Dark Mountain

widow. witch. whatever.

[darkmountainoffering]

They told me. And they were right.

[malefixium]

the trees you grew up with have not forgotten you. their branches still whisper your name in the breeze and their roots remember the paths your feet once traced through their shade.

[darkmountainoffering]

[darkmountainoffering]

The Reckoning

a curse for guilt, grief, and remorse

It is the new moon.

I paint his name across my fingers among the sigils.

I clear a circle in the snow. I have shuffled my feet deosil. This circle will protect me.

I ward my circle with five iron spikes. The first spike faces Saturn. This circle will protect me.

I cast my circle with black salt and Angelica. This circle will protect me.

I invite the spirits of this mountain.

With a black candle, I invite the pine spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and its wisdom in my working.

With a black candle, I invite the creek spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and for the strength that shapes earth.

With a black candle, I invite the bear spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and for its fierce protection.

With a black candle, I invite the bone spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and for the aid of its ghosts in my working.

With a red candle, I invite the not-bear. I ask for its presence in my circle and for the dark retribution that claims those who stray from the path at night.

I thank them for their presence and their strength and their favor.

The spirits in this circle will protect me.

The purity of my intention will protect me.

I lay my altar cloth down in the snow facing Saturn. I invite the planet’s power of consequence and judgement and reckoning to my circle.

I fill a goblet with honey wine and place it on my altar cloth. This is an offering to the spirits of my circle.

I set a burner of horehound and nettle on my altar cloth. This is a burning offering to feed the spirits of my circle.

I crafted a candle for this working. It is black. It is studded with selenite to bring a sharp and painful clarity. Upon its length I carved his name.

I light this candle and set it upon my altar cloth.

I say his name. I read out his wretchedness and draw it to me. I speak his wrongdoings to the sky. I knit them together between my fingers into rope and I bind him. I wrap him in them tightly.

He is bound by his own wrongdoing.

I lay a mirror down in the snow.

He sees himself as he is. Everyone will see him as he is. He will be seen and he will know he is seen and he will be ashamed.

This mirror reflects his manipulation.

This mirror reflects his abuse.

This mirror reflects her monster.

He sees himself as he is. He wears the weight of his wrongdoings like chains and they crush him.

I bring a quartz down on the mirror.

I bring the glass to my altar cloth. I lay it around the working candle.

Each shard reflects a facet of his cruelty.

Each shard reflects inflicted damage.

Each shard reflects consequence.

He sees himself as he is. Everyone will see him as he is. He will be seen and he will know he is seen and he will be ashamed.

The glass cuts my finger. I give three drops of blood to the working candle.

One drop is for his poison tongue, wielded always as a weapon.

One drop is for his brutish will, used to crush and twist the world to his liking.

One drop is for the ghost he wields as a cudgel.

I name his transgressions. I knit them together between my fingers into rope and I bind him. I wrap him in them tightly.

He sees himself as he is. He wears the weight of his wrongdoings like chains and they crush him.

He sees himself as he is. He is haunted by his own living memory.

He is bound by his own wrongdoing.

He is smothered by his own wrongdoing.

I sit on my blanket in the center of my circle.

I name his transgressions. I knit them together between my fingers into rope and I bind him. I wrap him in them tightly.

I stay until my candle has smothered itself.

I release my hold on the chains of his misdeeds.

I deliver him to his shame.

I light a cigarette. I extinguish it on the glass.

I thank the the pines, and the creek, and the bear, and the bones, and the not-bear for their presence and their strength and their favor.

I close my circle.

[darkmountainoffering]

Initial Evaluation: C+

An apology was offered.

Moments of clarity have been observed.

Motivation remains unclear.

[darkmountainoffering]

Apocalypsebuddy

[darkmountainoffering]

[darkmountainoffering]

[hellenicpaganism]

[darkmountainoffering]

The Reckoning

a curse for guilt, grief, and remorse

It is the new moon.

I paint his name across my fingers among the sigils.

I clear a circle in the snow. I have shuffled my feet deosil. This circle will protect me.

I ward my circle with five iron spikes. The first spike faces Saturn. This circle will protect me.

I cast my circle with black salt and Angelica. This circle will protect me.

I invite the spirits of this mountain.

With a black candle, I invite the pine spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and its wisdom in my working.

With a black candle, I invite the creek spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and for the strength that shapes earth.

With a black candle, I invite the bear spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and for its fierce protection.

With a black candle, I invite the bone spirit. I ask for its presence in my circle and for the aid of its ghosts in my working.

With a red candle, I invite the not-bear. I ask for its presence in my circle and for the dark retribution that claims those who stray from the path at night.

I thank them for their presence and their strength and their favor.

The spirits in this circle will protect me.

The purity of my intention will protect me.

I lay my altar cloth down in the snow facing Saturn. I invite the planet’s power of consequence and judgement and reckoning to my circle.

I fill a goblet with honey wine and place it on my altar cloth. This is an offering to the spirits of my circle.

I set a burner of horehound and nettle on my altar cloth. This is a burning offering to feed the spirits of my circle.

I crafted a candle for this working. It is black. It is studded with selenite to bring a sharp and painful clarity. Upon its length I carved his name.

I light this candle and set it upon my altar cloth.

I say his name. I read out his wretchedness and draw it to me. I speak his wrongdoings to the sky. I knit them together between my fingers into rope and I bind him. I wrap him in them tightly.

He is bound by his own wrongdoing.

I lay a mirror down in the snow.

He sees himself as he is. Everyone will see him as he is. He will be seen and he will know he is seen and he will be ashamed.

This mirror reflects his manipulation.

This mirror reflects his abuse.

This mirror reflects her monster.

He sees himself as he is. He wears the weight of his wrongdoings like chains and they crush him.

I bring a quartz down on the mirror.

I bring the glass to my altar cloth. I lay it around the working candle.

Each shard reflects a facet of his cruelty.

Each shard reflects inflicted damage.

Each shard reflects consequence.

He sees himself as he is. Everyone will see him as he is. He will be seen and he will know he is seen and he will be ashamed.

The glass cuts my finger. I give three drops of blood to the working candle.

One drop is for his poison tongue, wielded always as a weapon.

One drop is for his brutish will, used to crush and twist the world to his liking.

One drop is for the ghost he wields as a cudgel.

I name his transgressions. I knit them together between my fingers into rope and I bind him. I wrap him in them tightly.

He sees himself as he is. He wears the weight of his wrongdoings like chains and they crush him.

He sees himself as he is. He is haunted by his own living memory.

He is bound by his own wrongdoing.

He is smothered by his own wrongdoing.

I sit on my blanket in the center of my circle.

I name his transgressions. I knit them together between my fingers into rope and I bind him. I wrap him in them tightly.

I stay until my candle has smothered itself.

I release my hold on the chains of his misdeeds.

I deliver him to his shame.

I light a cigarette. I extinguish it on the glass.

I thank the the pines, and the creek, and the bear, and the bones, and the not-bear for their presence and their strength and their favor.

I close my circle.

[darkmountainoffering]

[darkmountainoffering]

The winter is still but my hands are restless.

[darkmountainoffering]

The Appalachians are old. Ancient. Hundreds of millions of years of birth and death. It amazes me that these mountains, with their constant cycles of growth and decay, are fundamentally constant. They are older than trees. They have seen everything that was and will see all that is yet to be.

And this place? This ancient thing, built upon the accumulated energy of hundreds of millions of years, compressed and weathered and remade? This place that is so full of power and magic and history? It is just bursting, absolutely thrilled to share it all with us. It gives us plants that nourish us and plants that will heal us and plants that will kill us. It gives us springs and falls and lakes and rapids. It gives us its history and its ghosts and stories. It gives us the opportunity to be both predator and prey. It gives us back our dead and then teaches us why that is a thing for which we should not wish.

I lost the plot, but basically there is just so much here to draw from and to learn from. I have dug my feet into its dark earth. I have made my home in its woods. I have made it my magic.

[hancrow]

it is a PAIN in the ASS to get into paganism and/or witchcraft when you struggle with visualizing things

"just meditate" "feel the energy" "visualize the xyz" shut uuupppp im tryiinngggg

[darkmountainoffering]

So like, I got this one stuck in my beak. Sometimes we need to adapt the practice to our own nature. Some people struggle with visualizing, so maybe they should just think really intently about the thing? Describe the subject or intention to yourself internally. State the goal of your working, refine it, roll it over and over in your mind like you are polishing a stone. That you can craft your worship in words is it’s own gift. Worship in a way that suits your personal strong suit.

[coven-of-genesis]

Baneful Magic Isn’t Evil

Baneful doesn’t mean cruel. It means honest. Witches work with both creation and decay - because nature does.

You prune plants to help them grow. You burn herbs to release energy.

In the same way, a curse can be compost - it breaks down what’s toxic so new things can thrive.

Ethics in witchcraft aren’t about avoiding darkness; they’re about respecting the balance.

[darkmountainoffering]

it’s friday night and i’ve got a date with a ghost

[darkmountainoffering]

THE BONES!!

they tell me NOTHING!!

[darkmountainoffering]

you reap what you sow