#illuminated spirit of ecstasy

[mrs-trophy-wife]

[muzansfangs]

thirst request ✨

i have always loved the concept of the reader secretly dating byakuya and teasing the hell out of him during work. thinking about how much the composed captain can take before he snaps 🤭

hes too pretty to not tease

Enough is as good as a feast.

Starring: Kuchiki Byakuya x f!reader; mention to Gin Ichimaru and Renji Abarai;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: vaginal sex, quickie, semi-public sex, brat taming, secret affaire, creampie, teasing the partner, jealousy, language, dirty talk, talk about wedding, dom!Byakuya, sub!reader;

Plot: You have recently been promoted Captain of the Third Division, filling up the position once belonging to your treacherous former Captain Ichimaru Gin. Exuberant for your achievement, you asked your fellow Captain and boyfriend to celebrate together and come out as a couple. Too busy to listen to your pleadings and still kind of reluctant to tell his comrades he had opened up his heart again, Byakuya tried to avoid you and suggested you to just meet up later that night at his Estate, safe from prying eyes. Your wild side, though, did not quite agree with his decision and you turned his day into a living Hell, until he decided you had truly crossed a line.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bulbous tip of your lover’s cock stretching you open unforgivingly brought tears of pleasure to your half-lidded eyes, already glittering in sheer pleasure and visions of ecstasy. You should have seen it coming. If you push a situation too far, something’s got to give. And sure enough, you were pinned up against the wall, thighs squashing your boyfriend’s narrow hips as he thrusted up into you with a stern expression plastered over his sharp features. His beautiful light-blue eyes, glazed over in frustration seemed greyish in the dimly illuminated alley you had been cornered to, as he took sharp intakes of breath.

“I wonder what got into your head. — he asked you through gritted teeth, watching in inward glee and immeasurable satisfaction the way your mouth fell ajar, while he roughly abused your pussy — A skimpy skirt as a uniform, tsk. You do realize decorum is important, when this is draped over your shoudlers?” he reprimanded you, tugging at your white Captain haori to emphasize his solemn words.

Seldom Byakuya Kichiki, the head of the prestigious clan of noble men and women serving the Gotei 13 for centuries now, had displayed such a lack of self-control. He felt ashamed of himself. His grandfather was probably scowling in disgust, staring down at him, wherever his spirit was. How was he supposed to repress his unbridled hunger for your flesh, though, when you had been swaying your hips so seductively before his eyes for hours?

Byakuya had even caught his Lieutenant, Renji Abarai, gulping in distress, when you had bent over his desk to strike up a frivolous conversation to simply punish him for having turned down your offer of throwing a party and spreading the news of your relationship among your friends and comrades. Not to mention how the lower ranks neglected their duties to leer at your form, snickering and murmuring dirty remarks about your ass. He had fought for his life in his own barracks, thanks to the tantrum you had thrown. He had almost committed a mass murder, killing the officers of his own Division for appreciating your curves so impudently in front of him. However, how could he even justify his jealousy if no one knew about your secret affaire? On the other hand, his cock throbbed so painfully in his hakama he had been forced to lock himself in his office and pretend to be swamped with piles of reports to check.

Frankly, you deserved such a rough treatment. He had been worshipping you since the day he had met you, kissing every inch of your body when you were warming his bed at night. Still, he always knew you had a sneaky side. How was it possible you had not been influenced by your former Captain, Ichimaru Gin, during the years spent at his service?

“He really taught you how to act like a prick, didn’t he? The jig’s up, darling. — he continued, perseverating his onslaught on your body by grasping you by your hipbones and impaling you onto his length — Dressing like that, acting like one of the girls from the brothels is unbecoming of my future wife” he firmly rebuked you, making your walls clamp down around his cock and earning a guttural groan from him.

Your mind went blank for a couple of seconds, your heels digging onto the small of his back as you cupped his smooth cheeks between your hands. Had he just let the words ‘my future wife’ escape his lips? Did he really mean it? You felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach and you let a breathy giggle leave your lips.

“You can’t be serious…” you whispered above his lips, but he stunned you in silence by rotating his hips up onto yours, deeply, the tip of his dick accidentally brushing your cervix.

Too occupied to endure the fleeting moment of pain caused by his action, you missed the resemblace of a soft smile on his lips. His words reached you, anyway, and when they did you milked him in your essence instantly.

“Marry me”.

Byakuya Kuchiki, a man who had even questioned his morals about the decision of dating another woman after years of mourning his deceased first love, was now about to make you his new official reason to be alive, to come back safe and sound after every mission, to spend the rest of your life by his side. A privilege you had not anticipated to happen relatively soon.

Byakuya grunted, a masculine ramble coming from deep within his chest, as he cradled you better in his arms. Your back was pressed against the wall, your now numb legs dangling at his sides, as you stared into his eyes as if you had just witnessed to the spectacle of a pouring rain in the desert. His cock came to an halt abruptly, his hot semen pumped out in thick ripples coating your insides in a whitish patina warming you deliciously.

He nipped at your jaw affectionately, your labored breaths mingling as he quickly checked the entrance to the cramped alley to assure himself no one had seen what had just happened between two people who should have incarnated the epitome of royalty and pride in battle. He would have definitely paid a visit to the shrine to ask his grandfather for forgiveness.

Once he let you down on your feet, you hastily retrieved your underwear from the pocket of your creased haori and made sure to waste no time in wearing them “If the offer is still on the table, my answer is ‘yes’, you know” you broke the ice again, your eyes gleaming in happiness while he fixed his pants and hummed softly, partially still dazed from the powerful orgasm he had just experienced.

The raven-haired Captain took a step closer to you, hand reaching down to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger “I’m glad you won’t decline my offer in front of the entire Gotei, darling”.

You arched your eyebrow “The entire Gotei?” you quizzically inquired, watching him close his eyes to collect his thoughts before he replied.

“I intend to ask for your hand officially the next week. I would have loved to make it a surprise for you, but I am unfortunately unable to control myself around you. I’m sorry”.

You gaped, blinking a couple of times before wrapping your arms around his neck and stealing him a kiss he had not considered receiving all of a sudden. Your stolid man was sweeter than you had esteemed him to be.

“Shh! Don’t ruin the moment. My answer will still be the same, Byakuya Kuchiki. It’s a ‘yes’ now and so it will be for the rest of my life” you whispered and you could swear you had caught a glimpse of his lips curving into a timid smile.

All you knew was that soon enough nor you, neither him would have been forced to hide in the shadows anymore for you were his wife.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Oh, I made it kinda sweet… I think all those wedding I’ve attended mellowed me. Gosh, anyway, I hope you enjoyed this drabble. The next one will probably be one of the Shinji thirsts I have received. I needed some good Byakuya on my feed though.

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Luce

TAGS: @sashi-ya (because I know you love this Captain) @villainsrtasty @noirfan12 @velaenaa @j-u-u-z-o

[hyvyinjie]

CHANCE.

TW! implications of death.

bittersweet! melancholic

t. muichiro x f. reader

graciously requested by @muuumuiiii ! thank you so much for requesting, you sweet lovely lad<3

who would have anticipated it? the mist hashira, of all individuals, displaying a concern that surpassed anyone else's for you—the spirit pillar; a warrior whose technique came at the steep cost of a gradual erosion of your life.

THE MOON; THE BRIGHTEST PEARL SUSPENDED IN OUR VELVET SKY THAT FLOODED THE INKY DARKNESS WITH ITS SILVER GLOW.

a radiant disc it was. casting its ethereal glow upon the shadows of the night, while also heralding the relentless onslaught of a few infamous entities—demons.

a symbol of hope, this pale sentinel embodied a goddess-like presence, standing as a timeless guardian, observing the earth with an unwavering gaze as warriors valiantly battled the monstrous creatures scattered throughout.

above, the luminous orb commanded the vast expanse of stars, illuminating them all. yet, even in this peaceful night, two particular slayers found themselves immersed in the serenity, although one seemed burdened by a more pressing concern, far beyond the tranquility itself.

in a world where such creatures roamed, the perfect harmony would remain elusive.

thus, what purpose did survival serve if death constantly loomed, a persistent visitor at one's very doorstep?

well, the purpose of life is to be happy. or at least, that's what this young man believed.

said boy possessed an acute understanding of this belief, as if it had become ingrained in the very fabric of his being—an awareness that, perhaps, bordered on the excessive.

the sheer ecstasy of savoring every moment of existence, embracing its essence in its entirety, was undeniably a remarkable achievement—a feat that deserved to be celebrated with fervor.

thus, he found himself utterly incapable of comprehending—indeed, he never had—how she could nonchalantly dismiss the imminent cessation of her own existence, as if it were a trifling matter. the weight of her disregard for her own life gnawed at him, like a persistent ache that defied understanding.

..then again, had he been any different?

"—and…now you’re spacing out, again.”

ah, the sound of that melodious voice; both longed for and dreaded, resonated within him and snapped him out of his reverie. even though he had incessantly poured out his thoughts to her since he awakened from his coma, with her faithfully by his side, deep in slumber—despite her own exhaustion—she had remained.

as your words echoed in his ears, he shifted his gaze to meet your own—and oh, those eyes.

he would give anything to forever witness his own reflection in the depths of your eyes.

in a mesmerizing dance, your gazes intertwined; an exquisite tapestry woven with delicate threads of connection.

he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnificence of your irises—their majesty akin to rare crystalline treasures, gleaming beneath the majestic canopy of the nocturnal sky.

as a gentle zephyr whispered sweet nothings, its delicate touch caressed their beings, a tender embrace from the invisible hands of nature. he watched, his eyelids descending to a half-closed state, surrendering to the enchanting symphony of the night.

the breeze, like a playful sprite, felt as if it alone, could carry away his worries and sorrows, dispersing them into the velvety darkness.

yet, amidst this reposeful tranquility, a question lingered in the depths of his soul, an enigma that remained elusive and enigmatic.

it was one of the few riddles that continued to elude his grasp, an enigmatic puzzle that defied comprehension, regardless of whether he had regained his former self or not.

why, he pondered ever so deeply, did your well-being hold such profound significance to him?

why did his heart ache with an inexplicable yearning to protect you, to ensure the radiance within you remained untouched by the shadows of the world? it was as if his very purpose revolved around safeguarding your light, shielding it from the encroaching darkness threatening to dim its brilliance.

no, he never intended to diminish your worth in any way.

on the contrary—he understood, with a profound certainty, that you’re fully capable of caring for yourself alone.

yet, despite his awareness, a veil of mystery draped over his consciousness—that of a delicate wisp of mist teasing the boundaries of his understanding. it remained tantalizingly close, yet perpetually out of his reach, an enigma that eluded his grasp.

similarly elusive was the faint, almost imperceptible yet weighty pang in his heart each time his gaze flickered to your bandages that dressed your wounds.

he struggled to fathom its origins, to decipher the emotions that coursed through him with every glance. was it concern, fear, or something different altogether?

of course, he chastised himself for overreacting. after all, you were healing, weren't you?

...right?

at least, that was the relentless mantra he repeated to himself, like a haunting melody, a lullaby of self-deception.

perhaps it was a lie he constructed, a defense mechanism to shield himself from the harsh reality. deep down, he knew all too well that you were pushing yourself to the brink, sacrificing fragments of your own well-being to save countless others from the clutches of death.

how he yearned to tell you—to implore you—to cease using the very essence that slowly, yet inexorably, eroded your own vitality. the desire to shield you from the self-inflicted harm, consumed him.

yet, who was he to stand in your way?

who was he to dictate how you should pursue your purpose—your solemn vow? who had the right to demand that you discard the only technique you knew, as if acquiring a new skill were a trivial matter?

perhaps, for you, it had maybe once been a tangible option—a plausible alternative.

however, it clashed with the very reason why you chose to persist in wielding the power of spirit breathing, despite its unfortunate and devastating toll on your own being.

it was a conundrum that weighed heavily upon his soul, yet another conflict that tugged at the frayed edges of his limited understanding.

then, abruptly—his consciousness snapped back to reality, like a fragile dream shattered by the gentle sweep of a waving hand.

in that instant, the symphony of your voice, a sweet and melodious tune, graced his senses once more, stirring his spirit from its slumber.

"hello? earth to tokito?"

your words danced in the air, adorned with a delicate blend of amusement and genuine concern—whilst he, silently observed your actions. his gaze lingering for a fleeting moment, as if capturing the essence of your graceful movements.

soon enough, his eyes blinked, like a dormant star awakening to illuminate the night sky, as he finally stirred from his reverie.

with a subtle tilt of his head, he emitted a soft hum—a melodic expression that intertwined intrigue and acknowledgment in response to your beckoning. the notes of his hum danced through the air, a secretive melody that conveyed both his curiosity and the recognition of your presence.

meanwhile, you watched him with an internal sigh of relief.

the young man, whom you had believed to be forever lost in the bewitching realm of his perpetual daydreams, had returned to the realm of the present. the transformation within him, from introspective to effervescent, had you spellbound, never failing to leave you even in but a speck of awe, of these rare moments of clarity that graced his being.

"seems like someone's finally awake."

a faint smile blossoming upon your lips, akin to the first delicate bloom of a spring flower. lowering your hand with graceful grace,

you adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position beside him on the edge of the engawa outside the butterfly manor—a perch where you and him had been leisurely spending time together, without a care in the world, rambling on about. relishing in the comfort in one another’s presence—like a normal pair of souls basking in the way of life.

"you’ve been staring at me for quite a while.”

pausing for a breath, you tilted your head—the radiance of your irises blooming with an enchanting glow, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden within their depths.

"what's wrong?"

in the midst of an enchanting moment, a subtle hint of wounded innocence played across your seductive countenance, evoking a mysterious allure.

"do i look that bad?"

your voice, though as mellow and gentle as always, carried an underlying touch of vulnerability.

in an instant, he reacted, tilting his head with a subtle mixture of surprise and denial.

"what? no."

aa he blinked, his words slipped out absent-mindedly, like a whisper from a dreamer's lips.

"far from it, actually."

he confessed, his sincerity palpable.

with a gaze that held a painter's eye for detail, he saw your flaws not as imperfections, but as intricate brush strokes that added depth to the masterpiece of your being. inexplicably, he adored you, to the point where it practically pained him.

and who could blame him? for you were way more than a mere beauty that could be captured in words. you were a tapestry of emotions, a symphony of sensations that defied description.

to him, you are everything.

your brows raised slightly, captivated by his ever-unpredictable nature. truly, like the wind, he embraced the freedom to wander in any direction he pleased.

reminiscent of an owl, you blinked a plenty amount of times, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of his flattery. it seeped into the recesses of your heart, stirring a delicate blend of bashfulness and gratitude.

"then..."

unintentionally mimicking his gestures, as if dancing in synchrony with his spirit, you then asked, avidly yearning to explore the depths of his thoughts.

"mind sharing what's got you so..distant?"

although it was not deemed uncommon for him, of all individuals, to maintain a silent disposition, you possessed a deeper understanding—having witnessed something greater, something more.

despite the mere span of a few days, you stood as a crucial observer to the sudden shift in his demeanor. having been privy to a bewildering yet endearingly interactive side of the boy since his awakening, it became slightly disconcerting to witness him potentially regress into his characteristic, distant, and dazed state.

the memory of those extraordinary moments lingered, and it was disheartening to question whether they were mere illusions or if they held the promise of something genuine.

as of now, the male in question pressed his lips together, creating a slender line as his gaze wandered away from yours, as though searching for a brief respite from reality.

seeing this, you reassured him. carefully observing these subtle occurrences with your keen irises.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

responding with a weary shake of his head and a sigh escaping his lips, his gaze flickered back to you, and as his eyes connected with yours once more, a subtle softness overcame them.

truly breathtaking were his eyes. they possessed a hue reminiscent of emerald, yet they gleamed like the replesdent glow of the moon above.

however, what truly captured your attention was the way his brows furrowed just as the corner of his lips downturned, for internally—a cascade of emotions crashed upon him all at once. moreover, a despairing layer seemed to coat his eyes, a poignant sorrow that caught you off guard.

"i don't like it."

he stated firmly, his words hanging in the air, leaving you perplexed.

your head tilted slightly further, eyes widening as you regarded him with curiosity and intrigue.

in response, he raised a hand to the area where his heart resided, his gaze lowering and narrowing towards the ground beneath you both.

"this feeling..."

his voice carried a weight of uncertainty, gaze delicately shifted back to meet yours—and in that moment, you could have sworn you saw his frown deepen as the hint of sorrow on his features became even more pronounced.

"and knowing you could..."

he trailed off, unable to bring himself to complete his sentence. yet, the unfinished words were enough for you to grasp the essence of his meaning.

your brows upturned, sensing the profound depth of emotions he struggled to express fully through words. you had a hunch that it might be something like this, but witnessing his reaction with such intensity was, without a doubt, enough to evoke a painful ache in anyone's heart.

the desire to comfort him welled up within you, an overwhelming longing to ease his burdens. yet, you couldn't help but question how you could possibly offer reassurance.

would it be by telling a blatant lie about something that was inevitable?

now, that would be nothing short of cruelty, no?

to suggest that you would overcome it would only exacerbate the pain. moreover, you were uncertain how to approach the situation without inadvertently triggering a devastating chain of events in the unavoidable future.

truth be told, if he were anyone else, you might have dismissed the matter with a casual remark, wouldn't you?

but with him, it was different.

you couldn't bring yourself to say so.

unable to find the right words in that moment, your gaze somberly shifted away from his, fixating on a distant point ahead. yet, in a sudden and unexpected instant, you were taken aback as you felt the weight of something new but vaguely familiar resting upon your shoulder—soft strands of supple hair gently brushing against you. along with it came a delicate warmth, enveloping you in an oddly soothing sensation.

"you don't have to say anything."

he quietly uttered, his honeyed voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and reassurance. he simply needed to release his thoughts into the open, to let them be heard, even if it was just a single sentence.

there had been no intention to pressurize or burden you, but rather a desire to be the one offering reassurance while subtly seeking comfort himself.

in a silent plea to convince himself that he wasn't caught in a dream, he gingerly leaned his head against your shoulder, and though was making sure not to add any more damage to your wounds, he did so without a hint of regret.

your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his actions. turning your attention back to him, you found solace in this unspoken gesture of support. that tender gesture conveyed a profound understanding, a connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. it was a silent reassurance; of ones comforting presence for the other, especially in the face of uncertainty.

a sentimental smile graced your features as you felt immense gratitude for his selfless deeds. even in this moment, he made sure you were as comfortable as possible, going above and beyond to provide solace. the warmth of his actions filled you with a deep sense of appreciation and reinforced the unmatched bond between you.

"..thank you,"

you whispered in a hushed breath, your voice carrying the weight of profound appreciation.

though the words seemed simple, they held within them an entire universe of gratitude—a universe that bloomed with vivid colors, dreamlike aspirations, and meaningful connections.

with a delicate grace, you lifted your hand and allowed your fingertips to dance upon the canvas of his raven tresses. each strand, like a silken thread, wove a tapestry of sensations beneath your touch.

the texture was soft and supple, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. as your fingers glided through the ebony strands, you embarked on a journey of intricate care, smoothing out the knots that dared to disrupt the harmony.

in this intimate act, time seemed to suspend, creating a space where the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a transcendent moment. your touch, as mindful as the brushstrokes of an artist, traced a path of tenderness and care. each movement held intention, a pledge to protect and cherish him, ensuring no harm would befall his vulnerable spirit.

It was a silent symphony, where the language of trust and gratitude flowed effortlessly through the whispers of your fingertips.

as you continued this tender ministration, a vibrant tapestry of emotions unfurled within the depths of your heart. gratitude, like a delicate fragrance, mingled with a sense of wonder, weaving a spellbinding combination.

the tenderness you shared painted a tableau, akin to a cherished memory, where hues of warmth, understanding, and appreciation blended harmoniously.

pleased by your touch, a contented hum escaped your companion's lips, his eyes finding solace in the comfortable embrace of closed lids.

a smile, brimming with emotions, blossomed upon his visage, a testament to the profound impact of your presence.

his heart fluttered with a bittersweet ache, caught between the beauty of the present and the uncertainty of the future.

yet, even in the face of daunting odds, a glimmer of hope persisted within him. it discreetly clung to his being, refusing to be extinguished.

it was undeniably a childlike hope, both fragile and resilient; to yearn for the possibility of a miraculous turn of events.

still, muichiro wanted to embrace that chance, to patiently wait for the magic of a future with you.

[bullet-prooflove]

Underneath The Stars - Bottles x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @librarian1002 @thanossexual @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @adaydreamaway08 @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb

Companion piece to:

Inevitable - Bottles finds a letter on your kitchen table.

Prequel to:

Forward - You discuss your decision to stay in Santo Padre.

Tonight, Bottles takes you for a ride out to the desert, it’s something you’ve done a couple of times before because you love the tranquillity of the area, the spirituality. The two of you make a fire, you try to do it using the tricks you learned in Girl Guides before Bottles takes pity on you and uses his lighter to ignite the wood. He spreads his bedroll out in front of the fire while you toast marshmallows, waiting for them to crisp before popping them into your mouth.

You taste like burnt sugar when he kisses you under the stars. Your lips are sweet and sticky, and he smiles into your mouth because he likes you like this. Wild and free spirited.

He makes love to you in front of the fire. The glow from the flames illuminates your skin as he lays underneath you, his hands chasing up your waist holding you in place as he rolls his hips.

Already the pleasure is too much, the ecstasy chases through your veins as his cock rakes over that deviant little place inside of you. There’s a thrill in being out here like this but there’s also a serenity, a peacefulness that you never would have expected because you’re not just connected to him in this moment, you’re connected to nature, the universe.

It’s one of the reasons that Santo Padre is so special to you. However now you’ve had this job offer from the Robinhood Foundation in New York…

Your career had started there, event planning for Manhattan’s elite. Baby showers costing in excess of hundreds of thousands of dollars, charity events that were thousands of dollars per plate, kids parties held in museums that had budgets to revamp them into literal princess castles. You were excellent in your role, you’d made some big money but then you’d met Ben at a baby shower, and everything had changed.

“Don’t you think it’s excessive?” He’d asked you as you chaperoned a birthday party for a one-year-old which cost over two hundred thousand dollars.

“What I think is irrelevant.” You’d told him, ticking a checkbox on your clipboard.

“If you ever want to change that.” He tells you, handing you, his card. “Give me a call, the charity I work for is looking for a fundraising director. I think you’re wasted here.”

He hadn’t been wrong; you’d followed him all the way here to Santo Padre. The work you did at the community centre was some of the most meaningful you had ever undertaken. You actually made a difference in people’s lives. You may not be making the same money as you did back in New York, but your heart was full and that’s all that mattered.

Bottles fucks you like it’s the last time because to him it is. He’d seen the letter from the Robin Hood Foundation on the kitchen table this morning, the start date set for next week. He can’t compete with a job in New York, not one with that salary. He would never ask you to stay, that wouldn’t be fair so instead he gives you something special to remember.

A night underneath the stars before you head back off to the big city.

He draws it out, keeping you on the edge until your skin is flushed and your eyes are bright. You kiss him when you climax and he drinks down your pleasure, savouring it because this isn’t going to happen again, and he wants to remember this moment every single time he closes his eyes.

In the aftermath, you lay draped across his chest, your legs tangled up in his. The blanket from the back of his bike tossed over the two of you.

I’m going to miss this, he wants to say, I’m going to miss you.

He doesn’t say those words out loud. Instead, he just holds you close because the love of his life is leaving in five days, she just hasn’t told him yet.

Love Bottles? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cursecuelebre]

Hellenic Witch tips

Hellenic witchcraft is very interesting in Ancient Greek and Roman history, divination wasn’t consider to be magic but a regular part of theurgy or communication with the gods. Magic was seen as taboo and certain time periods people were faced with persecution when they attempted to “curse” someone seeing it to be equal to murder. The Magical Greek papyri a collection of texts that were found on lead tablets of magical spells that were done in Ancient Greece one of the popular methods of magic in the Hellenic World was poppet magic, made from clay usually most recognize as today as “voodoo” dolls which is very misunderstood through mainstream media and two separate cultures and traditions. Here are some great Hellenic deities to work with in your magical journey!

- Hekate: one of the most common and well known deity to be associated with magic. Besides being associated with magic she was invoke during home protection. She is the personification of magic the good, the bad, and the ugly. Her triple form represents the crossroads and her sacred animals are Hounds and Snakes

- Hermes: Hermes is the messenger of the gods and mortals and gifted humans sacred arts and rituals. He is often been merge with Thoth and this aspect became well known associated with magicians and the occult. I recommend if you’re interested in ceremonial magick, but you can work with him no matter what

- Artemis: she is often associated with Hekate as another aspect of hers, especially in the context of nature and the moon. Artemis is associated as well with Diana the Roman goddess of the moon and hunt very similar but Diana is considered to be the queen of witches and fairies.

- Apollo: In modern day we probably see divination as part of witchcraft but anyone can ask a question and throw pair of lots or shuffle tarot cards. But it’s the act of putting energy into the things we seek can be magical. Through yes Apollo can be worked with when it comes to healing and fertility but he can be destructive and cursing of illness. But Apollo is one of the gods of purification and illuminating against darkness, and can be invoke against evil spirits and negative energies.

Dionysus: Dionysus is very unique in the sense yes he is the god of drunkeness and madness but not mad as in crazy but divine madness or ecstasy where someone physically and mentally feels and sees the perspective of the gods. Through the process of being reborn. Once Dionysus was mortal but when he was killed and born again by Zeus he became a divine immortal who represents nature and her cycles that transforms constantly. One can achieve through hard work and meditations discovering themselves and reflecting on the past.

Those deities are just examples but there are plenty of the Olympians and lesser gods and spirits to work with magical wise. Athena is the goddess of crafts, witchcraft can be that craft that you devout your work to or divination. From personal experience I have made War water with Ares and it worked fantastically. For Aphrodite can be love magic or self love spells or glamour magic. If you work with a deity closely you can associate with a lot of practices of magic with them. Have the spell be part as an offering to them and let them be part of it as you prepare for the spell.

[blu-wi]

You’d probably be a shade, unlikely to do much activity when strangers were inside your home. You just wanted the unfamiliar people to leave you alone, so you often refused to give them any satisfaction in contacting you until they eventually and inevitably gave up and left.

And it worked. Until now.

Most of the team members had left a few minutes ago, having given up because of your lack of activity. But there was one who didn't.

One that stayed behind, wanting to press into the matter further even if their life was at risk. You didn't recognize him, but it almost seemed like he knew you personally from how determined he was to get you to appear before him.

The man looked around persistently, a look of pure determination in his eyes that almost rivaled your disdain for his unwanted presence. The spirit box in his hand produced a consistently loud sound that rang in your ears, as if the device itself was begging you to respond just to appease his desire to witness your existence.

So, in an attempt to ease his antics, you gave a short response. Your voice came out on the other side, the spirit box transmitting your warning for him to get out. A look of both surprise and pure ecstasy replaced his display of frustration, and his grip on the device tightened noticeably.

In a swift and rehearsed motion, he took out a small container of salt and started to place it on the floor strategically, hoping for you to disturb it to alert your presence in the room. It was in vain, though, since you weren't going to make it that easy for him.

To trespass on your home just to bother you and leave their marks on the place you were bound to forever? That was disrespect you were not going to tolerate.

You made sure you didn't touch the salt at all, leaving no traces of your presence in the room. How idiotic of him to think that would work.

When you didn't disrupt the salt even a little, he moved on to another room instead of giving up on his mission. His persistence to find you was almost admirable, if it weren't for how bothersome it was to have someone actively disturbing you.

Your unnecessary death was enough to annoy you for the rest of eternity, often pondering on how you could’ve avoided the bloodshed and continue to live your life normally. And now this? You couldn't catch a break if you wanted to.

You opted to stay in the basement, the place you favored the most because of the peace and silence. You doubted that he would have enough nerve to go down there anyway.

Turned out you were wrong, and you realized that the second you heard the basement door open and steps creak down the stairs leading to you. The man held a flashlight to illuminate the dark room, having refused to turn on the lights in hopes that you would be more active in the pitch black.

His persistent behavior confused you. It was already glaringly obvious—the answer was literally right in front of him—you were clearly a shade. The lack of activity spoke for itself. Honestly, it almost seemed like he hadn't come here to figure out what type of ghost you were like normal a ghost hunter, but to approach you personally.

It was strange. So strange you zoned out, your mind clouded with plaguing thoughts and questions that you doubted you could ever find the answers to. By the time you snapped back into reality, only then did you realize you were standing in the middle of a lit summoning circle.

His eyes brightened with absolute delight and excitement at the discovery, his arms already outstretched toward you with a wide grin on his face.

What the fuck? No?

Your sudden disappearance startled him, your screech that echoed throughout the room ringing in his ears as his immeasurable disappointment sank in. His shoulders slouched, a sigh leaving his lips.

But despite the frustration he was experiencing, he wasn't going to let you go that easily. Not after getting a taste of you in the brief moment when you graced him with your presence.

You were fate.

His fate.

[glocksglory]

she’s my fantasy

* you give off angel energy. you have an angelic personality, presence, and aura. the entirety of your existence is rooted in angelic tendencies. you're an angel in the flesh that walks on earth leaving a trail that encapsulates onlookers into your pulchritudinous allure. “are you an angel in disguise?” is what people ponder, an angel whose halo and wings are intangible. rooms illuminate with a heavenly glow when you step foot into them, bringing a sense of serenity to those around you. you have a vibrant aura, an aura so bright, brighter than the luminous moonlight beautifully illuminating the sky on a dark, stormy night. it’s almost as if you carry a fragment of the moon’s light with you. your existence is seen as an ethereal blessing straight from heaven. heaven itself lies within your caress. you were created in heaven. you’re in this world but not of it. your existence and presence makes people think of the many beauties and mysteries the universe holds, those that we can see and those that are blind to the human eye.

* your presence is an extreme wave of dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, endorphins, & euphoria. your presence is like an escape from life, heaven on earth, a presence both soothing & otherworldly. you’re an experience that is out-of-this-world. being around you is like a cosmic, ethereal, trippy, out-of-body experience. people feel like they’re astroplaning when around you. people feel like they're fever, or lucid dreaming when around you. dreamy, enchanting, exuberant, & magnetic are all adjectives that can be used to describe your aura, with an aftertaste that leaves them all wanting more.

* people literally get high off your energy alone. you just make everyone so happy and high, feeling like they’re on cloud 9. you never blow other’s high, in fact you're the high that everyone craves to feel. you’re a high that people can’t seem to come down from. you are ecstasy, you are the happy drug. you’re always vibrating on high frequencies. people literally want to inject your energy into their veins. your presence is like a harmless, but very potent drug that everything & everyone you come in contact with is influenced by.

* you make people feel an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia; every moment with you feels like a core memory. you're like a good memory people think of ever so often & wish they could go back to that era of life. like thinking of how festive the holidays were as a child or waking up for school in the early 2000s and hearing the sweet melody of the birds. but then again, you're a distant memory people can’t quite put their finger on; a contrasting duality.

* for some strange reason, people can’t stop thinking about you. you live on people’s minds rent-free. literally the first thing people think about when they wake up and when they fall asleep. people get butterflies, goosebumps, and chills just thinking about you. you’re a never ending thought. people fantasize about you. people crave for you every hour of the day. you’re the girl of everyone’s dreams. when people are around you or come in contact with you, they seem immediately infatuated with your mind, body, and soul. everyone is attracted to you like a magnet. people want to bathe in your intoxicating energy. you give people the exhilarating feeling of falling in love for the first time.

* your presence is the best present. your presence is present enough. it’s a blessing just being in your presence. your presence makes everyone’s day a million times better, even if you occupy a mere portion of it. people cherish every moment with you. people feel like there’s nothing better than being in your presence. people rather spend time with you than doing anything else. people feel so fortunate to know you. people feel like it's a privilege speaking to you.

* there’s so much depth to you and people feen to learn more and more about you. you’re an interesting individual with a spirited personality. people find you interesting and unique and this is why people stay wanting to know more about you and your lore. what made you the person you are today, your past, your walk of life… literally everything. people genuinely want to know more about you beyond your favorite color. even those who you’ve never uttered a word to in your life approach you because they just find you so interesting.

* you possess a down-to-earth, emotionally relieving aura. when people come across you, it’s like a fresh breath of air. you’re nothing they’ve ever seen or experienced before. the way you make people feel doesn’t compare to anyone else they’ve interacted with. you give people a feeling they’ve never felt before, not even from their family or close-friends; it’s just something about you. they may have had other experiences, but experiences with you top it. being with you is different. your vibe is different. you don’t blend in with the crowd in the best way possible. it’s so rare to be in the midst of beautiful souls like you in this generation, so you’re desired by all. you’re a rare gem.

* you possess a heart of gold, so naturally, everything you touch turns into gold. you better everyone you come in contact with on a physical, mental, emotional, & spiritual level. you change people’s view of life into a new & better perspective, when you come into someone’s life, it’s like the start of a new era. people’s lives feel better with you in it and there’s never a dull moment with you. you inspire others to be the best versions of themselves. you’re a positive metanoia to people; you bring out the best in people. you can actually change people. you’re a lucky charm; you bring something positive into people’s lives. you're the girl that came along & fixed everything.

* you embody the vibes and lyrics of the song “meet me in amsterdam” by rini, “best part” by daniel caesar, “love is only a feeling” by joey badass, and “kiss of life” by sade. people always say that you remind them of partynextdoor, bryson tiller, frank ocean, daniel caesar, tyus, aaliyah, sade, rihanna, summer walker, jhene aiko, tems, old playboi carti, sza, kali uchis, and brent faiyaz songs. it’s almost as if all the emotional love songs in the world were sincerely written just for you. you’re the girl rappers cry about in their songs. people make songs, albums, and playlists dedicated to you. people literally describe you in the way one would describe their lover in wattpad stories. deep, love quotes were written about you, you’re the girl levi carter describes in his tweets.

* people feel homesick without you. people feel a sense of hiraeth and saudade for you when you’re not there or when you leave their presence. you’re like a walking lantern, the whole atmosphere changes when you enter the room. everything lights up, but as soon as you leave, everything goes dim, your absence leaves people reminiscing about every moment they had with you, hoping and wishing for a chance to encounter and experience you again. your presence is one to be missed, and so it is, incredibly. you leave a gaping hole in others lives when you leave, your uniqueness and individuality cannot be replicated, so when and if you exit people’s lives, the difference is obvious and fails to go unnoticed.

* people feel a natural connection with you because of how authentic and real you are. you know how to hit it off with literally anyone you talk to. you instantly connect and click with everyone so easily and effortlessly, even with random people you just met a second ago. you vibe so well with everyone. you could turn up with anyone and everyone. you possess the ability to mirror others personality and vibe. you match everyone's humor. you have an eye for social cues and keep conversations flowing, it just feels wrong or weird if you’re not invited or brought along somewhere, or if you’re not there for a hangout session. people want you around all the time, things are just better when you’re there.

* your aura is so healing. your aura gives off an analgesic effect that has people overcoming physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual traumas, hatred, or pain within themselves or others. people feel finally free when around you, letting go of feelings of worry and resentment. you possess a unique ability to calm troubled souls, on some personal therapist shit, you free people’s mind. you’re the human personification of a bandaged heart emoji.

* everything about you is real, raw, genuine, authentic, deep, down-to-earth, and wise. you’re not afraid to be your authentic self in the most unapologetic form. you stay true to yourself no matter the situation. you’re the type of person people want to gatekeep, the type of person people like having deep conversations with till 3 a.m. you’re able to have and hold deep conversations with anyone. it’s easy talking to you. it’s easy being with you.

* people find themselves randomly opening up to you because of the highly trustworthy energy you emit. people feel comfortable fully opening up to you. you come across as a caring, empathetic, and trustworthy person because you are. people are drawn to these qualities and feel comfortable confiding in you. people feel like they could tell you anything. people feel comfortable venting or ranting to you about their days as you always offer a good ear, vice versa. you’re full of wisdom and great advice. you’re genuine, patient, kind, loving, wise, and emotionally intelligent.

* people's love for you isn’t just sweet words of sweet love, it’s sacred and genuine. people authentically love, adore, and appreciate you so much. there’s not a single person you know that isn’t madly in love with you, and it doesn’t even have to be in a romantic way. no matter the amount of time spent apart or with no contact, people have love and will always have love for you. people only have positive things to say and think about you. you’re always talked about positively. you always have people that’ll come to your defense if someone ever tries to hate on you or speak negatively about you ‘cause it’s literally impossible to dislike you. you are the most lovable person in the world.

* you're like the sunshine after rain, a ray of sunshine lighting up the whole world, the source of light penetrating even the darkest of times. you're the relief after crying, a promise of a new day, and the refreshment of one’s soul and mind. you’re a walking light of hope. the world loves taking care of you. you smile at the world and the world smiles back at you.

* the same tremendous amount of kindness you give others is immediately given back to you tenfold. people would do anything to express their love and adoration for you. you’re safe, healthy, and full of divine energy. your energy is so pretty and clean. you only attract people with positive intentions into your life. everyone you know is just as loving and kind as you. you have loads of social connections, bonds, and relations. you develop and maintain genuine connections with your friends and family. you have unlimited, unconditional, unwavering love for everyone and everything. you have a positive mind and a positive outlook on life. negative environments, situations, or people do not faze you.

* you always move with love in your heart and that’s why you’re constantly being blessed with everything you desire. because of your beautiful and genuine heart, soul, and mind, you’re constantly receiving everything that you’ve ever dreamed of and more. you move with pure love and pure intentions. you’re beautiful inside and out.

& moree!

benefits inspired by my favs: @unawarecolor, @angelinyourmidst, @temptation__, @mbarb, @24kglocks, @pr1sm, @glogirl, @trapanesebarbie, & @dezzidior.

glo.

[trojanprinceaeneas]

Gale x Trans Masc Reader (Mature)

I have so many in universe head canons as to how hrt and top surgery works in BG3/DnD so if anyone wants separate musings on that alone I’d be happy to explain, but for the sake of this incredibly self indulgent fic, Y/N Tav has top surgery scars and equivalent effects of hrt for trans masc ppl. It was originally supposed to be explicit but I decided I'd test the waters with this and maybe I'll write a part two? Let me know if you're interested in that :p

The camp was particularly lively tonight. Your allies were in high spirits, cheering and passing around bottles of liquor to celebrate their recent victory over Ketheic Thorm and the necromancer god Myrkul. The triumphant atmosphere engulfed the camp, making the impending threat to all of Faerûn feel momentarily distant. Even Lae'zel, who usually found such celebrations frivolous, had a hint of a smile as she sipped her wine.

You leaned back, savoring the moment, and watched your companions enjoy the respite. Tomorrow's problems could wait. But amidst the music and boisterous laughter, you noticed one person was missing—Gale. Your brow furrowed as you wondered where he might have gone. Perhaps he was engrossed in his Weave studies, as he often was.

As you set your goblet down, a different kind of warmth filled you. It was the memory of the tender moments shared under the starry sky, where your lips met his in a passionate kiss, and the world faded into a magical embrace by his design.Your neck prickled with excitement as you thought of the night Gale had shown you the power of the Weave, of the profound connection it created, of the sheer ecstasy you both gave into.

With a longing that mirrored the enchantment of that night, you decided to chase after Gale, eager to see how he was faring on this unusual journey, hoping he might reveal more about the Weave's mysteries, and yearning for the chance to share another intimate moment beneath the infinite tapestry of the cosmos. Perhaps this time, he would be interested in a more physical, grounded pleasure. 

He wasn't far from the camp, just a short distance behind you. You could still make out the faint light of the campfire through the trees, and the occasional burst of laughter echoed in the night. Gale stood there, his back turned toward you, once again immersed in the intricate dance of the Weave. It was nothing as grandiose as the last time, but you did notice something akin to a small-scale meteor shower, as if the very stars were converging at his fingertips. Perhaps this time, he wasn't seeking to impress anyone.

Watching him manipulate the golden threads of magic was like witnessing an artist meticulously craft a masterpiece. Each movement was deliberate, and every detail was attended to with the utmost care. You stood back, admiring him for a brief moment, the soft radiance of the Weave illuminating his face, making him appear more ethereal than ever.

"Are you indulging in a bit of quiet observation?” Gale's voice, gentle yet playful, broke the silence. His focus remained on the Weave.

Your face flushed, embarrassed that you had been caught. "I was worried when I couldn't find you at camp," you admitted, stepping out of the shadows. "I assumed you'd taken a brief respite nearby."

"No need to worry, my intentions were far from dramatic," he replied, waving a hand to dismiss the Weave's projection as he turned to face you. "I simply needed a moment to gather my thoughts, that's all. Would you care to join me?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," you said, approaching him hesitantly. "If you'll have me, I wouldn't mind taking a break from the noise."

"Please," he said with an inviting smile, almost eager, as he motioned for you to sit beside him. He gracefully lowered himself to the ground.

You settled beside him, relishing the chance for a quiet moment alone with Gale. As much as you enjoyed the bustling camp, it could at times feel overwhelming. These solitary moments with the Wizard of Waterdeep were truly treasured, and you were grateful for the opportunity to savor his company in peaceful seclusion.

"I've brought a bottle of wine," you remarked, reaching for your bag with a playful smile. "Unfortunately, there are no glasses, so we'll have to share straight from the bottle." The wine had already left you feeling a bit tipsy after sharing a bottle with the others, so you extended it to him, gesturing for him to take the first sip.

"Of course," he replied, reaching out to accept the bottle from your hand as you presented it to him. He took a long, leisurely sip, savoring the flavor for a moment before glancing at the label. "Ah, you managed to sneak a bottle of that exquisite find from earlier, didn't you?"

"Don't breathe a word of it to the others," you giggled, taking the bottle back and sipping from it yourself. "I wanted to share it with you. We don't get many moments to ourselves, after all."

"I suppose not," he agreed, his eyes softening as he gazed at you, as if he were savoring the sight of you. You felt a warmth rush to your cheeks.

As time passed, the two of you exchanged stories about your lives before the parasite, all while indulging in the bottle of wine. Laughter filled the air between you. Eventually, the topic of past lovers arose.

"So," you began, your words slightly slurred from the wine's effects, "Mystra. Did you engage in that astral projection thing often with her?"

Gale paused for a moment, considering your question. "Yes, I would say so," he replied. "Physical intimacy was... a concern for mortals, you see. Why indulge in such earthly pursuits when we could connect on a more divine level?" Despite the considerable amount of wine he had consumed, his speech remained clear.

"Have you been with mortals?" you asked, your curiosity tinged with a touch of self-consciousness.

"A few, here and there," Gale confessed. "But nothing I'd describe as serious, at least not until Mystra."

"Men?"

"Excuse me?"

"Mortal men," you repeated, your words escaping in a hushed, almost embarrassed tone. You felt a flush of self-consciousness, unsure of how he'd respond.

Gale noticed your sudden shyness and extended his hand, gently resting it on yours as a reassuring gesture. "You're not the first man I've been with," he admitted with a soft smile, "certainly the first to experience the Weave so intimately. The first mortal, in truth."

You appreciated the intimate gesture of his hand atop yours, his touch conveying more than words ever could. But there was another question that had been nagging at you, a curiosity you couldn't shake. You considered whether it was worth asking, knowing that the subject matter was intimate and personal.

The night he had shown you how the gods indulged in pleasure had been unexpected. Normal intimacy wasn't something that typically occurred without a series of conversations and deepening emotional connections. Curiosity, however, had taken hold of you. You didn't regret the experience; in fact, it had left you with a sense of wonder and contentment. Yet, it was undoubtedly a rare occurrence, a spontaneous act that you didn't engage in frequently, if at all.

Then again, you had never experienced intimacy through astral projection before. It had been a unique and exhilarating encounter, one that required little preparation as your clothes had remained on your person.

"Mortal men of the... Trans variety." The words felt almost silly, and the wine, you decided, was the culprit.

"Trans... variety? What do you mean?" Gale furrowed his brow, his expression showing genuine confusion. You kept your gaze on the empty bottle, head swirling with wine and nervousness. He appeared ready to inquire further when realization slowly crept in. "Oh, oh, I see. I didn't, well, it never occurred to me, really. I've never, um, encountered a mortal man of the trans variety, not physically. It's not because I'd find it undesirable, you understand, but rather, it's just... well, it simply hasn't happened. Or maybe I've never met someone who chose to, you know, disclose that aspect. But I want to assure you, it doesn't matter to me in the least." Gale's words tumbled out in a jumble, and his usually precise articulation was marred by a palpable nervousness that you assumed, was induced by the wine.

A moment of silence fell between the two of you, and your stomach stirred with a peculiar blend of uncertainty and wine-induced unease. It wasn't that Gale's response had been unfavorable, but the awkwardness of the moment was palpable. In your attempt to seek answers, you had ventured into uncharted territory and made things awkward. Awkwardness clung to the air like an unwanted guest.

Gale was the first to break the silence, his voice hesitant. "So then, the scars on your chest..."

You let out a light, nervous laugh. "Definitely not from an owlbear fight," you assured him, and a genuine smile began to replace the awkward tension. "They're the handiwork of a wizard doctor in Baldur's Gate. But, honestly, I find it much more entertaining to share absurd stories about them."

"Amusing, indeed," Gale agreed, and he joined in your laughter. The tension began to dissipate, leaving you both with a sense of relief. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted, and the atmosphere lightened.

"I'm sorry for springing that on you; it's been weighing on my mind for some time," you admitted as the laughter between you two gradually quieted down.

"Please, don't worry about it," Gale reassured you, his voice sincere and understanding. He reached out and clasped your hand securely. "I can only imagine it's a sensitive topic, and I'm glad you felt safe enough to confide in me. I want to emphasize that this revelation changes absolutely nothing about how I feel about you." His words were imbued with warmth and reassurance.

You couldn't be certain if it was the wine or just the intimate conversation, but a subtle heat spread across your face, your cheeks warming as you found yourself ensnared by his rich brown eyes. He met your gaze with an intensity that seemed to reflect your own unspoken desires. For a moment, you both shared a meaningful silence, savoring the reassuring presence of one another.

In this quiet interlude, you allowed your gaze to leisurely explore his face, tracing his features with your eyes. You followed the gentle curve of his silhouette, his magnetic eyes, and then down to the sculpted line of his jaw. Your attention settled on his lips, vividly recalling how they felt – soft and inviting, his beard lightly brushing against your skin, eliciting those delightful, ticklish sensations. Astral projection had its allure, but it couldn't quite replicate the tangible experience of another person's touch.

As your thoughts wandered, you couldn't help but ponder when Gale had last engaged in a physical, intimate encounter. The way he spoke of his solitude after Mystra suggested it had been a long while. Would he ever consider exploring such connections again? You wondered if it would be too audacious or imprudent to even pose the question.

Your reverie was abruptly interrupted by the tender sensation of a warm hand gently cupping your cheek. It cradled you, offering an assurance of safety and comfort. In response, your heart seemed to flutter in your chest as Gale drew you nearer to him. His gaze was filled with affection as he lovingly looked into your eyes, and all you could hear in that intimate moment was the soft rhythm of his breath.

"You look quite magnificent tonight," he whispered, his voice so hushed as if he feared disrupting the tranquil serenity that enveloped both of you.

A playful smile graced your lips, and you replied with a hint of cheekiness, "You spoil me with your words, Gale." Leaning in, you bridged the distance between your lips and his, planting a gentle kiss upon his mouth. The kiss was a wordless expression of your connection, and it spoke volumes of the unspoken emotions shared between you.

Gale held you close, his arms wrapped around you as he reciprocated the kiss with tenderness. You felt a bit lightheaded, the wine and the joy of the moment mingling in your senses as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace. His lips carried the faint taste of wine, much like yours. Almost instinctively, your hands found their place behind his neck, drawing him into the kiss, a silent longing for his touch.

He smiled softly against your lips, then pulled away slightly to let out a gentle chuckle.

"Is this the real reason you sought me out tonight?" Gale playfully inquired, his voice laced with a teasing undertone that sent a playful spark into the air. He punctuated the question with another tender kiss on your lips, his lips lingering for a moment before he gently nuzzled his face against your neck. His warm breath washed over your skin, causing a delightful shiver to dance down your spine, and you couldn't help but respond by softly biting your lip, ensuring no unintended sounds could escape, all the while relishing the intimate connection between you two.

"My intention was simply to share a moment with you; anything more is a delightful surprise," you replied, your fingers finding their way through his luscious, wavy brown locks as you spoke.

"Shall we dance like the gods, then?" Gale whispered sweetly into your ear, his hands trailing down your back with a tender, alluring touch. His hands traced a path down your back, and the touch was like a soft breeze on a summer's night, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The moonlight cast a silvery glow around you, and the distant murmur of the camp seemed to fade into the background as you were drawn into this intimate moment.

Your heart quickened, and your thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of desire and curiosity. As his hands continued their tender exploration, you found your own fingers lightly grazing the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The world around you faded, and all that remained was the connection between your bodies, an electric current that left you breathless and eager for what lay ahead. You pondered the question for a moment, wondering if the magic weave sex was something you were interested in pursuing again.

"Actually..." you began carefully, pulling away slightly to meet Gale's gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and shyness. "I'd like to experience you as you are."

Gale paused, a look of slight astonishment flickering across his features, as though he needed a moment to process your words. "As I am?" he repeated slowly, seeking confirmation.

"If you'll have me, that is, as I am," you replied with a shy smile, your voice a delicate whisper. "I've been wondering if perhaps you'd like to explore more about... men of my variety."

A soft, thoughtful expression crossed Gale's face. He leaned in, his forehead gently touching yours, and your noses brushed in a tender nuzzle. "If that is your desire, I would be more than willing to oblige," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with warmth. "You've certainly piqued my curiosity, and I'm always eager for new learning experiences." 

Both of your lips met in another affectionate kiss, and as the night continued to unfold, it felt as though the rest of the world had dissolved, leaving you and Gale entwined in a lover's embrace.

[mrs-trophy-wife]

[albertfinch]

Daily Meditations And Affirmations - October 24, 2024

When you become hungry for God, activities that used to comfort and feed you lose their attraction. Unhealthy substitutes no longer satisfy you as they once did. You are being drawn by the Holy Spirit to discover that Jesus is your source, your food, your delight, your passion, for it's time to make Him your passion.

We do not live as the spiritually blind do – we come to understand our Christ identity, as one who is born again in Christ Jesus. We want the glory of Christ to shine on us ever brighter, illuminating greater knowledge and greater understanding of His purpose for our life. God’s desire is to fill our hungry hearts so that we may do exceedingly and abundantly above what we can think or ask.

One sign of hunger for God is that you become aware you have lost intensity in your faith. You may be able to look back and see a past time in which you were more passionately in love with God than you are right now. Now, you miss the fire and zeal you once had. This is what happened to the church of Laodicea (Revelation 3:14-22). Once upon a time, their love for Jesus had been their supreme focus, but they had lost their appetite. They had gone off the ecstasy and into the mind numbling world of sloth because they had not come to understand their Christ calling and how to bear fruit that remains for His Kingdom.

We are going to ride the winds of God into the destiny of Jesus for our lives. The apostolic mandate is reproduction. We are prepared to run with the purpose and destiny of God on our life as we equip and send out new Believers to advance His Kingdom. We are the ekklesia of almighty God authorized with power and authority -- Build the move of the Spirit -- Host the move of the Spirit. The church is stuck in preaching information and not transformation. You need people to push you and prod you into realms you have never been in before. We need preaching that fuels the move of God. Region shaking sermons instead of pablum pumping preaching.

Affirmations:

Because I am in Christ Jesus, all my sins have been forgiven (past, present, and future) and I am always in right standing with God, I am free to bear fruit that remains for God's advancing Kingdom through my Christ calling. (Acts 3:18-20)

Because the Spirit of the Living God lives inside of me, I give witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus with unspeakable power. (Acts 4:33)

Because I partake of the Life of Jesus and am one with His Spirit, I cannot be moved or shaken. (Acts 5:39

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

[the-abyssal-lord]

The Sundering of Stones

Summary: The Abyss Chasers warband invade an inconsequential mining world for a forgotten artifact. Introductory to major characters.

CW: extreme violence, as you would expect from the universe of Warhammer 40,000

++

It was the thundering cracks of artillery-fire that awoke Zech, his body giving under his own weight and sliding from the standing position he had drifted in, landing in the upturned earth and wretched mud of the narrow trench. Blearily he struggled in the mulch and rose to his feet. While he canted his head left and right to re-acquire his lasgun, his wake-deafened ears were already picking up the shouting of his fellow squadmate Herren.

“…Come on… Zech! Come on! The line is moving ahead, the barrage cleared a path!”

Zech groaned, slinging his weapon over his shoulder and started to trudge behind Herren. The pair made their way through the trench, ducking under haphazard beams and supports that criss-crossed throughout the squalid divet in the dirt. They passed a few others that fell in with them, sensing the intent. The air felt hot and cold at the same time to Zech, as he blinked away the last of his impromptu doze. Finally the assembled squad reached the semi-circular clearing where makeshift ladders rose to disappear over the edge of the trench. Lasguns and stubbers were checked, and the group clambered up.

Herren was first, and he was the first to be reduced to a smoking, molten husk as a burst of white-hot plasmic energy collided with what little armour he had. The charred chunks falling away off the ladder. Zech cursed as he waved behind himself, signaling the others to get off the ladder as fast as they could. It was too late.

Zech saw the man behind him pulled off the ladder like a child’s doll, and then torn in two by armoured hands, the others in similar states, strewn about the mud of the clearing. The figure that had committed the man’s murder was a towering, nightmarish giant. Black armour twisted into something horrific, growths of bone and flesh mixing with metal. Burning violet lenses met Zech’s eyes, and then the giant’s hand reached.

++

All was still in the void, the carnage on the planet below might have seemed like flickers of a distant fire, and in the blackness there was a spark of its own. The small mote then quickly grew, ripping its way across like a baleful grin. Incorporeal spirit-things lashed tendrils and tried to bite down with great teeth upon the vessel that emerged from the warp translation. It seemed to stretch impossibly for a moment before its entirety touched real-space and almost snapped back to its true shape.

A great ship, once, long ago, one could have identified it as an Imperial strike cruiser. Now it appeared twisted and marred by the very energies it had just departed from. The warp-rift closed behind the ship, and it slowly adjusted itself to fall into orbit above the war-torn planet.

With the light of the planet’s sun glinting off the side of the cruiser, its wicked form was clearer. Bristling with gun-batteries and modified over centuries of conflict, it hung as a monument to the great and terrible conflict of the Long War. The Echo of Ecstasy would send a message to the small collection of guarding ships that orbited between the planet and its moons.

Quickly the other ships belonging to the dread forces invading the world fell in line with the larger, and in a spearhead formation they lit thrusters to approach the emplaced enemy.

The emptiness was alight with fire in the next moment, long range batteries thundering from the Imperial fleet. The dark forces met in kind with lance cannons, void shields of each collection illuminating the hulls with colours akin to an oil-splash.

Within the bridge of the flagship the mistress of the vessel shot orders to the twisted crew, her body shunted into the command-throne with countless cables. As her voice rang out, her cybernetic enhanced mind interfaced with the bloodthirsty machine-spirit of the ship. Like a caged beast and likely teetering the line of possession, he growled in her thoughts for carnage and destruction. Again, this time strained, more of her orders were bellowed to the wretched deck-slaves.

Her name was Cecilia. Captain Cecilia Varo. Once the ship-mistress of an Imperial frigate under the Navis Nobilite, she now served this vile warband. Along with her was the Navigator of her former post, who was likely even further gone than she.

“Begin maneouvre to bring our broadside to bear!” Cecilia shouted, wincing as the neural feedback of the machine-spirit roared.

Like the ocean predators of ancient Terra, the Chaos fleet turned to their sides, circling around the embattled Imperials, and let loose the hellfire of their main cannons.

The great mag-lock doors of the bridge hissed open. Captain Cecilia heard it but was too preoccupied with the barrage against the weakening shields. She felt a trickle of blood from her lip, she must have been grimacing too hard. What followed the bridge doors opening was the immensely heavy clang of footsteps.

��All is well… Captain?” A voice said from just out of her periphery. A voice that was almost too low to be human, ragged and corrupt, the words rumbling out halfway between a hiss and a growl.

She recognized it immediately, of course. She replied, “of course, my lord. They cannot hold for much longer. Augurs estimate their void shields will last mere moments further.”

The figure looming behind her command-throne gave a grunt of approval. The closest she has ever gotten to praise from the true master of the ship.

“See to it. My brothers and I await the turmoil below. We cannot embark until those ships are eliminated,” the voice said.

She nodded, cabling extending from the back of her head, snaking out from under her hair, shaking along with the movement. The figure then moved to the side, stepping towards the guard-rail of the helm.

Many in the Imperium had heard the tales of the Emperor’s angels of death. Legends and glories of the gene-wrought ideal warriors that descended upon worlds to bring ruin to His enemies. Few had ever actually seen one. Fewer still have spoken to one. Captain Cecilia would never have expected to encounter such a being, and she surely never would have known it to be one not serving the Emperor.

The Astartes standing only a few metres from her was clad in black armour, the jagged edges corrupt and damaged from centuries of war and the touch of the warp. A single pauldron, the right, was a deep and faded purple, the insignia upon the great pauldron, a curled, clawed hand of white. His towering form hunched slightly from the great jump-pack that seemed fused to the rest of his war-plate. Just as the bare flesh of his neck seemed to melt away into the mechanics. In place of natural legs he seemed to have cybernetic replacements, terminating in claw machine-feet like that of a bird of prey. His head turned just enough for him to side-eye the ship-mistress.

Once his features might have been described as handsome, long white hair, shaved to his pale skin around the sides and back, billowing over one side. Half his face seemed like that of one subject to burns, both sagging and pulled in areas, little corruptions of the flesh. His good eye, his left eye, was a bold violet. Glimmering with sadistic cunning.

“You seem distressed, captain.” The Chaos marine said plainly.

Cecilia furrowed her brow, eyes darting, observing both her Lord, and the battle playing out.

“It shan’t be long… Now!” She exclaimed.

The enemy shields had finally given, shimmering across the ships and blinking out. The Chaos fleet unleashed another barrage, hammering into the hulls of the Imperial fleet. Some vessels were torn apart in the flurry, others began to turn and flee as fast as their engines would take them. The Astartes face pulled into a grin.

++

Thrusters roared as the Thunderhawk gunship broke into the atmosphere of the war-torn planet. Flak bursts only enhancing the turbulence. Its hull was black as the rest of the vessels belonging to this warband, little dashes of faded purple on the wings. A banking turn and it rocketed lower.

Cresting one of the foothills of the region it landed not too far from where the dirge of battle could be heard, a trench-line broken mere days before, and yet the Imperials didn’t abandon it. The landing ramp lowered, hydraulics hissing as it thudded into the damp earth. Following it was the clamour of massive boots.

A squad of five heretic Astartes stepped onto the planet’s surface. A few surveying their immediate surroundings. Final to emerge was the hunched form of their leader. His hair beginning to whip against the wind.

He flexed his left hand, which had long since been encased in the mechanical casing of a lightning claw. The bladed ends of the fingers sliding over one another.

“Isn’t this a wretched rock… Get moving, we must make for the fire-base, quick as possible,” he ordered his battle-brothers.

The other Chaos marines began to trudge on. First was a brutish creature who seemed to twitch slightly in any moment of idling. The sides of his helm soaring up in the manner of those that served the Blood God. A massive chainaxe was mag-locked to his power-pack. In place of the purple arms that uniformed the small team, he retained the crimson of his former allegiance.

Second was a hooded Astartes, using a great metal staff like a walking stick. His features hidden away despite the gloom not being so immense that it would shadow his face entirely.

Third, an Astartes carrying an impressive bolter that seemed modified for long range engagements. Unlike the others with him, his armour was seemingly untouched by the ravages of the Empyrean. Small serpentine scale patterns etched into his greaves and bracers.

Fourth, a bare-headed marine with wild features, greying, black hair left loose and unkempt, with an equally in disarray beard that brushed over the gorget of his war-plate.

And finally, fifth; an Astartes with the trappings of an Apothecary, though it was rare to see among the forces of Chaos. Small dashes of white standing out against the black armour. Implements upon his bracer and cresting his power-pack.

This squad marched up and over the hill in a loose formation, a mere shadow of the discipline shown by their Imperial counterparts.

The silent march was broken after a few moments by the wild-looking brother, “what was this world called again?” He inquired of the hooded marine.

“Emancha V. Not near our usual haunts but ‘twould seem that our Lord has interests here,” he answered.

The bearded one huffed. “I see. Has he graced us with… what exactly that would be?”

“A relic,” the marine with the stalker bolter replied. “Something belonging to his old Legion.”

“When did they ever come here? It seems hardly the place I’d catch them visiting,” the wild one said.

The serpentine marine shrugged. “Matters little. I’d assume we’ll know more when we reach the rest of our forces.”

The squad continued on, eyes and helm optics trained for any surprise movements from their surroundings. After quite the trek, seeing the blooms of light in the distance from the clash, they saw the edges of the Chaos line.

Countless of their mortal servants had made work of digging trenches of their own that weaved into pre-established ones recently captured. The Astartes saw pikes with bloodied corpses raised high and tattered banners with their claw emblem flapping away. Mutants and beastmen dragging dismembered bodies into hulking piles at the bases of the great war-banners. Looming over a great gathering of them was a dread machine, a Chaos knight, its mechanical head shifting slightly to the left and right, keeping watch.

The squad descended the hillside into the encampment. Their leader making the thrum of mortals bow heads and part like a tide. He approached the only thing that could be conceived of as a tent, the rest more like scraps hung over rusted metal beams.

At its entrance he stood, a curtain gently flowing against the wind.

“Emerge. We have much to discuss,” he said.

A bit of a rustle and from the tent came a mortal woman, long well-kept obsidian-black hair and traditionally beautiful features. She wore a robe the colours of the warband, with a mantle of armoured plates that donned the claw insignia upon one pauldron.

With a bow of her head, “my lord Silas. Welcome to the conflict.”

The Chaos Lord Silas Decurin hissed, “indeed, a conflict. Tell me, how did this start exactly? Emancha wasn’t supposed to have any Loyalist presence from what your gleanings entailed.”

The mortal witch, Lucina, met his gaze. “Simply put, they tracked us. This is no mere token force of the enemy, my lord. All reports seem to say an Inquisitor is leading this force. Even with the break of their fleet you achieved, more are on the way.”

Silas bristled with rage at the mention of the Imperial Inquisition. He knew full well there was only one of their numbers so keen on following his movements beyond the Eye.

“Speak this inquisitor’s name, Lucina.” He demanded.

Lucina dipped her head again, “Roslyn Jesenia.”

Lord Decurin barked a grim laugh, “as I suspected. I wonder if this planet has more to it than I thought, even she would not come to some useless rock just for me.”

He turned to his squad, “I suppose now marks a good time to explain why we came here.”

++

A short time later, the heretic Astartes departed the witch’s tent.

“Really? A daemon blade, here on this rock?” The feral-looking marine, Jormund Helsson, asked Lord Decurin.

Silas nodded, cabling and wires protruding from his head swaying with the motion, “Aye.”

The hooded sorcerer hummed in thought, “I haven’t sensed such a thing.”

“Perhaps ‘tis not a thing that can be sensed so easily, Vezeral.” The serpentine marine replied.

The Berzerker amongst them grunted, turning his helmeted head between his gathered fellows. “We seek it out then?”

Silas made a pointed look, “once we know more, Tyrax.”

Another dissatisfied grunt came from the blood-hungry marine.

The Chaos Lord then turned to another, “Naethar, have your augurs caught anything?”

The marine whose armour is marked by scales shakes his head, red helm optics scanning through countless displays of visual and auditory pickups. “Jamming. Interference, maybe. Could be the loyalists, could be something else.”

Silas lets out a ragged sigh, gesturing for the squad to follow him. They move through the lines back up of where the chaos witch Lucina’s tent lies, where there is a makeshift structure set-up a stone’s throw behind it for the Astartes. More a shack than anything, but it would serve well enough while the damned brothers organized their plans, and thoughts.

Within, the apothecary Celtrian works on the remains of some form of the local wildlife of the planet. He tilts his head up upon the entry of his team, before just as quickly returning to his study.

“We cannot afford to stay here for long, regardless of my desires. If the witch spoke true to us, and she knows the cost of lying, there are far more loyalists in transit to this heap,” Silas began, his eyes scanning the group.

“I do not know what the corpse-emperor’s inquisition is bringing to bear, but we do not have the full might of the Abyss Chasers with us here. A token force, even with a knight.”

The baleful squad goes over simplistic plans to reach behind the curtain of fire that the Imperials have emplaced. From what the reports show the force that has met the Chasers is merely an Astra Militarum detachment, re-routed from their original destination. Damn their eyes! Thought Silas. if it was not for the variable whimsy of the warp, they could have arrived at this pitiful world days earlier.

The chaos marines would need to go the long way around, for as glorious and damned as they are, even Astartes would not survive wading head-long into the dug-in firing lines of the Imperial Guard. More of their brothers aboard the Echo would also be eager to engage their hated foes. The plan was laid; the command squad would begin an advance around the edge of a nearby forest, the majority of which had been scoured away by the initial assaults. Under cover of the foliage, and the Echo of Ecstasy in orbit above launching drop-pods full of heretic Astartes, Silas and his men could reach the rearguard of the Imperials.

Silas grinned, and gods willing, find the Inquisitor.

++

Hours later, when the light of the planet’s sun had become a dim haze, the Abyss Chasers enacted their plan. On foot Lord Decurin and his squad broke for the tree-line, while the main force began a forward push towards the Imperial Guard lines. In orbit, the strike cruiser maneuvered to let loose drop-pods containing additional squads to reinforce the mortals. The warband was an eclectic mixture of the traitor Legions, and that versatility is what allowed them such strikes despite their small numbers. They were raiders above all, prolonged conflict was best left to the renegade mortals and mutants.

Silas and the squad watched on their brisk trek as spears of light careened into the trenches of the loyalist scum. They were just mortals, Silas mused. Barely worth the bolt shells. The chaos lord almost wished to face his loyalist cousins in a worthy fight, but he knew it was for the best that such things did not occur. Losing numbers in the name of vain glory was not on the agenda, not this time.

“These woods are sparse, and silent,” growled Jormund.

“Would you prefer we be beset upon by wretched rock-chippers? See how a rusted pickax stands up to your war-plate?” Teased Vezeral.

Jormund huffed, “just desiring more than a prowl with no prey.”

“Silence,” said Silas. “We still have a-ways to go till we reach the back-lines.”

The chatter halted at his order, and the chaos marines continued on.

It wasn’t much longer until they reached the next clearing. Just at the edge of sight was the mining complex in this region. A massive opening into the earth of the planet, lined with machinery of immense size. Emancha V was noted for its exportation of simple resources, granite and other materials for structural production. In the grand scheme of the Imperium, ultimately minor in importance. Which only made all the Astartes, Silas included, wonder why such a prized artifact would be interred here.

Tyrax was the first to charge into the lonesome trench that buffered the area between the mine entrance and the battle-lines. It was unlikely the guardsmen defending it, who were half-asleep at their posts, even had time to react. The Berzerker of the blood god tore them to pieces. Jormund, in his own rash fury, joined quickly after. In bloody moments the line was cleared. The command squad all looked towards the great shadowed entrance into the below. In the distance, chaos marines and cultist forces engaged the Imperial Guard. A backdrop of carnage for the chase to begin.

++

The descent was just as quiet as the forested trudge. Voids of darkness sparsely illuminated by hanging portable lumens at regular intervals. Of course the plunging blackness was nothing to the creatures that walked through it. Helm lenses cycled through displays of night-sight and heat detection, and gene-enhanced eyes pierced the gloom with ease. The heretic Astartes under Lord Decurin walked with purpose, as Naethar’s auspex already mapped out the winding corridors of the first 50 levels of the mine.

This scanning also revealed a chamber about 5 levels down that was the likely location of their target. The array revealed connections to the surface for communication, if anything it indicated where the leadership of the Guard was, and that was enough for now.

“Mapping concluded,” chimed Naethar.

Silas nodded, reaching to his belt to procure his own helm. He rarely wore it, but it was one of the few things not fused to his form through warp energies. With an airy hiss the helmet clicked into place, and the lenses flared to life as his display kicked in. Sure enough, the entire mine complex was laid out for the squad. Silas could see the room they were heading for pinged in particular with a secondary colouration.

“Keep formation close, watch all entries,” the chaos lord ordered.

The squad reached the area indicated in little time, following a great bite into the earth that wound down like a spiral. The level they reached was different, more constructed. Wrought metal walls and a large enough for their forms mag-lock door. Wasting no time Silas simply kicked it in with a cybernetically enhanced blow, and the Astartes funneled in.

A large hall, rail-tracks in the centre with a cart of stone slabs. It was at this sight that something clicked for Silas.

“By the dark gods. That’s what this is for!” He exclaimed, turning to the squad.

Naethar inclined his head, “aye my lord. The mapping made clear that the very base of this sprawling complex has a far older structure buried below. It almost appeared to be a ship, lanced into the planet’s crust, and then twisted and compressed over centuries of burial.”

Silas sneered, “the location of the relic. This warp-damned inquisitor discovered it as well.”

“Why would she seek it?” Vezeral interjected. “She serves the corpse-Emperor does she not? What use would an artifact of the gods be?”

“Many uses,” Silas said. “The false Emperor’s lackeys often seek to ‘confiscate’ objects of power to us. Either to destroy, or utilize for themselves.”

“A daemon blade? Wonder if she plans to hoist it and stab you, lord Decurin.” Tyrax poked.

Silas gave a smirk within his helm, “perhaps. Would be a sight, a fragile mortal attempting such a feat.”

The squad reached the doors to what the mapping said would be the room of interest. A keypad kept the entry locked, and in this case the chaos lord wanted a subtler approach. So Naethar went to work.

It didn’t take very long for the former Alpha Legionnaire to break the code of the door, and with a hiss it slid open. The room was grimly lit, a handful of lumens upon the walls. In the centre was a large hololithic display table, the graphics fizzing in and out of focus. On the far side stood three individuals, two were garbed in the finely made armour of the Tempestus Scions, stormtroopers of the Inquisition. The third in the middle was dressed darkly, a heavy tailed jacket hanging over a black armoured bodyglove, and a silver chain hanging around the neck, ending with the I-shaped emblem of the Emperor’s holy Inquisition.

“Lady Inquisitor Jesenia. It’s been some time,” Silas greeted.

The raven-haired Inquisitor glared at the chaos marine, leveling a stub revolver. “Traitor.”

“Come now,” Silas spoke with a sickly sweet tone. “You really expect that to harm us?”

She made no movement that Silas could detect, perhaps fear had gripped her soul?

“You know why we have come here. Give me the relic, and your death will be swift.”

The scions then raised their hellguns in tandem with the Inquisitor. Those posed a greater threat than the meekly pistol, but an enclosed space, six chaos marines against three mortals? It was a foolish gesture.

“Where. Is. The blade.” Silas snarled.

A door flew open behind Jesenia, she popped off a shot and made a break for it, the scions lighting up the gloom with red flashes from their hellguns. The troopers were dead in seconds, Tyrax and Jormund charging around the display table and eviscerating the mortals in gore-filled fashion. Silas roared in anger, pulling his plasma pistol and letting off a shot into the doorway, it hit the back wall in a sizzling bloom. A moment later a new figure filled the passage, standing as tall as the heretics, and aiming a bolter.

“Primaris!” Naethar shouted, quickly finding whatever cover he could.

The room filled with the bark of a Cawl-pattern bolt rifle, the traitors scrambling behind cogitator blocks that filled the room. Already the machinery was being blown apart, they had little time. Tyrax bellowed a cry and bull-rushed the Primaris, the loyalist had little time to react, pulling a combat knife. The former World Eater tackled the loyalist, snarling and screaming like a wild beast. The Primaris tried to find purchase with his combat knife but to no avail as Tyrax pinned one arm, with animalistic fervour he pulled, ripping the ribbed under-armour, and then the flesh, and finally tearing away the bone.

Jormund came from the other side, hiking his chainsword over his head and bringing it down, the rev of the teeth mixing with a grotesque gurgle and ripping sound as the corrupt wolf beheaded the loyalist.

The body slumped and went still, for all the enhancement of the new breed, two veterans of the Long War were still more than enough to take down a Primaris marine.

When the cacophony of fighting went quiet, Silas stalked to the bloodied corpse, and looked down. White armour, with an arm of royal purple. He laughed, it was like a mockery of their own war-plate. The foe’s angel to their daemon.

“What Chapter is this, Naethar? This is bad comedy,” Silas said.

Naethar came to Silas’s side, “ident tag… Sons of the Phoenix. Successors of the Imperial Fists, scions of Rogal Dorn.”

Lord Decurin’s laugh barked louder, “Phoenix? Dorn? By the gods, loyalist scum grows more deluded with every century.”

Naethar nodded, “indeed my lord. Shall we track the inquisitor?”

Silas turned to the group, “find the blade. She surely is heading that way as well.”

++

After a further trek of the hall, the Chaser's command squad reached the end, where the area opened fully into a free fall into the depths. A rickety looking lift was the only thing bolted to the side of the chasm. The marines carefully stepped onto it, testing their immense weight against the cables that held the platform aloft. Despite appearances, it seemed sturdy enough for all six to stand on.

“She came through here. Likely descending this very lift. Aren’t you all excited to see what lies at the bottom?” Silas hissed.

Naethar hit the cogitation pad, and with a squeal of grinding machinery, the elevator dropped.

When they reached the base of the towering bore, at least three local minutes had passed. The chaos marines fanned out as the surroundings were natural cave formations instead of the carved passages of the mine. Silas looked about, his auspex clicking through displays. Eventually his eyes trained on a tunnel, he signaled for the team to follow his lead, and in they went.

Further walking, they reached what was likely the side hull of a ship, just barely peering out from the rock face it was lodged into. A terrible ripped gash in the metal was their entrance, a single lantern hung off a spear of metal, the only illumination in the absolute darkness of the pit. The chaos marines entered, doubly cautious as it was not out of the realm of possibility they encountered further loyalist marines.

The interior was just as devastated as the outside, wiring, tubing, struts and other structural pieces of the ship were in disarray, making the hall look almost as haphazard as the natural tunnels the squad had just come from. Bits of the natural stone were crushing in on the hull, some ripping through. It was akin to a space hulk, but they were far from the cold embrace of the void. The Astartes emerged into a large room, turned upwards in the centre like on an axis. Folding. There Silas made out enough to identify the owners of this wreck.

“Third Legion… Emperor’s Children,” he breathed.

Banners were torn but still vaguely readable, the deep, proud purple of Lord Decurin’s parent Legion. Despite the ravages of time, a single stained-glass mosaic of the Primarch in his original form emblazoned a far wall. There was a bench with two helmets left astray. Maximus pattern, Legion colours.

“Bring back memories, sire?” Vezeral inquired.

Silas grunted, “a few. Let us continue, this at least explains what an artifact of my old brother’s would be doing here.”

The group continued, through a passage on the opposite side of the chamber. The next room was even larger, a vaulted cathedral chamber.

“Appears to be the Reclusiam,” Naethar suggested.

“What a fine place for a relic,” Jormund chuckled.

At the centre of the chapel was a plinth, the item they’d been on this hunt for was held aloft in one of the few things still functioning, a stasis field. The sword was long, wide-bladed. Similar to a common power sword. However it held a cracked surface that seemed to bleed violet light, hissing against the time-locked energy of the field. The Warp and chronology did not play well together, and it was a marvel the stasis did not fail in this ship’s long grave-bound slumber.

Silas stepped up towards it, smashing his lightning claw into the cogitation array at the plinth’s base. The stasis field gave way, and the sword clattered onto the stone. The chaos lord of the Abyss Chasers grasped the leathered hilt and lifted the blade aloft. He could hear dreadful whispers in his ears, a daemon slept within, dormant, but would be like to stir at the merest prod.

Naethar began, “Is that wise, my Lord? We still know little of—“

“Silence! We’ve gone through enough for this blasted thing.” Silas snapped, cutting off the question.

“Where is the Inquisitor?” Celtrian asked.

Tyrax replied, “does it matter? We have the relic, let us be done with this place.”

“It is curious, I imagine she fled to the surface then, instead. Abandoning the artifact for our Lord to gather, weighing the options, I understand her method. A single mortal, even an Inquisitor, against all of us?” Naethar explained.

“A coward!” Jormund bellowed with a chortle.

“Or wise enough to know when beaten,” Naethar pointed back.

“Enough,” Silas demanded. “I can hear the daemon waking. Let us leave, return to the Echo of Ecstasy.”

The command squad obliged, turning to depart.

“Halt,” a voice rang out. Deep and altered, much like the heretic’s own.

The chaos marines trained their sights. The Inquisitor stood next to another Primaris, more decorated than the previous, wearing the same colours as the dead fool in the hololithic room.

“I am Lieutenant Edriel of the Sons of the Phoenix. My squad travels with the lady Inquisitor Roslyn Jesenia. One of that squad lies dead and defiled, brother Jessian. For your crime, and all your history of treachery, you will die here.”

The Primaris inclines his helmeted head towards the Inquisitor, “go, my lady. Take it back to the ship. If I do not return in a cycle, inform my brothers of my death.”

Jesenia nods curtly, and sprints down the passage the Chaos marines came into the chamber from.

“A fucking coward!” Jormund calls out.

The loyalist marine turns his lens gaze to the wolf, “no, traitor. She simply has more tasks to honour the Emperor.”

The lieutenant draws an artificed power sword, the blade igniting with cracks of blue energy. He falls into a warrior’s stance, two hands upon the grip.

“A fine display, lapdog.” Silas states. “He is mine, the rest of you go after the Inquisitor. If I don’t return? Well good luck figuring out who’s in charge.”

The squad tears off down the hall, and Silas steps forward, his lightning claw already alight with chaotic arcs.

++

Two giants clashed in the silent, dead Reclusiam of a forgotten ship. Honour-blade against warp-tainted claw. Again and again the Lieutenant tried to make great swings towards the chaos lord, parry after parry. Silas hissed with effort, trying to grab hold of the blade with his articulate claws, but the loyalist was talented enough to pull away, dodge, or get an extra strike in to avoid having his sword locked in such a grip. It was grating on the heretic’s patience.

In the back of his mind, there was a chittering. A little voice that bid him use the blade he held tight in his off-hand. Let it drink of the loyalist’s blood, let it awaken, let it feed. It would grant him strength, such power.

Silas roared, tossing the sword to the ground. The effort to do so was immense, he felt perspiration forming on his brow, enclosed in his helm. The Primaris didn’t pay it a mind, continuing the engagement as if there was no change. With his mind cleared Silas re-doubled his effort, a slash, a swipe. Lord Decurin finally found purchase after another flurry, and snapped the power sword; there was a dulled boom as the energy field shattered.

Lieutenant Edriel staggered back, drawing his combat knife. Much like the brother in the levels above, the chaos lord didn’t allow him the moment. Four great blades of his lightning claw dug into the loyalist’s abdomen. A strangled yell emerged from the helmeted Primaris.

Silas lifted him off the ground, snarling with effort. The Son of the Phoenix gurgled in the white-hot suffering accompanied by a direct strike from the talon of the Abyssal Lord.

“F-From the fires of war… We rise…” Edriel groaned.

“You will not emerge reborn from this,” Silas said, barely above a whisper.

With the sickening sound of metal against bone and flesh, Lord Decurin stepped back, the blades of his claw leaving the Primaris. He dropped to his knees, yellow eye-lenses meeting the gaze of the chaos lord. The light flickered, and went out. The Lieutenant’s lifeless body falls forward with a thudding crash.

++

Some time later, Silas returned to the Echo of Ecstasy in orbit above the planet of Emancha V. The relic was recovered, though the chaos lord kept it under lock and key. His squad had informed him the Inquisitor made her escape, even Naethar’s auspex could not pick her out, perhaps some damnable item or tactic allowed her to slink away.

Lord Decurin paid it little mind, he knew that as surely as the gods were eternal, he would cross paths with the Lady Inquisitor again. Further augur readings informed the warband that indeed more Imperial forces were en-route to the system, and they needed to leave. With three cycles to spare they gathered what they could, forces, resources, they scoured as much as possible. The knight returned to its own ship, lost and the damned left the surface. Drop-pods reclaimed and bodies burned.

Silas also had a new trophy in addition to the artifact. A Primaris Lieutenant’s helm, and the skull within.

The Abyss Chasers gathered in the void, turning from the cold mining rock, one by one tearing back into the roiling embrace of the warp.

“Sons of the Phoenix,” Silas muttered. “I wonder if they know.”

[infjtarot]

Strength. Mystic Spiral Tarot

Themes and Keywords: Passion. Virility. Divine ecstasy. Kundalini. Feminine power. Courageous action. Control and mastery of animal nature. Joy of exercising strength. The beauty and the beast. Apocalyptic goddesses. Sacred prostitution. Pure maiden versus holy whore. Taming versus riding the lion. Moral fortitude. Astrology/Element The sign of Leo the Lion is arguably the strongest in the zodiac because it is ruled by the sun. Leo is the fixed fire sign, combining the endurance of fixed signs with the element of fire to produce an eternal flame. It is brimming with life force and magnetism: the fire element with the strength of the lion. The glyph looks like a curling lion’s mane. It also resembles the main artery and chambers of the heart. In the body, Leo rules the heart and the spine. Leo’s motto, “I will,” gives a clue as to the source of the strength. Leo is so strong and vital that it can share the strength with others, giving generously from a large heart. Noble and extravagant, brave or recklessly courageous, Leo shines. Like the sun, though, it is proud. Leo believes in itself as the center of the universe. The alpha star of Leo, Regulus, means “little king,” and it’s also called Cor Leonis, “Heart of the Lion.” It is the Royal Watcher star of the North, with the power “to will.” Regulus gives gifts of glory, like all royal stars, if the inner enemy is vanquished. Regulus’s nemesis is revenge; it must avoid seeking it even when justified. Euripides’s Medea is gruesome, but nonetheless Medea’s quote sounds very leonine: “Let no one think of me that I am humble or weak or passive; let them understand I am of a different kind: dangerous to my enemies, loyal to my friends. To such a life glory belongs.” Mythology/Alchemy Crowley specifically connects this card to the alchemical process of distillation, “operated by internal ferment, and the influence of the sun and moon.” Whether speaking chemically or psychologically, distillation is heating, condensing, and purifying until all dissolves into spirit (distilled) or Spirit (godhood). The process applies heat or agitation with the eventual goal of sublimation. Wine becomes brandy, or impurities of the ego and id are purged. Distillation, like kundalini, raises the light (life force) from the alembic of the lower regions to the height of the third eye. We can’t help but reflect on the alchemical image of the red lion in the card. The red lion of alchemy is the kundalini fire, the force behind semen in sexual alchemy. It is the sheer power of the life force, channeled. Distilled, it transmutes in the proper receptacle. In myth and legend, goddesses of the lion abound: Chandi, Durga, Ishtar, Astarte, Inanna, Sekmet, Cybele, Babalon. Just chanting their names increases vigor. At the heart of all the stories is a core of strength and a connection to the act of the hieros gamos, the original marriage of the moon illuminated by the sun and united to it; the sacred marriage rather than the formal one of the Lovers. Perhaps the text in the library of Nag Hammadi, The Thunder, Perfect Mind, resonates best with the themes of divine feminine strength. It’s a treatise rich with meaning for students of both the Qabalah (the Tree of Life) and alchemy (the Tree of Knowledge). It’s the divine speech of a goddess of contradictions and power, much as the goddesses of love were also those of war. Susan T. Chang

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Make your way to Hominy, Oklahoma to see the magnificent New Territory sculptures by resident artist Cha' Tullis. These majestic depictions of Native American warriors on horseback stand nearly 20 feet tall, and are simply magical when illuminated by a gorgeous Osage County sunset. You can catch sight of these fantastic artworks on a hill overlooking the west side of town. Find more info at https://bit.ly/NewTerritoryHominy

[h/t Visit The Osage - Osage County, Oklahoma] :: [via Robert Scott Horton]

* * * * *

‘Dance Ground of the Spirits,’ or something like that.” Ingles smiled. “Rather a poetic concept. In life, ritual dancing for the Zuñi is sort of a perfect expression of . . .” He paused, searching for the word. “Call it ecstasy, or joy, or life, or community unity. So what do you do when you’re beyond life, with no labors to perform? You spend your time dancing.”

Dance Hall of the Dead (Leaphorn & Chee, #2) by Tony Hillerman

[withinthebrain]

Intimate Storm

Lukas and Lena found themselves entwined in a passionate dance beneath the star-studded night sky. What started as a quick twirl in the rain surrounded by the sweet-scented plea of jasmine, turned to the musky notes of their shared intimacy soaked in rain.

As the night embraced them, a storm brewed overhead, thundering the tempestuous intensity of their connection. Lena won Lukas over with her fiery spirit, asking him to dance in the rain; they surrendered to the rain and thunder above. The intermittent stars, silent witnesses to their love, twinkled with approval as the couple embarked on a journey of desire.

As rain lubricated the world, Lukas cupped Lena's breast and hugged her in his strong arms, the gentle touch sending shivers down her spine. Their bodies moved in rhythm, a celestial coitus that mirrored the powerful forces of nature surrounding them. Raindrops became steady percussion, dancing on their skin as the wind whispered secrets of passion. Lightning illuminated their bodies in brief flashes, spotlighting the beauty of their connection.

Lukas held his girth with a firm grip to Lena's entrance, the connection between them deepening with every caress. The sensation of the trickling rain heightened Lena's pleasure as Lukas slid them into a shared ecstasy. The storm seemed to energize their passion, adding perfect sound effects to their every movement. A sensual sigh escaped Lena's lips, merging with the sound of raindrops and wind, bringing Lukas to the edge.

As the storm subsided, the musky smell of rain and intimacy once again gave way to faint hints of jasmine. Lukas and Lena held each other beneath the clearing skies, the stars watching on into the night.

[eth3real-ess3nce]

Hello!

My initials are C.M. 🥰🩵

Thank youuu!

Hi dear!

I feel that the message that's coming through is about your manifestations. Whatever you have been doing, keep doing it because it's working like a charm! I see that you have been trying to manifest a few physical things but I sense that you have been building your self esteem as well, which is very fortunate and for sure helpful. It boosts your success with manifestations of all kinds

Exact message follows

There will come a moment when you feel sublimely and perfectly connected, when the sheer life force of the Universe is directly linked to your own place of power. Within this moment and this place, you have alignment, where all you have wanted becomes all that you are. You are enough, and you truly believe that and, therefore, you will move forth in the direction of the soul's greatest desire. This time is coming for you, and all you need do is remember that you are enough and open yourself up to the power of the energy that has sought to reach you for so long. In this moment, there is no fear. In this moment, there is no hesitation. In this moment, the inner chatter of the voices of family and society, and even the fragmented aspects of ourselves, still and step back and let the pure connection between the Universe and the fragment of the Universe which is your soul rebond and reclaim the belief that you are blessed and deserve this wonder. When this card comes, my friend, allow yourself to open up and absorb the power that is yours at this moment. It is time to connect and to take that leap of faith, and to know that, if the connection is cared for and maintained and believed in, you can fly. It is no great project, nor is it about power in the world. It is about the experience that proves to us, once again, that you are a child of the Universe, and you are beloved. Prepare to have your faith restored and for the ecstasy of the spirit to move through you once again.

Illumination:

I am enough -

I am a part of the wonder that is the Universe, and I am loved.

I will wait no longer!

Instead, I leap into the embrace of the Universe.

[umbrae-sortilegium]

"In the depths of the human heart, there exists a place where the concept of 'home' transcends the boundaries of brick and mortar, where comfort and torment entwine in a delicate dance. This enigmatic truth unveils itself like a shadowy revelation, an echo of the soul's deepest yearnings.

Within the hidden chambers of one's spirit, home can be the talon of an insatiable beast, a relentless longing that pierces the soul with the raw, aching passion of desire. It lingers there, an unyielding presence, neither to be ignored nor shaken free, for it is the claw lodged inside you. Its grip, though painful, is also the anchor that holds you fast, grounding you in the abyss of your own existence.

A river, shimmering with ethereal light, becomes the path you tread upon. Its waters are not soothing, but instead, a mirage of salvation. Each step you take into the river is both a testament to your bravery and an embrace of your vulnerability. The riverbed, like your soul, is rocky and uneven, filled with hidden traps and treacherous currents. Yet, it draws you in with the promise of illumination, casting your innermost desires in the golden glow of its reflections.

Waist-deep in this river, you find yourself entangled in the very thing that mauls you. Its currents are tumultuous, like the emotions that define the human experience. The mauling, though painful, is a reminder of your own vitality, an acknowledgment of the fierce, untamed nature of your desires. It is the price you pay for daring to wade into the depths of your soul, for choosing to seek that elusive sense of home that resides within.

In this paradoxical realm, where beauty and darkness intermingle, the pain is inseparable from the pleasure, the torment an integral part of the ecstasy. For it is only by embracing the claw, stepping into the river, and wading through the mauling, that one can truly discover the radiant light that dwells within the heart's most cryptic corners. This is where the essence of home is revealed, a place where the soul finds its eternal refuge amidst the exquisite chaos of existence." © Dʏsʜᴀɴᴋᴀ/Oᴅᴇᴛᴛᴇ ₂₀₂₃

Athena Nassar, from "Love Is Not Always Song, but the Swelling"