A short doujinshi inspired by a scene in case 3-5 (Trials and tribulations - Bridge to the Turnabout). “It was about more than 10 years ago when both Miles and Nick are still kids. Miles tried to fold a paper crane but he wasn’t good at it (actually he can’t even fold a dollar bill). Everyone tried to comfort him, but he would just sit there sobbing… Then there came our Nick…”
Death and the wolf have walked in step for years
now. Death wears Laura’s face, and smells of the fire. Laura lived for three
days after the fire. Just three days. And then she died, and the alpha spark
went with her. The wolf doesn’t know where it went. Maybe the moon holds it
now. Sometimes the wolf looks at the moon and the moon whispers soft words of
consolation to him. Sometimes he looks at the moon and it is cold and silent.
He howls for the moon some nights, and some nights it listens. When he was a cub,
the wolf believed the moon guided his paws through the woods at night, and lit
the way home always. The moon saw everything, knew everything, and the moon
loved the wolf and his pack. After the fire he turned his back on the moon so
that he didn’t have to see her turn her back on him first.
Now, in the narrow, cold alleyway, the wolf
stares up at the sky and wonders if the moon still knows him. He wonders if the
moon still has a plan for him. He wonders if the moon brought him to Stiles for
Stiles wants to find home.
The wolf’s heart aches at the word.
Stiles wants to fix something, to make it right.
The wolf knows that feeling as well. The frustration, the devastation. The
Death is silent tonight. Her face is pale and
beautiful. More somber than Laura’s ever was in life.
Beside him, tucked in between the wolf’s back
and the scant shelter the cardboard boxes provide, Stiles sleeps fitfully. He
twitches in his sleep like a pup dreaming of rabbits. He makes odd little
noises that prick the wolf’s ears, and digs his fingers into the wolf’s ruff
All this time the wolf thought he needed to get
his boy out into the woods so they could be safe, but perhaps that’s not what
the moon intended at all when she led the wolf to Stiles.
Maybe Stiles is not a beginning, but an ending.
Whatever Stiles is here in Beacon Hills to do,
then perhaps the wolf is meant to help him. Perhaps they’re not supposed to
shake death after all, but to walk with her. Perhaps the moon will guide them
both to a new home, in a place where it isn’t cold anymore, and there is no
such thing as hunger and the world doesn’t smell like ashes.
Do you know of any money spells that I can make in a jar/ witch's bottle? (Preferably something easy to carry around or put on a necklace.)
mix rice flour, corn starch, powdered orris root, and some unpopped popcorn kernels and put it in a small jar then write a money attracting sigil on a dollar roll/fold it up very tight and also put it in the jar then cork off the jar and hot glue a small magnet over the cork. finally tie a green string around the jar and wear it
clairvoyance, cleansing, consecration, courage, divination, dreams, exorcism, faeries, happiness, healing, love, money, prevents nightmares, protection, psychic development, purification, compassion, confidence, contacting other planes, grieving, magic, meditation, Midsummer, passion, release, renewal, rituals for the dead, Summer rituals, wishing Lore: Thyme has strong ties to faery lore.
Magical Uses and Practices:
Thyme is feminine in nature and associated with the element of water and the planet Venus. Thyme is also associated with Freya, Aphrodite and Ares.
Thyme can be used in spells to increase strength and courage.
When working hard to achieve a goal that seems unachievable, thyme can be used to keep a positive attitude.
Smudge your home with thyme to dispel melancholy, hopelessness and other mellow but negative vibrations, especially after a family tragedy or during a long sickness.
Place thyme beneath your pillow for a restful sleep and happy dreams and to prevent nightmares.
Faeries love thyme. Its addition to your garden will attract them and it can be used in spells to communicate with faeries. Thyme is associated with fairies and wearing a sprig of Wild Thyme, or essential oil of Thyme, is said to help one to see fairies. To see the fey, pick flowers from a patch of Wild Thyme where the little folk live and place the flowers on your eyes. If you place sprigs of Thyme on your closed eyes and sleep upon a fairy mound, this will also supposedly guarantee your seeing fairies. Dried, powdered Thyme, sprinkled on doorsteps and windowsills, is an invitation to the fey into your home. Wild Thyme, gathered from the side of a fairy mound, is especially potent for use in fairy magic.
Women who wear thyme on their person are irresistible to men, and carrying sprigs in your pocket aids in developing your psychic abilities. You can create a magical broom using thyme, to banish negativity, or burn some in a bowl to help boost your courage before confrontations.
Thyme is also a purifactory herb; the Greeks burned it in their temples to purify them and so Thyme is often burned prior to magical rituals to cleanse the area. In spring a magical cleansing bath composed of marjoram and Thyme is taken to ensure all the sorrows and ills of the past are removed from the person. Thyme can also be carried and smelled to give courage and energy.
Thyme is believed to be Lucky in two different ways, for Protection and Cleansing and to bring about an increase in money. When using Thyme as a Protective Curio to Stop Nightmares, folks burn it on charcoal and breathe the smoke. The best-known use of Thyme is in Money-Drawing spells.
Some people plant Thyme in their gardens, saying that as it grows, their money will increase. Others take a dollar bill, fold it around Thyme Leaves, fold it again to make a packet, tie it up with green thread, and bury the packet in the middle of a Crossroads on the night of the Full Moon.
When carried on the person, Thyme is thought to inspire courage, attract good health, and protect from negativity, such as at funerals or other sad or unpleasant occasions. Carry a sprig in your pocket or make a sachet. Thyme can also be added to the bath for purifying and mental clarity. Put a handful in cheesecloth and hang it from the faucet while the bathwater is running.
History and Folklore:
Thyme was called thymos by the Greeks, which meant “fumigate” or “smoke”. This indicates that it was used as a smudging herb. The Greeks thought very highly of Thyme. It was mixed in drinks to enhance intoxicating effects and induce bravery and warriors were massaged with thyme oil to ensure their courage and restore their physical power. Women wore thyme in their hair to enhance their attractiveness. The phrase “to smell of thyme” meant that one was stylish, well groomed, poised, and otherwise attractive.
Thyme is a Mediterranean native spread throughout Europe by the Romans. Their soldiers added it to their bathwater to increase bravery, strength and vigor. It enjoyed a long association with bravery. In Medieval England, ladies embroidered sprigs of thyme into their knights’ scarves to increase their bravery. In Scotland, highlanders brewed tea to increase courage and keep away nightmares.
Thyme was used as early as 3000 BCE by Sumerians as an antiseptic. It does indeed have impressive antiseptic qualities.
It was used as an embalming herb in ancient Egypt and was burned in other places as offerings to celebrate Rites of Passing. It was placed in coffins throughout Europe to ensure passage into the next world.
The tiny flowers will attract bees to your garden. Honey made from these flowers is highly prized.
Sachets of thyme hung in your closet or folded in with your stored clothes will keep moths out, and smells nicer than mothballs.
Oil of thyme can be used as a household cleaning agent as it is good germ killer and drives away pests. Just put a few drops in a spray bottle with 4 parts water to 1 part vinegar.
A strong infusion of thyme makes a great hair rinse for dark hair and repels head lice. You can add rosemary as well if you have problems with dandruff.
Thyme has been used as a cough remedy and digestive aid as well as a treatment for internal parasites.
The active constituent, Thymol, has strong antibacterial and antifungal properties and a strong scent that helps loosen phlegm and sooths the respiratory system. It is used in many over the counter cold remedies.
It is also used for athlete’s foot and hemorrhoids.
For internal use, steep two teaspoons of fresh herb or one teaspoon of dried herb in one cup of boiling water. Drink no more than twice a day, in the morning and evening, to relieve lung problems and dispel parasites.
A stronger infusion can be used as a mouthwash to treat sore gums, as a foot soak to get rid of athlete’s foot, a body or hair rinse for lice or dip a rag in it and use it as a compress for skin inflammations.
Thyme can also be added to massage oils and bath oils for the treatment of rheumatism and general aches and pains. These oils can also be used for colds and lung complaints.
Use oil of thyme by dropping into an infuser, or into a pan of boiling water and inhaling the fumes up to four times daily to relieve congestion. Never take essential oils internally.
Herbalist Nicolas Culpepper recommends using thyme as a treatment for whooping cough.
In The Good Herb, Judith Benn Hurley says that the oil found in thyme, called thymol, has “antiseptic and antibacterial properties.” She also points out that thyme is popular with aromatherapists because of its ability to heal respiratory ailments and coughs
Yesterday was pretty humid, and we somehow ended up spending most of our time outside. By 10 PM my hair was a strange and frizzy disaster. Late at some point that afternoon, Albert found a dollar. I took the dollar and folded it so that George Washington had no nose. Albert went insane. I think no-nose George may have triggered it. I blame the coffee! It tasted weird that morning! Albert spent his dollar on potato wedges from KFC, Tom got mac ‘n cheese, and I got ice cream cones from Sonic. Gavin wouldn’t eat anything. A few hours before we had been watching Voltron. They finally saw my favorite episode, the mermaid one.
Then we were taking pictures of my cat, so I have plenty of those now. Albert and Gavin were on the couch and tom decided to sit on top of them so I also have many pictures of that incident. Living in such a tiny town gets old when we can’t think of where to go. Between Albert laughing and the bugs biting us, we couldn’t think of anywhere to go that afternoon. I even asked some people but they didn’t seem to understand that we wanted AC. We stopped by Albert’s house for a bit and I saw Gromitt. That was a nice opportunity to wash all of the ice cream off my face and shirt and bask in the cool air for a few minutes. At some point I saw my face and hair in the mirror and I was a walking disaster. How did my friends manage to stay good looking in this nasty weather?
With coffee and potato wedges I now realize that Albert is a fearless heathen who will stop at nothing to get more food. I am lucky to have survived.
Human AU Characters: Francis, Arthur Warnings: death mention Words: 2592
Arthur felt as though ball bearings were ricocheting off of the walls of his heart. The shockwaves of each ta-ta-boom of his heart rocked his brain, making him feel dizzy and faint.
I can do this, he thought, opening the e-mail.
Hey, I saw your ad on the board in Cardinal. I didn’t think anyone took stuff like that seriously anymore, but I think I’d like to give it a try. Getting my cards read might be fun, and 5$ sounds reasonable. Is tomorrow at 2 okay? If 2 isn’t good, then maybe when I get back next month. - Francis
“Everything will be fine,” Arthur said to himself. He told Francis that tomorrow at two o’clock would work just fine and to meet him in Bright Eyed, a coffeehouse on campus, next to the library.
He hit send and leaned back as his heart started pounding again.
What if this was a bad idea? Maybe he should never have put up those flyers. What had he been thinking?
Closing his eyes, Arthur used a meditation technique to calm down and then pulled out a deck of Tarot cards from the top drawer of his desk. He might as well get some practicing in before meeting this Francis.
Requested by Anon: can you please make
a liam dunbar story based on the song “I wasn’t expecting that” by
Word Count: 4,592
Warnings: Cancer, Death…. Get tissues. (I know that pretty much spoils some stuff, but I don’t care cause y’all need to be warned before reading this or you’ll be like my beta, who got upset I didn’t warn her before reading this, lol.)
Author’s Note: I cried while writing this. If you don’t cry after reading this, I have failed as a writer. // Flashbacks are in italics.
Dr. Smith walked in and saw Liam sitting in a
chair close to his wife’s bedside. His heart broke at the sight in front of him
as Liam held on to her hand ever since she was put in the room. Liam never left
her side and he couldn’t help but wonder how their love story began. A part of
him didn’t want to ask because he knew he was going to be the one to break the
news that their love story was coming to an end. Although Liam knew the doctor
was in the room, he ignored him and looked at his wife asleep on the hospital
bed, remembering the first time he laid eyes on her.
was a warm summer night and the carnival was filled with families, friends, and
couples in lines for rides and food. The smell of popcorn, funnel cakes, corn
dogs, and dirt filled Liam’s nose as he walked through the crowded carnival
with his best friend, Mason. Liam listened and nodded along as Mason rambled
about his date with Corey the night before. Liam shoved his hands in his front
pockets as they reached the end of the ticket line.
turned around and saw a beautiful girl with her head rolled back and a hand
resting on her stomach, as she laughed hard. The girl in front of her was
laughing too, instantly drawing the attention of people passing by them. However,
it was her sweet and innocent laughter that caught his attention. When they
stopped laughing, Liam noticed the girl wiping her eyes from crying. She had a
beautiful smile and Liam couldn’t help but smile too.
Mason’s hand waved in front of Liam’s awe struck face. “Are you listening
snapped back to reality. “Yeah… I mean no.” He looked at the girl
once more before looking back at Mason. “What did you say?” He asked
— Damon was drawn in like a moth to flame by the way the dark haired girl played the instrument, her fingers dancing up and down the neck of the violin as she brought it to life, the bow floating and gliding over the strings so beautifully as her body swayed in time with the music that softly filtered out into the late New Orleans evening. The vampire watched appreciatively from the far curb across the street, a soft smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. He was supposed to meet someone in the bar behind him but with a little time to burn, he decided to drift across Bourbon street instead, enchanted by Clarke’s playing. The crony could wait— would if he knew what was good for him.
The piano had always been his thing, but he could genuinely appreciate any sort of beautiful music, didn’t matter if it was piano, guitar or in this case, the violin. He patiently waited for the song to end before speaking, lingering close enough to be able to extend the folded hundred dollar bill for Clarke to take personally instead of simply dropping it into her case like any of the other listeners had done with their donation before drifting off in every direction resuming whatever they had been doing or wherever they had been going until they too had paused to listen. “You’re really good with that thing. But…the million dollar question. Do you know any piano?” Damon asked with a chuckle, his cerulean hues lit with admiration and mischief as he gazed at the human, a faint grin touching his lips and eyebrows lifting to punctuate the question. There was something odd about her, different. The vampire couldn’t place it but could definitely sense it in the way the hair on the back of his neck prickled in her presence. In the wise words of Alice Liddell— curioser and curioser. Not a witch, not a vampire. Hmmm…
A piece of green paper, fabric, or something else (it just needs to be green and you need to be able to close it or fold it up)
A dollar (or something similar, if your currency doesn’t involve dollars)
Some sort of fragrance oil or herbal-infused water (*cough* tea *cough*) that you associate with luck/money
Herbs you have available that are associated with luck or money (optional)
String, yarn, or something of the sort
Step 1) Take the paper (or whatever you used) and fold it in half, then in half again. Now, unfold it and lay it in front of you. There will be two lines on it now, splitting the paper into four sections.
Step 2) In the center, where the lines meet, take a bit of the oil (or whatever liquid you chose) and rub it into the center. You can use a lot or you can use a little, but a small amount is recommended because it will soak through the paper if you use a lot. You don’t want that.
Step 3) Take your herbs (basil included) and place them on top of where you put the oil. Then, do the same with the coins. Put a couple more drops of the oil on top of that.
Step 4) Fold the paper in half with all of that in it, then fold it in half again. Tie it up with the string so it doesn’t fall open. When you’re done with that, wrap the dollar around the whole thing.
Step 5) Say something that states your intent (i.e. “May business in my shop pick up soon” or “Let me make a sale in my shop soon”). You can chant it if you want, or you can just say it. Do whatever you like. When you’re done, put the bundle in your wallet, purse, or wherever you keep your money.
*I’ve observed that this spell only lasts for a short term. It should be redone once you think that it has expired.*
painting of old Nate had started out as a joke, but after he’d finished it,
Hardison found he couldn’t just stop there. He needed to have the whole set. So
he painted them all; stunning Sophie, powerful Parker, enigmatic Eliot, even
Hardison himself. Old Nate was blown up, but the other four portraits are still
kept safely in one of Hardison’s safehouses.
portrait is the busiest, but your gaze is drawn immediately to her dark, smoldering
eyes. She holds your gaze there despite the many paintings that hang in the
background behind her, despite the expensive vases on delicate antique tables.
It takes more willpower than you can explain to avert your gaze and take in the
rest of the painting. She’s seated on a dark-red settee, twisted slightly to
show off the curve of her body, her hands on her knees. At first, you think the
glittering golden fabric covering her is a dress, but you notice her legs end
in a fish’s tail, and you realize they’re scales. The portrait is titled “Siren
portrait is much starker, almost empty compared to Sophie’s. In a silver
rectangular frame, it’s background is completely black. Cutting through the
darkness are bright white lasers, spreading out from the centre in a web-like
pattern. At several places, a small origami fly is trapped in the web. Upon
looking closer, you see they’re folded from 100 dollar bills. In the
dead-centre of the painting is Parker, hanging comfortably from her rig. Her
legs are bent underneath her, one hand on a thigh, the other wrapped around the
dark chord above her to keep herself steady. She’s looking out at you with a
half-grin on her face, like you’re just another 100-dollar fly she’s about to
ensnare. A circular sign at the top of the frame reads “Spiderwoman”.
the only one of the group who is not centered in his own portrait. Instead he
stands to one side in his usual hitter-pose: arms crossed, feet firmly
anchored, an unimpressed scowl on his face. What isn’t usual is his clothing:
he’s wearing a long, dark golden cloak. A matching circlet is in his long,
loose-flowing hair. He’s standing in the middle of a yellow desert, impossibly
blue sky above him. In the centre of the painting is a huge pyramid, with two
more in the background. The title is carved into the simple dark wood frame: “Sphinx
Eliot”. You wonder idly what kind of riddle he would pose.
As weird as
the first four paintings were, Hardison’s is the most unexpected. You’ve come
to expect overconfidence from the boisterous geek. Maybe “Hero
Hardison” surrounded by his favorite tech gadgets. You’re unprepared for
the honesty you find in the hacker’s self-portrait. The painting looks like
you’ve just thrown open the door to go outside. On the doorstep is a young,
curly-haired boy that you hardly recognize as Hardison. The boy, dressed in a
suit and bow tie, stares up at you with wide eyes. In one hand he holds a worn
little suitcase. In the other is a slip of paper that reads: “Please take
care of this boy”. The title is written on a similar slip of paper pinned
to the top of the simple frame: “Alec Paddington”.