help a mama out!

Meet You Downstairs

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As Jack descends in the elevator to the basement, it strikes him that he never knew his condo building had a rental suite. Between his hockey commitments and hermit tendencies, there’s still a lot about his own home he doesn’t know despite living here for six years. It’s part of the reason he offered to help out around the building: to keep himself social during the summer season. His parents talked a lot about building a community of friends outside of work, and he knows his way around a toolbox so. Why not?

The basement is… really creepy, actually, reserved for the storage lockers and recycling bins. Even the parking garage is a level up and more inviting than this. There’s only one hallway so Jack follows it, certain he’s going the right way when he hears the voice through the wall.

“It’s fine, Mama. I know you wanted to help me pick out a place but this one is great. It’s in a nice neighbourhood, very secure… Yes, I got your pepper spray in the care package, but please, this is Providence, not New York City.”

Jack doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but he can’t help but notice how young this guy sounds. In a building where the average condo sells for over two million dollars, most of the neighbours he sees in the halls are retirees or working professionals. There aren’t many parties, which he appreciates.

He knocks on the cheap wooden door which rattles in the hinges. No wonder they’re renting this room out instead of selling, he thinks. There’s shuffling on the other side, and Jack hears the boy… man say “Goodness, I think the custodian is here already… of course I have pie who do you think I am? Call you back, love you.”

The door opens and there’s a lingering moment of silence as they each look at the person across from them. This guy looks to be a few years younger than Jack, a bit shorter, lean but with well-defined muscles he can see quite clearly thanks to him wearing the shortest shorts that could possibly be considered not-underwear. He’s staring. Oh boy, he’s staring and he needs to not be doing that so he drags his eyes up and they stall on the loose neckline of his tank top.  

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Why 2x12 Was Fucking GREAT

- alec using any excuse he can get to see Magnus at work

- ’ you’re a catch ’

- ending scene with jace (my baby finally belongs)

- alec finally showing off his badass fighting skills

- alec comforting ‘magnus’ witj hugs and cheek caresses (he didn’t know so in my eyes it means just as much)

- ending malec scene with alec not knowing what to do and just wanting to help magnus

- magnus calling out mama was so realistic and actually put me into tears

- tokyo (need i say more?)

- lots of plants for matt

- ’ if you do love me, please you have to believe me ’        

- alec going straight to his parabatai after the thing with valentine!magnus    

- ’ alexander what’s happening? ’

- just harry and alan’s acting in general

- izzy asking to go to mundane group therapy

- the fact that valentine didn’t get away

- azazel be gone

- actual storyline for magnus was created and he’s not just a plot device for malec

- jace and magnus throwing alec a surprise party (ik it was valentine but jace was down and you know magnus would be down sooo…)

- even when he’s being put through hell and is trapped inside a psychopaths body, magnus still maintains his sass

- ’ we kissed on the terrace ’

- alec protecting clary (lol I thought it was a lil sweet)

- alec calling sebastian psychotic morgenstern OUT!

- ’ we have a VERY capable warlock for that ’

- alec’s hair

- rosa santiago shipping sizzy bc me too rosa

- luke to the rescue

- simon bein a badass

- ’ alec u were right ’

- magnus calling for alec immediately after the switch back

- 👏 alec 👏 stopping 👏 the 👏 execution 👏

- realistic portrayal of how the malec reunion should’ve gone

- alec cleaning

- valentine confused as to why the lightwood boy is stalking him

- ’ you gave me that omamori charm that I carry with me every day ’

- kid!magnus

- clary dealing with her issues

- the herondale ring

- jace cockblocking climon

- basically just cut out the climon scenes and that vampire chick being a lil dickweed and you have yourself a winner


— i saw discourse coming from a mile away and I just can’t let such an amazingly written episode be put down because some people didn’t get what they wanted, even if what they wanted wouldn’t have been realistic or actually helpful to the plot. I hate drama, so lets all just talk about how amazing everything I listed above was and stop focusing on the little things.

A Little Help

So, I have a friend. She’s an amazing friend, one of the best I have, maybe even the best. She’s my support system when I need one, she makes me laugh, she’s a shoulder to cry on, she sends me pictures of sexy men to cheer me up or just because. She betas for me, she lets me bounce ideas off of her, she tells me when I’m nuts. In short, she’s amazing.

She’s also an amazing writer, writing for multiple fandoms and multiple characters - Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Oliver Queen, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester. She writes smut, AUs, unbelievable series, and pieces that take my breath away and make me feel inadequate next to her. Again, she’s amazing.

I’m asking you guys, my wonderful followers, to take a minute to check out her blogs and honestly, you should totally follow both of them - her main blog @mamapeterson and her writing blog, @mrs-squirrel-chester. You won’t regret it.

Bedtime stories

Ta-da!! Another day, another challenge entry! This cute little drabble is for the lovely @impala-dreamer and her one prompt for all challenge - it had to be Dean x Reader, no more then 3000 words and I had to use the prompt exactly as it was given (you’ll find it bolded)

Word count: 822

Characters: Dean Winchester, wife Reader, Lucas Winchester (OMC), Sam Winchester (mentioned)

Warnings: one swear word, daddy Dean (yes that needs mentioning - your ovaries will thank me)


 Walking through the bunker, I follow the sound of laughter to my son’s room. If someone had told me several years ago that I’d be living in an underground fortress and raising a kid I probably would’ve laughed in their face. But then I met the Winchesters. It took 3 werewolves and 1 horrendous dive bar to change the path of my future, and I wouldn’t change a single second of it – well maybe the part where I got clawed to hell and back.  

After much back and forth between me and the elder brother, I became Mrs Winchester 4 years ago (well as much as I could anyway – not much you can do when the man you love is considered legally dead). And just over 9 months after that, our family grew bigger with the arrival of our honeymoon baby. 

Leaning against the door frame, I smile at the sight before me. My mini-Dean is bouncing up and down on his bed and throwing his favourite stuffed moose onto the floor time and time again as his dad tries to get him ready for bed.

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Growing Up Batty: Part 8

AN: With this chapter I mark this series as complete

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7


“She has your looks Harley. Wardrobe needs some updating though.”

    “She’s so pretty Mista J! Like a little doll.”

    You grit your teeth when the laugh comes out. “Look at us! One. Big. Happy. Family.”

    You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Giving him anything for ammunition is a bad idea, and you’re already in a bad enough state. He takes a chair, and sits down in front of you. He pats your cheek, “We could have been a family before now, ya know? But your idiot mother gave you up. Can you imagine, a mother giving up their child?” You watch out of the corner of your eye as you mother flinches. “But don’t you worry, we won’t be separated anymore. Not now that daddy knows about you!”

    Silence engulfs the space for a minute before he says, “First things first Harley! A change of clothes. We need a family look! I’ll leave you to it.”

    She smiles, “You got it Mista J.”

    You say nothing as Joker leaves, and Harley starts rooting through a trunk, tossing out clothes as she goes. Your voice is quiet, “You did the right thing.”

    She turns to face you, and cocks her head. You elaborate, “Leaving me with my mother …your sister. You gave me my best chance.”

    Her face turns to one of anger, and her hands connects with your cheek, “She’s not your mother! I AM!”

    You shake your head, to recover from the slap, and you see the horror on her face as she realizes what she’s done. It’s nowhere nears as bad as what Joker’s done, but you know you have to play off of it. She reaches out to touch the now swelling cheek, and you flinch. Quietly you say, “I didn’t think you were the same.”

    She stares at you, “What?”

    “I didn’t think you’d hurt me like he would. You kept me safe. First for those nine months, then again when you gave me to your sister. I wouldn’t have lived to see my first birthday if you had taken me to him.”

    She shakes her head, “That’s not true, Mista J, your daddy …”

    “Would have killed me for crying. He’ll kill me now.” You take a deep breath, “Mama, look at me. Look at what he’s done to me. To you. He’ll kill us.”

    Her lip quivers, “We’re going to be a family.”

    You shake your head, “No. We’re not. I can’t do what you do. I can’t hurt innocent people.”

    “It get’s easier.”

    “Is that really what you want for me? For killing to be easy? For bad things to be easy? Aunt Libby said you wanted the best for me. Was that as lie?” You can see her wavering, “Don’t you love me mama?”

    A second later her arms are around you, “My baby, I’m so sorry my baby.”

    You take a deep breath, “Ivy sent me to you mama. She’s gave me something to help us get safely out, but you need to untie me.”

    The ropes are cut a moment later, and you reach up to your ear. You remove the small plant that’s twisted around there, and whisper, “I have her Ivy, and we need help.”

    The onslaught of plants that follows is massive. And Joker’s screams of terror are even worse. When that giant Venus fly trap appears and swallows you, you start to hyperventilate. Harley pulls you close and rubs your back, “It’s okay baby, we’ll be out soon.” she says.

Sure enough it opens into a greenhouse, with Ivy waiting for the both of you. What follows is hours of vaccinations and treatments of your wounds. While she can’t heal the broken arms, she can heal the bruises and cuts. You watch on the TV as Batman and the boys take the Joker down.

You fall asleep at some point, and when you wake it’s to Harley running her fingers

through your hair. You blink at her, before sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Little past one …in the afternoon.”

“I missed school.”

She nods, “Sorry about that.”

“One day won’t kill me.”

There’s silence before she says, “Ivy told me how you came for me.”

You look her in the eye, “I won’t do it again. When you keep making the same mistake over and over again, it’s no longer a mistake. He beats you mama, he beat me. He doesn’t love us. We’re possessions. I can stay out of his hands. I know I can. The question is, can you?”

“Snooks …” You raise an eyebrow at the nickname and she gives  sad smile, “I kept you for the first three months, ya know? Figured I could really do it. Then some bastard recognized me, and Mista J’s enemies were on my ass in a heartbeat. That’s when I knew. But that was my nickname for you, Snooks.”

You sigh, “I can’t be around you if you’re going to go back to him. You have to choose, me or him.”

She gives you a smile, “You can’t stay with me.”

“No, but I can visit. If you stay here. If you stay out of trouble, I’ll come by twice a week. We can have a relationship. But he can’t be a part of it.”

You watch her hesitate before she says, “I choose you, Snooks. I’ll stay here.”

You nod, “Thank you mama.”

Damian is waiting for you when you get home from the hospital. You’ve got a brand new cast, and orders to rest. Your parents say nothing, as he follows you up to your room. He says nothing, as you cuddle with him on your bed. You fall asleep, and when you wake up it’s to Damian drawing on your cast.

“Pretty.”

He shrugs, “I got bored.”

There’s a moment of silence before you ask, “You know?”

He nods, “I know.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Takes time. Hell, you know my story.”

“So, does Jason hate me?”

“No. Something about poetic justice or something.”

You nod, “Hmm. She’s staying with Ivy. Says she chose me.”

Damian’s question is a whisper, “Think it’ll last?”

“I don’t know.”

Harley’s promise to you lasts a long time. She stays with Ivy for years. You see the relationship there, it makes you smile. She goes out occasionally, covertly, and usually with Ivy. You keep your distance as Nightengale when she shows up. And so does Damian. Eventually you bring him along. He calls the women psycho’s they think he’s adorable.

“So when are you going to do something about that?”

You stare at your mother, “Do something about what?”

“Damian.”
    You blanch, “He’s my best friend. My brother. Nothing more.” She gives a pout, but you have nothing else to say. It’s true. Damian is your brother, and neither of you wants anything more.

The day your mother breaks her promise is the day Joker escapes from Arkham. He kidnaps your adoptive mother, and nearly kills her. That’s when Harley seeks him out. You arrive on the scene too late. You find them dead, they’d fallen from high up, and the broken necks explain everything.

You leave your father for the crows, but your mother … You bury her on a hill outside the city. A place where the sun shines, and it’s quiet. It seems odd that the sun shines so brightly on the day of the funeral, but you don’t question it. You stare at the headstone, with Ivy on one side of you and Damian on the other.

After a moment you say, “She’d hate it out here.”

Damian cracks a smile, “Too boring.”

Ivy laughs, “The last years of her life were like that. She’d grown accustomed. How’s your mother doing?”  

“Good, mad the doctors wouldn’t let her come. Dad’s keeping her in the hospital for therapy though. Doctors say she’ll make a full recovery.”

Ivy hmms, “You two were the most important things in her life.”

You nod, “She was a protector at heart. Spent her whole life protecting her sister and then me.”

You watch vines wrap around the headstone before Ivy says, “I’ll see you Thursday Arlecchino.”

“Bye Ivy.”

When she’s gone Damian says, “You’re keeping up with the visits?”

You shrug, “She seems to do less harm that way.” The two of you begin walking towards his car, “Haven’t you noticed the drop?”

“Yep, just figured Harley was keeping her busy.”

You smile, as you climb into your car. You’d been haunted by your parent’s past your entire life. Then you’d met Damian Wayne and that had slowly changed. You’d found yourself, and relationship with your mother before she’d died. It was time to move on, and create a new legacy, as Nightengale, and a force for good.

princesspbo  asked:

Are you feelin' it Mr. Krabs?

Me: *looks into ask*
Me: *reads and doesn’t understand*
Me: *looks over to Mama*
Me: “Hey, someone send me an ask and I don’t get it. Help me out!”
Mama: “What is it?”
Me: *reads the ask loud*
Mama: *CAN’T STOP LAUGHING*
Me: *still doesn’t get it*

Flood my Mornings: Thanks

Anon said: If the stable chapter was in October doesn’t Bree have a birthday coming up?  how is she going to do with the terrible twos ?

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Eggs (Attack of the Pregnancy Brain!) 

November 23rd, 1950

“Happy Thanksgiving, Frasers!” Marian Harper sang out as she opened the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” we chorused in return, arms full of Bree and wine and basket of lemon meringue pie.

“Oof, come in out of the rain,” she clucked, ushering us into the warmth of her cozy foyer. “Though I guess we should thank our lucky stars it’s only rain, not the blizzard they’re getting down south!” 

“Oh, aye,” Jamie agreed, deftly extricating Bree from her raincoat while still holding her. “Made it a bit slow-going on the drive over, but much preferable to snow.” 

“And the rain’s good luck for Miss Bree! Happy BIRTHDAY, sweet pea!”

Thus addressed, Bree giggled and lurched forward into Marian’s arms, surprising all of us. 

“Glad to see she’s finally getting less intent on clinging only to Mama and Da,” I laughed. 

Jamie helped me out of my coat and sweetly kissed my cheek as we followed Marian into the living room. “I suppose being properly two years of age makes a difference, after all!”


Earlier that day 

“Our wee lass doesna appear to be verra sensible of the grand occasion, Sassenach.”

I wiped my hands and turned quickly from the stove (which YES, I’d managed to turn on, thank you very much), beaming. Sure enough, Bree seemed about as interested in festivities as the average boulder. She had both arms around Jamie’s neck and was making it quite clear she was not in the mood to be up and about.

“Well, I suppose she doesn’t remember her last one, little as she was,” I conceded, coming close to tickle Bree lightly in the side. “Guess what, lovey-dove? It’s your BIRTHDAY!”

The dramatic excitement in my tone made her bolt upright at once, hair wild: curlywig to end all curlywigs. “S’bird-day?” she demanded.

“Yes, baby, it’s your birthday!”

“What-is ‘at, Mama? Mama?” She continued to screw her face up at me in concentration as Jamie buckled her in to the high chair. “What-IS ‘at, bird-day? Mama? Mama, what?”  

“It means ,” Jamie offered, settling next to her and putting out one of his hands for hers, “the day you were *born,* a leannan.”

What-is-it, ‘borrnd,’ Daddy?”

“It means the day God gave ye to Mama and me,” he said patiently, “So, it’s a verra special day, aye?”

“What-is-’at?” she said immediately, lacing her fingers together and flapping them about. “Daddy, dinna kennit. What is-’at ‘spedchill’?”

Jamie sighed, love and exasperation so perfectly mingled in that way unique to parents. “’Special’ means…the verra best. Just like you, sweet wee cub.”

“See my-dese jammies?” she chirped, changing direction with lightning speed. “Dey’re porpoor, Daddy, see’um?”

“Aye,” he laughed, “I see, a leannan.” 

She pulled at the fabric of her top. “Dey’re spedchill?” 

“Aye, those are verra SPECIAL purple Jammies,”  he said, meeting my eye and trying not to laugh.

“Your birthday,” I said significantly, walking over to them with Bree’s breakfast held high, “is the day where Mama and Daddy talk about how JUST how much we LOVE our Bree.” I bent and latched onto her sweet, dimpled cheek in a huge, long mmmmmm-ing kiss and Jamie came in to do the same on the other. Bree, caught between us in a smooch sandwich, was giggling so hard she was fit to choke.

“Those are your first presents,” I said pulling back. “Two kisses for your second birthday. And here’s the next!” I slid the plate onto the tray in front of her for inspection.

“Sassenach….That is…” Jamie looked up at me with the queerest expression on his face. “…the *Cutest* thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was little more than a circle with two lopsided ears, but I’d embellished a snout with banana slices and chocolate chips for nose and eyes, and powdered sugar to top things off. 

Yes, it was fairly bloody adorable.

Bree squealed. “Issa—Lookint-’im-that-wee BEAR, Daddy!” She hooted in delight and then began promptly to demolish said wee bear.

“You’d best slow down, mo chridhe!” Jamie laughed. “He’s going to roar in your tummy for gobbling him up so fast!” 

Bree’s mouth was so full she couldn’t reply, but there came a happy, muffled *mmphurr!?!* that signified her excitement to see this play out as soon as humanly (bearly?) possible.


“So neither of you have ever had Thanksgiving before?” Tom asked as he poured Jamie a glass of wine in the sitting room.

“No, indeed!” I settled back onto the sofa with a cup of tea. “A singularly American holiday, this one.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “But you were here stateside last year too, weren’t you, Claire?”

“Oh, yes, well….Yes, but I wasn’t in the going-out frame of mind, to be honest.”

“It was a different life, before you came back, Jamie,” Marian said knowingly, beaming from the floor, where Bree was sitting on her lap playing with her birthday present from the Harpers. “We’re glad you did.”

“As am I, a nighean,” he said warmly to her, then met eyes with me. Glad doesna even begin to express it. 

It would have been a thoroughly lovely moment, except morning sickness had come a-calling with a VENGEANCE today, and I had to close my eyes while yet another urge to vomit abated. 

Jamie noticed and made as if to come to me, but just then, the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately thereafter by Della O’Malley running head-on into Jamie and nearly spilling his wine as she barreled around the corner. He managed to catch her with his free hand, and she looked as though he’d hung the bloody moon. “Hi, Mr. Fraser,” she said breathlessly, gazing up into his face.

“Happy Thanksgiving to ye, Miss Della.” He kissed her hand, which sent her into paroxysms.  Jesus H. Christ, the girl needed a cold shower, pronto

Thankfully, though, it seemed her glow wasn’t *entirely* due to infatuation with Jamie. “Claire! Claire, guess what?” she said, bouncing in my direction.

“Peter asked you to go steady?” She’d been talking about this boy for weeks, it was about time he made a move. 

“YES!!!” she squealed, thudding into a chair next to me. “Can you BELIEVE IT!??!”

“Wine, Claire?” Tom said, coming over with a glass.  

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Whisky, then?

“No, thank you, Tom, I’m all—” Good Heavens, I nearly burped in the poor man’s face, but managed to choke back the wave of acute nausea and croak, “— all set with my tea.” 

I could have sworn Marian gave me a suspicious look, but thankfully, Jamie came to my aid. “So, from what I gather, the festivity centers around coming together and eating in a spirit of gratitude. But that’s about all I ken of it. Is there more?” 

I had told him the story earlier that morning, in fact, but I was grateful for the diversion while Tom gave the Proud Son of Massachusetts recitation of the Thanksgiving tale. 

Jamie nodded in approval. “Thanks be to God for the kindness of the native folk, then. I must say, I enjoy hearing tales of anyone that managed to fly in the face of the English crown—Sorry Sassenach,” he added with a grin.

“Does Scotland not belong to England?” Della asked, bewildered. 

“Depends on who ye ask,” Jamie laughed. “Suffice it to say, there’s a reason the marriage between Claire and me raised no small number of eyebrows.” 

“But you married anyway,” Della swooned, “how roMANTIC!!” 

Jamie grinned and sat down next to me. “Verra romantic indeed.” He saw my pallor and squeezed my hand, speaking low so only I could hear. “Are ye feeling alright, Sassenach?” 

“Bit queasy,” I admitted, resisting the urge to clutch my abdomen. 

“Can I get ye anything?” 

“No,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “But thank you. Just have to wait for young Fraser here to settle down.” 

He smiled and ducked his head, trying not to let the others see the direction of his tender gaze. 

We had agreed not to announce the pregnancy until the three-month mark, as was customary. We knew better than anyone that tragedy could still strike after the first trimester, but had decided that for Brianna’s sake, at least, it was best to wait until the highest risk of miscarriage was past….even though acknowledging the possibility of losing another child sent claws of fear tearing at my heart. 

But I’d carried one child safely; Lord willing, I could do so again.  

Please, Lord, keep this little one safe.

Jamie wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I am thankful, today, ye ken?” he whispered. 

“Oh?” I murmured back, looking into his eyes, curious, but already smiling from the tone in his voice. “Whatever for?” 

“For our daughter. For you carrying her. Giving her life, this day two years ago. For—” His voice caught, just barely. “—For how ye went on living when ye didna wish to…” He gently touched my face. “For working as hard as ye do, at home and at the hospital….For being my wife. For….well…” He very discreetly touched my belly. “For our children. And for taking care of us in this new world”

I ran my hand down the side of his face, unable to speak as I kissed him. Come what might in 1951, never had I had a year in which there was so much for which to give thanks as 1950.

“I’m going to shrivel up and DIE from how much you love each other,” came Della’s tremulous threat. “Just you WAIT.”


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8

James McAvoy being a cutie dork and looking at us during The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby Premiere in Cannes Film Festival - 17.05.2014. (Selfie and story here)

Homecoming

Hey guys, this is my first venture into any sort of fan fic. I’m not a writer by any means (just the research papers I’ve been writing for the past eight years of my life, which is a bit different than fiction lol), so don’t judge too harshly. Also, I just kinda wrote it out in one sitting so there’s that too. Anyway, the fic takes place fall of their sophomore year (so when S4 would’ve hypothetically taken place) and is sort of like a GM Semi Formal high school edition. Probably going to be 3 or 4 chapters, nothing crazy. Okay, here ya go :) Here’s chapter 1

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Dinner Out

This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from A Pickup at the Airport

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet.

Let me know what you think.

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PSA To My Fellow Witches

Today is Earth Day, and our Mother has been enduring a lot. Global Warming, toxic waste, bleaching of the coral reef, over hunting and extinct and endangering of her animals, littering, air pollution, decrease significantly of bees, and so much else.
Now is the time more than ever that we should give strength and energy to her, she needs it. Especially with the Trump Administration literally destroying all the safe holds the Obama Administration made to keep her safe, and the outright denial of Global Warming.
She needs us more than ever before. She has provided for us for centuries, and even more before we came from the primordial ooze. She has selflessly given so much to us, cause yes, this earth DOES have everything we’ll ever need but humans horde and destroy her resources.
She’s absolutely selfless and doesn’t ask for anything back even though she DOES deserve a lot of thanks.
That is why I encourage all witches of every practice to do a spell for her tonight. A spell to give her energy, to encourage her, to keep her strong. You can modify the spell based on what practice you follow as well. Tailor it to make it specific for yourself, like a special gift just for her.
Please my fellow witches, do a spell for our Earth tonight.
It doesn’t have to be long and complicated, unless you want it to be, and if you don’t have any green candles about you can substitute white, and if you don’t have any candles, a tea light will do perfect.
Ultimately, give her the strength to keep pushing on, root her on and encourage her health to get stronger.
Please do a spell for her, she needs it!