wax drippings

  • DeRosso: *wailing dramatically while wandering the halls of his dark mansion in a long black gentlemanly coat with a black feather trim that trails behind him about a foot over simple and elegant black silk pajamas, holding a fully lit candelabra and leaving a trail of wax drippings on his hardwood floors*
  • Yulyana: *turns on the hall light* we fucking talked about this
Methods for Spells

TO BIND- wrap in black thread, drip wax over, or seal in a jar and hide it in the dark.

TO BANISH- burn an effect to ash and sweep off the back door step, cast it out a window, or bury in the ground and spit on it

TO ENCOURAGE-  plant it by the front door/steps, bury by a window, or place it on a windowsill

TO HIDE- place in a jar painted black, cover with cloth and bury, or wrap with a ribbon

TO CLEANSE- bury it in a bowl of  salt, burn herbs and pass through the smoke, or lay it in a moonwater bath

TO GLAMOUR- leave under the full moon, hold its reflection over a mirror with herbs, or 

TO WISH- place before a candle and blow it out, drown a coin in water, or let seeds blow into the wind

TO COMMUNICATE- (with a spirit or deity) - anoint a candle, leave out offerings, or open the front doors and windows

TO WARD- leave part of the spell in four corners, draw lines around the protected area, or plant an object of projection in the north, east, south, and west edges

TO CURSE- spit on it, drag your nails down it, or stick sharp things in it

TO DISCOURAGE - plant or bury by the back door, or burn to ash

TO JINX- say it three times out loud, or say a word the same time as someone else

TO MANIPULATE - use wax, use poppets, or tie several strings to pieces of an effect

TO BENEFIT - light a candle, charge a crystal, or create a talisman

Jar Spell to protect American Minorities

Intent: To protect minorities in America from Trump and his supporters


  • a jar
  • purple, white, and black papers
  • something to write with
  • purple, red, white, blue, and black string


  • beads - bonus if they’re made of a crystal you associate with protection, peace, unity, etc.
  • white candle for freedom and safety
  • pink candle for love

As many of the following as possible:

  • lavender - peace, protection
  • cinnamon - peace, promoting change
  • angelica - protection, banishing negativity
  • eggshell - protection
  • aloe vera - protection, community
  • cloves - banishing, love, protection
  • any other herbs that you associate with protection

(long post, directions under the cut)

Keep reading

Here’s to the Witches

Here’s to the Witches with messy altars.

To the sisters that have cats with ragged ears and missing legs.

Here’s to the brothers with the altars all dripping wax and smothered in incense ash.

To the siblings with athames of stone and Books of Shadow smudged with coffee and last week’s breakfast.

Here’s to spells written in a rush but with love and care behind them.

To spells that don’t rhyme or really make sense when spoken but call storms to the sky.

Here’s to the Witches who sit Sundays in the pews and sing out the praise of the Risen God.

To the Witches who stand sky clad under the moonlight and pray by fire to the old Gods of Before.

Here’s to the Witches who learn when they are children, how to read the cards and the signs of the stars.

To the Witches who don’t learn until silver touches their hair how to cast the runes and the bones to sense a fair wind.

Here’s to the Children of the Witches they could not Burn.

To the Witches who snuck into the night with their books and wands and herbs clutched close to their chests.

Here’s to the Witches who flaunted their Spirit Boards in their sitting rooms and their crystals in their kitchens.

Here’s to the Witches.

Candy Hearts


Based on the word “Inevitable”

Draco’s eleven.

He’s gasping lungs and cracked open ribs as he clutches the acceptance letter in his pocket and glances up at the frost laced rooftops of Diagon Alley, realizes that there’s an entire world beyond the manor walls and he hadn’t even realized it.

He’s eleven and catching sight of her through shop window reflections like crystal balls. Dragging himself into Florish and Bots because there’s curiosity, no, interest, no, enchantment, maybe, ebbing like magic through the whorls of his fingertips. And she’s in his peripheral, schoolbooks clutched to her chest and smile soft, eyes wide and lashes fluttering. Luminescent in the light filtering through the window.

Draco watches as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, strains on her tiptoes to reach a book on one of the higher shelves and –

“Here,” he says, grabs the book and slips it into her hands. Ignores the spark that catches between their fingertips and tugs, oh yes, he’s close enough to see the color of her eyes like rainbows reflected through a prism, the butterfly soft smile that traps itself against her mouth as she meets his eyes –

Says her name, “Y/N,” like wind chimes or a symphony.

And Draco thinks that it might as well be a spell.


Draco’s twelve.

He’s glances cast across a classroom, over his shoulder, when he hopes that nobody is looking. Fingers brushing and elbows knocking and, “Excuse me, I didn’t watch where I was going.” He did, and he’d be lying if he said that touching her felt anything less than a charm.

He’s twelve and he’s the pride swelling in his chest at his first Quidditch match when he can hear her somewhere below him, cheering his name. He tells her that she’s his good luck charm the next day, doesn’t quite catch the blush that suffuses her cheeks before he turns away.

But it’s the last day of term and she’s slipping by him in the train corridor and, “Have a good summer, Draco,” she says, hesitates, brushes her lips against his cheek.

He hadn’t quite believed in magic, until then.


Draco’s thirteen.

He’s Blaise’s snickering and Pansy’s knowing looks and jealousy, hot and potent, bubbling like a potion he hadn’t managed to get right in his stomach as Cormac McLagen smirks and smiles and sidles up beside Y/N in the Great Hall during breakfast one day.

He’s thirteen and he’s fucking captivated as snowflakes dust Y/N’s lashes and the wind twirls the ends of her scarf, as she wipes butterbeer from her upper lip and giggles at something that one of her friends whispers into her ear.

“I’ll help you back,” he offers, seizes a chance, when her friends have run ahead of her on the path back to the castle.

And she smiles at him, tucks an arm through the crook of his elbow. Tells him about the trouble she’s been having in Transfiguration lately and if she can’t figure it out her parents will have her head for sure and –

“I can tutor you, if you’d like,” he says, wonders if Blaise had spiked his pumpkin juice with Felix Felicis that morning. Hopes that she can’t feel his heartbeat through the jut of his elbow.

“I’d love that,” she replies.

And he can’t quite believe his luck.


Draco’s fourteen.

He’s library desks cluttered with books and ink blotches, Madam Pince’s furious hushing when he and Y/N forget to be quite. The way light streaks and shimmers around her, distorted as though they’re drowning in the Black Lake.

He’s fourteen and strangely, oddly hopeful as he clasps her fingers, marvels at the fit of her hand in his, shows her the correct hand motion and heart stops, starts, stutters when she doesn’t quite pull away.

“I aced my last test,” she tells him, runs towards him in the corridor, throws her arms around his neck till he can feel her heartbeat crash against his.

“I guess you don’t need a tutor anymore then,” he says. A frown is burgeoning on the cusp of his mouth.

“No, no,” she says hurriedly. “I still do.”

And he isn’t sure why he hasn’t transfigured this, them into something else yet.


Draco’s fifteen.

He’s the firewhiskey on his lips and the castle floor on the palms of his hands as he reaches forward and spins the bottle yes, hopes, wonders, waits as it spins, spins, lands on her, oh yes.

He’s fifteen and he’s the lip-gloss on her lips, the way they crash head on like a train-wreck, a car crash and he doesn’t have an algorithm for this: him, her, the kiss.

Because her mouth fits neatly against his and she tastes like melted sugar, like cotton candy, all soft edges and fluttering pulse points. His eyes are closed and he can’t quite believe/ only he can, he’d rigged the game.

Afterwards, afterwards, afterwards:

He pulls her into a broom cupboard and threads his fingers through her hair, tastes butterbeer on her tongue and feels his tonsils glued together because this is a secret and he can’t quite find the right words to say.

But things are different, they’re different and he holds her hands as he walks her to class, kisses her across the tabletop in Honeydukes and grabs her, twirls her after Quidditch matches. He wraps his scarf around her neck and they pass notes in class, sit at the top of the astronomy tower at night and map out the handful of constellations that they know.

It’s this: him, her, and how he hadn’t anticipated that the winds would change.


Draco’s sixteen.

He’s late night kisses and early morning platitudes, worried questions and, “Draco, I know something’s wrong.” The mark on his arm and the worry that’s coiled tight in his gut as he attempts to keep it covered up.

He’s sixteen and he’s breaking, the world too heavy on Atlas’ shoulders. Because he has a noose around his neck and he can’t do it, can’t, can’t, can’t.

They lose their virginity to each other the night before he’s meant to kill Dumbledore. And it’s like falling through a pensieve to a memory he didn’t know he had; soft lips and rolling hips and gasps, teeth, fingers fit neatly in the groove of her waist.

Here’s how it goes:

A girl, a boy, a tragedy. He’s Icarus and she’s the sun and it’s not her that kills him, oh no, it’s the ocean and melted wax dripping down his back.

He tells her ‘I love you’ before he tells him ‘I have to kill you’.

And there’s a green light and he’s Gatsby and he’s never managed to reach what he wanted, no, has only ever been a cautionary tale.

He’s sixteen and he’s a mistake, a heartbreak, the boy who made all the wrong choices.


Draco’s seventeen.

He’s the shards of a broken chandelier stuck in his mouth, his hands, vocal chords torn to ribbons as lights flash green and screams echo through the hallowed corridors of the manor. The letters he’d sent her that don’t have a reply, the ragged stitches of a heart never meant to mend.

He’s seventeen and the room of requirement is burning around him, life flashing before his eyes, flames licking at his heels. It’s her, her, her. And Crabbe’s gone, the room is charred but it’s not over yet, is never over.

There’s blood on his hands and in his throat when he sees her again. When he grabs her, yells, watches as a Death Eater’s body crumbles to the floor.

Her palm is sweaty against his, breaths ragged and tears sooty.

There’s a war raging around them and he finds that he doesn’t quite care.


Draco’s eighteen.

He’s the faded mark on his arm and the ring in his pocket and the happiness – cautious, unsure, new – that permeates the walls of his new home with her. Because the war is over and the world is still turning.

He’s eighteen and he’s a happy ending, maybe, a fairytale that didn’t quite end with them riding off into the sunset but ended like this instead: him and her and he thinks that that’s all he ever really needed.

There’s a hole where I kicked in the cabinet
and my mother says I’m sick.
I keep a full bottle of my happy pills by my bedside
in case I reach out and take it.
There is food rotting,
I can’t keep my room clean for more than a week
and I can’t remember the last time I changed my sheets.
The thing is, I can make things pretty,
disguise them with allegories, metaphors and use similes.
I can say I am writing in the sky, a love note, a joyful goodbye,
but I am ruining the flesh I wear.
The truth is I messed up my liver with one too many tries,
I live a life knowing I am destined to die at the hands of suicide.
As hard as it is to say,
the truth sprayed with a sparkle of light
the people I let down,
the fires I ignite.
I am a burning candle dripping wax,
God forgive my withering flame.
“Be Fucking Quiet” Curse

For noisy nuisances in your life who are fucking obnoxiously loud when you’re trying to have peace.

Originally posted by soul-vintage

What You’ll Need

  • A black candle
  • A taglock of your nuisance
  • A poppet made of biodegradable materials
  • Duct tape
  • Chicory
  • Lime
  • Onion
  • Nightshade
  • Poppy seeds
  • Tormentil

What To Do

  • Stuff your nightshade and poppy seeds into the poppet along with the taglock.
  • Burn the chicory to make ashes and draw the face of the nuisance on the poppet with those ashes.
  • Squeeze lime juice onto the mouth of the poppet and squeeze the onion into the eyes.
  • Tape the tormentil onto the mouth of the poppet.
  • Drip black wax over the face while saying “You’ve annoyed me long enough so be fucking quiet.”
  • Bury the poppet deep into the ground.
  • To break the curse say dig up the poppet, remove the tape, wash the poppet’s face away, drip white wax onto it and say “You may speak again.”

you’re burning inside,
a fire’s confined by your mind—
how is this considered fine?

burnt out embers—
charcoal is all that remains
of your faded memories

your voice is a wildfire,
emitting sparks
with every word you speak

a fire kindles in your heart
spreading heat through arteries,
yet still your hands are frigid

aura set aflame—
a futile attempt
to become the sun

a candle flickers,
its wax melts and drips
while you moth to its
dying light

charcoal shadows
and ashen ghosts—
you only meant 
to quell the fire

your soul is burnt—
a bitter reminder to
never let warmth in

a bonfire crackling
in the dead of night
burning brighter
with every step you take   

there are ashes in your hair
the world is burning,
but you do not care 

you light matches in the wind
to watch their smoky deaths
(like you, their warmth never lasts)

in the flames you swear you saw a phoenix,
but closes your eyes and its fiery wings
disappear yet again

—  fire poetry for the signs // fauxastrology
“Search and Destroy” Curse

This curse is inspired by the covered song from Sucker Punch, this curse is for someone who’s cursed you before but you don’t know who cursed them. I recommend you do this after you’ve cleansed yourself of their curse.

Originally posted by spaceandaliens

What You’ll Need

  • Sea Salt
  • Black Candle
  • 4 Crabs shells
  • Chili Powder
  • Mace
  • Onion
  • Lime
  • Chicory
  • Rosemary
  • Agrimony
  • This sigil

“Have a taste of your own medicine and suffer.“

What To Do

  • Surround yourself in a circle of salt.
  • Draw the sigil on the crab shells.
  • Stuff your empty crab shells with mace, chicory, and chili powder, rub them with the onion and squeeze lime juice over them.
  • Have the crabs facing the candle for crabs walk backwards, so the this curse will be sent to the original sender. They’ll act as agents, the “search” in the “search and destroy.”
  • Say/Think “You’ve cursed me now it’s only fair that another curse comes to you, you’ll have a taste of your own medicine and you shall suffer.”
  • Drip black wax onto the crabs to activate the sigil and the curse.
  • Blow out your candle and bury the crabs north, south, east, and west on your property but have them facing your home because remember crabs walk backwards, thus sending back.
  • After you’re done mix your rosemary and agrimony with your salt while you’re still in the circle.
  • Salt the entrances of your space so they can’t send anything back.
3 Nights of Hell Candle Spell

This spell will inflict serious pain and sores on thine enemy for a period of 3 strange days. After which the spell is lifted he is made well again.Take a black candle and place a picture of thine enemy in front of you and tilt the candle so the wax drips upon the would be victim in the picture. Visualize the wax burning sores into the body of thine enemy. While doing so, recite the following 3 times…

“As I do this candle spell Bring thine enemy 3 nights of hell Candle black, black as night Bring him pains of flesh tonight! lesions on his skin will grow Afflict him with a painful blow Sores and pain afflict him now for 3 nights he’ll wonder how Dukes of darkness, Kings of hell Smite thine enemy, bring him hell when 3 nights of pain have past Make him well, well at last”.

After sitting and thinking about the sores that will infflict your enemy and the pain he will suffer you may then extinguish the candle. When 3 nights have past tear up the photo and say the following…

“When 3 nights of pain endured, I lift this curse rest assured Darkness leave him, go away, the curse is lifted now, today!

Cheap Perfume

Requested by @elliewatermelonlemonheart

Based on Pacify Her by Melanie Martinez

Dedicated to the always lovely @angel-fire

The world comes to an end on Tuesday.

Because its a thawing, blossoming Tuesday in spring when Draco Malfoy pulls a ring from his pocket, bends down on one knee, proposes to the youngest Greengrass sister; and the spectators watch with avid eyes and proscetto slick lips the Malfoy boy in the Malfoy garden with the Malfoy heirloom. They watch and they don’t quite remember that just a year ago he’d been a causality of war.

But Draco Malfoy proposes. Recites a speech about pinks of cheeks and diamond bright eyes, souls meant to be stitched together and something like happiness budding in the sorer parts of his soul.

He proposes, and she says yes, and he can’t quite keep his eyes off the girl entangled in one of the rose bushes; watching the scene with sorrowful eyes and a flat line mouth.

The world ends on a Tuesday.

But it doesn’t quite stop spinning.


Keep reading


Supress, bind, stop, and crush spell

This spell was written to stop someone in their tracks. It doesn’t require herbs, crystals, or special componentss, but feel free to add them as you feel.

What you will need:


-6 (preferably black) candles (if not available, use other source of energy i.e. crystals, herbs, etc…)


-6 needles

-A poppet of the person you wish to bind

What you shall do:

Place the object of representation on your surface and draw the first ring with salt while saying the following incantation:

Hunc anulum dabo veritatem

Draw the sigils with the chalk and place your 4 candles in their respective place. Draw the second ring with the salt and while you do so repeat:

Huis ego slugged vobis

Draw the sigils for the third circle in chalk and then the circle with salt while reciting:

Tertio actu prohibere te

Trace the last sigils, place your candles and draw the final circle while repreating:

Haec ego stridebo super vos

Now, let the candles burn down and fuel the spell. Once the candles are down to a stub, take the poppet and drive a needle in each limb, the head, and the heart. Fold the poppet on itself and drive the needles through the folded part, in order to make the poppet face itself. Then, take each stub and drip wax unto the poppet.

Store in a dark place. The person targeted should not continue to do you wrong.


Focus/Prosperity jar. 🔮👌🏽💪🏽😏🤑😍

Felt a little down on my luck in terms of focusing on my work and studies, productivity (which was effecting my income), and it was effecting my love life so I decided to do a spell jar to bind more positive energy to these areas of my life. I also included the intent of this spells towards my sister who’s been having the same trouble.

Ground and cleanse yourself and your area with a relaxing incense and white candles of your choosing.

I chose lavender as the herb/flower to fill my jar with to help with calming me and focus so that I could work and study more efficiently. And crystal quartz as a charge, as it is helpful in all spells.

My spell candles were as follows (note that a lot of people associate different colors with different meanings. There is no wrong way to do this. Pick the colors that you associate with specific meanings.)

•Green for productivity and wealth. 💚
•Purple for focus and calm. 💜
•White for cleansing my spirit, and a boost for focus. 💟
•Pink for healing my relationships that have been effected by my lack of focus. 💞

To do the spell is simple. Focus your intent on the jar while holding your crystal in one hand and candle of choice in the other. State your wishes out loud for each candle and carefully drip the wax on the top of the jar to seal it shut. Do this for each color you chose.

You don’t have to use as many as I did. I have issues lol. It’s all about you!

I forgot to add to keep your jar near you while you work. 🔮👌⚡️✨😌
  • jongdae: *wailing dramatically while wandering the halls of the dorms in a long black chiffon dressing gown with a black feather trim that trails behind him about a foot over a simple and elegant black silk slip dress, holding a fully lit candelabra and leaving a trail of wax drippings on the hardwood floors*
  • minseok: *turns on the hall light* we fucking talked about this
  • Jongdae: *wailing dramatically while wandering the halls of the dorms in a long black chiffon dressing gown with a black feather trim that trails behind him about a foot over a simple and elegant black silk slip dress, holding a fully lit candelabra and leaving a trail of wax drippings on the hardwood floors*
  • minseok: *turns on the hall light* we fucking talked about this