bloom and grow forever

House Plant Blessing Spell (By Scott Cunningham)

Originally posted by stiimboards

This spell will make sure your plants thrive and survive but also use logic plants do die if their not being taken care of right but this spell just tries to make them last a tiny bit longer.

You will need: Your Plant, One pencil or green pen, a small bit (not too big) piece of square paper, A bit of water.

Place the house plant and all other items on a flat surface near or in the place where you’ll grow the plant. Using the pencil or green pen, draw a simple small picture of the plant in vibrant health on the small piece of paper. Draw lines of energy streaming out from it. Visualize the plant’s future health as you’re doing this.

Next, gently brush the paper (Picture side down) against the plant, giving it love and energy, and possibly saying the following words:

“Shoots unfurl flowers bloom leaves uncurl in this room.

Plant of green forever strong, grow now here where you belong 

Roots push deep and branches climb by power of this rhyme.

Grow now, plant this is the time.”

As you say these words, block out all thoughts of past failures that you may have had with houseplants. This will only negate the power of the ritual.

Next, fold the paper with two creases into a small square. Place the paper under the plant’s pot or in the plant’s soil. As you do this say:

“I give you power.”

Move the plant to it’s new home. Water it while saying:

“I give you life.”

Hold your hands palms downward above the plant and say:

“I give you love” 

It should grow beautifully.

I hope you enjoyed this spell and if you have any questions or concerns don’t hesitate to ask or message me take care.-Imagine

Originally posted by normajeaned

@shadowwhisper21 @moonlightacademy @a-witch-named-lyd @a-witch-and-her-creatures @lavender-lunar-witch @witchofthebrew @an-earth-witch @aphroditewitche @thelittlesojourner @childoftheearthandsky @advicewitch @heatherwitch @lunarwanderess @teacupwiitch @ajourneyofmagick @wildernesswitchery @mapowupo

I am comprised of many precarious
nights that cannot be swallowed.

Clocks that demand council cease to
be dismissed.

I explore aloud as it helps me understand.

You are more and more forever my love,
more and more growing, blooming, charm.

As wide an expanse, as vast a sea, my
withered heart alone throbs within
yours seamlessly.

Sometimes I let go into the spell of you.
See where it takes me.

The impetus of impassioned words.

The catalyst for my purest poetry.

This Isn’t Love

Title: This Isn’t Love - Part 1

Words: 571

Pairing: Eventual Lucifer x Reader

Summary: Reader develops irrational feelings for the devil. But those feelings could never be reciprocated, could they?

Warnings: None yet. Eventual smut and goodness knows what else.

A/N: Taking a stab at a Lucifer series since this idea has been hanging around my head for so long.

This Isn’t Love – Part 1

Love isn’t something that can be explained, predicted or accounted for. It happens without sense or reason, without agenda or expectation, and it can only have two possible outcomes. The first is that the subject of your desires reciprocates; feelings bloom and grow and that person becomes irrevocably tied to your life forever. The second, and undoubtedly the more difficult of the two, is that the subject does not reciprocate, which they are free not too, but still they become tied to your life, hopelessly within reach of our finger tips, yet always just far enough that we can only brush up against it and never quite grasp it.

Sometimes love is slow building, evolving over time due to proximity or circumstance. Other times it’s instant, like a freight train barrelling over you without hearing it’s blaring warning sound or having a chance to dodge it’s oncoming. The possibility of love is always around us. It can be suffocating or life giving, it can be cruel or kind. But if there’s one thing you’d learned about love in all your years…

Man was it stupid.

Keep reading


she created your life
from within her womb
but spends her own life
creating you a home
she sang you sweet lullabies
from her lips
and from her heart
whispers prayers for you
she cradled you as an infant
in her tired and feeble arms
but calmed all your fears
in the strength of her embrace
she gently kissed the scrape
upon your wounded knee
and deep within her marrow
still holds your every pain
she nurtured you to grow
and bloom
but will forever carry
your burdens
within her soul


Grimoire - The Black Garden

I am Pujari. These are the visions I have had of the Black Garden.

The Traveler moved across the face of the iron world. It opened the earth and stitched shut the sky. It made life possible. In these things there is always symmetry. Do you understand? This is not the beginning but it is the reason.

The Garden grows in both directions. It grows into tomorrow and yesterday. The red flowers bloom forever.

There are gardeners now. They came into the garden in vessels of bronze and they move through the groves in rivers of thought.

This is the vision I had when I leapt from the Shores of Time and let myself sink:

I walked beneath the blossoms. The light came from ahead and the shadows of the flowers were words. They said things but I will not write them here.

At the end of the path grew a flower in the shape of a Ghost. I reached out to pluck it and it cut me with a thorn. I bled and the blood was Light.

The Ghost said to me: You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill. You do not belong here. This is a place of life.

The Traveler is life, I said. You are a creature of Darkness. You seek to deceive me.

But I looked behind me, down the long slope where the blossoms tumbled in the warm wind and the great trees wept sap like blood or wine, and I felt doubt.

When my Ghost raised me from the sea there was a thorn-cut in my left hand and it has not healed since.


Hey everybody! 

This is fic is dedicated to the tumblr blogger kommissartrash. Thank you very much for the idea sweetie! I really loved writing it. :)


“Yeah? Well maybe you’re too perfect! You’re just a robot with great legs!” Beca yells in frustration to Kommissar. 

From across the room. 

A crowded room. 

And it’s a very, very delayed response. 

But what’s she supposed to do when Kommissar says things like, “No need for nerves tomorrow Bella’s. We will win, simple as snapping the fingers. We are perfect, resign yourselves to second place.“ 

That woman is every level of frustrating. 

So yeah, that was her response. 

A compliment that should have been an insult. 

"She’s like lodged in my head and covering it up with black leather.” Beca moans to her friends. 

“What if she really is a robot? Maybe she’s in your head from some kind of robot ray.” Fat Amy muses. 

Ignoring that, Chloe takes Beca’s hands in hers and pulls her to the practice stage. 

“Just shake it off. We got this. We’re a ca-awesome." 

Beca nods, hoping it’s true. 

It’s later that night, and Beca’s getting nervous. 

Not because of performing, Beca’s done that enough to know how to shake away the stage fright, but because of Das Sound Machine’s performance. 

They’re continually immaculate in every number they do, and Beca knows their Worlds song will be perfect times ten. 

It will be extremely tough competition.

She’s pacing back and forth in the hotel lobby, needing a break from being the Bella’s leader and just be Beca. 

A freaking out Beca. 

A flash of white in her peripheral vision distracts her from her chaotic thoughts. She’s confused, it’s Pieter and Kommissar, but they’re not dressed in black for once. Kommissar is in a white shirt and jeans. Still her classic bun. 

It’s a good look on her. 

Beca shoos away that thought and notices the big black bag slung over Pieter’s red sweatshirt-ed shoulder. 

Beca considers herself a pretty chill person for the most part, letting people’s personal lives stay that way, but curiosity burns in her mind as she watches them leave. 

She follows after them. 

It’s not creepy. 

Really it’s not.

She needs some air anyway. 

And if she just happens to be walking in the same direction as the DSM leaders, that’s just coincidence right? 

At least that’s what she tells herself when she ducks behind a car because they turned to look behind them.

Ok, so Pieter and Kommissar might be the leaders of some kind of mob too. 

Just maybe.

Or leaders of some alley gang. 

Beca’s kind of regretting following them as the road they walk down gets continually darker and dirtier. 

She’s actually wondering if she’s going to end up getting shivved or shanked or whatever when they finally stop at a dingy looking building. 

Beca hurries inside, chest heaving as she climbs stairs leading to a second floor cafe. She immediately sits at a table nearest to the door, hiding her face with a newspaper she can’t read. 

The people already in the cafe ignore her, she’s grateful for their indifference. 

It’s actually nice inside the cafe, with comfy pillows resting on chairs placed next to windows overlooking the city. The view is beautiful, a dark river flowing between houses, the setting sun softening the brightly colored buildings.

"Guten Abend, Klaus.” Kommissar’s voice says, pulling Beca from her surprised observations. 

“Good evening, Kommissar." 

The blonde is talking to the manager of the place, he smiles at her. He seems comfortable around the intimidating Germans, as though they’ve been here before. Pieter moves across the room to a spot overlooking the river. 

Kommissar orders two coffees and sits by the window next to Pieter. He opens the bag, inside it is a mahogany acoustic guitar. More people trickle into the cafe as he tunes it, until the room is filled with all sorts of people, all watching his movements expectantly. 

Kommissar smiles, really smiles, at the small crowd that waits patiently for Pieter to start playing. 

It’s breathtaking. 

A light rises in her blue eyes, turning them crystal, and a beautiful sort of joy radiates from her being. 

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. 

Her face is stoic again, professional marble, and the room seems to dim. Pieter starts to softly strum chords on his guitar, catching the attention of every cafe patron. After the intro, he nods to Kommissar for her cue. 

Her mouth opens, and she starts to sing. 

"Edelweiss, edelweiss, every morning you greet me…" 

Her voice is softer and higher than her regular alto numbers with DSM. Her voice is clear, like a bell ringing through the peaks and valleys of Austria. 

It fills the room like a contented sigh. 

"Small and white, clean and bright, you look happy to meet me…" 

One by one, voices sing behind hers, her voice floating above the harmonies. 

"Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever…" 

The harmony is not perfect, it’s unpracticed, but the feeling behind it calls to the soul, entreating it to yearn for the things unspoken. 

The things treasured and never forgotten. 

The things both grand and small that burrow in the heart and turn it into a home.  

It’s such raw emotion, such power behind simple words, Beca’s eyes water. 

The voices ebb away towards the end, till only Kommissar’s melody can be heard. 

"Edelweiss, edelweiss, bless my homeland forever…" 

The last note holds, suspended in the heart of the room. 

It drifts and fades away. 

There’s a pause, a silence. 

The cafe still hung in that transcendent moment. 

The moment dissipates, as all things must, and applause replaces it. Whistles and choked laughs become the roar as people clap, some individuals wiping tears from their eyes.

Beca claps as well, whistling once as well, too moved to not join in with the crowd. 

Pieter starts another song, and she sings along with everyone else. Cool and chill exterior be damned, she’s solely in this point in time, all other thoughts and worries and futures mean nothing. 

Right now, there’s just more music, and Kommissar’s angelic voice singing to her soul.

"So, kleine maus, enjoy tonight?” Kommissar says, walking up from behind Beca, startling her. 

The little Bella doesn’t know how she had managed to do that, as she’d been staring at the duo the whole time and Kommissar hadn’t even looked at her once. Hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. 

She’d thought it was because she’d been stealthy enough to escape notice. 

“Don’t do that to a girl!” Beca screeches, her hand holding her suddenly pounding heart. Kommissar chuckles.

 "My apologies, tiny maus.“ 

"You- um- you did good. I mean, you did well tonight." 

Kommissar smiles slightly, but it’s nothing like earlier. Her eyes reveal little, and the height advantage she has on Beca makes any vulnerability she’d shown before completely vanish. 

"Thank you. Not bad for a robot, no?” She asks with wry amusement. 

“I’m sorry-" 

"No need for that. Germany takes great pride in its machinery." 

"You’re not a machine, and definitely not tonight. You were-are-you were radiant. Just absolutely radiant. I mean, I’ve always loved the song Edelweiss, but that was…” Beca stops rambling, searching for the least embarrassing word to say. She doesn’t find one. 

“Well, you know…" 

Kommissar saves her with a sincere nod of thanks. 

"So…what made you choose this place? I mean, it’s really out of the way.” Beca asks, trying to find a better topic that won’t turn her back into a flustered mess.

“Pieter and I found it a while ago. We were just trying to find a calm place to practice, but we favored this place most, and it became a habit. Many people in this area of the city do not have opportunities to see live performances, so when they asked to listen in, we did not refuse.”

“That’s nice of you.” Beca comments. Kommissar shrugs. 

“We did not do it to be nice, we did it because it wasn’t a bother and we get free coffee.” Beca frowns skeptically at that, but Kommissar’s face gives nothing away. 

“I don’t think I believe you.” Kommissar grins wolfishly, her hand reaching out to fix the random hair sticking out in front of Beca’s eyes. She pushes it behind her ear, it throws Beca off guard. 

She squeaks. 

“Rest up, kleine maus. You will need your energy for tomorrow. I’ll send Klaus to walk you back to the hotel." 

"What about you?” Beca asks, still dazed over the sensation of Kommissar’s velvet fingers across her forehead. A teasing smile flits across Kommissar’s face, she turns and walks back to Pieter. 

“Do not worry about me. After all, I’m a robot, with great legs." 

Beca stares at her retreating figure, the shape of her calves and…above her calves in those jeans is very distracting. 

Before she even thinks, she calls after her. 

"I still stand by that last part- Your legs really are great- I mean- this changes nothing! I’ll see you at Worlds!"