#sour jar spells | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tinyshe · 7 months

Text

Understanding Sourdough

Sourdough is an enigma, as it’s both simple and complex. It’s a naturally leavened bread that comes from the starter, which is the life force of your bread. A starter is a mixture of flour and water that absorbs the yeast and bacteria from the air and forms a stable colony. The living organisms that feed on the flour and produce gas and lactic acid, which both flavors and raises the sourdough.

Don’t Toss the Discard

When you remove some of the starter you offer the yeast more food each time you feed it so it’s not combatting with so many other yeast cells to get enough to eat. But you don’t have to toss the discard if you don’t want to. Place the discard in a separate container and keep feeding it. After day 7, the discard will be strong enough to give to a friend or use it for baking.

Stopping Your Starter for a Spell

You can dry out your healthy, thriving starter by spreading it in a a very thin layer on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and leaving it out until it’s brittle. Then, break it into pieces, keep the dried starter in an airtight container, and when you want to use it again, rehydrate it by dissolving it in warm water and feeding it as usual.

DAY 1

In a clear glass jar or similar container, stir together 1/4 cup (32 grams) bread flour, 1/4 cup (33 grams) whole wheat flour, and 1/4 cup (60 grams) warm water (75°F/24°C to 85°F/29°C). Loosely cover with lid or a small cloth. Let it stand at room temperature for 24 hours.

DAY 2

You may or may not see much active during the first 24 hours; regardless, you need to discard about half of the starter. Discard all but 4 tablespoons (57 grams) flour mixture remaining in jar. Add 1/2 cup (64 grams) bread flour and 1/4 cup (60 grams) warm water (75°F/24°C to 85°F/29°C). (This mixture of flour and water is called the “feed” because it is literally food for the natural yeast and bacteria.) Stir until combined. Loosely cover with lid or a small cloth. Let stand at room temperature for 24 hours.

DAYS 3 THROUGH 6

Continue to discard and feed sourdough following the same procedure and with the same mixture as on day 2. The starter should be showing significant signs of activity. Check on your starter every 6 to 10 hours to see if a routine is building.

DAY 7

Discard and feed your starter as you did on day 2. Check activity level by carefully dropping in a small spoonful into a glass of cold water; if it floats, it’s active. If it does not float, it needs a little more time to develop. If there has been little activity in your starter at this point, it might need some help. Consider feeding it twice a day (or every 10 to 12 hours) and leaving it in a warmer spot to increase activity.

DAYS 8 THROUGH 13

Continue to feed your starter daily (or twice a day if it needs the help). Monitor its activity level and smell. It should smell slightly sour and yeasty, kind of like ripe cheese or yogurt.

DAY 14

Congratulations! You should have a healthy, thriving sourdough starter on your hands. At this point, it should rise and fall on a consistent timeline, smell ripe, and pass the same float test from day 7. You should be able to start baking with your starter, and it is ready for cold storage.

DAY 15 AND BEYOND

If you are not planning on baking bread regularly, store your starter in the refrigerator after day 14. Feed your starter as you have and let it stand at room temperature just until you begin to see signs of activity, 1 to 2 hours. Cover tightly with a lid and refrigerate; refrigerated starters need to be fed once a week. To use a starter from the refrigerator, let it stand at room temperature until it peaks and shows signs of activity again after 1 to 2 feedings.

TIPS AND TRICKS

Using whole wheat flour at the beginning gives the starter extra sugars to kick-start the fermentation process and activity level in your starter. If you don’t have whole wheat flour, rye flour is another good option. You can also just use 1/2 cup (64 grams) bread flour on day one, but it might take a little longer to see some activity. If all you have is all-purpose flour, that works, too! Just use 1/2 cup (63 grams) for feedings. Again, it might take longer to see steady activity.

If your starter shows a lot of activity such as bubbles, an increase in volume in the jar, and a fresh yeasty aroma in the first 2 to 3 days and then very little in the next few days, this is completely normal. It’s not yeast building in the first few days but other kinds of bacteria building up and then dying off. Your starter should pick back up again and rise more consistently as the right kind of yeast and bacteria build up and gain strength.

If at any point, but especially during cold storage, a dark liquid collects on the surface of the starter, don’t panic. This is called “hooch” and is completely normal! It is fermented alcohol that releases from the yeast in the starter, and it’s a sign that it’s hungry! It’s safe to consume and use; it just has a stronger sour flavor and smell. You can just stir it into the starter or pour it off; it’s up to you.

#sourdough #yeast #starter #bread making

34 notes · View notes

ay0nha · 1 month

Text

Who would be interested in a Detective!Tommy Miller x forensic!reader but in the sense like he’s sort of that hot headed/always suspended/about to be fired way and has a soft spot for the sciencey reader…??

Snippet of the idea below the cut of the vibes/idea:

It was like Tommy stepped in scat.

Shit followed him everywhere. The drag of a cheap cigarette did nothing to alleviate the stench of death that weighed on him.

No days were easy when someone saw what he did. Tommy wasn’t naive when he became a detective; it was the draw. Every big whig went to extreme lengths to cover things up, but some people were just fucked up.

This wasn’t even the goriest thing he’d seen, but the jar of teeth made him nauseous. Tommy couldn’t even reach for it; the thought of who they belonged to soured everything. He crouched down, weight shifting in the still-wet mud, cementing his lament.

“Fuck.” He flicked the butt away, hoping it would carry his nerves with it. He just cursed again, just as breathy and just as vengeful.

The black around the still-intact enamel proved even fire wasn’t enough to erase the haunting cruelty. In the literal sense of the word, the serial killer was artful. Intelligent. Tommy wished he could conjure more derogatory words, but he was too emotionally stumped to do so.

Tommy’s phone interrupted his thoughts; he knew he’d be chewed out for being where he was if he picked it up. Leave it, they told him. It was instinctual to disobey. Damn, near impossible to let it go when the tokens were in front of him, showing teeth worth more than the bodies the department found.

There was always more.

“Yeah?” Tommy’s casualty always rubbed others the wrong way.

“Miller—” His partner barked on the other line. Tommy didn’t care one way or the other; his partners never stayed for long. “—Marlene’s pissed, says I was s’pposed to stop you. We don’t have fucking clearance, Tommy—”

Tommy lied. It became second nature to spew nonsense. He struggled to remember what he lied about his absence. Usually, it was some bullshit about picking up leftover grunt work that he disguised with those keywords: paperwork, higher-up formalities, and whatever caused his partner’s eyes to glaze over with boredom.

Like always, to get out of the cowpie he’d asked for, he conjured your name, knowing its spell could calm a rabid animal.

—

Your performance was getting better, more natural to the trained eyes on you. Although your confidence grew, your head was still low. Perceived submission was the palatable role the forensics team took on in the eyes of the other departments.

The detectives were the worst, treating their barely-there hierarchy like high school divisions. The jocks and the nerds existed again. One couldn’t tetter on the line. Yet, there you were, steps firm in the direction of their department. Even they couldn’t verbalize your presence.

Eyes tracked you until you met Tommy’s desk, once there, they scattered trying to attune their ears to the conversation you sparked.

“I got these for you…” you muttered with partial indifference. Despite your pluralization, the manila folder was practically empty. Your loud gratitude confirmed the staging. “Thank you again for picking up those extra samples for me…”

Tommy’s cigarette twitched with amusement, his eyes sparkling with jest at your words. There wasn’t a true need for all your talk, especially not with him. Peace of mind, you told him once. But he was convinced a small part of you enjoyed being in on the lie.

“Anytime.” His tone was smooth and genuine. “Though, might need to return a favor or two. Got chewed out for you.”

You frowned. You read between the lines; Tommy was in deep. It was an unconscious warning.

“That—” He pulled his cigarette from his lips, knowing where you stood on the vice. “—or dinner.”

Ears were sharp, catching his rehearsed line. Those around you muttered with cough-covered snickers and scoffs. Men, you thought. Your glare was enough to convey your indignation.

You nodded despite the decline. “Have a good one, Tommy.”

#personal #q #tommy miller #tommy #miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller tlou #tlou tommy miller #tlou #tlou tommy

17 notes · View notes

xerxeswitch · 11 months

Text

My Bane Magic

(This doesn't cover curses, because the post would be way too long) ---

This type of magic has always came to me very easily from my experiences, both consciously intentional and "non-intentional." I once had a unhinged woman berate racist profanities at me over a cup of coffee at my work, (because she doesn't like the extra costs of 1 pump of vanilla, 1 pump of mocha, 1 pump of toffee nut, two extra shots, and extra caramel drizzle) and she screams how I parked my bike was offensive and it "triggered" her. (It was parked on a bike rack as its intended purpose like everyone else) I bitterly thought, "I hope someone finds your car offensive and just hit it." I performed a freezing hex with the intention to just keep her from bothering me in the future, but I still was hyperfixated; stewing on the idea of her car getting hit. Two days later, she got into a bad car accident. She came back with a broken arm but thankfully that's it. (Even then, I never wish death to anyone.) I also suspected my spirit Family may have had their hands on that too, to really make sure it works. I suggest anyone into this to be careful in general. --- As a side note, I personally believe that everyone's energy type is different and some people can perform certain type of spells better than others because of that. For example, some people's energy are naturally talented moreso in healing energy and they do well in reiki healing, but they need to implement far more effort or practice if they want to do bane magic. Think of the series Avatar, a natural born airbender having problems with earth bending. ... Take it with a grain of salt though. ----- So what is bane magic?

It's casting magic with the intention of inflicting or reflecting negative energy with the motive to harm. That can include bad luck, blocking someone's path...or well, leave it up to the imagination. Some witches do it because they want to get back at someone...which is 99% of the time from my observation -- and I'm no exception. My personal rules with bane magic:

Reflect on why it angers me. Is it really warranted or was my ego getting inflamed with something that wasn't intentional?

Was I in the wrong in the situation instead?

90% of the time, I use bane magic to reflect bad intentions sent to me back to sender.

I do my best to never hit first.

I do not believe in the Wiccan rede of the three, but I still believe that energy is transactional and something will come to you at a cost...and it depends on what coverage you get with the intent of the magic and the situation.

Is it worth using my energy on using bane magic? If not, I don't use it. I consider bane magic like spending money instead of saving money. The currency is not just energy...

I want to take responsibility and accountability of what happened if it didn't go according to plan.

I do not cast bane magic on someone who I live with -- I'll be around taking in that second hand smoke.

Use protection for yourself before performing any of this ... Types of bane magic I use: Freeze Hex - Some people don't consider this a hex, but I personally think it does due to the wide range of intentions that can prove to be harmful in a passive way. It's more of a gray arts aspect -- because it can be used to "freeze" someone's intentions or actions towards something. That something can imply stopping them from being harmful to me, or to even stop them from performing tasks rendering them stagnant. On the other end, I had used a freeze hex on someone with the intent to stop them from harming themselves. It really depends. I consider freezing hexes one of the mildest ones to use because of these spectrums. The procedure is putting the appropriate herbs, liquids (hand-squeezed lemons is great to "sour" it up) that brings out the nature of my spells, and something that belongs to my target. If that last one isn't available, I use a picture or their name written on a bay leaf in the jar. Poppet Hex - Poppets are not just used for voodoo, it's a concept of use in many cultures around the world and in history. This also can be a gray arts spectrum -- it entirely depends on what you use the poppet for, obviously. For hexing, I take a poppet that represents them and pin in needles for discomfort or even sickness. (This is consider a big hex if I really, really, really despise someone. I only ever did this once because they severely abused a friend) Or, I use a poppet of someone to surround it with healing, or calming energy instead. Again, it depends. Hex Water - This one is passive too. I basically place in my herbs, some nails, freshly squeezed lemon juice, sigils, insect carcasses, and my death and hex oil. (The death oil isn't used for "death" -- it's to end the cycle of the situation) I can use this as a hex protection spell where if someone wants to harm me, the energy in the jar will bounce back. But most of all, if warranted, I would take their names and place it in the jar of hex water and I shake it vigorously to get it to work. I even carry around a smaller jar of that water and I shake it near that person's presence if they warranted it. (Mostly if I come across really bad customers at my job. But otherwise, I let it go if they're just being a pain) Earwig Hex - This requires using a head of lettuce, writing someone's name on the lettuce, cutting a hole in it and place your message in it with the earwig, dead or alive. (Preferably dead) This is exactly what it sounds like: Go into someone's head, worm around and implant a message in their thoughts. I use this to prevent the person similarly to the freezing hex. This hex is credited to Kate Freuler -- the author of the book "Of Blood and Bones." (Highly recommend; it's my favorite witchcraft book so far and it fits my energy) Psi Vampire Hex - This one comes to me more naturally since I'm a psi vamp. True, I take vital energy from others out of necessity but this is to really pinpoint someone while feeding. It's how it sounds; I basically just zero in on someone's energy and feed. If I really want to, and if they are still around, I keep feeding until the effects take in which includes signs of fatigue, headaches, other body aches, and even sickness. Personally, I don't like to go that far to sickness. Sending a Spirit/Entity - Just how it sounds. You can place an offering to a spirit/entity that can be outside or inside your spirit team. However, they can always refuse the offer -- mind that and respect it. ---- Overall, for me, I always tell people who are interested to use hexes wisely. It's a responsibility. The number one rule for me is making sure if it's worth the risks and the cost. Sure, one can say that there's no real consequences or the three way law, but there's always a cause and effect. So, at your own risk, fuck around and find out. Or, you can take heed of the rules, protection measures, and self reflection.

#witchcraft #bane magic #bane magick #spirit work #witchblr #spells and hexes #hexes #use responsibly #witch #poppets #hex water #psi vampire #vampirism #freeze hex #of blood and bones #kate freuler

58 notes · View notes

teeth-farie · 1 year

Text

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Notes: amab reader, masc/he/him pronouns for reader, yandere reader, intersex asra, jealousy, jealous sex (all consensual!!!), ‘cunt, pussy, cock’ used for asra, obscene use of italics, 3.1k words

☞. . . A commission for @faezocarina !! They wanted a yandere reader/asra fic with asra being conflicted about your behavior. I hope you like it!!

Cloves grind efficiently under the pestle, the circular motions of Asra’s wrists crushing the bulbs into a fragrant mess of powder and chunks. He likes to think that life is peaceful, and domestic even now since you’ve been brought back. But he knows that’s not entirely true.

Asra would never regret bringing you back. He would never regret those long nights burning the candle at both ends, ripping his own hair out for a spell or ritual that would possibly work. He couldn’t ever regret it, not when he has you back. But that didn’t mean you were the same.

He supposes that necromancy would do that to a soul, to be ripped from one plane to another; but it didn’t mean he loved you any less, and it didn’t mean you were any less his. Part of him suspects that maybe your current behavior was always there, hidden in plain sight, masked by his rose-tinted glasses and puppy love crush.

To say you were clingy was an understatement. It was almost like you wanted to live in his skin. And he isn’t so sure he would mind.

When Asra’s thoughts lull, he realizes what should be crushed clove is now a nearly fine powder. It would make it awfully hard for a cup of tea, so instead, he dumps the powder into a jar. You loved your pumpkin bread, and he could give it to Selasi to make you an extra special loaf. It was the last of his clove, so he supposes he’ll need to make another trip soon. He’s heard that some vendors in Nopal have gotten their hands on some good spices from Prakra, at a deal too, but Asra doesn’t pay with the typical funds anyway. He thinks he’ll bring an extra shiny trinket for them instead.

His only issue, that is, would be you. Ever since the resurrection, Asra became…limited with where he could go. It’s not that he didn’t want to spend every moment with you, but being by your side when he knew he couldn’t have you (even if you wanted him so badly)…he couldn’t stand it. So he had to slip out when you were sleeping, unfurl your grip from him and replace himself with a pillow. It didn’t always work, and you’d catch him at the door while he wound his scarf around his shoulders. You’d beckon him back, a sour look on your face, and Asra had wanted nothing more than to curl back into your embrace. But sometimes, he just couldn’t. He’d make sure to make it up to you, he says to himself every time.

Warm arms wrap around his middle, a chin resting on his shoulder. “Asra,” you breathe, squeezing his sides lightly, living in his smell of smokey incense and herbal tea intensely. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”

He can hear the pout in your voice, and he turns in your arms. Your eyes are lidded with sleep, little lines from the pillow's wrinkles pressed into your cheek. “I was just down here,” he reassures, reaching his hands up to cup your face tenderly. “Don’t you want breakfast?”

You shift your eyes from him to the counter after a moment, looking at the fresh stack of pancakes. Your stomach growls almost immediately at the prospect of sustenance, and Asra laughs cheerfully. “C'mon, let's get some food in you.”

You let go of him reluctantly. “It would have been nice to see you in your apron.” You say almost nonchalantly and Asra feels his face get a little hot at the idea, as simple as it was. It felt good to be wanted, even if what you wanted was to see him in a dingy patchwork apron. “Then you should get up earlier.” He says back instead, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You praise Asra’s cooking endlessly, quickly devouring the fluffy pancakes, only mildly burnt. A quick glance at his stack reveals that he’s taken the more burnt of the dozen, albeit dousing them in honey and syrup.

“We should stop by the marketplace,” Asra says around a mouthful of half-chewed pancake. “I’m running low on some spices, and I know you don’t like it when I leave too far away.” Or leave at all.

You nod, dragging your finger through the syrup and honey pooled around your empty plate. You suck it off your finger and the magician stares a little longer than he should. “You don’t need to keep going to Nopal and wherever else if we have what we need here.” You say after popping your finger from your lips, snapping Asra back to focus. He clears his throat. “R-right,”

You smile, a pleasant curl of your lips that makes him feel warm. “Maybe we can get some pumpkin bread while we’re there.” You lean forward, and Asra starts to pucker his lips. His brows furrow when you take a bite off the fork he didn't even realize he was still holding. “Was getting soggy.” You grin impishly, swallowing the honey-saturated pancake.

…

The sun is bright and warm in the marketplace, discussion chittering and buzzing across the crowd. Asra feels your hand fall into his, your warm skin clasping against his, palm to palm. In the past, you took to holding his hand for guidance through such a large crowd, but Asra knows you’ve grown strong, and you don’t need to hold onto him anymore. But you still do. He used to joke that you must be trying to leech off his energy with how tiring the marketplace can be, but he’s long since figured out it’s your way of guarding him.

You pass a multitude of shops on your way to the spice stands, things like pendulums and flashy shells catch Asra’s attention before you tug him back in the right direction. “You get distracted too much.” You tease and he pouts. “We’ll just have to visit them on the way back.” He playfully scrunches his nose, squeezing your hand for good measure. You squeeze back, a little firmer than him, fingers intertwined.

You zone out a bit as Asra trades and barters for spices, craning your neck up to watch the fluffy clouds go by. One reminds you of Faust and her long, noodle-like body.

“I’ve got a special deal for someone as breathtaking as you.”

Your head snaps back into the stand, your jaw setting and teeth gritting upon inspection of the interaction. It’s a new vendor, a young man with sunburnt skin and wavy hair. A man all too close to what’s yours.

Asra pointedly ignores the remark, changing the subject to how much he wanted to purchase—but you don’t. You stalk back behind him, firmly hugging your arms around Asra’s waist.

“Oh! Done cloud watching?” He asks, rummaging around in his bag for something to barter with. The vendor’s smile sours.

“Yes.” You respond, eyes narrowed into a glare where they land on the young man behind the wooden counter. “You were talking about a deal?”

The vendor laughs nervously. “Y-yes- I was just talking about a deal for new customers! Ten percent off!”

“That’s not what you said.” You squeeze Asra a little tighter, pressing your nose against the crook of his neck. The magician shivers, his cheeks turning red at the display of affection.

“A-and may I ask, you are-“

“His boyfriend.” You stop the vendor in his tracks, kissing Asra’s neck for good measure and punctuation. Asra yelps a little, nervously laughing and the vendor’s face blooms the reddest red you’ve ever seen.

“O-ok I’ll get these another time, thank you!” Your partner stammers, quickly tugging you away while you give the poor man another long, territorial glare.

You’re pushed into a secluded area, shaded by rugs and silks for sale. “What are you doing?” Asra nearly hisses, embarrassment and something else painting his face.

“I’m protecting you.”

“That- that was not- I mean, y-you,” he fumbles over his words, his face getting redder by the second, coloring that gorgeous golden skin you love so much. Asra feels a giant knot of emotion and conflict well up in his chest; on one hand, it was completely outrageous for you to respond like that and fluster him so, but on the other hand…oh, how Asra loved to be wanted. He liked how you grabbed him up and put your claim on him- how you’ve gotten so possessive and territorial- oh, it gets him hot-

He kisses you suddenly, grabbing your shirt and tugging you forward roughly. You can taste the desperation and honeyed pancakes on his tongue, feel his energy meld with yours the closer he presses himself against your body. You hold him tightly, digging your fingers into his hips and waist in a way that makes him whimper.

Asra pulls away with a stuttering breath before it can go too far, his pupils blown where they sit in amethyst eyes. “I need you.” He whispers, sliding his hands under your shirt.

“Not here,” you take his hands in yours instead, despite how much you want to feel him all over you as quickly as possible. “No one else can see you like this, only me.” It sounds more like a growl when you say it, and Asra can’t believe how much it turns him on. He shouldn’t be encouraging that behavior, and he shouldn’t be allowing you to hide him away and keep him as your own, but he does. He does because it feeds that frenzied, obsessive version of himself from the height of the plague when he cheated death herself. It soothes that heart-wrenching ache for you he felt, something he never wants to feel again.

So you take him home, taking any shortcut you could remember–and you only contemplated stopping in an alleyway to have your way with him once. Neither of you knows how you made it back to the shop without cracking, and you don’t think you really care to speculate, not when you have your Asra waiting for you like this. He has the mind to turn the sign to ‘closed’ before you pounce, kissing him fervently. The magician all but melts, throwing his arms around your neck and moaning against your lips. The sound only fuels that fire in your gut, the grinding gears in your mind that screech and hiss Asra, Asra, Asra.

Your teeth catch on his bottom lip and he whimpers, curling his fingers against your scalp. “Take me to bed,” he breathes against your lips, but he finds himself ill-prepared for when you hook your arms under his thighs and hoist him over your shoulder. “Ah- haha!” He squeals, gripping onto you for dear life as you ascend the stairs to the small, cozy bedroom.

You drop him onto the cushy mattress, smiling as he bounces and laughs an exhilarated laugh. Asra’s giggles melt into a moan when you kiss him again, this time only spending a few moments at his lips before moving lower down his jaw. You can feel his pulse flutter under your lips, that golden collar of his hiding the most vulnerable of spots. But you like it, you like seeing your Asra in such a pretty collar–it means he’s yours.

“Mine,” you find yourself whispering in between kisses and licks. “You’re mine, no one else can have you.”

“Yours,” he mimics, a rumbly little sound reverberating from his chest when you tease your teeth against a nearly faded hickey. “Only yours- oh gods, only ever yours.”

Your hands grab at his clothes, hastily ripping him free of his shirt. Asra doesn’t take the time to mourn the buttons, his mind growing plagued by lust and desperation. His skin feels like it's burning by the time you touch him, and finds himself making a choked sound when your fingers brush his nipples. “Yes, yes, just like that,” he gasps when you lean down and lick over his nipple, taking the hardened peak into your mouth. Asra’s head falls back against the fluffy pillows, mouth gaping and hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

You look up your lashes at him, reaching lower, your palm going to cup his swollen crotch. His breath stutters, legs widening almost mindlessly. “Yes, touch me there,”

You pop off of his nipple, scraping your teeth against it gently as you do. “You drive me crazy,” you circle your fingers over his bulge, rubbing against his confined cock. Asra bites his lip. “You live in my head constantly, all I think about is you,” you forgo your touching to tug at his pants, and Asra eagerly unbuttons and kicks them off. He spreads his legs again, exposing his bare cunt and cock, both swollen and wet for you.

“I couldn’t stand hearing that man speak to you like that.” You growl, taking his small dick between your fingers and stroking it almost a little too quickly. He makes a sound that you drink in, filing away for a lonely moment. “No one is allowed to speak- to look at you like that, I’ll keep you tied up here if I have to.” Your eyes are locked with his, filled with a look of something devious and dark. Asra shivers, and he knows he needs to correct that behavior, but he's starting to believe he might just be as insane as you. “I’d never leave,” he pants, keening when you rub your finger over the weeping head of his cock. “I’d- h-huhn, I’d never leave, not ever, not w-when you’re touching me like that, oh right there just like that-!”

You stop before Asra can reach his gratification, watching his cocklet twitch pitifully at the sudden lack of attention. “Not yet, I want you to come from my cock.”

He feels a little dizzy at that, painfully aware of how empty and aching his cunt feels. Looking at him now, you’ve become alert to your own needs, swollen and throbbing in your pants. “Take them off,” Asra pleads, making a show of guiding his hand down and pushing his fingers into himself. Your breath hitches, eyes locked on how he spreads himself for you. “I need you, make me yours.”

You groan, almost salivating at his words and actions, forcefully pulling your pants off your body. Asra moans at the sight of your cock hanging heavily between your legs, fingers plunging in a little faster, and he begins to think he could get off on just the image of you. He spreads his fingers and shows off his hastily prepped hole, gaping the pink, gummy flesh as you knock his legs apart. “Mine, mine, mine,” you chant, replacing Asra’s hand with your own and spreading his lips open as you guide yourself into him. There’s a mutual sound of satisfaction–your dick filling him completely, and his walls hugging you snuggly. “Yours, yours, yours!” He gasps when you bottom out completely, your pelvis flush against his.

You set a steady pace, easing in and out, in and out, until you can hear the slapping of your balls against his ass and the stuttery panting of his breaths. “I have to- hah, mark you as mine, make it clear no one else can have you,” you begin to ramble, hands hooked under his thighs, your hips thrusting forward quicker, quicker, quicker.

Asra hiccups under the force of your hips, bouncing up on the bed with each thrust. He shakily wraps his legs around your hips, crooning in delight when you grab and hold his legs tighter around you. “Mine, mine, inside and out,” you moan, leaning down lower, bracing your arms by his head. Asra wraps his arms around you almost instantly, holding you chest to chest as you continue to fuck into him. “My Asra, mine, mine.”

You angle yourself on the next thrust in, hitting upwards, the head of your cock spearing against that sweet spot of his. The squeal that tears from his throat is almost instant, his nails digging into your back. You delight yourself in the feeling; your Asra is claiming you back, he’s putting his mark on you too, and it only makes your obsession grow.

“There, there, there!” He cries, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, pure pleasure coursing through every artery and vein. He’s never felt as good as he does now, he wishes you'd burrow yourself in and never leave if this is how you’ll make him feel.

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, mouth latching on to faded hickeys and bites. Asra can't help but hold the back of your head in place, his eyes rolling back when you sink your teeth in. “Yes, yesyesyes! I’m so close, so close, pleasepleaseplease–”

He can feel your tongue drag over the fresh bite, hips jackhammering into him so hard he knows he’ll be limping in the morning; but he doesn’t care, he can’t care when he's so close. You wiggle your hand between your bodies, pressing your palm against his leaking cock and doing your best to rub in time with your humping, and Asra is finished.

He swears his vision goes white, his legs tightening like a coiled snake around your waist, and his nails digging into your back and hair, tugging and scratching, overwhelmed in the senses. Hot, liquid cum squirts from his cocklet, splattering against both of your stomachs and the color slowly returns to his sight, his scream coming out in a strangled mess.

“Come, come in me,” Asra begs weakly, overstimulation slowly creeping across his body, but it can’t stop now, not when you’re so close too. He guides your head back up from his neck, bumping his forehead against yours. “Please,” he hiccups. “Make me yours.”

Really, it’s all you need to finish; your wonderful, intoxicating Asra begging you to finish inside him, how can you tell him no? You hump into him, growing uncoordinated with the last few stuttery thrusts until you spill in him. Sound rushes into your ears, your body tensing as you pump your lover full of your cum.

Asra makes a pleased sound, slumping back against the bed, utterly boneless. You ease yourself in and out a few more times, ensuring you’ve drained yourself completely into him, truly claiming him from the inside out.

“Oh, oh wow,” he laughs when you dislodge yourself and watch the cum drip from his spent pussy. “That was so good, you're so good,” he babbles, pulling you back down to kiss you eagerly.

You melt against him, moaning into his mouth when he licks at your lips. Asra’s face is flushed with exertion when you part with a wet sound, eyes filled with pure love and adoration, and it's all because of you.

You think you could stare into those wonderous, lavender eyes for all eternity if he let you, and you’d destroy any obstacle in the way of that.

#spicy #asra #kofi request #sub arcana #yandere #the arcana game

369 notes · View notes

popculture-hag-shit · 7 months

Text

I Don't Love You Binding/Banishing Spell

Had a relationship that turned sour? Worried about ill intent causing issues in your life? Boy howdy do I have the spell for you!

What all you're gonna need:

🫙a small jar or container, making sure it's transparent (plastic is discouraged as it could warp due to hot wax)

🏷️ a tag lock of your intended recipient

🖋️a marker (sharpie works pretty well on glass and metal)

🌵thorns/pins/needles/whatever small sharp things are on hand

🧂salt

🌶️ dried hot pepper of some sort

🎵 the song "I don't love you" by mcr

🪞 a mirror

🕯️a candle (I use a beeswax candle bc that's what I've got on hand, feel free to use whatever you like)

Practice fire safety, make sure you have access to water and aren't wearing any loose clothing that could catch fire. Make sure your space is clear of anything that could catch fire. Also make sure this is a space you're okay with potentially getting candle wax on.

Set yourself up in front of a mirror, you'll be using it to reflect their bad intentions away from you and into the binding spell.

Start playing the song, I put it on loop because this spell can take longer than the duration of the song and you'll be using the song as a focus for this spell.

Light your candle.

Take your hot pepper of choice and add a layer to the bottom of your jar.

Take your taglock and gently press the thorns/needles/etc into the taglock being sure not to pierce it all the way through: the goal here is to show you have a sharp offensive but not to cause harm unless necessary.

Set your taglock inside the container, nestling it part way in the hot pepper. This is to make them feel the heat-- you're not harming them, but the implication is you're prepared to.

Fill the jar with enough salt that there's only a small amount of room between the salt and the top of the container. The goal is to use salt to cleanse any ill will they may send your way, so make sure the taglock is covered completely.

Take your candle and carefully tip it so the melted wax fills the container the rest of the way. This is to create a solid barrier, trapping any malicious intent from escaping.

You may want to wait til the wax has cooled before securing the lid on your container as it will be hot.

Once the lid has been secured, draw the nazar (protection from the evil eye) on the lid, sides and bottom of your jar.

Optional step to elevate this to a banishing spell; throw the container out.

If for some reason you think you might want to undo the binding spell in the future, keep the container. You will need to remove its contents in order to undo the binding spell.

#pop culture magic #pop culture witchcraft #binding spell #banishing spell #my chemical romance #yes i did make a spell based off an mcr song but listen its gotten great results for me personally #ive only had to use it twice thankfully

30 notes · View notes

sapphyhoney · 2 years

Text

🔥”BEGONE NEIGHBORS”🔥Hex Spell Jar

——————————————

A spell to make any neighbor flee from their home or property.

Disclaimer: I’d like to specify that I used this spell for some horrible people who lived near us who everyone in the neighborhood hated. That being said use it responsibly and make sure to self reflect or to see if there is an alternative way to get rid or stop their behavior first.

Made this spell a while ago and in about 1-2 weeks the neighbors were kicked out of their home after months and months of empty promises and inaction.

——————————————

Ingredients:

+ empty pint jar

+ kosher salt (any salt really)

+ crushed red pepper flakes

+ dried whole red pepper (optional)

+ ground paprika

+ chili powder

+ 1/2 pint of charged waning or storm/rain moon water

+ garlic powder

+ iron nails

+ push pins

+ black salt

+ pickle juice

+ 1 tsp vinegar

——————————————-

Meanings of said ingredients:

- red pepper/chili powder : to cause pain, anger, intensifies spell

- salt: to protect the castor, to inflict pain

- paprika: adds boost to spell’s energy/influence

- garlic powder: repels negative forces, banishes

- iron nails/push pins: to cause pain or harm, adds power to spell

- black salt: to banish negativity, protects castor

- pickle juice: to sour one’s life

-vinegar: to stink up someone’s life, banishing/cursing, drive negative forces away

(Vinegar will explode if too potent or in large quantities when shaken over time so make sure to put a small amount and dilute it.)

——————————————

Steps:

1. Place liquids first in jar. Then add dry ingredients. Be sure to mentally label what their intent is.

2. Place nails and pushpins in the jar. Close the jar. Repeat,

“May your actions catch up to you and cause you to flee from your home.”

3. Shake closed jar and repeat the phrase.

“May the hex be lifted once you leave and never return.”

4. Seal the jar with black wax. Put the jar in a black bag and put it in a dark place. (I personally chose a dark cupboard in the garage.)

——————-

Be sure to cast a circle or ward before or cleanse after the spell! Always have protection spells in case of it backfiring.

#hex positive #hex jars #hex spells #spell jars #witchcraft #witch spells #neighbor hex #neighbor spell #warding #protection spell #curses #hex witch #magick #magick spells #curse ingredients #hex ingredients #green witch #witch community

467 notes · View notes

satanachia666 · 2 years

Note

I was wonder what candles you would suggest for a sour jar, please answer asap

/gen /lh

I would say black and/or red candles, since those are typically the best colors for baneful magick and curse work. Good luck!🍀

#demonolatry #theistic satanism #satanic witch #witchcraft #satanic witchcraft #chaos magick #candle magick #candle correspondences #witchblr #dark pagan #paganblr #sour jar #jar spells #spells

6 notes · View notes

manicfoxmagick · 3 months

Text

An Essay on Appropriation, Cultural Erasure, and Closed Practices

For those of you who have followed me for a while you without a doubt have heard my views on the ideas of a "closed practice". They are definitely not the typical views you would see posted on this subject, though they are not oppressive or bigoted in any way, and are honestly more tolerant, openminded, and accepting than what the average neoliberal wannabe has to say.

I make this claim because the way I view this subject is one that embraces and respects cultural identities and practices, respects traditions and values their history, and it does this for all cultures and communities, not simply the ones that the SJW extremists have deemed worthy. I also emphasize the importance of respect amongst all cultures and customs, regardless of origin, as well as how it's a positive and healthy practice for different cultures to influence and inspire each other so long as respect is made paramount.

The modern neoleftist approach to the topics of closed practices, appropriation, and cultural erasure are extremely divisive and do the opposite of their goal to promote inclusivity and tolerance. The obsession with keeping boundaries between different systems is not only unnatural, it is also antithetical to the overall goal of harmony between all people.

Defining Appropriation and Cultural Erasure

Appropriation is when a person from outside of a culture steals another culture's practices, ideas, symbols, or whatever they find sacred and removes all credit from them. The original creators have their valued beliefs stolen by an outsider who proceeds to erase their signature, claim it as their own, and bastardize it.

Examples of this can be seen over and over again throughout history. One well known example of this is the pagans of Europe being dominated by the new ruling Christian empire, who stole their holidays and traditions and rebranded them in hopes of making it easier for the heathens to convert.

For example: the Christian ruling class took a holiday like Yule, a celebration of the winter solstice, and modified it to align with the birth of their prophet to create the holiday we now know as Christmas. They kept the same basic dates and traditions almost exactly as they were, but added the birth of Jesus as the reason for celebration.

By making the new holiday that aligned with the values of the Christian ruling class closely related to the pagans traditional holiday, it made the transition into the new religion much easier by giving them familiar ground.

Of course, the pagans were forced to convert to Christianity under threat of execution, but the elite throughout history have always used both the carrot and the stick. The carrot: you get to keep your precious holidays (almost). The stick: say you're Christian or you'll be tortured to death.

And while most people would at first simply go along with it to save their life but be obviously lying about it ("Oh I'm Christina I swear." *prays to Hekate after they leave*). But, after just a few generations you'd find more and more people who were truly Christian, or at the very least much less pagan.

So what the Christian elite did was appropriate the pagan holidays which was used as a step towards cultural erasure meant to eradicate them and their beliefs.

Another example of appropriation that is gonna cause a lot of ruffled feathers is the spell jar. Spell jars, at least how we see them typically done these days, we're originally a Hoodoo technique that were known as "Sour Jars", "Honey/Sweetening Jars", and other names that follow the standard spell-naming approach found in Hoodoo. These jars are a method of spellcasting where the practitioner fills a jar with various corresponding ingredients, enchants it, and then either buries it, leaves it at a crossroads, or puts it out of sight somewhere.

That was a Hoodoo practice originally, with the basic formula for their creation that is followed by the average witch being a traditional technique done in the "closed" practice of Hoodoo.

But, what happened was they gained popularity back in the day and the average practitioner didn't realize their origins, so the idea kept getting passed around and it had a ton of broad, mass appeal that was attractive to post online. More and more people made them, ignoring its roots and really not even considering its roots, until eventually they've become so common place that searching the hashtag #spelljar on Instagram yields 125k+ results.

I've not seen one mention to Hoodoo going through this tag.

But, because it's a popular and generic things these days that social media posters love to make for aesthetics and whatnot, no one gives af that really it's a textbook example of both appropriation and cultural erasure. This practice was never meant to be used by the average bourgeoise, white witch from the suburbs. It's original design was by that of POC in deep poverty using the tools and ingredients they had at hand, and most of their practices are used as a means to defend and get revenge on their "owners", since Hoodoo was started as a practice by New Orleans slaves in the early 1800s. Even after the 13th Amendment, Hoodoo was practiced by poor people, even if its spread to the rest of the lower class eventually. It's intent was to be used against and in spite of an oppressive ruler and their class, not by some hipster douche going for broad aesthetic appeal to gain ego-boosting likes.

But here's the thing, and this point I'm about to make is where I tend to offend the neoliberals and overly sensitive Oppression Police.

It's absolutely fine to use a Spell Jar as a person from any culture or class or whatever. What really matters at the end of the day is if you are respecting its origins and history, have good intent behind it use, give credit where it's due, and simply treat it with as much respect as possible.

This means doing shit tons of research on the practice and culture, crediting the origins when discussing it, doing it with good intent (to improve your life is okay. To get validation through social media is not.), and just doing everything you can to not be a fucking dick about it.

The simple fact of the matter is, every single culture ever created throughout of all human history has been the result of, in part, separate cultures combining and changing each other. The ideas of Kabbalah influenced the practices of the Knights Templar who in turn influenced the Rosicrucians, and so on and so forth.

All culture is derivative. All knowledge is derivative.

And that's okay. It's a good thing to learn from other cultures and experience beliefs outside your own and to use them as a source of growth and inspiration.

What's not okay is stealing a culture's identity and acting like you're the creator. Or to act like you're better than them and you improved it because you're superior. Or to take it and say it's wrong and evil and whatnot.

This obsession with gatekeeping traditional practices is extremely divisive and does nothing positive for humanity. It separates us and makes the claim that you are only allowed to participate in your own culture.

That's fucking ridiculous. If Crowley was never introduced to Egyptian mythology we'd never have Thelema. If the Golden Dawn wasn't inspired by Kabbalah we wouldn't have the Rider-Waite tarot deck. It is healthy and natural for different cultures to borrow from and inspire each other. This should be done respectfully, of course, but the average neoliberal extremist keeps trying to push this crazy idea that it's wrong to use from other cultures entirely, unless they're white in which case they're free to be shit on as much as you want.

Just be respectful, guys. That's the only real rule.

#magick #chaos magick #witchblr #witchcraft #witches of tumblr #technomancy #eclectic witch #witch blog #appropriation

11 notes · View notes