salt cases

some reminders if we do get sana for s4:

  •  with all the islamophobia and xenophobia in the world at the moment (such as geert wilders, whose twitter banner literally is ‘stop islam’, being one of the leading candidates of the dutch election yesterday) a season with sana in the lead couldn’t have come at a better time tbh 
  • to people who think sana as s4 main is “rushed”: sana had a major subplot in s2, and she was involved in s3 (even if that was to a large extent to help isak’s development, sana and her religion was still important) so she’s not more rushed than any other character on the show imo 
  •  a season with sana would probably break some of the norms of the show which would be very interesting to see (for example, her backstory in s2 had to do with her family relations – how will the show solve that, when sana still lives at home?) 
  • apart from the boys, sana is probably the character who would give isak (and by extension, even) the most screen-time
  • on that note: the last season’s main is always ‘followed up’ in the next season (eva and jonas post-breakup in s2, noora coming back from london in s3)
  • sana is so wise and clever and perceptive and can you imagine how cool it would be to see a whole season from her point of view? 
  • also sana has such a tough exterior, so seeing what goes on when she lets her guard down? probably amazing and emotionally touching 
  • i know many of you want even for s4, and i get that, i really do… but whichever character julie has chosen, it’s probably with good reason, and we probably have an awesome season in store no matter what 
  • have faith in julie andem!! lord knows she’s earned it  
Godly Beauty Glamour

Intent: to look irresistible; to have a goddess-like presence. 

You know when you want to look like you can both kill a man or make his night? Somewhere between Cat Woman and Shiva? Or give off an unreal brilliance? 

Literally me. Daily.

Which is why this glamour is so useful. 

Start it off by taking a moment to envision the image you have for yourself. Imagine that you already have, that this is who you are. Then, begin to work the spell by combining cane sugar and pink sea salt in a glass container. 

Light an incense that fits with your desired image. Since my intent is to be intimidating as well as beautiful, I chose patchouli and dragon’s blood.  

  • patchouli = love, desire, fulfillment, attraction
  • dragon’s blood = strength, confidence, goddess glam

The next step involves every witch’s favorite thing.




Light a white candle and set it behind the glass. Combine cinnamon with sugar and salt blend, rotating clockwise. You can use ground cinnamon or a cinnamon stick. 

  • cinnamon = quick results, a bit of sass

Grind up two rose petals and place at the bottom of a second glass. Grind up another rose petal and mix it with the cinnamon, sugar, and salt. 

Put the objects you wish to enchant in the second container with the roses so that they fit comfortably. I enchanted several makeup items, but you can use jewelry, lotion, or a mirror. 

Pour the contents of the remaining glass over the objects. You may choose to say an incantation here. I used: “I am goddess, I am light. No one can resist my sight. Moon that turns from new to full, no one can resist my pull”. If you don’t want to use an incantation, you don’t have to. 

Envision yourself radiating light, as if sparkling from the inside out.

Allow the incense and candle to burn out fully. Alternatively, you may decide to snuff out the candle after the incense has finished burning. 

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You know what’s really Wild, is people who say they can’t ship romione because they’re such good friends that it’s “”“almost inc*st”“” but they think that hermione should instead be with the person who bullied her constantly and wished death on her. Like god forbid two people in a relationship are nice to each other holy shit.

Found this neat infographic :D

With bettafix/melafix:
I’ve heard both that it helps and that it hurts…I don’t have a personal opinion on it because I don’t know how it’s supposed to help or hinder…I’ve heard that it coats the labrynth organ and you can easily overdose the meds and kill your fish. But I’ve also heard that as long as you use less than the dose prescribed on the bottle, it can be beneficial.

I DO know that it’s basically tea tree oil, so if you ever use it, err on the side of caution.

I wonder if the intended effect is to make the fish rest more? Kind of like taking niquil for a cold…it doesn’t cure the cold, but it makes you sleepy so you rest more and your body can concentrate it’s energy on fighting that cold…

With Epsom salt: Unscented, pure stuff…or aquarium salt in case you’re worried you may use the Epsom salt incorrectly♡

With ANY sick betta: The cleanest warm water you can give them will do wonders! Especially for things like fin melt/fin rot :)

(Feel free to add onto this info)


Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Length: 1682+ words

TW: Character Death & a sentence of gory impaling

A/N: This story has been on my mind for a very long time. This is a pretty personal fic for me, but I thought I would share it with you guys anyways! I’m also submitting this for Jen’s (@supernatural-jackles) Birthday Challenge! My mom’s birthday is actually on Canada Day, and we’re going to be spending it in the States lmao. We always celebrate her birthday/Canada Day in USA… It’s now a tradition. 

Feedback is appreciated (AND SO ARE YOU)!

Prompt: “You are enough. No matter what, you will always be enough.”

Dean was angry. He was always so angry lately. He was angry when dad and Sam fought every chance they got, but now that Sam was gone, he was angrier. He was angry at dad for pushing Sam away. He was angry at Sam for leaving. Hell, he was probably mad at you for not convincing Sam to stay. But, you knew that he madder at himself than anyone else. He’d rather have them fight everyday than having Sam gone.

You looked at your older brother across the small motel room. He was glued to his phone, and you knew he was texting the waitress he was flirting with the other day. Dean was your hero. He was more of a father to you than your real dad would ever be. You looked up to him so much, but lately he’s just been so… angry. Every conversation you had with him had been about how annoyed he was that Sam was gone, or the fact that dad kept leaving to hunt on his own. Every question was either about the hunt or whether you had heard from Sam or dad- which you both knew was a silly question to ask. You were the outlier in the family. It was always about the Winchester Boys. You were just the orphan child who nobody wanted. You would never be the first person they would contact. But that was okay because you had Dean. Key word: had. 

You’ve always been his babygirl, but you haven’t heard that term of endearment in months. You hated being so distant with your brother, but what could you do? You tried everything to talk to him like you used to, but he never reciprocated the same way. When they first took you in when you were two, Dean was the first to hold you, marveling at how small you were. The only reason you knew this was because of how much Dean talked about you when you were younger. He always told you stories of the times you’ve clung on to him. His second favourite nickname for you was “monkey.” You grew up close. John was always gone, so that left Dean and Sam to take care of you. The oldest Winchester took responsibility of you to the nth degree. He taught you everything he could so you wouldn’t be on the receiving end of John’s abuse. He always protected you. Always. Whether it was from school bullies, or your own father. He was always there. Standing in front of you, and when you were younger, you used to imagine a cape on his back. When you told him about the cape, he laughed, and ruffled your hair.

“Babygirl, don’t you know it’s dangerous for superheroes to wear capes? What if they trip over them? Or it gets caught in something? Real heroes don’t wear capes, they wear leather jackets.” He pointed to the sleeve of his worn out leather jacket that John had given him.

Your eyes were wide with wonderment as you nodded at your older brother. After that you saved up every bit of money, picking up loose coins from the side of the street to save up for a leather jacket. You were still saving up for that jacket.

Dean’s scowl brought you back to reality.

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“Bloody Mary” Abuser Curse (Lady Gaga Inspired)

A curse to use against those who abused you in the past to get justice and return your pain to them. Inspired by Lady Gaga’s song “Bloody Mary”.

Originally posted by thelivingislost-blog

You Will Need:

  • A jar with a Lid
  • Garnet (to keep near you during the spell)
  • Red Ink
  • Chili Powder
  • Onion
  • Paper
  • Black Marker/Pen
  • 3 black candles
  • 2 red candles
  • Burn safe bowl
  • Taglock 
  • (Optional) Lady Gaga’s “Bloody Mary” playing in the background


Light your candles and have them burning as you cast the curse. Turn on the song if you choose to listen to it during.

On your paper write down all of your frustrations, past pain or even just scribble and shred it to put your anger and energy into it. Do what feels right for you. Once done put it all into a bowl and light it on fire to burn it to ash. Do this with caution and keep water or salt near you in case it flares.

In your jar add the taglock and cover it in the herbs and ashes. Pour in the red ink making sure to cover everything with it. Seal the jar shut and bury it or store it somewhere dark that you won’t see it.

Afterwards rest and cleanse yourself. If needed or desired do a self-love spell and/or a spell to help you get over the past. Be sure to also seek professional help and aid about the pain, they can help. 

i hate the term POC, a primer by me, una chapina irritada

anyway, I hate the fucking term “POC” for many reasons, here they are:

1. still frames white people as the center; it makes them the standard from which everyone else is somehow deviating

2. projects an american framework onto the rest of the world. by referring to someone from the Ukraine (to pick a place at random) as a “white person”, you’re basically saying that the thing you find most important about them is how they might be treated if they lived somewhere else.

 different countries have different ways of looking at race, and the “POC”/ “white person” dichotomy is in no way universally useful or even relevant.

3. is so broad as to be completely useless in describing the experiences of actual people. there is no commonality between the five billion people who fall under this umbrella that doesn’t also include white people. it’s a gross erasure of the diversity of human experience to pretend that my downstairs neighbor Miss. Jerry, Scipio Africanus, and Alexander Dumas are somehow more similar to each other than they are to “white people” of their period

someone is sure to say, “oh, but they’re all affected by racism”, but a. racism affects people in wildly different ways and b. racism in different countries can be structured such that non-white people are still at the top of their power structure.

4. creates the illusion of some kind of solidarity between the 5 billion members of that group, many of whom are engaged in actively oppressing, murdering, stealing from, and fighting against other “POC”. there’s no such thing as pretending otherwise ignores all the victims of repressive regimes staffed and headed by “POC”

Okay: so then what should you say?

The answer is simple: be more specific. In fact, be as specific as possible. Naming the actual group who you’re referring to isn’t catchy for stupid slogans like “support all POC”, but it’s more useful for actual discussion of actionable steps to improve people’s lives. Poor black people and poor hispanic people are impacted by racism in different ways, and that’s before we get into smaller subdivisions like mexicans vs. guatemalans vs. cubans. (A small distinction, but important!)

If we’re actually going to do something about racism, a good first step is to stop lumping all non-white people into the same group.



#Golden candy stretching~~💪#natural #Canadian#maple flavored~~🍁🍁🍁 Étirage de bonbon d'or à saveur #érable canadien~~

Voltron at New York Comic Con (NYCC)......

So here’s what I’ve read (meaning take this with a grain of salt in case I got something wrong) on what happened at the panel.

In Season 4 we learn that………

1. The cast and crew got stuck in an elevator when they were on their way to the panel.

Okay it’s not S4 related but let’s be honest, we are going to see fan art out of this during or before S4.

2. It’s been hinted that the team might be at each other’s throats.

Because Shiro is the universe’s punching bag it’s obviously going to be about him not adjusting to his new role (whatever that may be) because according to Shiro’s VA, there’s a part of him that wants his role as leader back because being a Paladin gave him purpose. 

3. Keith is training with the Blade of Mamora.

I wonder if that’s going to be problematic because the team can’t form Voltron without Keith, especially if he’s taking that Black Lion with him. I’m guessing that this is the ‘rift’ the writers talking about because Keith can’t just leave with the Black Lion even if he’s going with the Blade to become a better leader.

4. Lance and Hunk get more character development.

Lance is learning to get over his ego and insecurities while Hunk is learning how to be a diplomat.

5. Pidge still continues to look for her brother.

If you’ve seen the leak then you know she succeeds in that.

6. Kaltenecker the Space Cow is back.


7. We see more layers of Lotor.

We’ve already been told that Lotor is a complex character so my guess is that we’re going to be seeing more of his ‘good’ side or his vulnerable side because Zarkon is back. We also learn from that clip the other day about how Lotor wants to go into the rift. Why? I don’t know. You would think that he wouldn’t go down the same path his parents did ( btw, Honerva is his mother unless he’s being deceived) but then again he’s smart so he probably found a way around the whole getting poisoned from prolonged exposure to Quintessence along with dying and becoming a Space Zombie.

Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be fine……….for now.

And that is all I got. Just a few more days to Season 4…….

Imagine you're a wizard

You blamed yourself, although others said it wasn’t your fault you blamed yourself. Your wife had died a couple days prior in a car crash. Had you been there, had you gone with her and driven instead, maybe just maybe she would still be alive. You might be hurt, but she would be alive. Grief encompassed you as you lunge into the your personal library.

What many didn’t know about you, is that you are a wizard. You didn’t often delve into stronger magic, you primary stayed within the realm of low level protection spells, cooking magic, making plants flower, stuff that what could be considered party tricks or silliness to any non magical person. But desperate times called for desperate measures. You delve deep into your collection of tomes, soon enough the floor was holding more books than the shelves. But you found it, a tome detailing a resurrection ritual. You had everything you needed, an item of importance to the deceased, her wedding ring should suffice, and something with her DNA, a toothbrush would work. You gather up a few more candles, various salts, charcoal, and chalk to prepare, you would make your family whole once again by this time tomorrow.

It was just before dawn as you set up the ritual in your backyard, thankful for having such an open remote area. You set up the candles in appropriate directions, surround the area with purification salt just in case, and draw the needed ruins in charcoal. You place her ring upon your right hand and her toothbrush in the center of the circle. You smile, hopeful this would work as you start the ritual by walking in a backwards circle and reciting the spell.

Dawn begins to break over the horizon and slowly lights the sky. You had to concentrate, this would only work with the day’s first light, and you didn’t want to wait for another chance. A flash of white light crosses the horizon followed by sharp pain in your middle. The pain catches you off guard, you drop the book and double over in pain, wincing and groaning. You feel pressure build up, unsure if you need to pass gas or have a bowel movement, maybe both. You grit your teeth, one hand clutching the ground as the other presses against your stomach, it was one of the worse physical pains you had ever felt. You pull a sharp breathe through your teeth and wide up laying on your side gasping for air as the pain passes.

“The fuck was that!?” You sneer reaching for the book once more and dusting off some dirt, “This didn’t mention any pain involved.” You slowly sit up, feeling mildly bloated and looking around your ritual circle. Nothing. You’re wife still wasn’t anywhere to be found. The ruins and salt circle were still intact, the candles had gotten blown out, but other then that you couldn’t tell a change.

You curse again, the sun was rising higher, your window was gone. You sit and read over the spell once more, wondering if you had missed a detail. A feeling of bloat builds in your stomach, you shuffle to try and break wind but can’t force anything out. Screw it, you decide to take some stomach medicine when you get back inside. You’ve been so stressed lately, you’ve had a lot of gastric distress from it.

On the last page of the spell, you read over the finer details once more, “After correct performance, the lost soul will return, fragile and weak, in need of shelter for two days as it acclimates to the mortal plain once more. It is wise to have a fully stock pantry,” you mentally think fridge and freezer for more modern day ideas, “As the caregiver must stay with the returned soul.” You scroll through the page to the last line, “Caution, it is advised that a male should not perform this ritual.” You raise and eyebrow wondering why the hell not, “Should there be no other choice, refer to displacement spell on page LXXVII.”

You huff at the book and stand to collect your items, deciding to try again tomorrow. Your footing is unstable as you stumble for balance followed by rubbing your now sore stomach. Your palm meet with a tight orb on your middle causing you to yelp and lift up your shirt, “What the hell!?” You quickly flip to the given page which quickly points you to around the middle of the page with a different hand writing, “If you are reading this, I’m guessing you are a male who preformed the resurrection ritual. Congrats, you’re now pregnant with the lost soul. Get comfortable and gather the following ingredients while you can still walk about.”

Pregnant? Pregnant! No! Y-you couldn’t be! That wasn’t possible. You feel pressure rise in your middle again, you place one hand to your middle, feeling your stomach swell under your palm, “Ah, fuck my life.” You speak in panic, grabbing your supplies and racing back inside while reading the paragraph. What you needed next was thankfully fairly simple, chalk and salt for a targeting circle and an incantation.

Two days, you had enough supplies for a week what with countless casseroles from family and friends, frozen meals, and several can goods. With a flick of your wrist you lock your house tight and draw the curtains. Another snap and the lights flicker on, following you as you move from room to room. You stop for a second out of breathe, leaning against the couch and undoing and discarding your pants as your belly surges forward again. Your shirt slowly rises over the growing orb of flesh as you rub, trying to calm yourself and soothe any aches.

You yelp in pain and rub clutch your stomach, “H-honey? C-can you here me in there? Please! I-I need you to c-c-calm down.” you grunt again feeling movement kicks. You look down and your heart leaps to your throat, you looked close to your last trimester, “Sweetie! Please! That hurts! Stop for a second, let me explain how badly I fucked up.”

Maybe she heard you, you hoped so as the movements calm. Your stomach growls as heat two microwave breakfast sandwiches, “Thank you. I-I know you’re confused right now, let me explain. You died in a car crash, do you remember that?” You felt up and down movement, you assumed was a yes, “Well, I brought you back. To bring us back together. But, I… didn’t read the spell all the way through. I found a way to get you out, but you need to wait two days.” You wince again feeling a kick, “You need two days. This is higher level magic, you can’t fudge it. Listen, I have plenty of food to feed both of us.” As if on cue, the microwave beeps and you greedily down the sandwiches, “So, it’ll be okay. You’ll be alright. Please, try not to move too much. It really hurts, and it’s really sensitive.” You felt the yes motion again and you sigh in relief.

You struggle back to your feet, placing one hand at your back as the pressure builds again, “Oh no.” Your belly surges again pushing you to overdue as you wince and groan while stroking your middle. Your wife stretches, pressing against your hands, “Hey now, I know that wasn’t on purpose.” You coo, “Just, limit it alright?”


You had never been more grateful for your magic prowess. Your wife had to grow back to her full adult self, and elastic spell on your middle gave both of you some relief and allowed her to stretch with minimal pain on your part. Walking became difficult, you abandoned the idea of clothes in favor for a robe. Rather cliché but it would do. Getting food as your belly grew more and more massive became a chore, you had to use magic to get almost anything done.

Your wife by no means was a small woman, she was just under six feet tall and slightly heavyset. And you could feel every bit of it as she acclimated back to the mortal realm as the book had put it. An over sized reclining chair became your favorite spot to rest. You couldn’t believe the sheer size of your orb like belly cradling your recovering wife in what you assumed was some sort of womb. You could no longer wrap your arms around it, your belly button was just out of reach, and the tautness of your skin was so sensitive, you felt in near constant pleasure during the last few hours.

In the last hours, your lay on your side as you draw the targeting circle in the middle of the great room, “There we are.” Your breathe hitches again followed my another moan, “If you don’t stop that I’m going to make you pregnant when you get out.” You speak with a chuckle while gently petting your stomach, “Must be very cramp in there.”

Another up and down motion, the closest thing you two had to communication over the last two days was a series of yes or no questions or your wife placing a number of fingers against your stomach. During that time, she had found means to drive you to pleasure and even ejaculation without even touching your manhood. And she was at it again. You helplessly moan and gasp in pleasure as you rub your middle, “Ohh… honey. P-please it’s almost time.” The grandfather clock chimes and you could see dawn starting to break over the horizon, “Okay. Time to get you out of there. Ready?” A nod of sorts was your answer as you push yourself up to a sitting position with the help of a hovering spell.

You grab the book and begin to read off the incantation while rubbing your stomach with both thumbs. Tightness swarms your middle as you gasp and and grit your teeth. You could feel pressure building up once more and a final surge of growth rounds your middle further. You press your hands to you gravid belly as the pressure shifts downwards. You choose to focus on breathing as the tightness first turns unbearable and then pleasurable. The pleasurable feeling rises as your grunt and try to muffle a moan.

And suddenly, your gravid middle was no more. Instead it was reduced to a small bit of flab. Realization hit as you push yourself up, “Sweetheart!”

“Dear!” Your wife cries out with tear filled eyes and hugs you tightly, “Oh gods, it was terrible. The crash! I-I was so scared!” She softly hiccups

“Shh, shh,” you speak softly throwing your robe around her, “Told you I would do anything for you. It’s okay, you’re back now.”

She whimpers and nods, “How the hell are we going to explain this one? Got a trick for that?”  

private school chick again - my friend and i decided to prank our friend who’s constantly being a salty bastard by filling his pencil case with salt. they’re in a different class from me, so when they found out, he poured the salt all over my friend’s hair and the floor and my friend had to pick it up. mad that i didn’t get any retaliation because i was in a different class, that friend who helped me prank him helped him prank me back by giving him my locker code. and what he did…

…he filled my locker with curry powder.

i had to scrub out my bag, and my locker still has curry powder in it. that stink ain’t going away anytime soon.

The one with Charlie's herbal tea

Summary: Reader gets injured after a hunt and isn’t handling it very well. Neither is Dean. Charlie tries to help but should really have brushed up on her Latin skills before doing so.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam and Charlie are there too. Cas is only mentioned (sad!Boxy)

Word Count: 3 692 (and here I thought it would be a drabble)

Warnings: Angry!Dean swears a lot, Reader almost dies (somewhat graphic description), Reader gets drugged by Charlie (not sure if that should be a warning?), Reader vomits (somewhat graphic description)

Beta’d by Mardi (aka @soopranatural). Go follow her, bitches! She’s awesome ;) Don’t miss reading her amazingly funny beta comments at the bottom.

A/N: I think I did a flangsty thing? I swear, it started out as the fluffiest of crack drabbles and then BAM! I accidentally took the exit to Angstville… Let me know what you think, and if you want to be tagged in any future fics!

Originally posted by delusionaldean

Entirely in Dean’s POV

I decided to leave the bar earlier than usual. Sam had already gone home with some brunette that had been eyeing him all evening, and I didn’t feel like staying just to find someone for myself.

Besides, I would be lying if I said that you hadn’t constantly been on my mind since our last hunt together. What that witch had done to you still haunted my nightmares. And I fucking hate witches.

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