from-bad-to-cursed

BRA WITCHCRAFT 👙

love them or hate them, if you’re a bra owning individual you can use them to your advantage in the witching world!

-Sigil Charging: Place the piece of paper with the sigils you want to charge inside your left cup, over your heart, and leave it there for however long seems right to you. You can also draw sigils inside the cup for self love, etc. (in my experience it only works on your left side, stronger energy from the heart)

-Charm Carrying: Have a charm you need somewhere discreet? Put it in your bra! It keeps the charm close and secure while you go about your day.

-Energy: Okay… hear me out on this one. Your bra sits on your chest, right over your heart. It absorbs all of the negative energy from your day, right? Use your bras from bad days in curses, hexes, etc. for an extra kick. (be sure to cleanse it afterwards so you aren’t negatively affected)

-Defense: Your bra can attack others, but also defend you! Charm your bras like a poppet and use it as a defense mechanism to any ill will sent your way.

Now, my bra wearing witches, go forth and strut your stuff!


*this can also apply to binders & tank tops!*

This is why I got kicked out of the bard college

Context: after saving a town from a bad water to wine curse, we got invited to a fancy party filled with vampires. While my party, consisting of a human ranger, a barbarian vampire child, a half elf Druid, and a human fighter, was being lured places by hypnotic vampires, my halfling bard decided to see what the band was up to.

Me, ooc: I tap the flute player on the leg and see if I can give it a go.
DM: okay roll to see if he believes that you actually have training for the flute.
Me, ooc: I rolled a 17.
DM: okay he hands you the flute, roll to see how well you play
Me, ooc: okay btw I’m gonna play “Run Away With Me” by Carly Rae Jepsen and I’m gonna play the flute with my nose
*i roll a 2*
DM: the flute player rips his flute out of your grasp after hearing you play a single note with your nose. He wipes the mouthpiece of his flute on his shirt and looks really disgusted about having to continue playing. You get kicked off the stage.
Me: I guess there was a reason they kicked me out of the bards college.

Caffeine Challenge #10

Good job everyone! Whoo, another challenge done! You can read mine on the google doc HERE or below! It’s the sequel to the last post here (X)

Don’t forget to tag yours Caffeine Challenge! I’ll be going through them in a bit, reblogging a few, and then adding all of them to the google doc!


The woman never offers Toby her name. She falls silent after his warning and stares across the road at the unnameable thing until the sun begins to set. Finally she shakes herself, flowing into motion like water spilling over the rim of a cup.

“Names have to have power somewhere,” she says and turns around to go into his house.

Toby stares after her for a long moment, unsure. Should he follow? Try to find out more about what exactly the Shelter is? Try to find out who his guest is?

The marigolds begin to whine as the sun goes down, unhappy with the chill, and the ivy running backwards along his fence hiss at him to tend to them, they’re not fussy, but they need time too.

Toby whistles a few, short notes and settles into a soothing hum. The woman can wait. He’s got his chores to finish first.

He weeds the blackberries (they hardly need it) with the last rays of light, humming and whistling as he finds thistle and moss. The marigolds begin to fight with the ice plant again, insisting that the ice plant is too close and not the other way around. The weeping willow at the edge of his property sighs.

It’s near the gate that he finds the death cap.

Toby stops in his tracks, mouth going dry as he stares at the greenish mushroom. He’s not– he’s not that type of witch, he’s not and he didn’t plant the death cap there. No, no, of course he didn’t, the thing is arching towards him, arching through a crack in the gate, but its base is most definitely out there.

But it shouldn’t be out there either.

Toby looks back at the house. The woman has lit the stove judging by the glow, maybe gone and lit the few candles Toby’s bought from town. He can hear her walking around in her heels, clicking on the hardwood floor as she crosses the single room over and over again.

He forces himself to swallow, wetting his tongue and throat. Then, he hunches down and growls, a horrible guttural sound that scares the african violets and makes the ivy shudder.

The death cap withers and dies. The small hole it had been opening in his wards dies with it.

Keep reading

-☽Protection ritual(for home/room)☾-

I really like this ritual because It’s very simple and effective, and a great way to work with energy.


You need:

  • 4 stones that are good to write on
  • Sharpie marker(black)
  • Wand (Optional)

First, cleanse the rocks(you don’t want the rocks to produce bad energy my friend.)

Write this sigil onto each rock (or your own protection sigil if you wish)

Charge the sigil & rock.

After you did all that mumble jumble, feel if the rock is producing some good energy. If not, repeat.

Now if you want to protect your room(esp the room you do magickal workings in):

Place each of the rocks on the corner

If a furniture is occupying the corner, place it on the furniture or under(If it’s just a bed leg then just put it by it.) 

Stand in the middle.

If you have a wand, this is the time to use it. If not, that’s okay! Just make your hand into a energy directing tool(make the H in American sign language lol) 

Point at one of the rocks. Slowly and surely, pull up (It’s like soldering iron) and visualize white energy being drawn from the rock and lining up on the crevice of the corner, reaching up to the top corner. Do the same with each rock

Use the 4 lines and connect them by the bottom crevice and top crevice(ya know, the place connecting the corners(I think they’re called lateral edges.)

Then connect the 4 lines again by connecting them in the middle on the ceiling, and afterwards, visualize glass being formed, filling the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room. You just created a protective casing.

For the house:

Place the rocks on the corners of your lawn/property(if you’d rather do this inside, then put them in the four main corners of the household.)

Do the same ritual, except(if you have a home) have the lines curve and connect together, forming a dome, and now visualize the glass dome protecting your home from bad spirits/entities/energies/curses/etc. negativity.

I sugges either cleansing the rocks or replace them and do the same ritual every 6 months(or when you feel the protection is wearing down). You may do room and house at once, or 4 in every room, whatever it is. You can layer the protection if you double the amount(using 8) for each corner.

- Anabiel

Regrets Part Two- Daryl Dixon

Plot/Request: Anon requested- “omg regrets slayed me. Please do a part 2 !!!!”

Word count:
 2010 (2010 was a pretty good year if you ask me *cough* walking dead *cough*)

Warnings: swearing (barely any)

Note:
 lol I wanted to write Daryl as an awkward little bean thats also fierce af and I think I did..? idk, you tell me ;)

read part one first

—————————————————————————————

Sitting on the swing, you felt the fresh air run through your hair. It blew the mess of soft curls around your face, brushing against our shoulder or cheek every so often. You felt the familiar tingle of goosebumps run along your skin, raising at the contact.

Sighing contently, you pushed yourself back and forth with your feet, keeping the tips of your toes on the white wooden planks. It was often that Alexandra would be this calm, normal even. It was about the most normal thing you’d faced in years.

Not being able to decipher the good from the bad was a curse in this world, but any idiot could tell Alexandra was almost pure good. The sanctuary was a ray of light in the dark tunnel of life you and the group had grown so accustomed too. It made you feel weird, odd and overall confused. You didn’t think anything could’ve turned out like this.

Daryl had told you it was “too good to be true”, and at first you believed him, thinking the citizen’s here might turn on you at any moment. But days past, weeks even and here you were– still unharmed.

Your feelings for the redneck man had definitely gotten in the way of your judgement. You knew he was simply human, and not always right– but you constantly trusted him with your entire being. Which wasn’t a bad thing considering how he was probably the most experienced survivor in Alexandra, but it masked how you saw him.

Because he could be a real asshole. As could you, of course, but man did Daryl know how to bring someone down. He could draw out your weaknesses within an instant, make you into nothing short of a coward.

He had hurt you, not physically, but emotionally. But you didn’t know which one was worse because the physical pain would leave eventually– would this ever, though?

It’d been days since Daryl last spoke to you– you knew the man had better things to do than run after you all day and vice versa, but it hurt to think that the bond you shared was put to waste. All those last nights of keeping watch, a comfortable silence that you usually broke, the confidence surges he got when he decided to break it instead. You missed it all deeply– and you didn’t know if it’d ever be like that again.

All because of stupid sex. Suddenly you despised it, and would do anything to take back that stupid mistake. What was always perceived as a fun and exciting thing– which it was– had been pronounced as the murderer of your friendship.

Could you even call it a friendship? The two of you were close, yes, but it never seemed like some kind of a bond you could share with just anybody. You knew you loved him, whether he reciprocated those feelings, that special but bloody mess of an emotion, you didn’t know.

You felt as if you’d never really know. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words, and he didn’t talk about his feelings when he did speak. Especially love. The way his brother influenced him probably set the youngest Dixon off of that for life. You doubted he’d ever grow out of his awkward ‘I may or may not be a virgin’ faze.

“(Y/N)?” Rick’s of voice asked from the open window, you turned around, facing him now. You rubbed your tired eyes, seeing him was around the wall and to the door. He pushed it open quietly, slipping outside of the warm home.

“Hey, Rick.” You mumbled, pulling your knees up to reach your chest as you hugged yourself. He gave you a soft smile, taking a seat beside you.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, never could.” You sighed in response, knowing that your anxiety would eat at you till the day you die. Walkers or not.

“What’s on your mind?” It was obvious Rick knew what was bothering you, Daryl had been acting the same way ever since that day– of course more hostile than you, but overall similar.

You spared him a simple shrug, knowing he would continuing pestering you, but a small part of you had hope that he might not.

Of course, that small part of you was wrong.

“(Y/N),” He exhaled, scratching at his beard as he looked to you. Your eye made contact, and as intimidating as Rick was, you felt more safe than anything else. “I know what happened– between you two.”

“It’s nothing, Rick–”

“Don’t seem like nothing.” Rick paused, looking down to his hands quickly before glancing out into the streets of Alexandra. “You haven’t talked to him in days.”

You followed his line of sight seeing the softly lit roads. No one strolled the town at night– not unless they were switching guards or at least armed. And it seemed that it was only your group that was armed, with the exception of the existing Monroe family and a few others.

No one liked the dark– especially now.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Rick.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Its Daryl, (Y/N). He wouldn’t have ever spoken a word to us if he didn’t have to.” Rick scoffed, laughing slightly at his friend. You gave him a sad smile, knowing though his words were slightly exaggerated, they held a certain truth to them. “He stepped up. I like to think you lead him to that.”

You laughed now, thinking Rick was crazy. You couldn’t have done that.

“I’m serious, (Y/N). You helped him open up.” He whispered sweetly before patting your back lovingly. He stood slowly, the swing rocking with his movements. You felt that same wind brush through your tangled hair again.

And just like that, Rick was gone, his words truly setting a reaction off inside you. Like a domino, he pushed the first one, and slowly but surely the others fell too, drawing you to the conclusion that maybe there was another chance for you and Daryl.

Still, you needed a surge of confidence, and that was taking its sweet time. Not until a day and a half later did you even decide on what you’d say first. But here you were, walking down the street almost a week after Rick’s conversation with you. Finally, on your way to confronting Daryl.

He was fine-tuning his bike, you remembered he’d told you it’d been giving him some problems out on the road and you offered to help. You didn’t know much, but you could hand him tools and stuff– ideally it was just an excuse to spend time with him. You liked to think he knew that.

He was facing away from you, weight on one hip and wiping his oil and grease ridden hands on his red rag. You approached him quietly, letting your presence be known with a simple question.

“Need any help?”

His head snapped back, toward you at the sudden noise. He quickly gave you a scowl, not even bothering to answer as he continued working alone. You sighed, taking the silence as a definite no. Leaning against the garage door frame you watched him in peace, but your lingering eyes burned through his clothing and thick skin, making him feel uneasy.

“What you want, woman?” He grunted, not even bothering to look you in the eye, nevertheless face you again. The wind brushed at his hair now, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire it from behind.

“Talk to me?”

“Nah. ’M good.” He snapped back, causing an exhalation to leave your lips– one that was louder than intended.

“You really want to do that?” You scoffed, annoyed by his actions and words. “You really want to throw everything away– everything we’ve been through because of–”

“Because of what, huh? Because you fucked–” He interrupted you, but you quickly called him out with wide eyes and a loud yell of his name.

“Daryl–!”

“What? Got nothing to be ashamed of, right?” You felt small tears pricking at your eyes as he turned to face you– anger expelling from his body. He walked up to you, still leaving a good four feet between you both. “Oh, so now you care. That’s rich I’ll tell you.”

“I’ve always cared, I always will.” You retorted, growing angrier that he didn’t know. He didn’t know how he made you feel– not just now– but always.

“Then what was he? Huh? What–”

A distraction! He was just a distraction…” You yelled, stopping his beginning rant that was sure to leave you in tears. You couldn’t handle the secrecy anymore, it was eating you up. “From you.”

“Wha’?” He whispered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I– I don’t know, okay–”

“Don’t bullshit me, (Y/N).” Daryl’s patience was already as thin as ice, but you seemed to just be stomping on it every chance you got.

“Daryl I–” You began, but the deep blue his eyes held was so intimidating. You didn’t know if you could say it just out right, but you wanted to. So you tried, and surprisingly the words flew out your mouth– hitting him in the face. “I have feelings for you.”

He took a soft step back before taking another three steps forward. “What kind of ‘feelings’?” He moved in closer, anticipating your answer.

“Like I– I love you.” You blinked rapidly, hoping to clear the gloss from your (Y/E/C) eyes.

“I said don’t bullshit me.” Daryl snapped, walking back to his bike. You saw the sudden change, realising he must have been pushed too far. Daryl wasn’t used to this– in fact it’d never happened to him before.

With eagerness and motivation you followed him, raising your voice. “I’m not, Jesus! Is it that hard to believe someone actually cares for you? That I want to be with you?”

“You,” He paused, not really sure if he actually heard you saying that. Was this just a dream? Had he finally hit the brink of insanity? “Wanna be with me? Like–”

“Together; romantically? Yeah.” You confessed, suddenly finding your boots to be more intriguing than the Dixon’s eyes.

“Oh,” He sniffled, emotions getting the better of him. He couldn’t handle it– the overflowing ram that had been doing so well holding everything back– before you came along. “That’s uh, I mean I should really get to work on my bike–”

“Say something. Tell me you don’t want to be with if you don’t or tell me–” You pleaded, looking up at him with sad eyes. You figured this was the end of whatever the two of you shared.

“I want too.” He nodded, surprising you. You face went slack, jaw loose and eyes widening. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for a response.

“Oh, well–” You breathed out, but he quickly cut you off.

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s fine. There’s not much to it. We can start slow if you’d like.”

Daryl nodded softly, awkwardly looking to your lips. He leant in slowly, but almost like a robot. His body trembled forward for less than a second, making his way to you. You smiled softly at his attempt, knowing it must be hard. As you met him half way you felt the chapped and inexperienced lips against yours, smiling against him as his hands moved to your body, yours to his hair.

You grabbed it, slightly curling your finger around the loose ends as you rested your forehead against his, pulling away.

At first, his eyes stayed closed, lips twitching forward to get just another kiss– but you simply pecked his lips instead, laughing softly, “How was that for a start?”