I love this set with burning passion

I was setting myself on fire because I thought I was keeping you warm but now I understand that even the most intense burning passions cannot melt a heart as cold as yours.
—  Things I realized when I thought about what I want to tell you if I ever see you again, part VII
Samhain Cinnamon Apple Crisps

Hi everyone, hope you’re all well. I’ve just finished cooking up a batch of my own homemade Apple Crisps and thought I would share this wonderful and super quick recipe with you. Not only is this speedy snack great for Samhain/Halloween,  it contains ingredients used for protection etc, can be used as an offering for your God or Goddess, is a healthy variation to supermarket bought crisps AND is suitable for vegans/vegetarians, did I already mention they are super quick to make? Without further ado, let’s get started!

You will need:

  • 1 whole apple.
  • A sprinkle of cinnamon.
  • A dash of brown sugar. ( You can use white sugar but I prefer brown as it produces a lovely thick syrup texture and has a gorgeous coffee flavouring to it ).

How to make:

  • Cut your apple into thin slices. Not too thin or they will burn and not to thick or they won’t turn into crisps!
  • Line a baking tray with non-stick baking paper.
  • Place your apple slices onto your tray and start to add your toppings. Use as much as you wish.
  • Cook your apple slices in the oven on gas mark 4/ 180°C / 350°F for fifteen minutes. ( A few of my crisps did burn, so depending on how thin you cut your apple and how powerful your oven is, feel free to change the time and settings ).

Ingredients used in Witchcraft:

  • Cinnamon: Associated with the elements of fire and the sun. Magikal uses are - good luck, love, money, passion, peace, prosperity, protection, psychic development, success and wisdom.
  • Apples: Scared to many Goddessses including Aphrodite. Magikal uses are - fidelity, fertility, marriage, beauty, vanity,wisdom, the soul, the afterlife and immortality.
  • Brown Sugar: Healing, love and sweetness.

That’s all there is to it! I hope you enjoyed this recipe and your finished product. Please do not remove the source and have a safe, happy and blessed Samhain. Let me know how your Apple Crisps turn out!

Cyrena xx

Image is not mine and was found on Our Kitchen Stories.

anonymous asked:

i love u and ur art

let’s begin a beautiful poly relationship - you, my art, and I. we’ll leave our menial day-to-day lives behind and escape to a romantic tropical island. the sun will be setting, and soon it’ll be dark, but the flames of our passion will still burn

*rolls around quietly on Isabela, Merrill and Anders feelings*

I just

Merrill is so good and she has such a good heart?

And she wants so desperately to save this one relic of what the Dalish used to be

And she’s willing to take her own risks and pay her own prices and she knows damn well what she’s gotten herself into

And she tries so hard and just can’t predict how the others will react. 

And she makes mistakes because of it and she still believes in second chances and in people and she’s so kind to Anders and Fenris even when they’re awful to her, because she believes in them and she knows what they’ve come through.

And so much has gone wrong for her but she still sees the beauty in everything.

And Isabela! Isabela who believes in freedom and has been through so much. Isabela who closes off, trying to protect herself, because she’s seen what happens when you don’t

Isabela who knows who she is and who embraces her mistakes and who fucks and drinks and fights and will not fucking be shamed for any of it (and shouldn’t be) and who believes in finding your own way and making your own decisions

(And who is goddamn hilarious too like oh my god, I have so much fun with her and my purple Hawkes. Like I don’t rival b/c it comes off as like super judgey of her choices to me and I am not about that but there are some definite lines with really unclear summaries that have caused reloads and while it can’t be in my canon b/c it gets like ridic amounts of rivalry I can’t stop fucking laughing at “I always knew you had a heart of gold. We just have to dig it out and sell it.” Because I mean, she does have a heart of gold, she really does, she is good and she is kind and she’s had to do some terrible things to survive for which I do not judge her but she hasn’t let any of it steal away that good heart)

And she’s slow to love and slow to trust for good reasons but goddammit if you stand by her she will stand the fuck by you in the end. She can’t help it, not even when she knows this book in her arms could buy her freedom

(And her interactions with Merrill oh my god. Literally the only Companion I can think of who I have never once wanted to smack upside the head over at least one potential line about Merrill and just. ‘Because you have a good heart and you deserve better’ and she treats Merrill like a fucking adult, because she is, and she’s the only fucking one to walk up Sundermount with you and Merrill in the end and ask “Are you sure?” but support her no matter what.)

And Anders. Anders. I mean we all know how much I love him but I just.

Anders the runaway, Anders the rebel, Anders the symbol of revolution. 

Anders in Awakening the ‘not nearly as selfish as he likes to think’, seizing his chance at freedom again and again but when you let him go he comes back to fight darkspawn with you, no matter the risk. Who speaks up if you decide to burn Amaranthine, who plays at cowardice and self preservation and hides his pain with bad jokes and who knows how fragile his position is and how few people get to run away as many times as he has, who knows from a fucking year in that cell with no one but a cat what they have already done to him. 

Who banters with Justice about the impossibility of more rebellion than this. Who comes to wonder if he really can do something, who sees that the Templars will never stop coming after him, who is so fucking angry at what has been done, to him and to Circle mages everywhere.

Anders who sets up a Clinic in Darktown, who loses the man he thought he could run away with, who is bright and bitter and jagged at the edges, who is mentally ill in unpretty ways and who I don’t always agree with but goddammit who burns with passion and belief and love brighter than any sun and who does not has not will never submit.

And I love them all so fucking much.


Quick queer love spell to strengthen the loving relationships in your life this Valentine’s Day! Romantic, platonic, relationship with yourself or others- it’s all good! I performed this with my girlfriend @witchyska but it could be adapted for anybody.

Now I have this awesome Garnet prayer candle that my lady got for me, but you could dress any candle, especially a pink or white one like the ones pictured for love, purity of intent, etc.

We also used my cleansing Imbolc salt bowl for this spell, although you could omit that part.

I dressed the candles and the salt bowl with lavender (peace), catnip (happiness), cinnamon (prosperity), chili powder (sexuality), clove (healing), vanilla (love), rose quartz (love), garnet (protection), clear Quartz (purity), and onyx (balance). I also lit some jasmine incense (love).

Then I set up a crystal grid with rose quartz (love), garnets (protection), red jasper (passion and strength) and honey calcite (‘sweetness’).

Finally my lady and I each wrote two wishes for our relationship on the bay leaves we included in our Imbolc bowl. Then we read them to one another and burned them. That’s all! Valentine’s Day was during the waxing moon this year, which is perfect for bringing love into your life. I honored the moon by lighting our waxing moon candle. The end ❤️

@seungchuchuweek Day 1 - Life and Love

Prompt: “Love is friendship set on fire”

Somebody once told me

That love is a friendship set on fire.

It’s intense, they said.

The heat.

The burning passion.

The flames of desire.

I’ll Show You Ecstasy (Patrick Stump x Reader)

As requested by anon: Can I have Patrick Stump smut? Where he gets jealous and wants to show you who owns you

Warning: NSFW

With Patrick, there were always fireworks, but the innocent kind like the ones parents would ignite as their children watched wide-eyed from afar. Every time he’d link his fingers with yours or place butterfly kisses on your shoulder in the morning you felt that fiery spark, but even so, what you had was safe and tender. Of course, you didn’t mind at all. It may have been safe—which some might consider boring—but it was still healthy. He satisfied you in bed, and you liked to think you did the same. You were able to have fun no matter what you were doing, whether it was watching him fiddle with his guitar in the evenings—which you loved—or going on one of his elaborately planned dates; and you were always making new memories. He was forever taking you on extraordinary adventures for he brought you with during tours. On his band’s days off, he’d bring you along on explorations through whatever town you’d ended up in, and he refused to stop wandering until he located some tacky shirt displaying the name of where you were. So far you had acquired thirty-five, which meant you only had to go to fifteen more places to reach your goal of having a shirt from every state. It’d be an accomplishment, for sure, but what mattered was that if you got there, Patrick promised to propose.

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This is the kind of love poem that gets dirty —
I want to say I’d take you out to dinner, runs my toes over your ankle under the five-star tablecloth, but I’d actually just drive you to the highest cliff I could and shove my fingers in your mouth. I’d love you so hard you bruised from it, moaned into me that you wanted more. We’d find the kind of motel that people don’t use for anything else, fuck five times on a mattress that has seen thousands of lovers like us, bleeding over its sheets. You’d pretend not to know my name and, God, look at this — I am volatile for you, all fingernails and bent knees. Nothing about it would be tender, I’d be a gut wound and you wouldn’t even mind.
This isn’t the kind of love poem that promises anything permanent, this is the kind of love poem that says that I want to tear you apart just for the hell of it, want you naked, want you trembling. This is the kind of poem you don’t tell your parents about, go home the next morning with my name bruised onto your thigh, don’t speak of how we set the world on fire and clung together as it burned.
This is a dirty poem about the ways I would love you deep, like a disease. This is a dirty poem about how we leave ourselves in ruins. This is a dirty poem about the ashes of the war.
—  This is a Dirty Poem

Imagine: Kai and Kol fighting over your affections, after you’ve had a child with both of them…

“What happened in here?!” You exclaimed, eyeing the mess that your “living room” had transformed into. The culprits? Two toddlers. How, I hear you ask, could two little girls - who stood no taller than two feet tall  - cause such a thing? Well, having two temperamental mini witches under one roof was a recipe for disaster - as you have found out more times this year, than any other person in the world!

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Pole dancing is what I love. Wholeheartedly. I love to make art with my body. I am so passionate about this, that at times, it consumes me.

In two weeks, I am submitting my audition video, to what I hope will my first pole competition. I have been working on my routine for five months. There’s been tears. Tantrums. The “Am I good enough?”’s. I am overwhelmed by how exhausted and excited I am at the same time. But I am also reminded of the moments like these, where it’s important to stop and reflect. And remind myself.

To be kind. To myself and others. To believe in myself. To focus on myself. To let passion burn without burning myself out. To think big. Set goals. Do what excites me and visualise positive outcomes. To make time for the things I love. And to love myself. To be grateful for the little things. To not compare myself to others. To work hard. Invest in myself. Hold what I love close to me without being afraid of sharing it.

Fingers crossed, positive thinking, and all that jazz. Either way, I’m proud of me.

Title: 1000 Kisses (Part 1)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Ladynoir

Word count: 1364

I have sinned. Well, not really, but… Here is some aged up Ladynoir for your reading pleasure. There will definitely be more parts, and I have ideas for future parts that my followers will get to participate in! But in any case, enjoy the Ladynoir.

Funny how the things you really wanted were the things that had been with you all along.


The first time she kissed Chat Noir was on her twentieth birthday.

Of course, technically their first kiss had been years ago, during the Dislocoeur incident, but she refused to count that. That kiss had been out of necessity, without any enjoyment for either party. Nor did she count accidental kisses, which had happened on a couple of occasions.

No, this was the first time she kissed him voluntarily. This was their first real kiss.

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recovery ▪ noun [s or u] ▪ /rɪˈkʌv.ər.i/

  1.  the process of getting back something lost, especially health, ability, possessions, etc.
  2.  the act or process of getting better; improvement.


Baby It’s Cold Outside: Part 2

Originally posted by einfachsein

Pairing: Poe x Reader

Warnings: NSFW smutt

Prompt: shantellorraine requested “Could you do a Poe x reader story where they are having sex and it’s the reader is kind of nervous but wants to do it cause they’re madly in love?? :)”

A/N: So this is part 2, you can find part one HERE. It picks up right where we left off. Sorry it took so long, I’ve been very busy. I’ve currently got a queue of about 7 prompts so sorry if you are still waiting for me to get to yours. I hope you enjoy, I know a lot of you have been requesting hot Poe Dameron smut.

Originally posted by brightindie

“The same way your break most spells, with a kiss,” Poe’s lips collided with y/n’s sending a shiver down her spine and igniting a spark from deep within them both. They had wanted this for a while and they could both tell. All their built up desire finally being released in one kiss sending waves of dizziness and pleasure through their bodies. Poe took note of how soft y/n’s lips were against his own and wondered if her skin was this soft elsewhere as she ran her tongue along Poe’s lower lip as she sucking on it lightly. She moaned finally tasting the bane to her existence. This lip had caused a stir within her so many times before, with each bite down upon it Poe would send her stomach fluttering and her palms sweaty with lust.

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How frightened i am.
Fear in my eyes while passion is pumping through my heart.
I am full of it.
Tears may drown it, screams may set it on fire. But as long as my passion burns - fear will be a brother sitting next to me watching the sunset, fighting my nightmares, running through forests, eating my icecream.
So? I am thankful for you - brother - for always reminding me to focus, to embrace and to never lose one thing: my passion.
This wild love for an unpredictable life.
You are everywhere, please continue and show me what’s yet to come.
I am blessed.
—  Sophia R

First was Autumn.
He creeped in slowly and I was captivated by his subtlety and charm. The storms were unexpected and suddenly I was surrounded by these red and orange leaves and I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating and I wanted it gone- so I ran away.

I ran for a long time until I stumbled right into Winter. I was fascinated by the crystal snow that melted beneath the warmth of my touch. He wasn’t beautiful, he was terrifying. I felt just like the trees, left bare and exposed and vulnerable. He was cold and abrasive and turned my skin red, but I loved him until my heart was too frozen to keep beating. An eternity seemed to pass until I melted back down.

In the heat of Summer. He breezed into my life unexpectedly just as the sun breaks free from the clouds. He was sexy and confident and he moved with purpose- like he knew how short life was. He melted the remnants of the ice off of me, but I was so weak from the long frost. He was too much and things burned so brightly and burned out so quickly. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined it all, but then I’ll catch the scent of the salted sea still latched onto a strand of my hair. I still find myself longing for the warmth of those arms sometimes.

But I think my favorite so far has been Spring. He took me in my weak form and offered me flowers. His hands as soft as those petals and his body solid as the hardened oaks. He planted seeds in me that set roots, the vines creeped inside me and propped me up like crutches. He was the hand up I needed and I am thankful for it.

Spring didn’t offer the passion of Summer, the sensuality of Autumn, nor the intensity of Winter- but somehow he was the best of them all. Muted and not overpowering, tension beneath the surface but intriguing not threatening; kind and supportive though not suffocating, the few new blooms taking their first stretch after the cold; breathtaking but not ostentatious, a firefly shining brightly but with no threat of burning; and I think I loved him most.

But the seasons never stay, the world keeps moving and so do they.

—  [s.bucks]

@sunflowersandghouls wanted viktuuri first wedding anniversary! Enjoy!!!

~800 words, sexual suggestions, no warnings. Viktor and Yuuri’s romantic night doesn’t go as planned.

“What do you want for our first anniversary?” Viktor asked Yuuri about a month away from the date.

Anniversary. Time had flown by so fast. Yuuri couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Viktor had chosen him, let alone that they were married and it had been a year. A year? That didn’t sound right.

Viktor assured him it was. June 3rd.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said honestly a week later when Viktor prompted him.

Then it was two weeks before.

“I guess…something lowkey? The wedding was very…animated.”

That was putting it lightly. Christophe had bought them a very expensive and complicated sex swing. Why he thought they needed or wanted it was beyond Yuuri. Why he decided to assemble it himself was even more perplexing. The triplets found it and thought it was the best toy ever to climb on. Then Yuuri’s father (damn a Kyushu man!!!), very drunk off his round ass decided to give it a whirl, fell and cracked his coccyx. They spent the rest of the night in the hospital. In fact, the best photos Yuuri had of their wedding were Phichit’s selfies in the ER.

“Just good food—“

“—Good wine!” Viktor interrupted.

“Good company,” Yuuri said, slipping his hands up Viktor’s chest.

“And good…other things I hope?” Viktor asked innocently, despite the long tapered fingers that slipped down Yuuri’s spine.

“Y-yes! I found a book on tantric sex where we prolong lovemaking for hours just by—you don’t have to make that face.”

“Hours,” Viktor repeated still aghast.

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Leon Married Life Headcanon

In honor of Leon’s birthday, I tried to get this out as fast as possible but i’m a little late -_- Ahh! I’ve gained so many followers since I started doing this! I’m so happy everyone enjoys my (perverted or otherwise) headcanons :3 This one is REALLY long so I put the rest of it under the cut. Next is a requested NSFW headcanon of Joker/Kamui <3

For more headcanons, click here! For a status on upcoming works, click here!

❤️  Wife. It was such a strange word. After calling her ‘sister’ for many years, wife was something he never expected to call Kamui. He recalled years ago when she forced the siblings to play House with her and she wanted to play the mother, (Camilla was the daughter and Marx was the pet horse named Buttercup) and she tried to force Leon to play the son.

“I don’t want to be your son!” he shouted, tearing off the bib Kamui forced on him, “I want to be the man of the house. I’m going to be the father!” Camilla giggled, throwing a knowing glance at Marx, “But Leon~ being a good father is going to be hard work. You have to promise that you’ll take care of your wife and children for the rest of her life!”  Leon puffed up his child body to try to make himself look bigger than he actually his, “That’s it?! No problem!” He took Kamui’s hands in his, “Kamui! Let me be your husband! I will take care of you and our children for the rest of my life! I will guide you to be a good mother!” (Unfortunately during that particular session of House, Leon forgot to fed his daughter twice and Buttercup escaped from his pen to return to the wild. Kamui was furious.)

Mother. That was also a strange word. He hardly remembered his mother and he was raised by countless nannies and butlers. But he could picture it perfectly: Kamui being a mother, rocking their child to sleep at night, holding them to comfort them during the day and placing kisses on their boo-boos when they cried. They would have her hair but his eyes, her beauty but his intelligence and her skills with the sword and his talent with tomes and spells. Yes, he could picture Kamui as a mother and he would also be there, as their father and they would be family.

Family. Now, that wasn’t a strange word at all. He thought he knew everything about family from his siblings. But it turns out, he couldn’t wait to start have his own family with Kamui.

❤️ During early years of their courtship and marriage, Leon was not an affection man in public. In fact, during royal events, the couple would hardly talk to each other, let alone dance or kiss. In fact, when they announced the marriage, it took everyone by surprise. Sure, Leon did spend quite a long time at her side in her room and on the battlefield, but did he really love her? He never spoke about her in romantic terms with anyone and Kamui didn’t share any details of their relationship before the announcement. So naturally, people assumed it a political match to strengthen the bloodline of the dragon.

Due to this fact, suitors still tried for Kamui’s affections (for there is still much to gain if a noble gained a favor of a royal) even after a very public marriage. For the most part, Leon was unaffected by these men, Kamui could handle herself and at the end of the day, she was still his wife. But overtime, Leon noticed his patience wearing thin as desperate nobles and rakes began to test boundaries. Sometimes, it was a hand around her waist (to which Kamui would politely threatened to have it cut off) or if they were bold, it would be a kiss on the cheek that was a little too close to the lips (to which Kamui would impolitely elbow the man in the gut to get away). The breaking point happened when a drunk baron began openly flirting with Kamui (”My dear princess… you are utterly ravishing tonight.” “Thank you, my lord.” “Ahhh now, don’t be so cold! But if you are, I can warm you up very well, my lady.” “That’s highly inappropriate, my lord.” ) and being quite powerful in the court, she couldn’t refuse his conversation. The moment he grabbed Kamui’s rear quite publicly in front of her husband, Leon snapped.

“Get your hands off my woman, you lecherous fool!” Leon grabbed the offending nobleman’s hand off his wife and pulled her towards him, “What makes you think that my Kamui would want such a peasant such as you when she already has an exemplary example of a man as her husband? Let me show you how to properly court a princess!”

He wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and pulled her blushing face in closer to his, “You are my most precious woman. No one else will love you more deeply than I.” Caressing her soft cheek, he leaned down to kissed her so passionately  that several noblewoman fainted at such a scandalous display. For such a publicly shy couple, their kiss was burning, bright and beautiful as any deeply in love couple’s kiss should be. Camilla whistled, Elise giggled and Marx rolled his eyes at the display. As they began to separate themselves, the baron slunk away and the nobles around them began cheering and clapping. “I know you can take care of yourself, my wife,” he murmured to her as he nuzzled her cheek, “But I have neglected my duty of setting an example as a loving husband. I’m afraid we are going to have to rectify this issue.” He pulled her in for another kiss and never left her side for the entire night.  

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