Of course, only put in your book of shadows/grimoire what you want. If you don't want to put certain subjects in your book then that's fine. It's your book, utilize it how you want. This is just a masterlist of ideas that I've put together. Feel free to add anything else to the list that I may have missed, because there's absolutely no way I included everything.
And for the love of all the gods, if you come across a closed entity or practice, don't try to work with the entity or practice if you're not already part of that group or tradition. You can research it but don't practice it.
Thank you so much for this!!! I just used this to create a grimoire server and template and I'm excited to rebuild the foundations of my practice with this! It's gonna help me a lot
Here's the template if anyone wants to use it for themselves! :)
A basic grimoire server based on a Tumblr post by "manifestationsofasort" to help you start your own digital grimoire.
summary: the governor seems to have taken you hostage because of his last conversation with rick. but only if he knew that taking you was the worst thing he could have done.
warnings: swearing, gore, violence, kidnapping, angst, torture, yelling, descriptions of injury & blood, weapons use, death and a bit of possessiveness (from rick)
word count: 4.0 k
𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Not even when his dead ex—wife Lori was about to give birth and they didn't have a place for her to deliver the baby. And not when the farm was burning down and they were on the road for months, starving, desperate, barely hanging on.
But this was different. This was you.
You, who had been by his side since he met you. You, who saw through the cracks in his armor, who never flinched when he fell apart behind closed doors. You, who held Judith like she was your own, whispering soft reassurances when the nights were too quiet, too dangerous.
You, who stood beside him, gun in hand, every single time, ready to protect your family. You, who made him believe—if only for a second—that there was something worth surviving for.
And now you were gone.
His hands were trembling, but he clenched them into his fists, multiple times out of anger, as the quietness of the prison enveloped him. Perhaps, it was too quiet.
Not the calming kind of the quiet, but the kind of quiet that settled deep into Rick's chest and squeezed, making it hard for him to even breathe.
He could feel everyone’s eyes on him—Daryl, Hershel, Glenn, Carol, Maggie, Michonne, Tyreese—but he didn't care. All he cared about was you and the thought of you being alone, out there with him, the Governer, made him sick to his fucking core.
“We need to go. Now.” His voice was rough, strained, and held a barely restrained edge of panic.
“Rick.” Hershel’s voice was calm and firm but all Rick heard was the static buzzing in his ears. “You’re no good to her like this.”
Rick’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “You don’t get it. We don’t have time. Every second we waste, she’s—” He cut himself off, his throat tightening painfully. He couldn’t say it. “I ain’t sittin’ here, not while she’s out there with him.”
Daryl shifted beside him, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes dark and unreadable. “Ain’t sayin’ we don’t go after her.” He said, voice low and even. “But we go in half—cocked, we’re in trouble. She needs us alive.”
Rick swiped a hand over his face, the stubble scraping his palm. His breath was coming too fast, too shallow. The thought of you—hurt, trapped—sent something ugly clawing inside his chest. He couldn’t let himself picture it. Couldn’t let himself feel it.
“She ain’t got time.” He said, his voice quieter now but no less desperate. “We gotta go now. We don’t wait. I ain’t lettin’ that son of a bitch keep her another second.”
His gaze flicked around the group, searching for any hesitation, any sign of doubt. He started walking, his hand on his rifle, his jaw clenched and a fire in his eyes. He was about to open the cell door to leave when a figure appeared in front of him.
Michonne appeared in front of him, her katana strapped to her back, staring him in the eyes.
“Michonne.” Rick gritted out, staring at her furiously. “Move.”
Michonne didn’t budge. “You can’t just walk out there alone.”
Rick’s nostrils flared, his grip tightening on the strap of his rifle. “I ain't askin’.”
Maggie, standing with her arms crossed, exchanged a look with Glenn, worry plain on her face. “Rick, we all want her back. But we go in now, we’re walkin’ into a slaughter.”
Rick didn't turn around but his chest heaved. He knew they were right, but logic didn’t matter in his mind—not when it came to you. He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t breathe right.
“She’s tough.” Carol said softly, stepping forward. “She’s strong. She’s holdin’ on. And we are gonna get her back, Rick.”
Rick shook his head and stumbled back. “I shoulda’ been there.” He muttered under his breath. “Shoulda’—shoulda’ protected her.”
His voice cracked, and his shoulders tensed when he realised you weren't there in that moment to put a hand on his shoulder and reassure him.
Daryl clapped a hand on his shoulder instead and Rick flinched at the unfamiliar warmth from his hand. “We’re gonna fix it. But you gotta keep your head, aight?”
Rick closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “I need her back. I can’t—” He stopped, his throat tightening again. “We move out at sunrise. No longer.”
And if anyone had a problem with it, they could fucking stay behind for all he cares.
A dull throbbing pain echoes through your skull, dragging you out of your unconsciousness. A bright light immediately hit your eyes and your head lolled to the side, immediately squinting your eyes when a sharp sting stabbing your temple, where dried blood lay.
You shifted more and your felt the cold bite of the chair, sending a shiver up your spine. Your froze and tried to move more, only to realise that your eyes were tied behind your back.
A low groan escaped your lips as you blinked, your vision swimming in and out of focus. There was a dim light above you, casting a dark shadow across the room and then you saw him.
The Governor.
He sat on a chair, in the corner, legs crossed watching you with amusement gleaming in his one eye. “Look who’s finally awake.” He drawled. “I was startin’ to think you wouldn’t make it.”
You swallowed, tasting copper in your mouth and rolled your jaw, trying to relieve the pain. “Sorry to disappoint.” You muttered, voice hoarse. “Hope you dint’ miss me too much.”
The Governor chuckled. “I knew Rick had a thing for the feisty ones.”
Your stomach churned at the mention of Rick, but you didn't show how it affected you and rolled your eyes. “That why you dragged me here? To talk about my love life? Aren't you a gossip girl?”
The Governor gritted his teeth, irritation flicking through his eyes as he stood up, walking towards you. “Actually, darlin’, I brought you here, not only because Rick defied my orders and now I'm teaching him a lesson, but I wanted to see if that smart mouth of yours would hold up after a few. . . reminders.”
“Well sorry to break it to you, darlin’,” You tilted your head and smirked. “But you're not as scary as you think.”
It seemed he didn't like that very much by his fist connecting to your right cheek. Your head snapped to the side and blood dripped from your lip. You let out a ragged breath and your turned your head to face him again, a smirk still playing on your lips.
“Is that really how hard you can go?” You rasped out. “Rick hits harder.”
His eye twitched and his fist flew at your face again, and again, making your vision blur. Your ears were ringing and you were swimming in and out and focus but you refused to let yourself break. Not in front of him. Not ever.
You tasted the sweet but salty metallic taste of blood in your mouth again but you swallowed it down and a weak laugh erupted from your mouth, making the Governor's jaw to clench in irritation.
“You're fucking weak.” You slurred, earning another punch to your face. Your head snapped to the side and you tilted your head back. “Come on, really? I thought you were like, the big bad wolf.”
“You never know when to shut up, do you?” He snapped, his voice low.
“Not when I'm having this much fun.” You smiled fakely and met his gaze head on.
His hand shot out, grabbing your chin in a bruising grip, forcing your head back. “You think this is fun?” He sneered, tightening his fingers on your jaw. “Let's see how fun it will be when Rick watches in front of his very eyes as I kill you.”
He let go of your jaw and pushed your head backwards. You pouted mockingly and frowned at him. “Are you sure you want to kill me when I have this pretty face?”
Another punch landed on your face because of your comment and your head snapped to the side once again. You whistled and you used most of your strength to loll you head back so you were facing him.
“You're getting really worked up.” You pointed out, amusement gleaming in your eyes. You then took notice of his knuckles that were now dripping blood. “You should really go and clean that up before it gets any worse. You know, don't want your blood mixing with mine. That's so unhygienic.”
There was obvious sarcasm in your voice but the Governor didn't seem to comment or do anything about it. His jaw clenched and a chuckle escaped his mouth. “I can't wait till’ I wipe that grin off your fucking face.”
“Good luck, darlin’.” You called out mockingly as he walked towards the door.
“Let's hope Rick hurries,” He said over his shoulder and then turned to look at you. His eyes roamed over your bloody face but they landed on your bare thighs. “I’d hate for him to find you in worse shape.”
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you in the dimly lit room. You let out a shaky breath eyes flickering to your bare thighs, no trousers, only thing protecting was your underwear.
A cold shiver went down your spine as the weight of his words draped over you like a blanket. Your breath hitched but you refused to show fear — the sick bastard wanted that.
And you would never give him what you wanted.
Swallowing, you shifted in your chair, testing the tightness of the ropes around the wrists. Your jaw clenched as the ropes didn't give in, not even a little. A frustrated sigh erupted from you and you eventually gave up, trying to free your hands.
You looked around, trying to look for something to help you out but there was absolutely nothing in sight for you to use. You couldn’t even use the chair to help you because it was metal. What the fuck?
Sighing, you slumped back into your chair and dropped your head forward. You shut your eyes closed and tried to steady your breathing but you only had one thought one thing in your mind.
Rick, please hurry.
Rick’s hands moved with precise precision, loading rounds into his rifle. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark with anger as he loaded a magazine in his pocket.
There was no way in hell he was waiting until sunrise.
His breath was ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears as his hands moved with urgency. The thought of you out there, alone, with him—it made his chest tighten, made his fingers curl a little too tightly around the rifle in his hands. Every second that passed felt like another knife twisting in his chest.
He needed you. Now.
He put down the rifle and grabbed his revolver, slipping it into his holster, when a voice cut through the quiet night.
“You didn't think that you would go without us, did you?”
Rick froze, fingers hovering over the rifle. Slowly, he looked up, his sharp blue eyes finding the rest of them. Standing there was Michonne with her arms crossed and her katana resting easily on her side.
Daryl, with his crossbow already in his hand, a knowing look on his face like he already expected this. Glenn stood next to him, a rifle slung over his shoulder, a tense but resolute expression on his face. Maggie stood behind him, arms crossed and Tyreese stood next to her, nodding at Rick firmly.
Rick sighed, running a hand down his stubble. “Knew I couldn’t slip out without you noticing, huh?”
Glenn stepped forward with a tired smile. “We knew you’d try and sneak off while we were sleeping.”
Daryl huffed, stepping forward with Glenn. “Ain’t your fight alone, man.”
Rick exhaled, nodding, his glaze flickering between all of them. He didn’t necessarily like leaning on others but right now he was very grateful. He swallowed before looking over at them once again.
“Where’s Carol?” He asked gruffly, reaching for his holster.
“She’s stayin’ back.” Maggie answered. “Lookin’ after Judith and Carl with my daddy. Said someone had to keep things together here while we go.”
Rick nodded again, putting the rifle strap over his shoulder. He couldn't argue with that. Carol was smart—she knew what had to be done. But right now, he wasn't focused on that.
“Alright,” Rick said, his voice firm. “Let's go.”
And as they moved through the prison, Rick only had one thing in mind. The Governer had you. And Rick was coming for him.
Rick had been angsty the entire drive to Woodbury. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned white as he sped down the road. His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal was his other leg shaked.
The truck engine roared in response of going faster but Rick didn’t care. All that was on his mind was you.
Michonne had looked at him and had told him to calm down before he drives them all into a ditch. Her exact words.
Her words didn’t exactly help much but no one expected it to. He lost his mind when it came towards you and he was already too far gone. The only thing that was keeping him afloat was that he would deliver you home, safely, in his arms.
However, his mind drifted off to the negatives that made his chest close up. If he couldn't find you. If he touched you—
Rick’s nostrils flared from where he was walking down one of the corridors of the Governor’s house. Explosions were going off in the background which was Glenn and Maggie’s doing.
Footsteps followed behind him as he kicked one of the doors open and quickly looked inside to see if you were there. He repeated the same process for a few more doors down and panic clawed in his chest when he saw you weren’t in any of them.
Shit. Where were you—
“Rick! She's in ‘ere!”
Rick ran the fastest he could in his life. He had his gun raised if anyone else was in the room but the gun in his hand slowly clattered on the floor as he took you in. It felt like as if time slowed.
The sight of you nearly took him to his knees in despair.
Slumped in a chair, all bruised and bleeding. His hands trembled as he roamed his eyes all over you, taking in every cut and every bruise. Your head hung forward, your face swollen and battered and a trail of blood ran down your temple. Your trousers were gone, leaving you in your underwear.
He crossed the room in three long strides, falling to his knees before you with a shaky exhale. His hands were cradling your face with such gentleness that you wouldn't even know that he was angry, if you didn't see the violence in his eyes.
“Oh God,” He murmured, his voice breaking as he stroked your cheek, where dry blood was. “I'm ‘ere, sweetheart, I'm ‘ere.”
At his touch, your eyelids slowly opened and you smiled weakly as you saw him in front of you. “Fucking finally.”
At your words, Rick let out a weak laugh as Daryl worked on untying the ropes behind your back. He pressed a long kiss against your temple and he shut his eyes as he felt tears coming to them. “I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry.”
Once Daryl got your ropes undone, you winced and rolled your shoulders from being in that position for so long. Rick’s hands were on you again, checking you for any more injuries he missed. His eyes landed on your thighs and if possible, his eyes darkened even more as he saw bruises litter all over your thighs to your legs.
He lifted his eyes up to yours but this time, his voice was low and dangerous. “Did he touch you?”
You shook you head, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Not like that. Dickhead just used his fists.”
Rick let out a shuddering breath and took off his jacket, placing it on your legs before picking you up bridal style, making sure you were comfortable.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard explosions going on outside, and you craned your head to look up at Rick as he carried you. “Why do I hear explosions?”
Rick walked down the dimly lit corridor, with you in his arms and the rest following behind him, weapons ready. “That's Glenn, sweetheart.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain for a ‘Glenn’. “Our Glenn? Pizza delivery guy, Glenn?”
Daryl gave you a look as he walked beside Rick, crossbow in hand. “You kno’ any other Glenn, sunshine?”
You shrugged. “Glen Powell.”
“I think he might be dead by now, sweetheart.” Rick huffed out a laugh as he turned to walk down another corridor. However, the laugh abruptly stopped when he saw there was door at the end of the corridor, a few metres away from where they were supposed to leave.
His eyes darkened, the reminder of what happened to you but then he looked down at you. You looked up at him, somehow knowing what he was thinking and nodded.
Rick took that as consent and gently handed you over to Daryl, who put his crossbow on his back and carried you in his arms. Rick kissed your forehead and you murmured a ‘be safe’ to him.
“Get her out of here. Keep her safe.” Daryl nodded at Rick and left through the exit, towards the outside. Everyone else followed him except Michonne, who looked at him.
“You need help?” Michonne asked and Rick immediately shook his head.
“Nah, need to do this myself.” He gritted out and walked towards the door. He kicked the door open, seeing the back of the Governor and he felt something indescribable rise in him.
I found you, you son of a bitch.
The Governor barely had time to register what was happening before Rick slammed him against the wall, his forearm pressing hard against his throat. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the corner, casting shadows across Rick’s face and the Governor almost shuddered.
He looked like he came out a fucking nightmare.
“What the hell were you going to do with her?” Rick growled, his voice low, and trembling with barely restrained fury. His eyes were wild, his face inches away from the Governor’s. “You sick son of a bitch.”
The Governor smirked, his one good eye locking onto Rick’s. “She put up a fight, I’ll give her that,” He rasped, his voice dripping with something vile. “But I was just getting started.”
Rick snapped.
His fist connected with the Governor’s face so fast and so hard that there was a sickening crack. The Governor’s head snapped to the side, blood splattering against the wall, but he wasn’t done. Not even close.
He punched him again. And again, until he fell to the floor and Rick straddled him and carried on punching him.
“You touched her?” Rick’s voice was ragged, broken, each word punctuated with another punch. “You thought you could lay a fucking hand on her?”
The Governor’s head lolled to the side, blood streaming from his nose and split lip, but Rick didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. All he could see was you, tied up, bruised, bleeding, and he suddenly went rogue.
Rick’s hands curled around the Governor’s throat, pressing down, his breathing ragged and uneven. His fingers dug into the flesh, cutting off his air, and for a moment, all that existed was the sound of the Governor’s choking gasps and the blood roaring in Rick’s ears.
“I should kill you slow.” Rick seethed, his teeth bared in a snarl. His grip only tightened, his thumbs pressing harder into the man's windpipe. “Make you suffer for what you did to her.”
The Governor clawed weakly at Rick’s arms, his face turning red, then purple. But Rick didn’t feel mercy—not for this sick son of a bitch.
“You don’t get to live.” Rick hissed, his eyes cold, empty. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind screaming at him to finish it, to make sure this shithead never laid eyes on you again.
Surprisingly, he went against his mind and got off the Governer when he heard walkers banging on the door from all the noise inside. He walked towards the door, ignoring the Governor's wheezes behind him.
“However, you don't deserve to have a quick death.” Rick stared the man in the eyes as he pulled open the door, allowing the herd of walkers to enter. The Governor’s eyes widened as he saw what Rick had done and started to scramble away.
Rick hid himself behind the door so he could watch as the walkers walked towards the smell of blood, but hidden enough so they couldn't see him.
He felt a sense of pride when the Governor let out a scream when a walker took a bite out of his arm. The Governor looked at Rick and only saw coldness in his eyes and as he walked away, he started to realise one thing.
He really shouldn’t have fucked with Rick Grimes.
Rick admired you as you slept on his lap, in the backseats of the car. Daryl was driving and Michonne was in the passenger seat. Maggie, Glenn and Tyreese were in car behind them.
His fingers gently ran through your hair as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. God, even with cuts and bruises littering your face, you were still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life.
He gently tucked you more into the blanket, making sure you don’t get cold. Because of his action, you stirred and your eyes flickered open slowly.
He noticed and started to gently run his fingers through your hair again. “I’m here,” He said softly, his voice breaking through the quiet of the vehicle. “I’ve got you. Just rest.”
There was something about his tone that made you believe him and you rested back onto his lap, eyes looking up at him. He smiled and rested his hand on your cheek, stroking it softly.
You smiled back, leaning into his hand and your eyes fluttered closed. You let out a breathy sigh and your eyes flutter open again, something like vulnerability in your eyes. “Did you. . .?”
Rick nodded before you could finish and you let out a sigh of relief and took his hand that was stroking your hair and pressed a kiss on the back of it. “Thank you.”
“He had it comin’,” He replied, interlocking your fingers with his. “Shouldn’ have took what was mine.”
You chuckle and then it is silence for a few moments. “How bad do I look?”
“Exactly the same.” He said, smiling at you gently. “Left looking like the most gorgeous girl in the world, came back looking like the most gorgeous girl in the world.”
You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at him. “I love you.”
“Love ya’ more, sweetheart.” He replies and then starts to stroke his fingers through your hair once again. “Go back to sleep. I'll wake ya’ up when Hershel checks on you.”
You nod, exhaling through your nose softly and fluttering your eyes shut. A few minutes later, your sound asleep again, cuddling up on Rick’s lap.
He watches you for a few more moments, his hand still gently brushing over your hair, careful not to wake you. There’s a softness in his eyes that he shows around you, what the others haven't seen in a while.
You shifted in your sleep, nuzzling more into his chest and his arms instinctively tighten around you. He let out a shaky breath and rested his chin on top of your head. His mind travel to tonight’s events before he realised that none of that mattered.
All that mattered was you being in his arms and the steady of your breathing. And as the car drove back to the prison, Rick Grimes made a vow to protect you as long as he shall live.
A true scrying mirror is often blackened, either painted on the back with black paint, made of obsidian, or a darkened glass surface. However, any mirror can be used if dedicated properly.
To prepare your mirror:
Cleanse it with smoke, saltwater (if safe), or moonlight.
Consecrate it by stating your intention, “This mirror is a window between worlds, a sacred tool of vision.”
Keep it wrapped in cloth when not in use, reserving it only for spiritual work.
How to Scry with a Mirror
Create a Quiet Space
Set Your Intention
Relax & Gaze
Enter Trance
Record Your Impressions
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