As a fairly non-religious jew I don’t think I ever appreciated how badass the story of passover was until I considered how it would look to your average egyptian dude living through it

Imagine growing up all your life being waited on by a race of slaves who despite living in squalor cling to the belief that they were the chosen of this omnipotent elder god. You laugh this up, pray to Horus and then go about your day

Then one day, a slave with a robe and staff barges into the palace claiming to be the hand of an elder god and demands liberation. You grab the popcorn and try to get a front row seat while the two highest level clerics in the entire kingdom demolish the guy, then watch in shock as he summons a giant cobra and kills them both in one go.

Then, Over the next 10 days you watch this warlock proceed to flood your rivers with blood, summon hordes of wild vermin, drop a pestilence on your people and livestock.

All the while your king goes off and says “we don’t negotiate with terrorists”

Its at this point that the hand of a dark and ancient god has had enough, and with a wave of his scepter like a conductors baton, he calls down the fucking reckoning. As meteors stream from the sky, the warlock yells out his incantation. It’s not an ancient tongue, or poem of dread. Just four simple words: “let my people go”. With one more breath he raises his staff, and with the screaming of a million angels he puts out the sun

At this point I should point out that with each plague this sorcerer has turned the domain of one of your gods against you, starting with Sobek: god of the Nile and working his way up until it appears he has struck down Horus: the god of gods.

Your gods are dead, and the only one still alive is your pharaoh: the representative of the gods on earth

Now, with extreme prejudice, this sorcerer summons a fucking angel of death, and one by one it slaughters the heir of every family until your own king, a firstborn himself pleads for mercy and gives in.

As the freed slaves retreat, your king grins and unleashes a sneak attack, pinning the sorcerer and his people between an army and the sea. Finally this sorcerer, who the whispers say was a fallen prince, raises his staff in mock surrender, and when he brings it down the fucking ocean shatters. Leaving a jagged crack for his people to escape

God fucking damn that’s hardcore


“It is usually very common for old magic users to bind their sight to a loyal pet of their choice. Illnesses such as cataracts and glaucoma occur fairly often, and even magic is unable to cure these physical issues, being the eyes specially delicate organs; Spirit senses are very developed after years of experience, so it’s much easier to form a bond with the animal. Most of the time they report to being able to see much better than when they had their own eyes.”

Instagram ➡ celia.rguez


As a follow up to a post about DIY grimoires I saw last night, but can’t find again:
Being specialized in grimoires, I have worked with about 200 originals from the 16-/17-/1800’s. Here are a few spreads. As you can see, they are all quite a mess, which means your personal grimoire doesn’t have to be perfect!
Also, don’t worry about your book not appearing old and original - it will be in 50 years automatically. (Maybe even sooner, in these times where children almost aren’t taught handwriting anymore) 😄 Stay magical!

Crow Bone Hex

Crow Bone Hex

“A pentagram of nightshade berries, deadly as the vipers sting.
~The Visions they will conjure bring the spirits from the dark,

A saucer full of milk as pure as the moon, an unseelie offering.
~That tempts the greed of kindly ones so that they soon embark.

A dish of black ink, the abyss in night’s mournful eye,
~That seers call to wonder in the depths of wight’s fateful cry,

A length of twine to describe a circle for spirits to reside.
~That sigil traced to seal the pact of malefic alibi.

Six corvus bones set like a compass, to the four quarters called .
~The victim named, the spirit bound, the offering received at large,

Three black steel pins to bind it, ‘do your bidding after all.
~The spirit departs to deliver it’s venēficia to the stated charge.”

A raven’s feather to sign it, a pact of harm as sure as night.
The witches blood to seal the deed that burns as pure as light.