tin cup

Light A Fire Under My Butt Spell

Some morning I just want to stay in bed, But I got stuff and things, things and stuff to do.  So here is a fast and easy spell you can do with things you can find in your spice cabinet.

Mix Together: Clove for Success. Cinnamon for Power. Ginger for some Fire. And Lastly Rosemary for some Mental power. 

Now put some of the mix under a Tealight (Pull out the candle, put the mix in the tin cup, and put the candle right back on top of it all. It’s a good way to hide a spell too.). I used Red for Success and Fire, but White is a good all purpose color for spells. 

My half asleep mind had no real words to say, except “Light a fire under my bum, I got things needing done.” And Then I listed everything to myself that I wanted to get done today.   

Side Note: The Mix can be used as a spell powered you could dust yourself lightly with for added effect, or if you don’t have the time to wait on a candle. :)

anonymous asked:

I love the scene where they're sitting outside the van and he's looking at a map drinking out of that tin cup while she's just looking at him with those eyes❤️ it just looked like the classic scene in a movie where wife is eating breakfast while the husband sits and reads the newspaper with a cup of coffee😭 like how many of those type of mornings do they get back at ASZ?? Gimple release the tapes

Oh my god, it totally was. And when she says, “We gonna win today?” she sounds so cute and I just cry because how dare they. There’s so much good in this episode even without the sex scene that was stolen from us and knowing that they have even more footage actually kills me. 

I wrote a companion piece to “This Is How It Happens (We Were Born to Burn.)” This is Cassian’s POV. Based on this prompt: “Cassian is romantically involved with someone else when he meets Jyn.”

The Thought That Drives Me Forward (You)


It’s the thought of her that drives him forward, that keeps his legs from buckling.

The Citadel rises high into the sky and Cassian can see what feels like the whole of Scarif laid out before him. But he’s not looking to the sky or to the way the land crests into the horizon.

The deck is wet with blood, and fear strangles him as he tries to stagger along the platform to find her. He can barely breathe, and he holds his wound as though it’s the only thing keeping him from collapse, save for the thought: Jyn. Where is Jyn?

And he sees her a moment after he sees the man in white, and his next step is easy. The look on her face as the Imperial drops is worth every lance of pain that cut through him on the climb up, worth falling to pieces and dying here if that’s his fate.

But he doesn’t die here. He doesn’t die today.

Jyn stumbles toward him, smiling like a child. He wants to hold her and never let her go.

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Cooking with Dan and Phil would include

  • you guys would probably go in being all prepared and ready to make the best kick ass cupcakes for some up coming holiday
  • and phil would probably go all over board like it’s some master chef cooking show
  • like this man child would have judging sheets, narrate the whole process in some annoying announcers voice (”will y/n have enough time to ice and plate his/her creation???), and he’d have a whole array of utensils, that you’ve never even heard of, lined up and ready to go
  • dan would be trying to mix it all together and the mixer would probably go hay wire on him and fly out of the bowl, sending flower and sugar everywhere!! 
  • let’s be real, phil and you would be pouring the batter into the little cups and tins and finding less and less of it every time you go back for another scoop
  • and you’d find it all over dan’s mouth
  • “i didn’t eat it i swear!” (as he licks the raw dough off of his fingers)
  • phil would, again, go overboard with the timer and clock down
  • and once everythings done baking you guys would decorate the crap out of it all
  • and get covered in frosting
  • and in the end it would be a competition for world’s ugliest cupcake
  • cause you all epically failed 
protector | alfie solomons

anon wanted alfie protecting his SO from thunder and lightning

Alfie blinked his way out of sleep as a spark flashed in front of his face. He slipped his hand under the pillow to grasp the gun wedged in the headboard and looked around quickly, his sleepy brain half expecting it to be a gunshot. The rumble of thunder that followed after released his hand and he flopped to his back, shifting in the sheets to settle his back in exactly the right lump of the mattress.

He sighed and pulled himself up with a groan a second later, his numbed hand swiping over his eyes as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed onto the cold slats below. He was halfway to the door when he heard a creak on the boards outside. His hand made it to the handle by the time it swung open and he threw his head back as quickly as he could to avoid it slamming straight into his face.

“Fucking hell, love. Nearly took me out”

You were already tucked up into his chest, arms barrelled around either side of him, gripping tight.

“I don’t like the thunder”

“I know you don’t but that’s no reason to disfigure me, now is it? I got to get work done with this face, it’s the only thing convincing half these mugs to trust me is this beautiful face, eh?”

He buried his nose in your hair and hummed as you ignored him, eyes shifting between the windows nervously.

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  • inmate: i'm here because i killed someone, what are you in for?
  • me, banging my tin cup against the cell bars: i'm here for loving Lance too much.

Flea and I got into a little bit of a fight in Paris - it was our first trip to London and Paris and Amsterdam - and I disappeared for a few days and I met a Danish girl. This is ‘83 I’m guessing. I still lived on Hollywood with Bob Forrest. So Flea and I were in a fight and he wouldn’t speak to me, and I saw this old French geezer sitting on the street selling these gorgeous old tin camping cups. And I had a pocket full of change and bought the cups, put them on Flea’s jacket - like on the lapels - and mine, and he looked up at me like I was so freaking insane. He was like, “Okay I can’t be mad at this guy anymore - he’s putting cups on my shoulders.” We became the Brothers Cup, and later wrote a song about it on Freaky Styley. We would look at each other dead in the eye and slam our cups into one another, and it made a gonglike noise. – Anthony Kiedis