one of my few mottos to live by

Angel’s ‘anti-curse’ breakup healing spell

So, if you know me at all, you know that I am against cursing personally. What I mean is that anyone can curse if they would like, however I personally do not want to do it myself. I live by the motto, “do unto others what you want others to do unto you”. As you can imagine, I often find myself being angry and wanting to fling a few curses at someone every so often. It is hard to resist on occasion. But sometimes it’s just that the intention of the spell may be easily implied as a curse. Such like this one, where I wished myself to be cleansed of my anxiety over a ‘breakup’ so to speak. I didn’t think that it could be taken as a spell while I was doing an incantation, and I kept having to remind myself that I wish no harm unto the other party. So I thought after I finished that maybe others, like Wiccans who live by the Rede and cannot curse, could use this. I wrote it down after the fact, so I don’t have any images of materials, but I did post a picture of the amethyst I used. Anyway, straight out of my book of shadows, here it is!


  • An amethyst piece
  • A burnable representation of the other party
    • I used and reccomend paper since it is easy to deal with. You will need the smoke during the spell and paper does issue a big amount of smoke. The paper I used was two sheets in my BoS that I used to write ingredients for a protection/love bottle that had his name on it.
  • Sage
  • A full moon. Not dire, but I think it will help, as this spell is supposed to induce change (moving on), and the full moon is perfect for that.
  • A new moon later
  • Plastic bag
  • hammer


  • Ground yourself and meditate with the amethyst. Think about what the person did to you to make you in this much pain. Think about how you feel and how you would like to feel. Remind yourself you do not wish any harm upon the other party. Envision yourself completely devoid of this person in life.
  • Begin to burn the paper/object over a flame of sage and begin to chant:

“I wish for no pain to be in your life

I wish for me to be rid of my strife.

I wish to be free in my heart,

I wish to move on with a fresh start.

As this burns, so do my desires

My happiness reborn with this fire.”

  • Continue to chant this. Continuously remind yourself that you wish no harm and only want to be happy.
  •  Once the flames have consumed most of the object (I blew out the flames and let the whole thing singe over time so I could chant as much as I could), pass the amethyst through the smoke and chant:

“I do not wish ______ any harm from me,

as I will it, so mote it be.”

  • Allow the object to finish burning and place the amethyst on an altar, around some selenite, or just on a window sill where it will remain untouched.
  • Leave it, and every time you see it, remind yourself of what you wish to be like. At the next new moon (which represents endings) put the amethyst in a small plastic bag and put it on the ground. Hammer the amethyst until it is in pieces. This resembles the ending of the pain you wish to find.
  • You can either bury the amethyst in the earth, throw it in a moving body of water or keep it as a reminder. You can put it in a small bottle with some sage, sea salt and egg shell and cleanse it, using it as a symbol of protection against future heartbreak. This is what I plan on doing, and I will leave it on my altar.

I hope I was able to help you guys!! Honestly I feel better already. It kind of makes me feel better to visualize these things and get them out there. I’ll post a picture of the bottle at the next new moon; you better know it’s gonna look pretty.


herskirtsarentthatshort  asked:

Prompt!: Oliver frequents his fav sports bar because of a certain young lady. He tried to ask her out a few times but bailed at the last second. This time, Tommy plays wingman! Maybe Oliver and Felicity end up on a date to a ball game or something?!

(Changed this up a bit, but I loved the sports bar idea so much!)

With a rag in his hand, Oliver rubbed down the bar, looking around.  The Home Plate was crowded for the opening day of the baseball season, but thanks to an unexpectedly nice day for April in Star City, a lot of their customers were taking advantage of the outdoor area.  That meant the bar itself wasn’t too full.  It should be easy for him to spot who he was looking for.  

Felicity.  A little blonde dynamo of brains and beauty, although the woman herself would disagree on the beauty party.  

“I’m a genius in a male-dominated field,” she had told him one night, after a guy had been laying it on pretty thick with her.  “Calling me ‘beautiful’ or ‘hot’ or anything like that?  I never believe it.  Especially not coming from a guy in a bar.”

It had been all Oliver could do to bite his tongue when she said that.  Because while he wasn’t a genius, he could tell that Felicity had no idea how appealing she was.  How her eyes lit up when she was interested, how her blonde ponytail made a man want to stroke her curls, how her pink-painted lips inspired very sexy thoughts.  

At least that was how it was for Oliver, since the first time Felicity had come into the Home Plate.  And the more he had gotten to know her over the last year, the more he had fallen for her.  

If it wasn’t for his boss’s rule about no dating the customers, Oliver would have asked Felicity out already.  But Oliver respected John Diggle too much to break his rules.  

But today was different, because it was his last day at the Home Plate.  He had taken the leap and enrolled in college full-time, after attending part-time the last year–a decision also inspired by Felicity.  

Since he wouldn’t be working at the bar any longer, he could ask Felicity out.  He just needed her to show up.  Which had to be any minute now–it was Opening Day and Felicity loved baseball even more than he did.

“Awful long face there, barkeep.”

Smiling a little, Oliver nodded to his best friend.  “Hey, Tommy.  Usual?”

“Yep,” Tommy Merlyn said, folding his arms on the spotless bartop.  “What’s got you looking so glum?  Could it be the absence of your favorite blonde?”

Oliver sighed a little as he filled a glass for Tommy.  “I’m not that bad.”

“Oh, you are,” Tommy retorted.  “How many kids do you think the two of you are going to have, and have you figured out their names yet?”

Glaring at his friend as he slid the beer to him, Oliver said, “If you say any of that kind of thing when Felicity gets here–”

“Would I do that to you?” Tommy asked, picking up his beer and taking a healthy gulp.

“Yes.  You would.”

Tommy rolled his eyes.  “I’m going to be everything you could want in a wingman.”

“I don’t need a wingman,” Oliver said, knowing he sounded like a stubborn kid.  But damn it, he didn’t.  “I just need Felicity to show up.”

“Well, you’re in luck, then.”  Tommy nodded and Oliver spun around, looking towards the door of the bar.  The door that Felicity had just walked through.  

Oliver tried to smooth out his shirt and his hair without looking like he was as Felicity walked around the bar, smiling and waving to a few other regulars.  In her jeans and Mariners t-shirt, she looked more casual than he was used to seeing her.  And he liked it.  

“Felicity, hey,” he said after clearing his throat.  “I was getting worried.”  

Worried, you idiot?  Why don’t you just ask her to marry you right now? a voice in his head said–a voice that sounded like Tommy at his most mocking.

“That you would miss the pre-game festivities,” he continued quickly.  “What can I get you?”

“You’re so sweet.  Thanks, Oliver,” she said, hoisting herself on a bar stool two down from Tommy’s.  “I’ll take a beer.  And a thing of popcorn all for myself?” she asked in a wheedling tone, smiling at him.  

Ducking his head and smiling, Oliver took a small basket from under the bar and filled it with popcorn from the large machine at one end of the bar.  He placed it in front of Felicity with a flourish, smiling at how she clapped her hands and bounced on her stool.  

“You know John’s got a standing rule that his favorite customer gets whatever she wants,” Oliver told her as he pulled her beer.  

“I don’t want to take anything for granted,” Felicity said, popping a few kernels into her mouth.  

“A great attitude,” Tommy said, butting into the conversation.  “Don’t live with regrets, that’s always been my motto.”

Oliver leaned back, his arms folded over his chest.  “Really, Tommy?”

Tommy shot him a look, then leaned over towards Felicity.  “So you were cutting it close, Felicity.  What gives?”

Her face screwed up in an expression of adorable disgust.  “A friend of mine kept me on the phone, trying to persuade me to let her set me up with this guy.” 

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.  His arms fell to his side as Oliver considered that maybe he was too late.

“Oh, yeah?  You weren’t interested, though?”

Seriously, he was going to kill Tommy.

Felicity shook her head.  “No … I mean, he sounds like a great guy, he’s just … he’s not …”  

Tommy nodded sympathetically.  “He’s not Oliver, right?”  

Her cheeks went red and after a startled glance towards Oliver, Felicity looked down.  

“You know that even though he’s my best friend, I’ll throw him out if he’s bothering you, Felicity, right?” Oliver asked, glaring at Tommy.

“No, no, you don’t have to show off your muscles by throwing Tommy out,” Felicity said quickly.  She blushed deeper and picked up her beer.  Just before she sipped, she muttered, “And it’s not like he’s wrong.”

Oliver thought she hadn’t meant to be so loud.  He didn’t think he was meant to hear that.  But he had, and now that he heard it … he was trying to make sense of it.  Could Felicity–did she actually–would she actually go out with him if he asked?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tommy get up and move away, leaving Oliver alone with Felicity.  Giving him the opening he needed.  

Taking a deep breath, Oliver took a step closer to Felicity and rested his hands on the bar.  “So … you turned your friend down?”

She nodded, her eyes looking anywhere but him–her beer, the bar, the TV showing the sportscasters talking about the Mariners’ chances this year.  “Yeah … I just … I knew I wasn’t interested.”  

“So … if I asked you out …?” 

Her eyes snapped to his face, big and blue and round as saucers.  “What?” she whispered.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out for months, but you know John’s rule,” Oliver said, deciding to put all his cards on the table.  “But this is my last day here, since thanks to you, I’m now a full-time college student.  And the only good thing about leaving the Home Plate is I get to ask you out now.”  

Felicity blinked slowly, her lips parted as she stared at him.  Oliver leaned in a bit, a smile starting to grow on his face as his confidence rose.  “Felicity,” he said softly, “would you go out with me?”

Her head jerked, then she nodded eagerly.  “Yes.  Yes!”  

Oliver beamed at her, then looked around for John.  When he caught his boss’s attention, Oliver gave him the thumbs up and got a head nod in return.  Turning back to Felicity, he gave her a wink and pulled himself a beer, then walked around the bar with it.  

She was smiling, too, by the time he reached her.  “Hi,” he said, sliding into the stool next to hers.  “I’m Oliver.  How do you feel about the Mariners this year?”

“They’re gonna go all the way,” she said confidently, before holding her hand out to him.  “Hi.  I’m Felicity.” 

And while the Mariners didn’t go all the way–they lost in the wild card game–Oliver and Felicity did.  They went all the way.


Hospital - A One-Shot (pt 1 of 2)

I was asked for some Cuddly/Caring Ed and came up with this idea.  The bulk of the cuddles and caring will actually come in part 2, though (sorry!).

I wrote a part of this from Ed’s point-of-view for the first time, which was really weird for me since I’m so used-to and comfortable using Kate’s voice.  But she was unavailable (you’ll see why soon), so Ed needed to step up!

It’s not very long, compared to my usual stuff.  I’ll begin on part 2 later today, but I can’t say yet when that will be finished.


Early Spring 2016

Something was definitely not right. I’d had a stomachache since late morning. It was just below and to the left of my belly button at first, and then it traveled right.  Eating didn’t help, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t intestinal pain, either. Painkillers did nothing - it actually got worse as the day went on.  It was unfamiliar to me - I’d never felt discomfort quite like it before.

We’d had plans to visit my parents that evening, and celebrate my mom’s birthday.  I wasn’t sure if I should cancel or not, or maybe just stay home and let Ed take the kids without me.  But it was my mom’s birthday, and I didn’t want to miss it.  So, I decided to suck it up and go.  At about 4 pm we all piled into the car and made the short ride over to my parents’ house.

My mother loves to cook.  And even more than that, she loves to feed people. The old adage ‘Food is Love’ is a motto she lives by.  Even though it was for her own birthday celebration, she happily spent all day preparing a most delectable feast for her loved ones.  She said that seeing her family together around the table enjoying both each other’s company and the meal she prepared for us was all she needed.

But not even my mom’s amazing Mexican lasagna could bring me out of my funk.  I didn’t feel like I could keep much food down, so I just picked at it, taking a few small bites here and there.  The pain was still getting worse.  

Ed said I looked pale.  He was concerned, as were my parents.  My sister-in-law Amy, a nurse, was the first to mention that maybe I should go to the ER. Once I started running to the bathroom to vomit every 10 minutes or so, I had to agree with her.

I apologized profusely to my mom for ruining her birthday, and she predictably hushed me, assuring me that my health was infinitely more important than a silly party.  

The kids stayed with my parents while Ed took me to the hospital.  We had no idea how long we’d be there, so figured it would be best if Nate and Lucy spent the night with them.

Ed had to pull the car over twice on the way to the hospital so I could throw up.

What is this?  

Worry was etched all over his face as he drove us through the stop-and-go city traffic.  We didn’t talk much during the drive, but he kept his hand on my knee the whole time.

We were in the waiting room for over an hour before anyone saw me.  It was a Saturday night - the busiest time of the week for an emergency room.  I visited the bathroom no less than 6 times to vomit while we waited.  Nothing was even coming out anymore - it was all just dry heaves.  I was in significant pain, I was miserable, and I was baffled.  I came back to our seats from one of those bathroom visits, shaking my head and shrugging, feeling discouraged.

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?” Ed asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

“No,” I slowly shook my head.  “I don’t know what this could be…gallbladder, maybe?  Appendix…?” I felt my eyes go wider as I thought of another possibility.  I didn’t voice it, though.

Which didn’t matter in the least, since he’d apparently had the same thought.

“Could you be pregnant?”


After just over an hour I was finally called back to triage, where I was asked a series of the usual questions:

Describe the abdominal pain.  When did it begin?  It started late this morning - dull, kind of centered, a little to the left.  A few hours later it moved right and down and got worse - much more sharp.

Do you have a normal appetite?  Not really.  I don’t think I can keep anything down.  

Any nausea or vomiting?  Yes.  I’ve been vomiting every 5-15 minutes for the past few hours.

Are you experiencing any vaginal bleeding?  No.

When did you begin your last period?  Umm, almost a month ago I think?  I think I’m due in a few days.

Do you experience any pain with intercourse?  No.

Any dizziness?  No.

Any pain in your shoulder or back?  No.

I also told the nurse that I’d stopped my birth control pills the previous month. It seemed like something worth noting.

The triage nurse was the only person we’d shared that information with.  It was a decision we’d come to together, at the tail-end of what was honestly the most stressful, intense, nerve-racking, heart-wrenching, soul-baring near break-up/fight I’d ever experienced.  It lasted days, but in the end we were both clear and honest with ourselves and each other about where we wanted our relationship to go.  Not that he hadn’t been forthright about that before.  It was I who had been fooling myself, and by extension, him.  But now it was voiced. It’s real.  We are stronger, completely committed, and in it for the long-haul.

We weren’t exactly trying to get pregnant, but we were no longer trying to prevent it, either.  It was a huge step, for sure.  Given my age and my past miscarriages, we thought we might need to see a reproductive endocrinologist once we officially started ‘trying’.  But we weren’t quite there, yet.

I knew that if I was pregnant, then it was very early, and something was probably very wrong.  So, at that point I was praying that it was my appendix or gallbladder.  

After another 40ish minutes of waiting my name was called again, finally, and we were led back to an examining room.  But before we even entered, I was handed a sterile sample cup and redirected to the nearest bathroom.  

“We need a urine sample for a pregnancy test.  We’ll also check for a UTI and kidney stones.”

I did my thing and returned to the small curtained-off area where Ed was waiting.  I changed into the hospital gown the nurse had given me, and then she returned to take my vitals, including my temperature.

“Hmm.  98.5…no fever…”  She looked a little surprised by this.

We waited an interminable 15 or 20 minutes, during which time I continued to dry-heave.  I’d been given a clean, plastic bucket, but nothing was coming out, anyway.  I was miserable.  Ed was trying to distract me with stories of his own hospital escapades.  He’s broken a lot of fingers and toes!  Boys…  

Finally, Doctor Pianga came back with the results.  She glanced at me and then at Ed, and if she recognized him she made no outward sign of it.

“Everything was negative.  You’re not pregnant, you don’t have a UTI, and there are no kidney stones.”

I nodded.  “OK…”

“So we can pretty safely rule out an ectopic pregnancy, but there is definitely something going on.  I suspect it’s appendicitis, but I’d like to run a few more tests to be sure.  I’m ordering blood work and an MRI.  But first I’d like to do a physical exam.”

I laid back and tried not to worry too much while the doctor applied pressure to various parts of my abdomen, observed my reactions, and asked me to rate any pain I felt on a scale of 1-10.

My memory of that night is pretty fuzzy, so my awareness of how time passed is not great.  But I do remember waiting around a lot for tests and results and room availability and doctors.  My blood was drawn right away, but we waited a while for the MRI to be done.  Then we waited some more for someone to tell us…anything.

It was after midnight before Dr.  Pianga returned.

“I’m confident that you have an angry appendix.  Your white blood cell count is high, which indicates that you’re fighting an infection…although you don’t have a fever, which is atypical.  But the MRI images clearly show that your appendix is inflamed.  It’s not burst.  I do see what looks like a blockage in your appendiceal lumen, which is the hollow part of the appendix.”

“So, does she need to have it out?” Ed asked.

Dr.  Pianga nodded.  “Yes.  Your angry appendix needs to go,” she said, grinning at me.


“I believe you’re a good candidate for a laparoscopic appendectomy.  It’s less invasive than the open surgery, and has a shorter recovery period.  It’s actually performed as an outpatient surgery, so you won’t even be admitted.  You’ll be home by mid-morning.”


Ed’s POV

While we waited in pre-op, they hooked Kate up to an IV and started some medicines - antibiotics, a pain reliever, something to stop her vomiting, and a sedative.  She became very tired, but also really hyper and chatty - even more so than usual.  She spoke quickly and emphatically.

“I can’t believe I’m having my appendix out?  This morning I had a stomachache and now I’m having surgery?  That’s crazy.  I’ve never even had surgery before.”


“Well, I had a c-section.  I guess that’s surgery, isn’t it?  Oh!  I’m so glad it’s not an ectopic pregnancy.  I was really worried that’s what it was…”

“Yeah,” I replied softly, nodding.

“I want a baby, Ed.  I want to have a baby…babies!”, she said a little too loudly.

“Shhhh, OK.  OK, darling.” I smiled down at her, smoothing her hair back away from her face, and then took a quick glance around to see if anyone else could hear our conversation besides Ebony,  the nurse who just re-entered our curtained-off ‘room’.

“No, no…your babies, not just any babies…”  she seemed to be under the impression that I might have mistakenly thought she wanted some random, general babies.  

I was sat down on the edge of her bed, right next to her, and couldn’t help the smile that broke out at hearing those words.  

I softly kissed her forehead, and then took her hand in both of mine.

“I want that, too,” I whispered softly.

I hated seeing her in pain, worried, and so vulnerable.  It wasn’t something I was familiar with at all - Kate is probably the strongest person I know - she’s my rock, my safe place.  This was new territory for me.  I’m not very familiar with American hospitals or surgery procedures, and felt quite out of my element.  I wasn’t going to let her see that, though.  I knew it was a pretty common surgery, but I was worried, all-the-same.  

The possibility of an ectopic pregnancy had actually scared the piss out of me. The idea of losing our baby before even getting to know him or her?  No.  Just no.  And Kate has had more than her share of losses in her life.  It would kill a good part of me if that were to happen to us.  To her.  

So, anyway, I guess that’s when I knew without a doubt that we already were a family.  We were just waiting for a few more additions.

The anesthesiologist came back and administered the drugs via her IV to put her under.  Kate looked a little bit nervous, so I whispered sweet and silly and entirely inappropriate things to her to get her to smile, and she was out almost immediately.  Ebony was trying to hold back a smirk over everything she’d just overheard, and wasn’t doing a very good job of it.  I grinned sheepishly back at her.

“Will she remember any of that?”

“Probably not.  But believe me, she means every word of it.  That stuff is truth serum.”


Stay tuned for pt 2, but I need a few days!

As always, likes and reblogs are mucho-appreciated, as is any feedback you might care to offer.  :-)


anonymous asked:

Does Taylor have any tattoos?

He does have one (that we know of) on his ribs:

In fact, he’s about to get his first tattoo, a reminder of the mantra that got him here. “Riggs says ‘no regrets’ and that’s from me, that’s improv,” the actor explains. “It’s my motto, too. Tomorrow I’m getting a tattoo in Swahili that means to live life with no regret.” -Nylon Magazine

A few pictures of it:

some cute tango/whiskey things to think about !!

tango asks bitty and the rest of smh for advice on How To Handle A Crush without letting on that the crush in question is whiskey, until bitty figures it out at a later point, and he offers to help in any way he can. tango fires off so many questions, one of them being about how bitty deals with any of his crushes and bits is just like “haha, texting helps!! 😅”, so they try many different drafts of what message tango could send to whiskey to get them to meet up so he can confess his feelings to him

bitty: this one?
tango: idk…is that too eager?
bitty: what about that?
tango: ??? is that okay ???
bitty: this one!! i’m sending it!!
tango: wait-
bitty: too late, it’s done, it’ll be fine!!
tango: 😰😰😰

(this got…long, like. Ridiculously Long, so the rest is under the cut!!)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Please talk about your problems with the SG-1 finale?

Sure! I’ll collate some of the rants in my Unending tag here for you. :-)

I have a lot of problems with Unending. So I’ll start with the things I don’t mind about it.

I love that Sam learned to play the cello. It’s random, sure, but I’ve always wanted to learn to play drums and I assure you if I suddenly started taking drum lessons and playing drums an hour a day everyone watching the show of my life would be like, “LOL, drums!? How random!” And it seems like one of those things she might have always wished she’d done but never made time for, because she was focused on school or her career. So I like the idea that she had one beautiful thing that had nothing to do with space or science or the SGC to turn to while they were stuck up there.

I loved the little scenes we got of the team celebrating holidays together, just enjoying each other’s company.

I thought Cam sort of losing it from boredom and frustration was entirely realistic. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

*trying to hold in tears as I remember Teen Wolf will not be the in the coming seasons* Emma, will Sterek live on forever no matter what?

Do you mean Sterek won’t be in the coming seasons? Because I think Teen Wolf has an obligation to be in its own seasons ;)

AND OF COURSE ANON. Come and join us here where Sterek is 100% canon.

Although, you still won’t be able to convince me it isn’t canon. I mean…

So yeah, maybe they had no chemistry. (Chemistry? Pfffft, please.)

And they never came back for each other. (Save each other? As if.)

And it’s a shame they never had fun with one other. (No smiles here!)

Or comforted each other. (Clearly Stiles thought putting a hand on someone’s shoulder was thoroughly uncomforting.)

And sure, they never cared about each other’s safety. (Never even thought to look back, to say you’re important with subtle eye and hand gestures.)

Never sounded panicked…

…or looked panicked…

When they thought there was a chance they might lose each other. (I mean, feel sad? Over each other? Laughable!)

And maybe they never understood each other either. (It’s not like either of them ever cared enough to find out about one another. There is no implication at alI they spent any more time together off screen.)

And never, did they ever think about each other. (’Out of sight, out of mind, that’s my motto!’- said no half of Sterek ever.)

So come and join us here, where we are open 24/7 and continue to think about all the ways Sterek wasn’t canon. Wasn’t even close. How we probably won’t live on because we don’t actually have much to go on. Like, at all.


(Not my gifs.)

Decided to post the good picture of my new tattoo here as well. It says “Expect nothing, appreciate everything.” and it’s a motto i’m going to try to live by. It was done today and it hurt so much (omg, so much more than my first one), but i’m in love with it and it turned out perfectly (in my opinion). Yes it’s my inner arm and has a few scars but yeah, idk. I’ve been having a massively tough time lately so i’m glad i was able to treat myself with this. Feel free to ask me anything about it.


I don’t know about a motto to sum up entirely who I am, but one thing I’ve always lived by, and people try and convince me out of it, and I just don’t believe in it is, I’ve never been a dater. I’ve never gone on true dates before. Really, with anyone. I’ve had a few boyfriends before but I’ve never truly just gone on random dates. When people ask why, I’ve always said I feel like dates are like interviews, and I refuse to be romantically employed.

anonymous asked:

Yo I'm kinda in the hospital for the next few weeks at least and my doctor lives by the motto "laughter is the best medicine" and gave me a list of humor blogs and blogs just run by kind people and your URL was legit one of the blogs on the list and i know it's not going to magically heal me but it's always nice being able after a long day of tests and treatments to just relax and get distracted with nicer things: I know you mean to just have a blog but it really does matter so thank you

This is amazing and crazy to think my procrastinating is helping you a little. I hope you get better soon! And thank you!