down, you’re still clinging to the ghost of a woman who abandoned you. And that’s why you’ve been picking me apart since day one—because I’m not afraid to tell you how full of shit you are.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand catch your wrist, his grip firm as he holds you still. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, sending a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through your body as your arm tries to jerk away.

“You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me,” Gale growls, his breath fanning your face as the words spill out, thick with venom. “You’re so wrapped up in your own insolence, so blinded by your stubborn pride, that all you can see in others is a reflection of yourself. And trust me when I say that it’s an ugly one.”

You laugh, a bitter, angry sound, but your heart is hammering now. “Oh, so you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

His jaw clenches, but his grip doesn’t waver. “I know enough. I know that your actions speak louder than words. I know that you’re reckless, impulsive, and too damned proud to admit when you need help—”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you scorching as your breaths mingle. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’re the one who’s blinded by your own self-importance— always thinking you’re the wisest, savviest person in the room, like the rest of us are just pawns in your little fucking game.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something wild and uninhibited, and you watch his sneer shift into a bitter smile again.

“You— You really think that?” he questions through a chuckle, voice gravelly and low. “Do you really think I’m just using you for some game?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You sneer at him, and the outrage bubbles out again.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’ve only ever looked out for yourself. This was never about helping me—it was… it was about proving something. To me, to yourself, to fucking Mystra,” you trail.

The moment the words leave your lips, the air shifts between you like a storm about to unravel. His grip on your wrist tightens, not painfully, but with a deliberate firmness that forces you to stop and feel the tension between you. His face is suddenly too close, and for the most succinct moment, you catch something flickering in his eyes—something dim, and dark—but not the rage you were expecting.

He should be angry with you— Hells, he should be furious. You just tore into every insecurity you knew he had, ripped open wounds that never quite healed, and worst of all, dragged his old lover into it all.

And yet… his gaze isn’t burning with the fever you’ve grown used to seeing from him in every argument, every fight.

Why the fuck isn’t he furious?

“Gods, I actually— I used to admire you. You know that? Before all this, I thought you were someone I could… I don’t know, respect. You were this brilliant, woeful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I thought, ‘Maybe there’s something more underneath all that.’ I thought we could, I don’t know, actually be something—friends, allies, whatever the fuck. I wanted us to trust each other. But… but you…" your voice lowers to a near whisper, and somehow, unbeknownst to you, your eyes go glassy with hot tears.

You’re left reeling, heart hammering in your chest as your mind races along with your bitter confession. The air around you feels viscous, mucous-like, but when your throat goes dry with impending tears you look up to see something that makes your breath hitch.

He’s listening.

Not just waiting for his turn to speak as he usually does around you, not calculating his next clever retort, but listening— really, truly listening.

His gaze, once so sharp with ire, has softened. His dark eyes are fixed on yours with a vigor that nearly undoes you, and there’s no anger in them now, no resentment.

Your breath catches.

“You never gave me a chance, Gale. Not once. It was always about you, your guilt, your past, your Mystra— Fuck!” you cough out and rub your eyes with the pads of your palms, massaging your vulnerability away. “I tried. I really, really tried. But none of this seemed to reach you, not through that… that mental barrier you’ve created around yourself. I think that since the very beginning, everything else was just noise to you. I was just noise to you,” your voice dies down to a mutter, and you inhale sharply to fight the sorrow back into your grieving heart.

You withdraw your hands and finally feel brazen enough to face him.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks, aware that your nose is red from the tears you tried so hard to hold back, that your eyelids are probably puffy and swollen, and you’re a fucking mess.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’ve come undone, and now, nothing mattered to you anymore; not the anger, not the sorrow, and especially not the way his kind, gentle touch seemed to soothe your aching heart when his palm met yours.

You scan his face, but there’s nothing— or at least, you can’t seem to read it through the coating of tears obscuring your eyes. The light above has shifted to cast his face in a warm, velvety light. You catch the subtle lines etched into his forehead, the faint silver threads streaking through his hair, and his lips curling into… a smile.

Despite your desperation, despite your pain, he was smiling.

Your chest tightens, fists clenching at your sides, and before you can stop them, a stream of hot tears finally spills down your cheeks.

This was it. You braced for impact.

“…So do whatever the fuck you need to fill that void in your heart, but don’t involve me in any of it. And— for fuck’s sake, Gale, don’t act like you give a shit about me because you—”

But you never get to finish.

Before you can witness the gentle glint in his eyes as he leans into you, before you can even register it, his lips crash onto yours.

Your gasp is muted against the softness of his mouth. When he moves, it’s not gentle, not soft, but raw in its intensity and so, so desperate.

His grip on your wrist tightens briefly before finally releasing, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. The warmth of his hand is a pleasant change to the cold, hard stone you’ve been leaning against, and suddenly, just as your mind threatens to flood you with dopamine, it all dawns on you.

You’ve been here before—no, not here, but in moments that feel eerily alike.

You recall the edge in his voice during arguments, the way he’d insist on ‘rectifying’ you at every turn, the blunt critiques you assumed were borne from pure vanity. But now… now there’s a clarity to it all. Worry. Fear. A softness, a hesitation. Like when he would offer his hand to you after a fight, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they brushed over yours.

You loathed him… Hells, you detested him.

But how deep were you willing to draw the line between hate and devotion?

Against all your instincts, against the sharp, burning ache in your chest—you drink him in. His warmth, his touch, the power behind it all.

You know you should push him away, shove him off, scream, but instead, you find yourself frozen— trapped in the certainty of this moment. And despite every ounce of fury burning inside you, you can’t deny the spark it ignites in your indigent heart as he caresses you so tenderly.

And with that, you seal your fate with his.

Your lips press against his, head tilting until you feel you’re melting into him. He groans softly against your mouth, and the sound makes your chest thrum with a melody you’re afraid to place.

Your hands, trembling, inch towards his chest, but this time they aren’t formed into spiteful fists or an accusatory point— your palms lay lax against him, resting at the junction of his ribs and pushing, pushing… just in hopes of catching the steady thrum of his heart against your fingertips. The anger, the pain, the confusion—it’s all still there, but in this moment, none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.

For all the times you’ve misread him, all the moments you thought his criticisms were barbs, meant to wound—now you wonder. You had mistaken his care for contempt, his frustration for hatred. But now, as his lips part slightly against yours, the world narrows down to just the two of you. No damned relic, no mission, no war; only the benign sensation of his hand cradling the back of your neck, the warmth of his mouth on yours, and the undeniable truth of it all:

You’ve never hated him. Not once in your rotten life.

And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, you want to come undone. You’re tired, hot, melting into this fiery, passionate kiss that has slowly turned languid and gentle.

So despite the zeal enveloping your body, you’re finally forced to part.

When your eyes open, you find him already watching you. A shiver runs down your spine as you drink him in; tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his plush lips as the both of you pant in tandem with each other.

He looks wrecked. But then again, you’re certain you do too.

Your face feels flushed, still burning with aftershock and when you bite your bottom lip, you find it swollen. Raw. The taste of him lingers there too, sweet like bourbon and sharp like anise.

You stare at each other. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again, really seeing him, and it softens your heart as much as it terrifies your lust-addled mind.

The silence stretches between you, so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin. It pulls taut with every second, coiling tighter, and you can’t stand how fragile it makes your heart feel.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper. “You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky— you’ve never found that aspect of it attractive until now.

You open your mouth, but the words—whatever they are—die in your throat. Instead, all you can do is look at him and fall deeper into his embrace.

There are questions that swirl in the back of your mind, ones you know you should ask, but they slip away the moment his thumb brushes your cheek again. Why did he kiss you? Why did you let him? And why, despite the chaos and pain that’s passed through your mind, did this—he—feel like the only thing that has made sense since you forgot all else?

“I never hated you,” he murmurs and shifts slightly, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I didn’t want to hate you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought it’s what we were meant to be. Enemies.”

“We aren’t,” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We never were.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and just like that, the fragile walls around your heart crumble. Gale Dekarios, the man you had sworn to hate, has somehow intertwined himself into your very existence in a way you suddenly think might last centuries.

—

As it turns out, the solution to your predicament was surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly straightforward. The anti-magic barrier encircling the sunken crypt could be dispelled by reciting the incantation inscribed on the rock walls— and with Gale’s surprising proficiency in Draconic, it proved quite an easy feat.

After that, it was just a matter of a few rudimentary spells. Naturally, the task took longer than anticipated, thanks to the lingering, newfound tension between you and the wizard— fleeting glances, soft touches, and even an occasional, stolen kiss as you recited your magic; things you surprisingly found yourself quite fond of.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you inhale deeply, savoring the crisp, refreshing breeze. The sunset paints the world in a warm, golden hue, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled streets as you pass by groups of chattering townsfolk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you hear your companion muse through a playful smile. “After all of this, do you think we could avoid arguments for a little while?”

You meet his gaze with a puckish eye roll, a smile tugging at your still-swollen lips. The warm glow of the streetlights casts his face in a soft, intimate glow, and your smile widens into a grin when you catch his lips bearing that same sign of your carnal affection.

“It depends,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug, pushing against him playfully.

“Mhm, and on what exactly?” he hums, his hand squeezing tighter around yours. When his thumb caresses your palm, you feel your heart thrum with something you can’t quite describe.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, glancing up at him with a grin. He returns it within a beat, and now it’s your turn to knit your fingers tighter. “How much longer are you planning on nagging me?”

He chuckles from the belly, and the coil in your chest that you’ve long expected to be spite emerges as something much larger, softer, and most unexpected. You fear to name it out loud.

You smile when your gaze meets his, the warmth in his eyes mirrored by the softness of your own. He leans in, and the world narrows to the touch of his lips against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that seems to linger in the evening light. In that fleeting moment, all the doubts and anxieties are swept away with his voice calling your name.

“For as long as I live,” he retorts softly, his voice laced with tenderness as the air between you, once again, fills with his laughter.

[astra-ravana]

The Advantage Of Dream Work

Dream work, offers a unique opportunity for magical exploration and personal growth. After all, we do spend up to 25% of our lives dreaming. This alternate reality is a haven for shadow work and magickal practice. By combining ancient techniques and modern understanding of consciousness, you can unlock the potential of your dreamscape.

Understanding the Dream Realm

In witchcraft, dreams are seen as a bridge between the waking and spiritual worlds. They offer glimpses into the subconscious mind, where powerful energies reside.

There are a couple things you can do daily to increase your dream lucidity. Write down your dreams upon waking, no matter how fragmented. Keeping a dream journal enhances dream recall and help you identify recurring symbols and themes. Reality checks are also a practice you should adopt. Pinch your skin, try to read text, check the time, or look at your hands. This trains your mind to question reality, making it easier to recognize dream states.

Techniques for Lucid Dreaming

• Mnemonic Induction of Lucid Dreams (MILD): Before sleep, visualize yourself performing a reality check in a dream. Repeat this intention until you fall asleep.

• Wake Back to Bed (WBTB): Wake up after a few hours of sleep, stay awake for 20-30 minutes, then return to bed. This increases the likelihood of entering a lucid dream state.

• Dream Incubation: Set an intention before sleep, focusing on what you wish to experience or learn in your dream. This can be as simple as "I will have a lucid dream tonight" or a more specific goal.

Prophetic Dreaming

Prophetic dreaming is a potent tool for divination and foresight. These dreams, often vivid and symbolic, offer glimpses into future events or hidden truths. By interpreting the dream's imagery and symbolism, you can gain valuable insights and prepare for what lies ahead. These dreams can range from personal revelations to broader societal trends. To enhance prophetic dreaming, practitioners often employ various techniques, such as dream journaling, meditation, and the use of specific herbs and crystals. By attuning to the subtle energies of the dream realm, witches can unlock the secrets of the future and navigate life with greater wisdom and purpose.

Dream-Walking

Dream-walking is another form of dream work where the dreamer, in a state of lucidity, travels outside their own dreamscape. These journeys can lead them to astral projection, dream-hopping (visiting the dreams of others), travel to the spiritual realms, or even the land of the dead. Dream-walking carries many risks and proper precautions should be taken before even attempting it.

While dream-walking can be learned, it often comes naturally to those who practice it. Techniques are different for each person but it is something akin to hedge-riding, except the other world is accessed in a sleep state. While dangerous, it is an easier (for some) way to access other realms and even the minds of others.

Magical Enhancements

• Herbs: Blue lotus, mugwort, lavender, valerian, dream herb, passion flower, anise, rosemary, devil's claw, lemon balm, wormwood, chamomile, catnip, yarrow, skullcap, damiana, sage, angelica, calamus, tulsi, bay, ashwagandha, jasmine, mullien, cat's claw, jasmine, eye bright, calendula

• Crystals: Labradorite, moonstone, moldavite, amethyst, apatite, hematite, herkimer diamond, lapis lazuli, smokey/black quartz, covellite, charoite, scolecite, epidote, blue goldstone, celestite, fluorite, rainbow obsidian, blue tiger's eye, danburite, iolite, azurite, sodalite, blue kyanite, blue calcite, selenite

• Dream magick: Dream pillows, spell bags/jars, enchanted jewelry, sigils, bath rituals, lunar work, candle spells, incantations, teas

Exploring the Dreamscape

Once you've achieved lucidity, the possibilities are endless. Shadow work, spellcasting, healing, manifestation, spirit communication, baneful magick, necromancy, astral projection, astral creation, and hedge-riding are all easier to do here. Through practice you can learn to access your own astral realm as well as your astral and spiritual bodies. This can give you amazing control and insight in your waking life.

Safety and Ethics

Grounding is essential. Before falling asleep and after waking from a lucid dream or dream journey, ground yourself by connecting with your physical body and surroundings. Consider the whole impact before violating someone's mind or dreamscape/subconscious. Your dreams affect your daily experiences more than most know. Approach dream work with a sense of curiosity and reverence. Remember, lucid dreaming is a skill that takes practice. Be patient with yourself and enjoy the journey of exploring your subconscious mind and beyond.

Common Dream Symbols

Remember, dream interpretation is highly personal. These are general interpretations and may vary based on individual experiences and cultural context. It's often helpful to consider the specific emotions and sensations associated with the dream.

Animals

• Snake: Transformation, healing, sexuality, or hidden fears

• Spider: Creativity, patience, and problem-solving

• Dog: Loyalty, friendship, and protection

• Cat: Independence, intuition, and mystery

• Owl: Wisdom, knowledge, and intuition

• Horse: Power, freedom, and sexuality

• Deer: Sensitivity, gentleness, and intuition

• Bear: Strength, protection, and grounding

• Lion: Power, courage, and leadership

• Wolf: Leadership, family, and persistence

Natural Elements

• Water: Emotions, subconscious, and the flow of life

• Fire: Passion, anger, transformation, and purification

• Earth: Grounding, stability, and physical body

• Air: Intellect, communication, and spiritual connection

Objects and Places

• Teeth: Anxiety, insecurity, or feeling powerless.

• House: Self, family, or emotional state.

• School: Learning, growth, or feeling inadequate.

• Hospital: Illness, fear, or need for healing.

• Flying: Freedom, ambition, or spiritual awakening.

• Falling: Loss of control, fear, or insecurity.

• Keys: Access, opportunity, or unlocking potential.

• Doors: New beginnings, opportunities, or obstacles.

• Bridges: Transition, change, or connecting different aspects of oneself.

Other Symbols

• Death: Change, transformation, or the end of a cycle.

• Pregnancy: Creativity, new beginnings, or potential.

• Nakedness: Vulnerability, shame, or a desire for authenticity.

• Being chased: Fear, anxiety, or avoidance of something.

• Being lost: Confusion, uncertainty, or feeling overwhelmed.

• Being late: Fear of missing out, procrastination, or time management issues.

• Being stuck: Feeling trapped, helpless, or unable to move forward.

To delve deeper into dream interpretation, consider keeping a dream journal, exploring your personal associations with symbology, and  always consider the emotional tone of the dream.

[theglitternet]

Headcanon that Jace Stardiamond is fully fucking lying about what they do in sorcery class. “Oh spellcasting is so easy and natural for us with innate gifts so I don’t have to teach” so none of these teenagers have inefficient technique? That is a LIE he’s definitely just saying that to make the sorcerers seem cool to the non-sorcerers. I bet they work hard on refining everything actually

[dead-lights]

nibbles // the devampiros

I was supposed to be making embarrassing old-timey pictures of the DeVampiros for the Vatores to make fun of, I got distracted, and now it's a whole thing. here's some lore!

operation high fang

After the end of Operation Eternal Flame, a group of Vampires came out of hiding to start the initiative. Through a successful propaganda campaign, they branded Vampires as refined and classy, boasting of what they offer through their historical knowledge and charismatic ways. At the same time, they smeared Werewolves as dirty and dangerous monsters, lacking in control. The results were catastrophic for the new Werewolf communities who were still maturing as an occult.

(i compiled all game quotes about the century conflict/surrounding events here - the high fang stuff is at the very bottom, my headcaons are below the cut. also if you don't recognize the guy, he's the vampire Elle bat- and coffin-fucked in the trailers/the guy from the painting over Vlad's fireplace)

My hc is that Elle is originally from Aria, the coven of the arts. Aria had very pointedly decided not to get involved with the Century Conflict - they were artists, not combatants, and few made it past the rank of Prime (which is largely why Elle left - she was hungry for prestige and wanted to grow her power). The result was that the overwhelming majority of the coven, including Elle's parents, were slaughtered by werewolves and spellcasters.

After the war, vampires found themselves in a weakened state and with no allies to speak of, and were terrified of the day when spellcasters and werewolves would rebuild their numbers. To secure their futures, they needed to break the alliance between spellcasters and werewolves. Vlad's conquest of Forgotten Hollow showed how easily humans could be manipulated to be used against their enemies, so they decided to utilize his old techniques to wage a propaganda campaign known as Operation High Fang.

Elle rallied the surviving members of her coven of origin to join High Fang. With their cultured upbringings and familiarity with human art, they were uniquely well-suited to promote this new, classy image of vampires. They were also pretty mad about spellcasters and werewolves slaughtering their kin, and were determined to take their revenge. Also, they were a bunch of classy snobs who did just like going to fancy parties, eating fancy foods, and talking about fancy things.

The first part of this plan required that they infiltrate mundane high society. In the beginning, they mostly played human, gathering information and forming strategies. By the time they started revealing their true natures to humans, they'd built up the social skills and relationships to ensure that they were well-received.

Once they'd rehabilitated the image of vampires in mundane society, they were able to move onto the most vital part of their plan: convincing spellcasters that they're better than werewolves, but that is a subject for another render.

As I've mentioned more than a few times, I really hate making faces in CAS. Since most of the faces in this scene were either not visible or out of focus, I got REALLY lazy about making background sims for this one, with this result:

what makes this even worse is Caleb/Lilith/Lily's moms are identical twins because I couldn't be bothered to make 2 sisters...

1920s clothes by @happylifesims

ferronnière and flower hair ornament by @the-melancholy-maiden

elle's hair/accessory by kiara zurk

blender scene: classic art deco hall

[lazywitchling]

Arguing with a witch book again.

So this author says that spellcasting shouldn’t be done for frivolous things, and that it isn’t an “art to practice on a whim,” and my friend, that is a HARD disagree from me.

I mean, in the same chapter she says that holding and releasing energy is something that gets better with practice, but like… how am I supposed to practice if I’m not supposed to do magic for silly things? You don’t practice driving by going straight to the freeway and giving rides to people on voting day, you start by driving in an empty parking lot and driving through that one business cul-de-sac at 7:00 am on a Sunday. Is my magical practice only supposed to come from gigantic magical workings to right the evils of the universe? Straight outta the gate like that??

Buddy, I cast a spell to summon peach cobbler, and I got peach cobbler. And then later on, I was able to use that same spell technique to help a friend find a lost dog. Idk about you, but “find lost dog” isn’t where I want to practice, it’s where I want to have already practiced.

[thecreaturecodex]

Pachydermion

"Elephant Warriors" © ArtStation user CY, accessed at their gallery here

[The pachydermions appear in the Basic D&D Creature Catalogue and never again, seemingly memory holed in favor of the loxo from Forgotten Realms. Nowadays, with corporate synergy at an all-time high, the loxodons from Magic the Gathering are the elephant-people most associated with D&D. But I like the pachydermions, partly because they actually have a culture associated with them (you may notice I've complained about that not being the case for a number of these Basic D&D sapients) and partly because the three-weapon style with the trunk is such a cool mental image]

Pachydermion CR 6 LN Monstrous Humanoid This giant humanoid has the head and hide of an elephant. It wears ornate armor and carries three weapons, one in each hand and one in its long, flexible trunk.

Pachydermions are elephant-like humanoids found in warm regions of the world. It is said that a pachydermion never forgets, and while this may not literally be true, they have a deep respect for knowledge and long, detailed memories. Pachydermions never write any of their lore down, keeping it instead in the oral tradition, and storytelling is a common pastime for both entertainment and education. Pachydermion lore may contain secrets thousands of years old, and pachydermions charge a premium price to share their knowledge with members of other species.

Pachydermion culture includes a proud tradition of masonry, and pachydermions tend to live in stone cities in jungle clearings or carved into cliffsides. Living is communal, with all members of the clan sleeping in a central fortification that can be defended if necessary. Outbuildings are used for work or for storage. There is almost always a central pavilion in a pachydermion city, used for martial practice and oration. Pachydermions are herbivorous, and their cities are surrounded by food forests where edible plants are grown in high concentration. Their culture is matrilineal, and male pachydermions typically leave the city of their birth in order to marry into a new clan upon reaching adulthood.

Although they are not typically aggressive, pachydermions fight fiercely to defend their cities. Their long memories also accumulate long grudges, and they have been known to go to war to avenge some slight long forgotten by the other party. Pachydermions have thick hides, but tend to supplement them with metal armor. The trunk of a pachydermion is as strong and flexible as an arm, and they can and do wield weapons with their trunks. A three weapon style, with the trunk being used as the dominant “hand”, is common, and pachydermions prefer to use bludgeoning weapons in their trunks to make the most of their crushing strength. Some pachydermion warriors instead wield a two-handed weapon in both hands and a shield in their trunk, often making use of shield bash techniques to combine offense and defense.

Pachydermions advance by character class. Fighter and monk are common classes, and pachydermion spellcasters are often druids, focusing on the Earth or Plant domains, or psychics, harnessing the depths of the pachydermion mind to greater ends. They have lifespans equivalent to dwarves, with individuals surviving more than 400 years if not slain by violence.

Pachydermion CR 6 XP 2,400 LN Large monstrous humanoid Init +5; Senses low-light vision, Perception +16, scent

Defense AC 20, touch 10, flat-footed 19 (-1 size, +1 Dex, +4 natural, +6 armor) hp 59 (7d10+21) Fort +7, Ref +6, Will +9 (+7 vs. emotion effects)

Offense Speed 30 ft. (40 ft. unarmored) Melee masterwork warhammer +13/+8 (2d6+6/x3) or masterwork warhammer +11/+6 (2d6+6/x3), 2 short swords +10 (1d8+3/19-20) or slam +12 (1d8+6) Ranged masterwork composite longbow +8/+3 (2d6+6/x3)

Statistics Str 22, Dex 13, Con 17, Int 14, Wis 19, Cha 12 Base Atk +7; CMB +14; CMD 25 Feats Alertness, Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Multiweapon Fighting Skills Craft (masonry) +10, Diplomacy +8, Knowledge (history, nature) +11, Perception +16, Perform (oratory) +7, Sense Motive +13; Racial Modifiers +4 Knowledge (all) Languages Common, Loxo, Terran SQ martial training, never forgets

Ecology Environment warm forests and grassland Organization solitary, troop (2-6) or clan (4-20 plus 50% noncombatants) Treasure standard (Large breastplate, Large masterwork morningstar, Large masterwork composite longbow [+6 pull], 2 Large short swords, other treasure)

Special Abilities Martial Training (Ex) A pachydermion is proficient in all simple and martial weapons, light and medium armor. Never Forgets (Ex) A pachydermion gains a +4 racial bonus on all Knowledge checks, and can make Knowledge checks untrained. However, a pachydermion suffers a -2 racial penalty on saves versus emotion effects.

[mareastrorum]

I feel like Liam's and Sam's history in C1 contributed heavily to the immediate camaraderie between Nott and Caleb in C2.

Liam (above table) was immensely proud to see Sam using the same techniques Vax had done in C1. It was particularly endearing because Sam had repeatedly leaned on the fact that he didn't know how to play D&D, let alone the bard class, which made for some hilarious hijinks in C1. We expected to see that again in C2, but instead, Sam is quite clever about his use of Cunning Action (disengage, hide) and staying out of melee without needing to ask about it. Sam learned from Liam! It's super sweet.

In addition, Nott soon became an Arcane Trickster, which adopts limited Int-based spellcasting--like a wizard. That added an in-game reason for Liam to show his excitement about Sam's playing by having Caleb show it for Nott.

It's very immersive right away, and I love it.

[windvexer]

Ritual Gestation and Birth: A relatively low-spoons method (at least I think so) of creating powerful* servitors, enchantments, etc

*Powerful as compared to other techniques that work worse.

A common spellcasting method is to immediately deploy the spell once the casting is complete. In fact, deployment is often a part of the casting ritual in and of itself.

A different option is to keep the spell vessel in a state of magical gestation over a period of days or weeks, so that it slowly matures, gains strength, and solidifies, until it's born into this world, ushered by your hands.

This method is opposed to one where huge amounts of energy need to be raised at once. It's not a technique I'm able to manage in a sustainable way, and I find the results to be a little too... jittery.

If you are a witch who must not, or may not, raise lots of energy at once, this technique may be more manageable. It involves supervising a pot of spell, a bit like a simmering pot of stew, but overall I find it to be less of a draining process. Perhaps other people will find the same.

I believe that creating a magical seed (or embryo, if you like), and tying it to a physical object - such as a candle, crystal, piece of jewelry, charm bag, poppet, and so on - is in and of itself a powerful act of magic. This is why a candle can be enchanted, immediately burned, and still result in miraculous effects.

However, I also believe that giving the seed time to magically gestate can produce deeply powerful, effective, and long-lasting (or perhaps better to say, permanent) results. This isn't the same as completing a casting and letting the enchantment sit until you're ready to use it - it's an active process of nurturing.

Instead of immediately sending a spell to go out and work, sending it to a gestation phase is an easy change. If our spellcasting methodologies are anything alike, all you've got to do (in crude terms) is to swap out your targeting/release portion of the spell with an introduction to the magical womb, or egg, or embryonic sack, (&etc), within which the spell will grow and gain strength.

Examples:

If you direct energy as you raise it, instead of chanting, focusing, writing, or affirming that the spell goes to the target as you raise the energy, instead C/F/W/A that the spell goes into the gestational vessel.

If you gather energy and imprint/program it before you deploy it, send it to the gestational vessel instead of the target.

If you fully enchant a spell vessel (such as enchanting a candle, or creating a poppet), after the spellcasting is complete, instruct the new spell to rest and grow strong within the gestational vessel, until it's time to be fully born.

After the spell is cast, and you have magically moved the spell into its gestation phase, the spell components should be placed securely within the gestational vessel and tended to until they're ready to be born.

The "gestational vessel" is a physical object - in Traditional Witchcraft, this is most suitably the cauldron. But the gestational vessel only needs to meet a few qualifications, regardless of its ability to make campfire stews:

The gestational vessel must have a secure lid, even a makeshift lid, which blocks out the light.

It must be large enough to completely hold the physical components of the spell which it gestates.

It must be able to be stored without disruption, where no unqualified persons may accidentally remove the lid or disturb it.

Additionally:

Moving the vessel doesn't seem to typically disrupt what's growing inside. It can be taken down from a shelf, etc.; as long as the lid isn't opened without due cause.

I do not personally consecrate gestational vessels to that special purpose. I tend to use multi-use vessel which I'll use for other things later.

When the spell is inside of the magical egg (tired of saying gestation), it becomes your job to tend to it by providing energy. This can take many forms, and is an intuitive process.

Feeding the spell can be done in any manner which you usually recharge objects, or provide offerings to spirits. The line is blurred here, I think.

Feed the spell more of what you fed it in order to create it; that is, more of the same energy you raised, more of the same emotion you spent, and so on.

If preferred, feed the spell food, candle, and incense offerings. A general offering of "white light," or another creative energy, also does well here.

Intuition may advise that different foods are wanted by the spell at different times. Do with that as you please.

Those able to "tune in" to the energies of their spells and environment may find it to be very easy to keep track of the embryonic spell's hunger. Otherwise, follow a simple schedule.

I usually do not find that spells need to be fed every day, and when they require feeding, I do not find that they respond to huge amounts of energy or offerings.

Feeding about every three days is a safer bet for me.

I notice that an excess of provided energy just seems to pool up and go to waste.

A feeding may be as simple as placing a bit of your dinner next to the gestation vessel along with an offering charm, or if you're able to, lighting a single tea light.

Persons interested in psychism may have an excellent time noting the energetic change in the spell as the gestation develops.

The lid may be carefully opened to peek inside, especially if normally helpful intuition fails without peeking in; but treat the vessel gently, as if a tiny embryonic baby chicken is inside. Be quiet and gentle, and avoid disrupting the lid unless you really need to.

Ahead of time, before you even cast the spell, you should have decided how long you're going to gestate it for. Three days, or a full moon cycle, or dark to full moon, are a good bet; so is one week if you're doing a planetary thing. I find that even a shorter gestation period provides delightful results compared to doing none at all.

Intuition may advise that the spell is ready to be born early, or would like to stay a little longer.

If intuition is not your ally in these matters, follow the schedule you've set. All will be well.

The appointed time has arrived - the spell is to be born! (Celestial enthusiasts may be wise the the idea of birthing their spell at a special hour, day, or election).

Frankly, popping off the vessel lid, saying, "your time of rest is done, you are now at full power, go now and begin your duties" will perfectly suffice.

But better can be achieved.

If possible, consider employing a birthing ritual. Here are ideas, in no particular order:

Symbols of a gateway or passageway are very good, even something as simple as two stones or two candles to mark a 'gate'.

Using an actual doorway, especially moving from indoors to outdoors (or vice-versa, depending on the nature of your spell).

Using a hag stone to represent pulling the spell from the faerie world into our physical one; the reverse process of how such a stone is often employed.

Using a family tradition, or religious or cultural tradition, to celebrate the birth of a new baby; even if this tradition is only symbolically simulated through key points ("I am the grandpa of this family, and as the grandpa, I announce the new baby's name!")

Doing something celebratory and evocative, like that Lion King scene where Rafiki holds up baby Simba, etc.

In general, the spell should be removed from the gestation pot in a ritualistic way, glistening with the gravity of ushering new life into this world.

The spell may be carefully taken from the vessel and passed through a doorway or liminal space; symbolically drawn through a hag stone or other physically impassable space; held up to greet the first light of the day, or the light of a certain moon phase; be passed over a fire; or any number of ritualistic acts to denote movement into a new phase of life.

At this time, you should magically assert that the spell is born, and ready to do its task.

Of course, you do more. And in these matters, I find that more is better.

A christening ceremony, or a baptism, is most excellently employed to further empower this new life to be a living being in our world, capable of great influence and change - as we all imagine our children will be.

A bit of anointing oil, a touch of holy water, a formal naming ceremony ("I name you, My Paycheck is Cleared. Your name is My Paycheck is Cleared."), whatever you like - especially include a small gift to the spell (perhaps a few coins to set it on the right path in life), or - I suppose this post has gotten long enough. You can perhaps imagine what more could be done.

When all is said and done, employ the spell; light it if it's a candle, whisper things to it if it's a poppet, hang it up if it's supposed to be hung up, and so on.

Do mind that such things, having being born into this world and given real life, do not tend to quit it so quickly as only bornless energies that are diffused just as they were raised; like waves, forming and dissipating.

Things with birthdays and names and birthday presents and baptisms and godparents tend to feel as if this world is theirs, too.

I am generally not very much of a "be careful" sort of poster, but for this sort of technique, I'd recommend being careful. It really does work fantastically, and that's the problem.

Feed the spell with your blood at the moment of conception, and at the moment of birth, for something extra delightful.

[ashandcinders]

More dnd character sheet redos, more in depth class stuff under the cut

Omi:

Sorcerer-

Spellcasting, Metamagic

Empowered Spell, Careful Spell

Subclass:

Cure Wounds, Favored by the Gods

Monk-

Unarmored Defense, Martial Arts, Ki, Deflect Missiles, Slow Fall, Extra Attack, Stunning Strike, Evasion, Stillness of Mind, Purity of Body

Subclass:

Four Elements Disciplines: Water Whip, Shape of Flowing River, Elemental Attunement

Race- Halfling

Lucky, Brave, Nimble

Lightfoot: Naturally Stealthy

Feats: Alert, Athlete, Resilient 

Clay:

Monk-

Unarmored Defense, Martial Arts, Ki, Deflect Missiles, Slow Fall, Extra Attack, Stunning Strike, Evasion, Stillness of Mind, Purity of Body

Subclass:

Open Hand Technique, Wholeness of Body, Tranquility 

Cleric-

Spellcasting, Channel Divinity: Turn Undead

Subclass:

Acolyte of Nature, Bonus Proficiency

Channel Divinity: Charm Animals and Plants 

Race- Half-Orc

Menacing, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks

Feats: Grappler, Sentinel, Chef

[howtofightwrite]

I'm writing a scene where a cultivater (chinese martial artists who fights ghosts) falls in a forest and I'm trying to figure out how someone who fights on rough terrain would train to fall. I tried looking at martial art/parkour/stunt man tutorials, but I feel like a lot of the basic techniques (rolling, and slapping the ground to distribute weight) wouldn't work well on uneven ground. I also tried looking at hiking advice but they just say to fall on your pack. Any insight?

Chinese cultivators don’t fall, they choose to reacquaint themselves with the ground.

That sounds like a joke, but the best way to understand Chinese cultivators and Chinese fantasy media is to realize that martial arts are the gateway drug to magic. And that will get you into a lot of trouble if you follow that all the way into Martial Arts Give You Superpowers, which is both the outgrowth of the western understanding of Chinese culture and a trope rife with orientalism. Cultivation seems simple on the surface when you’re watching Chinese media, but it’s more than martial arts, it’s more than religion, it’s more than mythology, (though it is all of those too) it’s a genuine transition into metaphysics that reorients how we understand and interact with the world around us. The concepts we see in cultivation come from real martial arts philosophy that you find in Tai Chi, Shaolin, and most other Chinese martial arts. They come from real religions including Daoism, Buddhism, a healthy dose of Confucianism, general mythology and mysticism from a wide range of subcultures, and, to an extent, Animism. If you aren’t doing your reading with the Eight Immortals, Journey to the West, The Legend of the White Snake, and others then you should dig in. I also really suggest watching the live action C-Dramas whether they’re true Wuxia or more Xianxia idol dramas (and in this case the idol dramas are better because the action is slower) so you can acquaint yourself with the stylized martial arts portrayals, a wide variety of choreography, character archetypes essential to motif based storytelling, and the most important aspect of all—wire work.

Understanding and conceptualizing stunt action done on wires is essential when you’re trying to visualize and create action scenes in any East Asian genre. Your first instinct might be to dismiss the stylized movement as unrealistic (it is) but remember that it’s also genre essential. Hong Kong action cinema has a very specific feel to it that’s very different from the way Western cinema structures and films their fight scenes. Even when you’re writing, you’ll want to find ways to imitate it through your visual imagery on the page.

Probably the best way to contextualize cultivators is that they’re wizards who do martial arts. They’ve learned to transcend the limitations in our understanding of reality through knowledge and study to perform superhuman feats. How superhuman? Well, it gets wild. They can be anywhere from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon/Who Rules the World fly through the trees levels to Shang Tsung’s “I’m going to slam my hell reality into your normal reality because commuting to work is too much of an inconvenience.”

Which is to say, they don’t always fight ghosts. Sometimes they fight other martial artists, sometimes they fight other cultivators, sometimes they fight demons, sometimes they fight gods, and sometimes they fight incredibly overpowered monkeys. They’re often monks living in seclusion on a mountaintop, but not always. Cultivation is more of a state of mind. Anyone can do it if they learn how to absorb spiritual energy from the world around them through meditation and breathing exercises. Gods cultivate. Humans cultivate. Animals cultivate. Remember, the demons and the ghosts cultivate too. Sometimes, your master gets reincarnated as a demon. Sometimes, you do. The amount of wacky spellcasting you can do is dependent on how much energy you’ve cultivated, which is dependent on how old you are and how good at cultivation you are. Using the power means you need to cultivate more energy, the greater the spell or difficult the battle then the more energy is lost.

This is important to the question of: how does a cultivator fall?

Metaphorically? Existentially? Physically?

When we’re talking physically, wire work becomes very important. Think of your cultivator as being on wires. If they have the knowledge and understanding to do it, they can slow their own fall through the air to land harmlessly on the ground or twist over like a cat and launch themselves back off the ground to fly at their opponent in a counter attack. If they have the knowledge and understanding, they can teleport. If they lack the knowledge and understanding or want to trick their opponent, they can hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. If they’re relying on basics, they can also smack the ground to counter and spread out the impact then use the momentum from that fall to roll back onto their feet. They’ll do it no matter what terrain they’re on because it’s a basic technique that’s trained into their foundation to the point it’s a reflexive action. Any force distributed away from, and reducing impact on, important body parts like your spine is better than nothing. It’s better to sacrifice your arm than be paralyzed. At its heart, that’s the point of the technique. If you’re able to walk away with a functioning spine, it’s done its job. Your shoulder hurts? That’s normal. Your arm is sprained or broken? Sucks, but that’s better than the alternative that is paralysis and death. For reference, learning to fall was the first lesson my Wushu instructor ever taught me. It is that basic.

A lot of the time when portraying cultivators in media, the goal is to show them as being beyond the limitations of standard martial artists. How vast the gap is between the cultivator and the average human is dependent on both the setting and the cultivator. So, the average martial artist who possesses superhuman talents but hasn’t dedicated themselves to a life of cultivation and cultivators who are new to the path are going to be on the rung below and more likely to be knocked on their ass. Cultivators in the mid-range are more likely to have crafted or trained in solutions to being knocked on their ass which put them in a less vulnerable position while recovering and empowered/enhanced their martial arts. Cultivators in the top tier are usually straight up masters at spellcasting, if they deign to fight at all. Gravity need not apply. Rember, the time it takes you to hit the ground and roll to your feet is time your opponent has to launch a counter attack or move to a better position. Also, it means you’ve taken your eyes off your opponent. This is bad enough against a normal human opponent. Against another mostly immortal or ancient magic user this risks a terrible outcome.

Cunning and strategy are both as important as skill. Wisdom, knowledge, and hard work outweigh talent and raw potential. You’ll have to decide how esoteric you want to be and what limits you want to set. I really urge you to do this because the danger of power creep is real and especially prominent here. A character’s growth in power is often linked to their growth in character or their arc, as they gain a greater understanding of themselves and the world around them their skill increases. The self-discovery/self-reflection/self-interrogation/intense suffering to reach enlightenment portion is just as important and intrinsic to the martial arts portion of Martial Arts Give You Superpowers. It’s easy to focus on the Superpowers or the Martial Arts parts of the equation and miss the genre necessity of character growth. This growth often happens through heaps of steadily increasing trauma. Or, failing to undergo that by being too powerful and thus unable to progress is the joke like it is in Qi Refining for 3000 Years. (Go to hell, Bai Qiuran, you hilariously overpowered monstrosity.)

The irony is that the trajectory in character growth is the same trajectory the average student experiences when practicing martial arts. The only difference is that the power arc is inflated. This includes overcoming ingrained truths that you believe about yourself, about your own abilities, what you believe yourself to be capable of (both good and bad,) about your biases toward yourself and other people, your biases about reality in general, your understanding of good and evil, the potential upending of right and wrong, and facing the greater complexity found in the world at large. The stripping away of these illusions, coming to terms with uncomfortable realizations in a more complicated world, and the gaining of new understanding and confidence are vital to that growth.

Skill isn’t just represented in the power creep, it’s also found in a character’s sophistication and complexity in their approach to combat and life in general. Their awareness both of themselves and of other people, their ability to read intentions, their predictive abilities, their complexity in initiating their own strategy and tactics while also recognizing and countering the plans of others. It’s their insight into human nature and their cunning. It’s not enough to be powerful. The world is full of powerful people and not so powerful people who have the capacity to be just as dangerous. This isn’t Goku and Freeza slamming into each other while the planet explodes in nine minutes. You also need to be smart. It’s also not about being a better person. It’s about being a self-aware person. A person who is self-actualized. Monkey’s growth is in his awareness of the world around him through his experiences and in approaching problems differently rather than becoming less of a little shit. If you grow up in the West, one of the issues you’re going to face is thinking of these hurdles as materialistic rather than emotional or intellectual.

A lot of Western media misinterprets the concepts of “giving up” as physical sacrifice. One of the popular examples is physically sacrificing the person we love. In order to have enlightenment, we must be separated from them. We can’t physically be with them anymore. Whereas under a Buddhist structure, what we are actually sacrificing is our own ignorance, our own preconceptions, and beliefs that keep the world comfortable. Under this structure, we’re sacrificing our preconceived notions of who our loved one is. The person that we invented when we first met and we must force ourselves to come to terms with who they really are. The outcome of this isn’t necessarily going to be bad, but it’s still painful. The person we think we love could be perfectly wonderful. However, they’re not who we imagined. If we choose to hold onto the illusion we created, to ignore the realization that the illusion is the person that we love, we’ll only end up causing ourselves and our loved one more pain. We must fall in love with them all over again. Coming to terms with that is painful. All pain comes from ignorance. In sacrificing, letting go of, or overcoming our ignorance, we grow.

These are the emotional, intellectual, and spiritual challenges necessary for a cultivator because they allow the cultivator to level up. Yes, level up. Whether this is coming from the influx of gaming culture into media at large or because the concept synergizes with the Buddhist goal of progressing through the Six Realms toward nirvana, leveling up is how a cultivator’s increasing power is often depicted. Of course, once we reach the next level we can’t go back except by falling or failing and are no longer the person we once were. This then gets mixed in with Daoist principles of finding divine understanding by living in harmony with the universe. The more understanding we gain of the world, the more energy we can absorb as a result, but our original goals may be lost or changed in the process. If a character begins their journey on the path of revenge, their newfound contextualization of the situation that caused them immense pain may force them to give that revenge up or find they don’t want revenge anymore.

Failure is also an option and often a common part of the story. These stories usually follow characters through multiple lives and rebirths over hundreds and even thousands of years, especially if they’re also gods. This is the existential fall. The fall to the Dark Side. All our heroes are going to go through it at least once. This is also why a lot of Chinese media ends in tragedy with hope for the next round.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[coven-of-genesis]

Protection Food Magic: Spellwork from the Stove

There is ancient power in the act of preparing food with intention. In the realm of witchcraft, your kitchen becomes an altar, your tools become ritual instruments, and your meals? They become enchantments—nourishing both your body and your spirit.

Protection food magic is the sacred art of weaving spells into your cooking to shield yourself and your home from negative energy, spiritual attack, or emotional overwhelm. This kind of magic is subtle but strong. It’s magic you can taste.

Here’s how to infuse everyday cooking with protective power:

1. Begin with Intention

Before you cook, ground yourself. Light a candle, breathe deeply, and focus your energy. Say a small blessing over your ingredients, such as:

“With every stir, I strengthen. With every spice, I shield.”

Let your energy flow into the food like an invisible cloak.

2. Choose Protective Ingredients

Certain herbs, spices, and foods have long been used in magical traditions to offer protection. Here are some staples for your kitchen grimoire:

• Garlic – A natural guardian. It’s known to ward off evil spirits and negative entities. Hang garlic braids in your kitchen or roast it into your meals to create a protective aura.

• Basil – A purifier of space and thought. Stir it into soups or sauces to drive away malice and create spiritual clarity.

• Rosemary – Known for remembrance and protection, it strengthens the mind and forms an energetic barrier. Add it to bread, roast dishes, or burn a sprig as incense while you cook.

• Salt – A sacred purifier in nearly all traditions. Sprinkle blessed salt in your cooking, across thresholds, or even in bath water for spiritual cleansing.

• Bay Leaf – Write protective sigils or intentions on a bay leaf and drop it into boiling water, broth, or stew. As it simmers, your spell activates.

3. Use Magical Techniques While Cooking

• Stir Clockwise for manifestation and protection; counterclockwise to banish bad energy.

• Carve Sigils into pie crusts, bread, or fruit rinds for silent spellcasting.

• Bless Your Water before boiling or drinking: speak words of safety and strength over it.

• Cleanse your space with kitchen-safe herbs like rosemary or thyme before big meals or gatherings.

4. Speak and Eat with Power

As you serve or eat your food, whisper words of enchantment. Think of it as sealing the spell within you:

“I eat for strength. I eat for safety. I eat for sacred wholeness.”

Every bite becomes an act of magical protection.

5. Keep a Kitchen Grimoire

Document recipes that make you feel safe, empowered, or deeply at peace. Over time, you’ll build your own magical cookbook of ancestral knowledge and protective potions in food form.

⸻

Remember: Protection magic doesn’t need to be loud. Sometimes it’s a sprinkle of salt, a simmering pot, or a quiet moment over tea that holds the strongest power.

Bless your hands, stir with care, and trust that the magic you make in your kitchen wraps around you like a warding spell.

Masterlist | linktree | Patreon