know what makes me cry?

in deathly hallows when harry and hermione go see james and lily’s gravestone and they see hundreds upon hundreds of messages scribbled on or around the grave that say “good luck harry!”, “here’s to the boy who lived” and others of the sort. 

they all knew harry would come to see his parents, and everyone knew that in that moment he would grieve, just like they all did. All of those hundreds of people visited james and lily’s grave, and each one of them wanted to tell harry that although he was an orphan, he was loved by so many. 

i also can’t help but think that the first message scribbled on there was “you are loved, harry” written by remus two nights after halloween. every visitor since has made their own addition over it, but if you look very closely near the bottom of the grave, you can see it. every full moon the message glows faintly. 

Someone Talk To Me About This

Voltron Rant/Theory thing

Are we not going to talk about the families the paladins left behind? Back on Earth? Like we have a general understanding of what the paladins feel about Earth, but we don’t know anything about their families and friends they left behind, do we? And what about the Garrison? 

“Oh yeah we lost three students that night we had alien visitors and a weird, high tech blue lion flying around for a bit before engaging a big ass ship above our planet, but then they disappeared so….”

Like is that how the conversation went when the Garrison told Hunk, Pidge, and Lance’s families that their children just disappeared while alien war ships were flying around?

What do the families think? Were the paladins’ disappearances on the news, were they presumed dead? Do the families search the stars at night, hoping their kid will come home, hoping that they’re even still alive? What about Pidge’s mom?!?!? She has lost her entire family, as far as she knows. 

Why is no one talking about this? Seriously, can someone please theorize with me?????

Illyrian visitor

Just a little fanfic.

The familiar boom of wings roused Feyre from her sleep. She had not seen Rhysand in weeks and was aching to feel her High Lord, to touch him. Nobody noticed when she left the manor house anymore, Tamlin stopped visiting her by night now, Alis still treated her like she was sick and Lucien. Lucien knew something wasn’t right, he could still somehow smell the bond between her and Rhysand all over her. The only reason he didn’t reveal his suspicion to Tamlin was Elain, he craved any news he could gain about her sister and he knew where that news had to come from.

Feyre stalked to the clearing that had become their regular meeting place these past months. She saw the moon glint off of membranous wings in trees and frowned. Even in the shadows she could see this wasn’t her Illyrian male. “Feyre?” His voice was low, but steady. 
“Az what the hell are you doing here?” Her words were lined with confusion.
“I hope you don’t mind, I was visiting the mortal realm to assess the situation and I told Rhys I’d see how you where.”
“You mean to tell me that you’ve already passed over and didn’t stop the first time?” A smile played on his face as he stepped from the trees, his familiar shadows dancing around his shoulders whispering to him.
“I apologise my High Lady” He bowed deeply as Feyre playfully punched him in the arm. “How have you been Feyre?” There was a sadness in his voice that she didn’t understand. 
“I’m fine, I get lonely but I’m fine.” She managed in a small voice. “How are you? How is everybody? My sisters?” He ignored her question. 

Azriel was unseeingly staring straight ahead of him, looking at nothing that she could see. He was starting to unnerve her.
“Az” She began but she trailed off after seeing a flash of pain cross his usually serene face.
They sat there in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke again. “We can all empathise with you you know, all of us. We’ve all been trapped somewhere we didn’t want to be,“ she thought of Rhys under the mountain, More in the court of nightmares, Cassian left outside in the cold and Amren in that beautiful body. “we’re all grateful that you did this for us. It’s not a sacrifice we take lightly” Feyre gulped as she felt the weight of his words press on her. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “I was born into a prison I didn’t think I would ever escape.” 

“I don’t remember my mother, not what she looked like, nothing about her, despite seeing her once a week, I do however remember my father’s wife. The image of her will be forever engraved in my memory. My father was an Illyrian highborn lord, I was a source of shame for both them, but especially her. I was the bastard born child that her husband should never have brought home and she would not let me forget that. Eleven years I spent under her cruel watchful eye. I slept in a cell without windows, permitted to only leave for an hour a day, and she made that hour hell. For one hour every day she had me outside cleaning and working until my fingers bled, clad in heavy metal chains to ensure I would never try to escape. As if I had a chance of escaping in the first place.” He snorted bitterly as he slowly sat down on the grass, Feyre sat with him. “Once the hour was over I was dragged back to the cell, if she was satisfied with the work I had done I was left in the darkness, if not it was usually a whipping until I learned my lesson. A lesson I still 5 centuries later do not understand. She had two sons, I was not to call them brothers, I was not to taint their blood with such words. She had raised them both to be as sadistic as she was.” He looked down at his hands, at the scars on them. “When I was 8 years old they came in to my cell and dragged me to the kitchen. I was too weak to fight them, I had had every Illyrian instinct in me subdued since before I was born. My wings were a dead weight on back and I had no energy to stop them. They began to cut me at first. Long slow drags of their knives. They claimed they wanted to see how fast the bastard could heal. They quickly, too quickly, grew tired of their knives and began branding my skin to see if it scarred, when it didn’t they wanted to know what would scar me. I will always remember that smell Feyre, the stench of my flesh burning, melting away from my hands as they held them over the cooks fire. I screamed for a long time before the males from my father’s war camps bothered to see what the noise was. They found me on that kitchen floor, hands mangled and clutched to my chest. My father’s wife only complained that I had been let out of that cell and dragged me straight back there. It was that night that the shadows started to speak to me, comfort me, hold me.” When you spend so long trapped in darkness you find that the darkness begins to stare back she once told Lucien. “My father eventually threw me in a war camp, disturbed by the powers he saw developing in me. I thought that the war camp would finally kill me, but, well you know the rest.” he smiled gravely. “I’m sorry.” Feyre said blinking away a tear.

“Don’t pity me Feyre, please don’t look at me like a wounded animal.” She flinched at his words but understood. “I told you my story because it proves that even in the darkest imprisonments one way or another there is always realease . You will be free one day. And in the meantime we are here for you. Understanding more than you will ever know.”
“Thank-you.” She had no other words for him.
He squeezed her hand gently before taking to the skies once again. She watched as her friend flew away, flew home. And cherished the piece of him he had given to her. A piece he had never given anyone else.

Call It Magic....

Fandom: Supernatural.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor angst.

Summary: Dean, troubled by nightmares, finds himself awake in the middle of the night, when an unexpected visitor shows up at his door. Y/N tries to help pacify his nerves by singing to him.

Soundtrack: Magic by Coldplay.

“Dean?” she stuttered.

The elder Winchester stayed down, his eyes shut tight from the brutal dark of his bedroom. The lights were off, the only illumination coming in from the moon in little beams of light that managed to slip in through the partings in the drapes, drawing squiggles of tree branches on the carpeted floor.

He lay still, waiting, hoping, that she would think he was asleep and leave, but she didn’t. He could feel that she was still at the door—the light from the hallway was pouring into the room in one thin passage as wide as the doorframe. Y/N’s shadow cut into it in the middle. She tried again.

“Dean?” she said in a timid tone that sent spears through the elder hunter’s heart. Jesus, he thought, she was afraid of him. He could hear it in her voice—the tremble, the quaver. She spoke in a raspy tone that sounded like she’d been crying and had just stopped midway to come check up on him. And now that Dean mulled it over, he realized that that was probably exactly what had happened.

She had probably heard him all the way from her bedroom. Then, she had probably gotten out of bed, to check on him, and now she was probably not going to leave until he spoke to her.

Dean felt tense all over, his throat tight, barely managing to get the words out.

“Yeah.” He said hoarsely. He winced—his voice was far from normal, scratchy and pained.

He waited patiently for Y/N to say anything. After a long pause, she finally did.

“You’re awake?” she asked. The edge was still present in her voice.

Dean nodded. “I am now.”

He pushed himself up to sit, groaning as he did so. Fully upright, he then turned his head to the door where she stood, the light from the hallways outlining her as nothing but a silhouette. Dean realized there was no point in searching for comfort in her gaze—he couldn’t even find it. It was too dark.

Silence fell.

Both parties waited for the other to speak up, the tension only growing thicker and thicker, causing the elder Winchester to wish he hadn’t even gotten up. Regret instantly flooded him. He parted his lips to speak, to say something that would ward her off, but she cut him off.

“C-can I come in?” she asked, voice wavering. The elder Winchester winced at this. God, she was so scared.

Of him.

Dean had to force the words out of his mouth. “Y-yeah. Sure.” He said, turning so that his entire body was facing her. He saw her nod, then slowly make her way into the room. He couldn’t say he didn’t notice the way she sauntered towards him; cautious, calculated footsteps.  The closer she got, the faster Dean’s heart began to beat, thumping against his ribcage. He could feel his palms begin to sweat in anxiety—what if he hurt her?

Her entire body was stiff as she came over and then sat down. The bed dipped at the foreign mass.

Dean looked up.

Y/N’s eyes never met his, instead staying fixed to the floor as she twiddled with her thumbs in her lap. Discomfort radiated off her like steam from a kettle, and this made Dean slightly queasy. For he knew it was because of him; because of what he was becoming.

For the past few nights his sleep had been ridden with carnal and frightening nightmares that shook him awake, usually in a fit of tears. They’d been happening on and off and on and off for the past two weeks, and he’d managed to hide them. No one in the house knew—Sam was too busy dealing with the mess within his own head, and Cas was never home anymore, heaven’s operations occupying his mind instead.

And Y/N…

Well, Dean didn’t want to bother her with his inhibitions. She had enough of her own to deal with.

No-one knew. It had been his dirty little secret, shuttered and hidden away from the world. But that was until a few nights back when Y/N, wandering the halls at unholy hours, stumbled upon his room, and found the elder Winchester writhing and stirring in his sleep, brow draped in sweat. He had had his eyes clamped shut, the sheets sodden with his perspiration, as he grunted and gasped. Terrible images too cumbersome for him to swallow were flooding his mind, painting blood on the insides of his head. Everything was red. When Dean gasped awake all of a sudden, sitting up straight in a pool of his sweat, his eyes had immediately landed on Y/N standing behind the crack in the door.

She had seen him.

And then as fast as she came, she quickly dispersed, a mere shadow in the night that had the elder Winchester questioning whether he had been dreaming it up. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Y/N had paid Dean visits in his dreams numerous times—saving him. Being his lifeguard that brought him back to reality.

He hadn’t spoken to her about it until breakfast this morning when he’d noticed how antsy she’d been acting, the elder Winchester having asked her for a glass of juice and her flooding his glass past the brink until it started leaking onto his hands. She hadn’t even noticed until she saw the orange pool of mango juice on the floor upon Sam’s regard. She’d then immediately cursed herself, placed the pitcher down, and gone grab a cloth, all the while ignoring the elder Winchester’s gaze.

But Dean had noticed.

He’d noticed the tremble in her voice when she spoke to him, the way her eyes darted from left to right whenever he looked straight into them, or even just the way she kept her distance when they walked together. Even now, the elder Winchester couldn’t deny the hurt he felt in his heart when he noticed the three foot gap she had left between them when she sat down.

But still, she was here. Right here, right now, putting in an effort to coax Dean out of his shell and tell her what it was that was bothering him. That at least made a difference—right?

“You should be sleeping.” She said quietly, bringing the elder Winchester whirling out of his head.

He shifted his gaze from the floor to her. The light from the hallway was still coursing into the room, blaring bright from behind Y/N’s shadowed form. Dean had to squint to keep it from searing his retinas, but didn’t dare look away from her.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “I just…I couldn’t get any sleep. I’ve been trying for the past ten minutes or so but…” The green-eyed hunter gestured in the air with his hands. “Nothing.”

Y/N nodded, almost mechanically.

There was a beat of silence. Dean was still watching her, trying to make out any feature of her face, trying to grip onto the reality that she was here and not just another part of his dream, but the lack of light in his room kept him from that. Y/N’s face was pitch black, only the outline of jaw and hair falling down her shoulders any indication that it was her. A moment later she spoke.

“I know what you mean.” She stated with a sigh as she shifted further up the bed, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Dean heard the sheets move with her. Y/n’s head bobbed up and down as she spoke. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been trying to catch some sleep myself but…but there’s something keeping me from it. Some…unrest, I guess I could call it?”

“Join the club.” He  jerked his chin at her, causing her to look down at herself, wiggling her toes as if testing the air itself. Noticing this, his brow furrowed.“Are you cold? You’re practically shaking.”

She shrugged. “I feel pretty fine.” Turning her head to Dean, she asked, “Are you?”

“Not entirely, but yeah.” He moved his shoulders, “Yeah, a little.”

“Big bad hunter can’t handle a little cold?” The outlines of her cheeks expanded as she smiled.

“Shut up.”

“Is that why you can’t sleep?” She asked suddenly.

Then Dean quieted.

A somber silence hang between them, ominous and tense. Reluctantly, he spoke.

“No,” all humor his voice once held a few seconds ago dispersed. “…it….it isn’t.”

Y/n pressed on. “So…?”

The elder Winchester’s ears then perked up at the change of tone. He slowly turned to Y/N, his gaze adamant on her masked face. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could still feel it—her sharp gaze piercing though him.

“So what?” he asked, voice sharp, but it was as though Y/N didn’t hear, or frankly care, about his brashness.

“So, if not the cold, what’s been keeping you awake?” She asked. And he could feel it hovering over them like an anvil on a thin string, threatening to tear. There was no point hiding it. He needed to come clean.

A sigh eluded him as he lamented on his thoughts, on what to say. What could be said? What could explain and justify the oddity that was his behavior in the past few days? Nothing. He grasped for words, but it was like trying to catch handfuls of the wind. Useless.

Another sigh. Another shameful bow of the head.

And then a hand on his shoulder.

Tender. Hesitant. Slowly caressing his arm through the fabric of his shirt. Dean turned to look and found Y/N’s eyes, practically glimmering in the darkness, set on his very own.

“Dean…”She  whispered, voice hoarse, making the elder Winchester’s heart wrench. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Please…please tell me what’s wrong.” She pleaded.

Dean’s chest constricted as he looked away, guilt marring his features. “Y/N…”

“Stop trying to be such a tough guy, will you? I’m trying to help you.”

“I know.”

“So spill.”

He wordlessly shut his eyes as Y/N’s hand floated from his shoulder, tucking away at her side. And his heart tangled, and his throat dried, and he felt his resolve crumble before her because it was Y/N and Y/N was good.

The only good in his life.

A guiding light in the pitch black world. He loved her. Wanted her. He wanted to be there for and with her, to plunge thick roots of affection into rich black soil, and he wanted to let vines of trust twine around her, and he wanted her to love him back.

And so, after a moment of hesitation, biting his lip and scraping his callouses and breathing, Dean spoke.

Y/N waited patiently, hands folded in her lap. The room was still dark. He was still wrought with nerves, as he let out a laden sigh, and then….

“I’ve been having nightmares.” He announced. “About you, about Sam and Cas and all of you…dying.” Dean’s eyes shut, and he tried to steady his breathing.

Y/N pressed his shoulder firmly, urging him on with a sad smile.

He looked at her, then sighed. “I…I’ve been trying to ignore them. Hide them, but…”

“It’s hard?” Y/N supplemented.

The elder Winchester nodded. “Yeah.”

Just like that. Like it was so easy. Like it hadn’t been a weight on his heart soul for eons, and as though vocalizing it didn’t send a surge of weakness through him. Waiting for her to say something, the elder Winchester finally lifted his gaze to the girl beside him, finding her still there.

Still with him.

Still good.

They sat, quiet. Wordless. For a moment the world had seemed to stop….but then Y/N reached out, and she took Dean’s hand, and—with trembling and cold hands—she placed it against her warm cheek.

And he disintegrated.

“It’s okay…”She cooed, tone soothing and mellifluous. It was sweet, calming. Like the pitter patter of rain against the roof of a car.

The elder Winchester remained stagnant, frozen by her actions. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? What was he supposed to say?

Nothing, Dean realized after a while.

This moment was sacred. Untouchable. Y/N was saying something, something mollifying and holy, something gentle and good just like her, but Dean was too busy focusing on the rapid hammering in his chest to focus on her. Eventually, she stopped talking and looked up at him, with expectant eyes.


The elder Winchester snapped out of his trance, averting his gaze to Y/N’s. Smiling. She was smiling at him, gentle and re-assuring, and he found himself wondering how somebody could bear so much grief and despondence in their lives, and stay so intact?

How she could witness Dean’s walls crumble like ruins, how she could have her very own demons stirring in her chest, and yet she could be so…there?

Simpering still, Y/N squeezed his hand.

“Listen to me.” She said. “You are going to be okay, okay? Everything is going to be fine—great. Because I’m not letting go of you. I’m not going to let you go through this—this….mess, on your own. I’m going to be there. Always.”

Another squeeze.

Another jolt of limerence.

Dean watched Y/N’s eyes filling with tears. A contrasting image with the smile on her lips, but he knew not to say anything. Only feel. Only understand.

She would be there for him, and that was enough.

He nodded in response, and Y/N let out a small chuckle. “Good.” She smiled as her hand went up to wipe her eyes. She had been crying, Dean just realized as her hand dropped back onto her lap.

He felt ultra-violet as they sat there, in comforting silence. A moment passed until Dean finally gathered the courage to fit his other hand in Y/N’s, pressing his palm flat against hes. She said nothing, merely accepting wordlessly when he did it. He was grateful. The last thing he needed her to do right now was speak, say something that would push him further down the rabbit hole than he already was.

He was too far gone, anyway.

Too in love. Yes, he’d admit it—he would shout it in the halls of an empty church, whisper it in the confines of his room alone at night, whenever he needed the re-assurance.

He loved her.

The space between his fingers felt static, electric, as Y/N kneaded their hands together and eventually started to hum. As she did this, she swayed side to side subtly, entranced.

Opposite her, Dean listened carefully, religiously, trying to deciphering the song. A familiar melody. He’d heard it before, he realized, and tried to remember when.

“I know that song.” He finally spoke.

Y/N’s eyes must have opened, as she stilled. The flash of pearly white teeth gave away her smile.  “Magic.” She said. “By Coldplay. I’ve played it for you before, tons of times in the car.”

“It’s a great song.”

“Do you want me to play it for you now? I have it on my phone.” Y/N offered, rubbing her fingers against the back of Dean’s palm. He thought about it, but then tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Why don’t you sing it for me?” He asked, watching as, taken aback, Y/n froze, then scoffed as though it was too incredulous of a proposal.

“Me?” She let out a sardonic laugh. “Sing?”

“I’ve heard you sing before. You’re not half bad. “ He had. Numerous times, by accident—when she was in the shower, when she was cooking breakfast. Y/N sang a lot more than she thought she did, and every time he’d stumbled upon her in a serenade, the elder Winchester would listen closely and revel.

He tugged on her hands, smiling softly. “Come on, Y/N.”

“No way.”


“No…” Y/N blushed as she dipped her chin into her neck shyly, her hair forming a curtain around her face. It was too dark to see, but Dean could just tell the hade of pink that the tips of her ears were, and it made him chuckle.

“Fine…”He said after a while. “I’ll start, and then you finish off. How does that sound?”

Her head immediately lifted. “What?”

But the elder Winchester said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hands, pulled them closer in, and began to sing.

The first two or through lines flowed easily out of his mouth until they eventually dissolved into a simple hum. He didn’t know the words. True, Y/n had played the song before, but memorizing lyrics had never been something that he was good at. So, Dean just mumbled.

When he heard the sound of amused giggles, he felt a smile stretch onto his face. He went on some more. Then Y/N joined him.

She actually sang. Quietly, shyly, like the words were mechanically being drawn out of her and with her head bowed slightly. But still—she was singing.

And Dean, feeling his heart stutter in his chest, tried his best not to kiss her as she did.

Eventually, his voice melted away, and it was only the soft soprano of the young girl before him filling the room. Outside, the cricket’s joined in with their midnight symphony. Wind howled wildly as an undertone. Y/N’s shoulders loosened as she began to sing with more ease, the former tension in her joints dissolved.

She kept leaning forward. Closer and closer, like there was a magnetic field drawing her in as she sang. She was inches away, still singing, repeating herself. The hammering in Dean’s chest never ceased. Eyes half-lidded, Y/N kept on singing and leaning in.

He moved closer in, like she was a siren leading him into the waters with her melodic voice. He could feel her breath fan his face. Inches apart. Still singing. Still good.

Their foreheads met, and they stayed like that.

Y/N’s voice slowed to a stop as she breathed in heavily, and fluttered her eyes open. Their gazes locked.

Dean felt his throat constrict, gulping thickly, feeling the heat spread through his body like wild fire. “Go on.” He urged, as she watched him wordlessly.

His eyelids felt like bags of sand, heavy, desperate to shut, but he refrained. He couldn’t, not now; not when they were this close, this synchronized. Not when his chest felt like it held a thousand caged doves wildly batting their wings against his ribs; not when Y/N’s eyes were darting down to his lips, and then back up at his eyes.

She lifted his hand, placed it against her cheek, and the elder Winchester gulped. Warm, smooth. He rubbed his thumb against the apple fo her cheek as Y/N’s hand slipped away, leaving only his. His stomach was in knots, much like his heart, and he felt intoxicated. Drunk. He wanted to kiss her, he needed to kiss her.

Y/N said something; his name, he soon realized, and the fluttered her eyes shut, tipping her head back. Still caressing her cheek, Dean couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He dipped his head, and captured her lisp in a kiss.


At the contact of Y/N’s mouth on his, the elder Winchester felt his entire being float so high up, like it was leaving his body. He’d let it. He didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N, in his arms.

Kissing him.

He nipped and licked at her bottom lip, his hand carding through her hair as her hand left his and fisted his shirt. Dean felt a jolt of pleasure surge through him. He kissed her more. Harder. Like she was filling his lungs with air rather than stealing it away. Why had he waited so long to do this? Why had he avoided it, tiptoed around it? Feeling her lips graze against his, Dean felt stupid for not doing this earlier.

When they broke apart, he glanced down at her with half-lidded eyes, mouth still parted. She was gasping, her chest rising and falling. “Y/N….”The elder Winchester managed, the smell of peaches of and honey potent around him. “…I…I love you…”

The young girl blinked up at him, doe-eyed, before a smile cracked through her face. A giddy laugh escaped her, and she threw her arms around his neck.

Dean, taken aback caught her, feeling her form pressed against his. He was sure, with the proximity between them zero to none, she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel hers.

Letting his eyes shut, he cradled Y/N in his arms as she smiled and spoke. “I love you, too.”

It’s been a while since I posted any Supernatural writings, so here..((ps. sorry for the shit ending I tried :))) ))

If you enjoyed this, show some love and like, reblog, or follow to keep updated when I post something new. I write for numerous fandoms, predominantly SPN and DC/Marvel, so if you’re a fan, then you’re in luck ;))))

Have a nice day!

~Protection During Sleep~

This spell is for protecting yourself from harmful and/or negative energies or spirits in one of your most vulnerable states; sleep. If you feel in danger of psychic attacks, unwanted Night visitors, or reoccurring nightmares (induced by an outside force or not), this works especially well. I did this spell right after banishing a spirit that gave off a terrible vibe. It would not communicate with me, and I believe it was trying to disguise itself. I wouldn’t sleep in my own bed, I was so frightened. I had did a spell to exorcise it, and cleansed my room with the smoke of white sage, too. But that isn’t really part of this, and now I’m just rambling.

Things you will need:

- White or ivory coloured candle. The colour white has properties of purification, peace, spirituality, healing, and protection. Ivory has properties of Balance, and keeping one safe from harm. (And something to light it with!)

- A small fabric pouch that closes. Sewing one yourself is an extra benefit because it really puts your energy into it. Plus you can choose associative colours of fabric.

- Agrimony: Helps build psychic/energy shield, banishes negative spirits and energies, ensures peaceful sleep, and provides protection.

- Mugwort: Encourages prophetic dreams (as well as astral projection, and lucid dreaming), and provides protection.

- Lavender: Protection, aids in sleep, purification, happiness, and love.

- Jasmine: Love, encourages prophetic dreams, induces sleep.

- Red clover: Provides protection from evil spirits.

- Amethyst: Protection, influences or clears the mind, encourages dreams. Small pieces or chips of amethyst work well for this, but you can use any size, really.

- Tigers eye: Protection and grounding. I would also recommend it to be at least somewhat of a triangular shape. (Though it doesn’t need to be!) The three points of the triangle represent mind, body, and spirit.

- Small piece of paper and a writing utensil.

If you’d like (and I do), first meditate and/or clear your mind. Imagine your aura and mind open, your body a vessel for the natural energies. Light the candle. Take Time to soak in it’s energy. Imagine the energy radiation from the flame. Put the agrimony, mugwort, lavender, jasmine, red clover, amethyst, and tigers eye in your small fabric pouch. Let yourself feel the properties of each component. I like to internally thank each plant for its aid. Next, on your paper write the following;

“In wake and close of slumber,
Banish all energies that lurk under.
And while my head shall lay to rest,
Keep all evil far from thee
In my sleep when I cannot see.”

You can really write any chant you want. This is just one that I wrote, and found worked well. Don’t be afraid to be creative and personal!

Recite the lines aloud, then fold the paper, and place it in the pouch. Close tightly so none of the contents will fall out, and place under your mattress, pillow, or near you when you go to sleep. I prefer to have it directly under my pillow. You could also sew the pouch into a pillow, or just put everything in one. Make sure to blow out your candle! (Maybe the most important step. Safety, yeah!)

housing update more like if i ever catch any of you jackasses messing with my lights i will bury you in my garden


OOOOOH, we got a visitor last night! 😊

Made with Instagram
Late Night Visitor (Closed rp)


The elf’s ear twitched as heard somebody entering the airship, for once he had actually undressed and put pajamas on. His fluffy hair hardly hid the tips of his ears as he stared at the lanky villain. 

“Robbie? Is something wrong? It’s past 8:08, you really must try to get some sleep!”

More surprised than anything, but even more so curious why he was carrying his blanket. 


Witchtrap will be released as a Blu-ray/DVD combo pack on March 28 via Vinegar Syndrome. The 1989 film has been restored in 2K from the uncut 35mm interpositive. Corey Wolfe designed the new cover art, while the original poster is on the reverse side.

Written and directed by Kevin Tenney (Night of the Demons, Witchboard), the movie stars James Quinn (Witchboard), Linnea Quigley (The Return of the Living Dead), Kathleen Bailey (Night Visitor), Judy Tatum (Witchboard), and Hal Havins (Night of the Demons).

Special features are listed below.

Keep reading

La Petite Mort - Part 9

Pairing: Sam x Reader
Summary: A new case leads to a hunt for cursed sex toys where the victims die from an orgasm
Part 9 Summary: The reader has late night conversation with her visitor
Word Count: 2012
Warnings:  Fluff, Angst, Smutty Thoughts, Silly Conversations at 4am

A/N: Have I told y’all how much I love @oriona75 ? Such a patient beta, it’s a wonder she hasn’t sent me packing for taking so long to write this series. So help me, Chuck, I need to finish this series this month.

La Petite Mort Masterlist

Time slowed as you stood at your motel room door, like one of those chick flick moments that Dean always complained about. You know, those ending scenes from a rom-com movie - the two leads would resolve all their misunderstandings with a grand confession of love before they’d kiss passionately. Their arms would wrap around each other tightly as if that moment would define happiness for the rest of their lives. The music would swell as the camera would zoom out. Everyone lives happily ever after.

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