#the bay leaf speaks

[puck-luck]

MY OPINIONS ON EACH NHL TEAM! (PART 1)

[doctorguilty]

# ive never seen a whole bay leaf served in a dish before seth what are you eating

y'know like if you buy a premade food like stew and the bay leaf gets left in by accident or sometimes I've seen it left as like a garnish, or you make something at home with bay leaves so they're just in there and you're serving yourself, blinks at you cutely

[campbellsoupgansey]

putting your boyfriend in the soup to add an aroma not because he contributes anything to the overall flavour or consistency

[simplydm]

Add this bay leaf man to your smp’s (graphic for informational purposes)

Give him the ip, trust me bro

Put Martyn inthelittlewood in everything, for extra flavor

[hellenicrisis]

PSA to pagans and practitioners.

You don't have to speak your prayers or incantations out loud for a ritual or offering to be effective.

For the longest time, I tried praying out loud and speaking out loud during ritual offerings, and I was always uncomfortable. I tried everything, from using the ancient hymns, to writing my own prayers, even combining the two. Nothing worked for me, but I kept doing it because I thought that's just how things are done.

A ritual, prayer or offering is not less effective or special if you don't speak aloud. Not speaking is not an easy way out, it's not disrespectful to the gods, and it's not making the working less powerful. The thing that negatively impacts your practice is being uncomfortable.

If you work better silent, embrace it. It took me far too long to realise that working quietly is best for me. I'll put on some instrumental music in the background while doing my ritual offerings which helps me focus, and other than that, I enjoy listening to the sounds my materials make; the bay leaf crackling, the libation being poured, the sounds of setting things down on the altar. If I have to speak through that I feel distracted and nervous about forgetting what I'm supposed to say. I would much rather focus on my actions, my materials, my offerings, my energy, and my gods.

If you speak aloud and it works for you, fantastic! However, don't feel pressured to if you don't like it. We see so many people put on a show during rituals for social media. Don't think all rituals have to be like that.

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Dionysus/Bacchus deep dive

Lord Dionysus is an eccentric god, He is an understanding god, I adore him as a researcher and as someone in the community with schizophrenia and mental illness, he is kind far beyond words, he is not only a wine god but also the god of freedom and ecstasy, may we all respect him and may his devotees and worshipers speak of his good deeds and yell in his honor of goodness.

Signs he's reaching out • smelling wine all of a sudden, craving wine, You feel a twinge of madness, dreams with his attributes with him, seeing references of him everywhere

Herbs •psalakanthos plant, Grapes and their vines, Figs, Bay laurel, Barley, Pine, Pomegranate, Fennel, apples, berries, weed, Silver Fir, Bindweed, poppy, wheat and hops leafs, wildflowers, pine cones, Apple seeds, Blazing star. I think he would like Cinnamon, mint, feverfew (happiness), Pepper, basil, chives, horseradish (courage), orange, lemongrass, marjoram (insight), vanilla, sorrel, cinnamon (love) 

Animals• Oxen and wild animals, asses, Leopards, Panther, Cheetah, serpents, rams,  dolphins, tigers, lynx, panthers, goats, bats, griffons, bulls , foxes, deers/fawns

Colors •purple, green, gold, Red, Black, White.

Patron of• fruit and intoxitation, Parties, Festivities, Banquets, Drinking, Bacchic Revelry, Madness, Bacchic Frenzy, Insanity, Hallucination, Homosexuality, Effeminacy, Cross-dressing, Forest Wilderness, Wild vegetation, Predatory big cats, Reincarnation, The path to Elysium, Comedy and Tragedy Plays, Playwrites, Actors, bartenders, the arts, non-binary people, divination, witchcraft, oracles

Curses• violence, and sickness, Destructive insanity, madness

Blessings• pleasure and fun, Religious frenzy (in the orgiastic cults), Ecstasy, Afterlife in Elysium (paradise), getting a bigger friend group, charismatic going up, getting a romantic partner.

Diety of• wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, partying, Epiphany, weddings, death, sacrifice, sexuality, dancing, immortality, and reincarnation, uninhibited freedom, as well as the subversion of the powerful, ecstasy, and abandon, swamps and marshes.

Crystals• Amethyst, grape agate, Garnet, Ruby, deep red stones, tiger eye, serpentine, leopard jasper, amber, green opal or jade, carnelian, rose quartz (someone had it on their alter for him, so I added it here.), bloodstone, sugilite, purple fluorite, ametrine lepidolite

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Taruas 

Vows/omans• none 

Number• 7 

Morals• he is morally ambiguous

Married to• Ariadne 

Past lovers• Althaia, Ampelos, Aphrodite, Erigone, Kronois, Pallene, Physokoa, Polymnos.

What he favors in devotees• free-spirited, out-of-the-norm, wild lifestyle, gender fluid, transgender, nonbinary people. People are restricted wanting to become free. 

Personality• He brings joy, ecstasy, and merriment, but also delivers "brutal and blinding rage”, he's a very chill guy, many say he is sassy. I met him once, and he respects people's boundaries.

Home• Mount Olympus 

Equivalents/most resemblance • Osiris, Hades, Sabazios, Yahweh, Bacchus, Liber, Tammuz, Orotalt, Fufluns, Acan, Jesus.

Epithets• Acratophorus, Ἀκρατοφό.ρος “giver of unmixed wine at Phigaleia in arcadia, Acroreites at Sicyon Adoneus a Latinised form of Adonis and is also used as an epithet for Bacchus, AegobolusΑἰγοβόλος "goat-shooter" at Potniae in Boeoria, Aesymnetes Αἰσυμνήτης “ruler" or "lord" at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea, Agrios Ἄγριος "wild", in Macedonia, Androgynos Ἀνδρόγυνος ”Androgynous” specifically in intercourse referring to the god taking both an active male and a passive female role, Anthroporraistes, Ἀνθρωπορραίστης “man-destroyer" a title of Dionysus at Tenedos, Bassareus, Βασσαρεύς "fox-skin", which item was worn by his cultists in their mysteries. Bougenes, Βουγενής or Βοηγενής “borne by a cow", in the Mysteries of Lerna,

Braetes, Βραίτης "related to beer" at Thrace, Briseus Βρῑσεύς "he who prevails" in Smyrna, Bromios Βρόμιος "roaring” and "roar of thunder" refering to the wind amd primarily relating to the central death/resurrection element of his myths and also the god's transformations into lion and bull and  of those who drink alcohol and refers to Dionysus' father, Zeus "the thunderer", Choiropsalasχοιροψάλας “pig-plucker" Greek χοῖρος = "pig"(which was  used as a slang term for the female genitalia as A reference to Dionysus's role as a fertility deity), Chthonios Χθόνιος “the subterranean”, Cistophorus Κιστοφόρος "basket-bearer and ivy-bearer" because baskets are sacred to the Dionysus,Dimetor Διμήτωρ "twice-born" which Refers to Dionysus's two births, Dendrites Δενδρίτης "he of the trees" as a fertility god, Dithyrambos Διθύραμβος used at his festivals referring to his premature birth, Eleutherios Ἐλευθέριος “the liberator" also a epithet shared with Eros, Endendros ("he in the tree"), Enorches "with balls" with reference to his fertility, or "in the testicles" in reference to Zeus' sewing the baby Dionysus "into his thigh" which means his testicles used in Samos and Lesbos, Eridromos"good-running" in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Erikryptos Ἐρίκρυπτος "completely hidden" in Macedonia, Euaster Εὐαστήρ from the cry "euae",  Euius (Euios), from the cry "euae" in lyric passages, and in Euripides’ play “the bacche, Lacchus Lακχος a possible epithet which is associated with the Elusinian Mysteries, The name "Iacchus" may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos) whicj is a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.

Indoletes, Ἰνδολέτης, meaning slayer/killer of Indians Due to his campaign against the Indians, Isodaetes, Ισοδαίτης, meaning "he who distributes equal portions", cult epithet which is also shared with Helios, Kemilius, Κεμήλιος and kemas: "young deer, pricket",

Liknites "he of the winnowing fan", as a fertility god connected with mystery religions ( a winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.)

Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Lenaius, Ληναῖος "god of the wine-press", Lyaeus, or Lyaios Λυαῖος, "deliverer” and "loosener") which refers to him as who releases from care and anxiety, 

Lysius, Λύσιος "delivering, releasing" At Thebes there was a temple of Dionysus Lysius, MelanaigisΜελάναιγις "of the black goatskin" at the Apaturia festival, 

Morychus Μόρυχος “smeared" in Sicily, because his icon was smeared with wine less at the vintage, Mystes Μύστης "of the mysteries" at Tegea in Arcadia, Nysian Nύσιος according to Philostatus he was called like this by the Ancient indians  Most probably, because according to legend he founded the city of Nysa, Oeneus, Οἰνεύς "wine-dark" as god of the wine press, Omadios “flesh-eater", Eusebius writes in Preparation for the gospel that Euelpis of Carystus states that in Chios and Tendos they did a human sacrifice to Dionysus Omadios, 

Phallen , (Φαλλήν) (probably "related to the phallus” at Lesbos, Phleus "related to the bloοm of a plant", Peudanor Ψευδάνωρ "false man" referring to his feminine qualities in Macedonia,

Pericionius, Περικιόνιος "climbing the column (ivy)" a name of Dionysus at Thebes, Semeleios or Semeleius or Semeleus an obscure epithet meaning 'He of the Earth' and 'son of Semele' Also “Son of Semele, Iakchus, wealth-giver”, 

Skyllitas, Σκυλλίτας “related to the vine-branch" at Kos, Sykites, Συκίτης "related to figs" at Laconia,Taurophagus, Ταυροφάγος “bull eating", Tauros Ταῦρος “a bull", Theoinus, Θέοινος wine-god of a festival in Attica, Τhyiοn, Θυίων "from the festival of Dionysus 'Thyia' (Θυῐα) at Elis", Thyllophorus, Θυλλοφόρος "bearing leaves" at Kos, Dionysus and Zeus absorbs the role of Sabazios (a Thracian/Phrygian deity)

Facts• Dionysus was the last god to enter Olympus, When Dionysus had grown up lady Hera made him into a state of madness so he wandered through many countries of the earth, He was a student of the famous centaur Chiron who taught him how to dance, The common names Dennis and Denise are said to be derived from Dionysus. he hated the sight of an owl

Roots• Ancient Greece, Greek mythology, Mount Pramnos on Ikaria

Offerings • Honey, Meat, Alcohol (especially wine), Fruit, Cakes, Poetry, Songs, Spices (ex- cinnamon), Blood or liquids resembling blood, He thinks those "wine mom" signs that you get in cheap gift shops are hilarious, Grape juice, Intoxicants, Grapes, Olive oil, Apples, Figs, Eggs, Goblets, Curved daggers, Bull horns, Snake skin, Leopard or tiger print objects, Purple candles, Theatre masks, Sexual toys, Percussion instruments, Wine bottles, Fake/toy grapes, Leaves or curls from grapevines, Pine needles, Pinecones, Apple seeds, Bindweed, Wildflowers, Toys photos or art of any big cats, snakes, Hymns, Songs you’ve written, Any art that you create, Any stories that you create, Art, pictures of the comedy, Wine corks, Wine labels, Toy or miniature drums, milk, water from the sea (he has a strong connection with the sea), Decorative beads, party beads, flashy jewelry, Wine glasses, Shot glasses, Corkscrews, Sparkling cider, Grape flavored things, Cheese, hallucinogens, Nips (small alcohol bottles), Bottle opener, Beer/soda tabs, Alcohol bottles with cool labels, Costumes, NatureFig/fig newtonsBull imagery, Donkey imagery, Bones, Antlers, Dead/preserved animals, Hiking gear, Seeds, Concert/festival tickets, Locks of hair, Shaven beard hair, Pride swag, ravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good, soup (you know , you know.)

Devotional • learn about sacred sex, shamanic journeying, responsible entheogen use, and alcohol as a sacrament, read “The Secret History” book, Make a playlist for Him, Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Remembering to take your medication and taking care of your mental health, Support/donate to your local theatre in His name, Be a part of the theatre, Stand up for those that are marginalized, Write stories/plays for Him, Invite Him to watch plays or movies with you (especially comedies or tragedies), Throw parties or attend them, Attend festivals, Attend a wine tasting, Go on wine tours, Attend parades, Masturbate or partake in sexual acts for Him (if you’re comfortable doing so And over 18), Drink alcohol or grape juice, Smoke po, Learn about winemaking, Support local vineyards, Wear wreaths made from ivy, Wear faux leopard or tiger print, Wear the color purple, Pray to Him for things while intoxicated/high, Visit your local winery and participate in a grape-stomp, do some Homebrewing in his honor, Grow a garden in his honor, Make your own ritual tools in his honor, Collect art, do Glamourbombs in his honor, Pretend to be somebody else in his honor, go out to a club in his honor, listen to music in his honor, read in his his mythos, write things for a ritual and write a prayer for him, eat some grapes or have some grape juice or sparkling grape juice (or wine if able and of age), listen to party music, read plays, watch musicals or plays (ex- high school musical, Hamilton), listen to musical soundtracks, learn about the history of theatre, learn about viticulture and vineyards, do things that bring you pleasure, listen to party soundscapes, watch documentaries about any of his sacred animals, Trip intentionally/spiritually, Learn about substance abuse/recovery, Destigamtize drug users, Learn about harm reduction, Make home videos, Write poetry, Act, Dress up, Go to the woods, Dance/sing in the woods, Meditate in the woods, Learn wilderness safety and first aid, Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal, Go off the beaten path, Explore new areas, Pick up litter, Forage, Recycle bottles, Grow fruit, Try new fruits, Have sex (let the partner know beforehand it's in Diyonisus honor, 18+), Masturbate (18+), Have threesomes/swing (ask him before and make sure the other participants know it's in Dionysus's honor, 18+.), Finally, give into that one kink you’ve been ignoring (you know the one, 18+), Learn about consent with partners, Learn how to preserve dead animals, Learn about different life cycles (ex-plants, animals), Learn about immigration in your area, Learn about different cultures, Try foreign foods, Learn a new language, Learn about your ancestry, Help immigrants in your area, Grow your hair out, Keep a Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal, Use Sexual/creative energy to manifest, Shed your old self, Do Self-reflection/self-exploration, Identify areas where you overindulge (ex- food, substances, spending).

Symbols• Grapevine, ivy, phallus, Thyrsus, theatrical masks, Leopard Skin, Panther, Cheetah, the animal called asses, cymbals, swords, or serpents, rams, laurel, asphodel,  dolphins, tiger, lynx, panther, horns, goats, his chariot pulled by 2 leopards, masks in general. 

Siblings• Ares, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hebe, Hermes, Heracles, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Perseus, Minos, the Muses, the Graces.

His friends/gets along with• Maenads and Bacchantes and Satyrs and Sileni and Pan and Priapus

Attendees• Seilenos (God of Drunkenness), Pan (God of Shepherds & Pastures) the Satyroi and Seilenoi (spirits of Fertility & the Wild) The Bakkhantes and Mainades (Nymphe and Women revellers) Komos Satyriskos (cup-bearer)

Appearance in astral or gen• Dionysus often took on a bestial shape and was associated with various animals, often wearing an Ivy wreath, the thyrsus, and the kantharos (a large two-handled goblet) In early Greek art he has represented as a mature male, bearded and robed holding a fennel staff tipped with a pine-cone, but later on he was portrayed as youthful sensuous, naked or semi-naked androgynous youth and effeminate with brown hair and pale features, often holding grapes and drinking wine.

Parentage•  Zeus and Semele, some sources also say Zeus and Demeter, some say Zeus and Persephone, but he always sends up with Persephone as a foster mother or as a biological mother, but before his reincarnation, his parents were Ammon and Amalthea.

Pet• leopards

Children • Priapus, Hymen, Thaos, Staphylus, Ononpion, Cumus, Phthonus, the Graces and Deianira, Seilenos, Pan, Satyroi & Seilenoi, Bakkhantes & Mainades, Komodo’s

season and festivles• Diyonosus festivals were bacchanalia, Dionysia, Anthesteria, Dionysian, Lenaia, Panathenaia,  his season was spring and March and April

Day• 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the January or February full moon.

Sacred places• Boitia in Greece, naxos Greek, island Edina in western Thrake, his holiest shrine was Mt kithairon (Nysa) in Boiotia Greece, he also declared war on India. A sacred place is the theatre.

Status• Greek god in the major theoi, and an agriculture Demi God. 

Pet peeves• Uderestemating him, he probably won't like it if you ignore him

Music• Disco, show tunes, psychedelic rock, acid folk, Greek folk music, EDM, classical, new wave, art pop, vaporwave, just anything you can dance and sing to.

Tarot• Temperance, fool card, three of cups, the tower, 9 of cups (based off of how people see him through their tarot cards) 

Scents/Inscene • Pine incense,  frankensince, patchouli and vanilla, nutmeg, mulled wine, storax, and Benzoin.

Prayers•

Regular prayer

Dionysos, god whose arrival is swift and certain, enduring friend of women and men whose welcome is warm, bringer of light, we see you in shadows. Dionysos, granter of great blessings, your presence is a heady wine. Kind-hearted god, to each you give as is fitting, each vessel you fill only as we can bear, and yet with even a sip, we are drunk upon you, and our faith is affirmed. Awesome god, by our own will we drink deeply, with you we become lost, we wander, we are found.

Litany to Dionysos

Dionysos of the vine, rich-tressed god of wine, potent and lusty, unmixed, undiluted, with full force you come to us, vital and robust, rich and strong and surprisingly sweet. Dionysos, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Ivy-bearing Dionysos, god of the green, of the power of root on stone, the force of life that will make its own way in spite of all who labor to hold it back, no will or work can bind your might. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos of the deep earth, of the dark world, of the unknown expanse beneath the black soil, beneath solid stone, of mysteries you know much, of death and of what lies beyond. God of secrets, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos the inspiring, granter of words of prose or poesy, words heard best by the drunken and the mad, words forgotten with the passing of night and delight. Bacchus, granter of rare transport, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos Soter, holder of the hearts of men, you free us from the cares of the world, each brilliant frenzied moment a shining jewel, each glimpse of the sacred more precious than gold. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly Dionysos, granter of good to men and women, giver of gifts to all who seek your blessing. Gracious Dionysos, accepter of offerings great and small, friend of mankind, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Regular Prayer to Dionysos

Dionysos, deep-hearted one who knows the souls of men and women, whose hand is ever open, ever within reach. Dionysos, god who runs in the dark, who sees with eyes shut tight, who dances to the heart’s strong beat, ever are you yourself, ever constant, ever changing god of those who are trapped, those who seek your truth and their own, those who seek vision beyond seeing, those who seek wisdom beyond knowledge, those who seek the self, pure and sweet, those who seek clarity beyond definition, who seek to embrace the uncertain, to hold, but loosely, to what is true beyond trust.

Regular prayer to Dionysos

I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods, along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele, who dared to look into the face of glory, beautiful Semele who you carried into life again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone; beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one, so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort; Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful, wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek, your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release, from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy, and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos, god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep, boundless one, endless one, fathomless one, in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you, we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.

To Dionysos

I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine, son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele, loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne. From the east you came, old before the ancients, throughout the elder world were you beloved; in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated, in temples and in the savage wilderness, the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake. The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink; the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift. O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy, where we know the truth of passion, where we find the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!

| Sources & websites in comments. |

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 85 (Searching for Rafa Bonilla)

cw: mentions underage trafficking, drug smuggling

Conrad looked for Rafa Bonilla between his regular cases at the precinct, following clues and booking suspects to keep his captain satisfied. A few months into his search he finally located one of Rafa's known associates, according to police reports.

He called Heather, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Hey, you've reached Heather's phone. It's either the middle of the night or I'm with a patient, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Hey, it's me. I was hoping to talk to you, but I've got to work a little late tonight. I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry. I love you."

He drove outside Brindleton Bay to greet the man who thought he had everyone fooled with his chess mentorship program. It would be less than thirty minutes before his students - mostly children - started showing up for their scheduled lesson in the park, so Conrad knew he had to work fast. He shuddered as he got closer to him, and not just because it was freezing outside.

"Jimmy Stefano," he said, dropping his voice an octave to sound serious.

"Not lately," mused the man with a laugh. "Who's asking?" He turned to face the voice who knew his old identity. "You? They said you were a cop now. No surprise they never let you work our cases."

Conrad knew they had no time for small talk and he whipped out his cuffs. "You're under arrest for aiding and abetting a known fugitive."

"You can't be serious! Who?"

"Rafael Bonilla."

Jimmy's face went white, but he stopped resisting. As Conrad cuffed him, he asked, "Are you taking me in to help San Myshuno PD, or did she call you?"

Conrad scoffed. "She who?"

Jimmy laughed. "She told both of us sweet nothings, old friend. You were just dumb enough to believe them."

"Shut up and get in the cruiser."

Back at the station, Jimmy looked around the interrogation room in his orange jumpsuit once Conrad booked him. "Aren't you going to need the cameras on to record your attempt at my confession?"

"I want you to speak freely, Stefano. Tell me everything you know."

Jimmy eyed him suspiciously. "You're not working with San Myshuno PD at all, are you."

"I didn't stage an elaborate arrest just to scare you. I still plan to file a report after you and I catch up. Just talk."

"She really did get to you. Are you trying to let her ruin your life again?"

"Where the hell is Rafa?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in two years, when the last job we did together went bad. I assumed his sister told him to run since the charges he's facing are so serious."

"She doesn't know where he is."

"I'm sure she told you that. Did she tell you she was done with Los Tigres, too?"

Conrad flinched, and Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm happy with my chess students, but I can't get out now. When you walked, I should've joined you, but I didn't have your father's connections at the police station to keep me out of jail."

"I wasn't even there that night, but you gave them my name."

"Yeah, I did, because you walked before you even got started. Los Tigres only let you live because you became a cop and they didn't need the heat. I don't know what she told you, but if you think Ximena's turned over a new leaf and is done smuggling for the cartel, you're an idiot. She just uses new aliases these days."

Conrad breathed in through his nose. "If I turn the cameras on, will you avoid mentioning our history while you tell me what Ximena's still doing with the cartel?"

"What's in it for me, Sargent?"

"If it comes to it and you're telling the truth, I only want Ximena. As long as Los Tigres doesn't get caught up in anything at the Brindleton docks, I've got no reason to open up a window to the past. You should think about moving on, too. Turn that chess mentorship program into more than just a front."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Some of us are lifers, you know."

Conrad hit record while Jimmy told him everything he knew about Ximena's past - how she escaped being trafficked in her teens by offering to run drugs for Los Tigres de Selva, working her way up to running an entire operation moving drugs from Selvadorada to San Myshuno, through Britechester, and back again. Her associates called her The Chameleon because of how often she changed her hair.

She'd been arrested but never did hard time, with those who worked under her often taking the fall, instead - like Jimmy Stefano. Twice. Ximena kept herself just clean enough to avoid prison, and dragged her brother into the same life. "Rafa and I used to pose as Simlandian military to run product for his sister, but he never got caught for that," Jimmy said.

"When was the last time you worked for her?"

"Four months ago."

Conrad led him through several questions, showing copies of Ximena's old police reports. When they'd finished, he released Jimmy Stefano. It didn't satisfy him to send a known smuggler back to the streets, but he'd gained some incriminating evidence against Ximena, at the very least. He was beginning to think he might need it, eventually.

He headed home in darkness, and his mind raced with possibilities. Could Ximena's activities have led directly to her brother's disappearance? Who were her enemies these days?

He tried to call her, against his better judgment, but she didn't pick up her phone. He hung up before the voicemail kicked in.

When he walked in the door, he found six-year-old Ash on the floor, working on a castle diorama for extra credit at school. He knelt down to help him without even changing out of his work clothes. "Can you help me with the small pieces? Mommy won't let me use better scissors, but my kid scissors barely cut anything!"

He grinned. Grateful for the distraction, Conrad pulled out an instruction booklet tucked under the edge of the box. "Of course. What did you need me to cut?"

"Just these windows," he said. "They're too small. And can you measure to make sure my towers are big enough? I want the biggest towers of the whole class! Like the Spire Tower!"

"Tallest towers, can do. Hey, did you want to use this lump of clay for anything?" (Finally, the clay comes out at a sensible moment!!)

"Yeah! Moat mud! And we could use real water!"

"Your mom won't be very happy if we make real mud in the house, buddy."

Heather walked into the room then, kneeling down next to them to play with Gord. "Please don't make real mud. Why don't you use the clay to mould a base for the castle?"

"Good idea, Mommy! Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow night? I've been thinking about pancakes all day!"

"I can make you pancakes for dinner, but your mom and I won't be here to eat them with you," said Conrad. "Tomorrow night, I'm taking your mom on a date."

"What's a date?"

"It's when people who like each other hang out," Heather said.

Ash's eyes grew wide. "Is there kissing?"

Conrad grinned. "There might be. What do you know about kissing?"

He paused. "Nothing, I guess. Scotti Holiday says it's like eating faces, but why would people who like each other eat their faces?"

Heather laughed. "Don't worry, Conrad's not going to eat my face. Are you almost finished with your diorama for the night? It's getting late and you should get to bed soon."

"Just a little while longer, Mommy. Please! I'm not tired and I'm almost done!"

When he and Conrad had finished, they displayed the excellent diorama on a kitchen countertop until Ash could take it to school in the morning. Before he went to bed, Conrad went upstairs to check on his sleeping baby girl.

Intuitive to his human's growing stress level, no matter how well he hid it from everyone else, Gord followed him. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[ad-caelestia]

i've spent a lot of time saying "here's what you could do" as a witch versus "here is what i actually do" as a witch, so let's go.

as much as i try to stir my coffee in one direction or another, it always ends up counter-clockwise - instead of seeing it as a mistake, i just work around it by thinking of it like, i'm banishing (counter-clockwise) negativity from my day versus attracting (clockwise) positivity.

i tend to use colors that align with planets versus other folkloric associations - instead of a green candle for money, i'll use a blue one because blue is associated with jupiter which is associated with wealth and good fortune. lucky for me, all the other planets have colors that align appropriately so i don't have to think about those as much (sun - gold, moon - silver, mercury - ehhhhh a mix of like, yellow/violet/indigo, venus - baby pink/mint, mars - red/rust, etc etc.).

i have a money bowl that i redo on the first of every month and i set a cinnamon stick above my front door for prosperity - i have a tiny little angel of a bunny whose health means more to me than the ritualistic act of blowing cinnamon into your home from outside the front door.

my "grimoire" or book of shadows or WHATEVER you wanna call it lives on my computer via onenote and is also scattered through many many notebooks i have collected over the years - if i'm being honest, i am way too picky about my handwriting and messing things up when i am writing in pen that i would just rather keep it somewhere i can type and alt+f to get where i need to go.

my main altar lives on a pretty gold and faux marble bookshelf but honestly, my whole house is my altar - there are sacred spaces at every corner if you know what to look for.

if i want something for my craft, i try to repurpose old things or thrift for them - you'd be amazed what you can do with some of the most basic things (i found my money bowl, which is a crystal dish, at the thrift store for 99 cents); the dollar 25 tree is also a good spot to shop for cheap trinkets.

much of my craft is muscle memory, which has come from YEARS of practice - if i'm cooking and need to use like, basil for example (luck, money, protection), i just kind of already know what it's "good for" and keep that in the front of my mind while i'm cooking so the intent doesn't get buried.

i really REALLY prefer to make my own stuff but that's not always feasible - i really thought the other day that i could just start making candles for myself and had to put that thought on HOLD because let's be real, i'm not doing all that. instead, i will continue to use all the chime candles i have collected over the years instead of immediately going out to find something new.

cleansing ritual who? every time i mop my floor or clean the baseboards or wipe down the counter, i'm cleansing my space. i very much believe that mundane cleaning can be equally as magical and therapeutic if the intent is there.

same thing with literally any other magical thing i do these days: i won't go digging for new items to serve me and my spellwork, i will just use what i already have.

doing spells when the opportunity presents itself versus days of planning - i got a new body wash the other day whose main ingredient and scent is rose so i figured i could use it for a glamour at some point; needed some cinnamon the other day for pancakes and stashed some away for use as a catalyst later on; stuck a bay leaf in my pasta sauce while cooking and made a little wish beforehand.

tethers. everywhere. this one's a bit personal for me but generally speaking, i like to tie energy to a physical object and store it for later use.

i have never buried anything in my yard for any reason - i usually just stick it in a box if the spell isn't finished, cleanse and reuse, or discard all together after thanking it for its assistance.

i swear i have a mean tarot deck and a nice one so i tend to be biased and choose accordingly. 🙃

i also have two pendulums i don't use and a set of blue goldstone runes that i have had for 8 years but don't touch anymore. let that be a gentle reminder that you don't have to do all the things, i promise.

anyway, those are some things about my craft ok bye

[breelandwalker]

(Spawned by this post and done separately bc I didn't want to derail.)

Folk magic traditions and folk medicine, historically speaking, tend to rely heavily on regionally-available resources. Whatever was growing in their particular biome was what got used. So we see many many plants with overlapping usages or correspondence. And it may SEEM repetitive in an age where we can source pretty much whatever we want or need from the internet or from local stores that import herbs and spices.

White sage and palo santo are excellent examples, but we can also look at things that are closer to home. Consider, for instance, the humble peppercorn.

Native to the India, black pepper is one of the oldest known spices in the world, with usage records going back over 5000 years, and is a staple ingredient in most household spice cabinets. Even the blandest, most white-bread kitchens will at least have salt and pepper on hand, and pepper has a plethora of magical uses from protection to cleansing to fertility to warding off bad luck and malefic magic.

AND YET. Black pepper used to be the most expensive spice in the western world. Literally worth its' weight in gold in the ancient, classical, and medieval periods. It was used by physicians to treat a variety of digestive complaints and was believed to reverse the effects of certain poisons. It was so valuable, people used to pay their rent with it, much in the way that Roman soldiers once received salt as part of their wages. It wasn't until the Renaissance that black pepper started to be affordable for an average household as trade expanded and other substances like coffee, cocoa, and saffron gained in popularity.

So we might easily reach for a courtesy pepper packet for a quick banishing or protection ritual today, but that's not something the average medieval English peasant looking to ward off bad luck or keep evil spirits out of their house would have access to. But what they DID have was rowan trees. And we see many references in the folk magic of the British Isles to rowan boughs or rowan berries being using for protection, fertility, cleansing, and the warding-off of misfortune and magical harm.

So instead of going right for the white sage or palo santo, why not try smoke-cleansing with rosemary and bay leaf? They have the same magical properties and are much more affordable and readily available, plus that added bonus of, yanno, avoiding culturally appropriative or overharvested plants.

Anyway, point is, widespread availability is all well and good, but you'd be surprised just how much you can find in your own backyard and how useful it can be in your craft.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello, Another Part of this TFA Request, Bot Buddy as Wasp's twin sibling who takes his place

Where Bot Buddy, who disguised as Wasp, became a broken bot, and that now speaks like how Wasp do. She somehow escap from Autobots and didn't held a grudge of that 'incident'

Buddy came to Earth and meet the team prime (if Wasp's in Repair crew, a reunion happens between him and Buddy), also Buddy (and Wasp) reveal their true selves

I have a feeling we are going to see this Buddy a bit more in the future.

Hope you enjoy!

Wasp Twin sister meets Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Mention of injury but nothing graphic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Time didn’t seem to exist within the walls of the stockades.

Half of the time W-2 didn’t even know what was happening anymore.

It was better that way.

Her name was even changed while being in there, she had to constantly remind herself that she was still had a name… but even that was slowly being replaced by the shorten nickname given to her.

2.

Just plain ol’ 2.

She rarely talked anymore and when she did, it was mainly to herself.

The guards made fun of her speech whenever they had the chance to do it.

One night 2 woke up to find the door of her cell wide open.

Thinking this was another trick, she waited a bit.

When nothing happened, she bolted out of the cell and straight to the memorized exits.

She remembered running and running until she reached the local spacebridge.

She punched in random coordinates as the blaring sounds of the alarms shrieked.

2 instinctively tried to transform, but the inhibitor claw on her back prevented her from doing so.

As soon as the bridge turned on, she leaped in, not caring now where it could lead her.

All 2 knew was that she couldn’t stand another day in the walls of the stockade.

She was free falling when she appeared on the other side.

2 landed on a pile of trash.

2 rubs her helm while throwing a greasy banana peel off her helm.

“Ow! Stinky garbage hurt 2.”--2

The garbage bot starts collecting the garbage including her.

It starts compacting.

2 starts clawing fruitlessly at the wall and screaming.

“NO, NO, NO! 2 DON’T WANT TO GO! 2 DON’T WANT TO GO!”--2

SLICE!

The machine had been sliced in half thanks to the quick thinking of Optimus Prime.

He had just been in the area when he heard a bunch of screaming coming from the garbage bot.

He thought it was a couple of humans caught, he was not expecting a bot that looked a little bit like Bumblebee to spill out. The bot in question looked at him and scurried into a corner in the alley and placed her servos on her helm, shaking like a leaf.

Optimus carefully approaches her slowly putting his axe down and getting on his knees.

“Hello.”--Optimus

The bot looks up a bit but keeps quiet.

“My name is Optimus Prime—”--Optimus

The bot curls up even more.

“Like Sentinel bot?”—2

Optimus shakes his helm.

“No, I’m not like or am Sentinel. How do you know who Sentinel is?”--Optimus

The bot shaking lessens.

“Truck bot save 2. 2 like nice Truck bot.”—2

“Your name is 2?”—Optimus

2 nods.

“Just 2.”--2

Optimus smiles before noticing her pede sparking.

“You’re hurt.”--Optimus

She looks down at the injury, wincing a bit as the spark grew a bit.

“Oh… 2 hurt...”--2

“Listen 2, I have a field tech back on my base—”—Optimus

2 looks at him in panic.

“No!”--2

“No?”--Optimus

“Truck bot take 2 to get arrested! 2 not go back to stockades! Not go back!”—2

She tries to get up but yelps when the pain shoots up and crumbles.

Optimus catches her.

“Listen 2, your injured, I promise whatever this is about the stockades won’t happen because you get arrested when the other first see you. You have my word.”—Optimus

2 looks at him in fear and uncertainty.

“2… not get arrested on sight? Truck bot promise?”--2

“Yes. You have my word.”—Optimus

He holds out his servo for 2 to take it.

She does hesitantly.

Optimus carefully carries 2 in his arms.

2 freezes a bit before relaxing in his arms.

This… this felt nice…

Optimus sends a message to Ratchet to get the med bay ready and to prep everyone for someone’s arrival.

2 just clinging on the only source of positive touch she had received in what seemed like millennia.

She doesn’t see the bots due to her slightly buried helm in Optimus’s chassis.

She gets set on the med slab and that’s when her optics zero in on Bumblebee and Bulkhead.

“Is that W-2?!”--Bulkhead

2 starts clinging on Optimus arm shaking furious.

“Prime! You brought a spy to our base!”--Bumblebee

“2 not spy. 2 is just 2.”--2

“What happen to your voice?”—Bulkhead

Bumblebee gets up in 2’s face with an angry expression on his face.

“And why are you here traitor?! You’re ready to try and con us too?!”--Bumblebee

THUD!

2 passes out on the med slab.

Bumblebee and Bulkhead explain their history with 2 in their early days in the boot camp.

After she was taken away, many things were no longer the same.

Bumblebee and Bulkhead couldn’t believe that she was the spy all along. She didn’t look like a spy or acted like one, but maybe that was the whole point.

Her arrest took the biggest toll on Wasp.

The bot was fighting any bot that got on his nerve and was nearly expelled from boot camp if he suddenly didn’t stop.

His overall mood and attitude did change a bit.

He could still be insensitive and play pranks, but they were significantly fewer than before. Wasp even became good acquaintances with Bumblebee at one point.

It was thanks to Wasp’s recommendation that he and Bulkhead were partnered in the same space bridge repair crew when he moved a bit through the ranks.

Ratchet, meanwhile, is mentally taking note of some injuries that had been untreated in a while.

It was clear that wherever this bot came from, it wasn’t a good place.

Especially when he saw the damage made to her voice box. That explained the rough speech.

When Bee and Bulkhead are done with the story, it leaves some questions and mixed feelings about the bot.

“There is still something off about all of this.”--Optimus

“Like what?”--Sari

“You told us she admitted to being the spy when Wasp was being taken away right?”--Prowl

“Yeah?”--Bumblebee

“No spy in their right processor would through themselves under the bus for one bot, family or not. Just me kid, I’ve met plenty of spies in my lifetime. She is not spy material.”—Ratchet

“But then…”--Bumblebee

“Do you mean…”--Bulkhead

“I don’t think 2 is a spy.”--Optimus

Bee and Bulkhead share a look.

If she wasn’t the spy… then who was?

She comes around and starts to shake seeing bee and bulk

Optimus carefully moves in front of her to not let her see Bumblebee and Bulkhead.

“2 don’t want to go back!”--2

2 tries to get off the med slab but Prowl and Ratchet hold her down.

“No one is taking you back 2.”—Prowl

2 stops abruptly.

“2 not?”--2

Prowl sits down next to her.

“We have a feeling you’re not really the spy, but we can only confirm it if we hear your truth. Can you do that?”--Prowl

2 looks down shaking her helm.

“Are you trying to protect someone?”--Prowl

2 freezes and refuses to look anyone in the optic.

Sari comes next to her putting both of her hands in hers.

“Hi. My name is Sari, Sari Sumdac.”--Sari

“S-Sari?”--2

“Yeah, I really want to be your friend 2. You look like a nice bot to be friends with.”--Sari

2 looks at her with wide optics.

“Sari… want be friends with 2?”—2

Sari nods.

“But we can’t if we don’t know what happened. Don’t you want to tell someone?”--Sari

2 nods her helm weakly.

Sari squeezes her hands a bit.

“Nothings going to happen to you if you tell us.”--Sari

“Promise?”--2

“Pinky promise!”--Sari

2 tells them about how scared she felt when she saw her twin being wheeled out after an accusation that should have had more evidence.

She took the blame to save him.

Everything she said on the spot was false and she had hoped that Sentinel was dumb enough to take the bait and take her instead.

At that moment she didn’t care how it made her look, she was worried for her twin’s safety.

She is crying and refuses to look at anyone in the optic.

Sari give 2 a hug around her neck cables.

“You did a good job 2.”

2 shakingly reaches to gently hug Sari back as the tears in her optics make everything look blurry.

She feels someone sitting next to her and a servo pulling her into a side hug.

The blob on yellow is all she needs to know who it is.

“I’m sorry for calling you a spy 2… do you think—”

2 puts her helm on his shoulder trying to stifle another sob.

The message is clear.

Bulkhead starts to pat her helm making her cry even more.

Sari pulls away and looks at 2.

“Sari?”--2

“I don’t like 2. You need a new name.”--Sari

2 points at herself.

“New name?”--2

Sari nods and smiles.

“And I know just the name, Buddy!”--Sari

She tilts her helm a bit.

“Buddy?”—Bumblebee, Bulkhead and 2

Then she starts to smile.

“Buddy! Buddy like name. Buddy is new name. Buddy thank Sari. Sari, Sari, Sari!”—Buddy

Bulkhead pulls the entire team in for a group hug.

Buddy is in the center of it spilling some tears.

For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

Buddy was finally safe…

[the-lonelybarricade]

In Silent Screams - Elucien Oneshot

Summary: Elain volunteers to look after her nephew so that Rhys and Feyre can get some much needed sleep

A wholesome, fluffy treat with a dash of angst inspired partly by this long ago exchange of headcanons with my friend @arrowmusings, partly by this recent post by @tuzna-pesma-snova, and partly because I think we can never have enough baby nyx content with his doting aunts and uncles! 🥰

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on AO3

-

A piercing wail woke Elain for the third time that night.

She groaned, rolling over to pull a pillow over her head like it might shield her from the sound. Plumed feathers, as it turned out, were a feeble defense against the piercing lungs of a newborn. At least she was upstairs, safely barricaded behind wood and stone and a firmly shut door.

Elain didn’t know how the others dealt with it—having such sensitive ears, capable of hearing the worms writhing through the soil below the house, and still enduring such close proximity to her crying nephew. Even in the moments of silence, where Feyre and Rhys managed to coax their son to sleep, Elain could still feel the reverberations in her skull.

No wonder Feyre and Rhysand looked so exhausted. They would never say a word in complaint—how could they? Their child was a miracle, and Elain knew they would surrender sleep for eternity if it was in service of their child. But she swore she swore the foundations of the town house tremored from the next bout of wails.

Her ringing ears coaxed her out of bed and down the stairs. She was already awake, still unused to this body and its overwrought sensations, how keenly she could feel existence ebb and throb around her. She’d never mastered how to tune it out. But at least if she couldn’t sleep, Rhys and Feyre could escape to the House of Wind for some peace and quiet while she watched over her nephew for a few hours.

“Are you sure?” Rhysand asked.

He was better at hiding it; a smile glided across his lips as easily as the autumn leaf coasting on the other side of the large window pane he stood before. Nyx caught sight of it and pointed, prompting Rhys to pivot without faltering the rhythm of his slow back-and-forth bouncing. He cooed quietly to Nyx as if his son had discovered something fascinating, and it didn’t take long for Nyx to drift back to sleep. Fatherhood suited him, she thought, even as she noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the rumpled clothes.

Feyre mentioned that Rhys answered the majority of the midnight cries without being asked, out of duty and apology and pure, unbridled love. He wore it plainly. There was a gentleness in his eyes as he handed his son to Elain, a quality she only truly glimpsed in the High Lord when he was looking at Nyx or Feyre.

Elain’s heart squeezed a bit at the sight of it. Some days, she felt so lost, surrounded by so much love. Half of her was here, in this body that felt and heard and smelled so much, and the other half felt as if she were the fallen leaf outside, being swept by the night-kissed breeze. Only ever observing from the other side of the thick glass. Untouched by the warmth in this house.

“Thank you,” Rhys said, smiling as though he genuinely meant it.

Elain nodded, forcing a smile in return. “Go rest. I’ll alert you if I need anything.”

Or Nyx would. She didn’t speak the thought, but she wasn’t certain it wasn’t as readily communicated through his magic by the way he huffed. Not quite a laugh, but as he nodded his goodbye, she saw a glint in his eye that spoke of humor. He vanished into smoke before she could assess it further, undoubtedly eager to return to his mate for a rare moment of peace.

She didn’t begrudge them that peace. They earned it. She was happy to do what she could to help them, even if that was something as simple as sitting across the soft cushion on the bay window, cradling her nephew to her chest, and staring blankly through the glass. She hardly registered the city beyond, gilded in ribbons of moonlight. Her gaze was fixed on the autumn leaves collected on the ground, wondering what had attracted Nyx’s attention.

The colors, she wondered? She imagined he might have a mind fashioned after Feyre, where he saw and felt and breathed in color. It would be fascinating to a child to witness leaves changing color for the first time. There was a time when Autumn felt like magic to her, too. Long before she ever associated it with cold, with the first creepings of winter. With vibrant red hair and unnervingly perceptive eyes.

A faelight flickered to life in the dining room. The light reflected off the glass, wiping away the night sky and cityscape so that Elain was confronted with her own reflection. And above her shoulder, as though she’d summoned him, Lucien Vanserra had stumbled into the kitchen.

In truth, Nyx’s crying hadn’t been the only thing keeping her awake.

She turned too sharply, forgetting there was a sleeping baby in her arms. Lucien, at least, looked astonished to find her there, and his eyes flitted to the child stirring in her arms, beginning to fuss. He looked as though he were debating the merits of veering straight out of the dining room, abandoning whatever task had lured him to begin with.

Then, the shrieks began.

Elain flinched, holding the child at arm’s length as the sound pierced through her bones. She could feel the vibrations in her teeth, and she wanted to gnash them as her vision went fuzzy around the edges.

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to hold him,” Lucien said, fashioning himself as being helpful.

At twenty-three years, she had admittedly little exposure to child-rearing. She’d been too young to glean anything helpful when Feyre was born, and she’d scarcely been around many children in the years since. As a woman—a female—it was supposed to come naturally to her. Certainly, everyone expected it would come naturally to her, and she had never questioned why it wouldn’t. She’d always felt a nurturing instinct, always felt a compulsion to care for plants and people and wounded things. A baby felt like a natural extension of that affinity.

And yet… yet she felt clumsy with Nyx. Uncertain how to hold him. He had wings, after all, no human child had wings. Should they be included in the swaddle? Could she manipulate them safely, or would they tear at the slightest pull? Would she fracture this beautiful, fragile creature if she accidentally applied too much strength with her new, foreign body? Sometimes, she felt like she was the one who was fragile. The glass slowly splintering from the blow of those piercing wails.

He was crying so loudly Elain couldn’t think.

Lucien was standing before her now, and she scowled at him like this was his fault. If he hadn’t startled her, she wouldn’t have startled Nyx. And Rhysand would be coming back down any second, and she knew he wouldn’t say anything in judgment, that he’d be happy to take back his son and that he’d appreciate her attempt at kindness nonetheless.

But she was tired of feeling so useless. And this was the one thing she was supposed to be good at. Had being fae taken this away from her, too? Was she unfit to be a mother because some part of her was fundamentally broken, flooded and washed away with her humanity during all those agonizing seconds she’d been in the Cauldron? She’d been screaming at the top of her lungs, too, like Nyx was now. The only difference was that water had filled her mouth, her lungs, and no one had heard her screaming.

Her pain had been utterly silent. It always has been. No one saw it, no one heard it.

Elain flashed her teeth at Lucien, some instinctual warning that he was coming too close. He stopped, eyes wide, and raised his palms in surrender.

“I know how to hold a child,” she snapped.

“It doesn’t look like it,” he said dryly.

The cries pitched in volume, and she winced. Nyx had fallen asleep in his father’s arms, utterly content, and by now, he’d surely put together that it was not his mother or father holding him, not even one of his dear uncles, but his insecure, uncertain aunt.

Softer, Lucien added, “Do you want help?”

“I don’t need it,” she said as she stiffly readjusted Nyx, attempting to mimic how Rhys had been cradling him earlier. She sucked in a breath at the newfound proximity, those wails now a close-range weapon assaulting her mind again and again.

Elain squeezed her eyes shut. She recalled Feyre’s lessons on mental shields and wondered if there was some equivalent for shutting out all of this sensation. No one else seemed to find it as overwhelming. Rhys and Feyre, she could excuse as parents blindly devoted to their child. But Lucien, hardly a step away, did not flinch or clench his teeth. He held his shoulder tense, though that was not unusual when they were in the same room as each other.

He was studying her in that unnerving way he often did when he thought she wasn’t looking. Elain braced herself for the tug she occasionally felt on the other side of the bond. She thought it was the last thing she could handle at that moment. It would be the final, frayed edge that, if pulled, would send her unraveling into a pool of shapeless, tangled string. Fortunately, there was no pull. Lucien’s lips parted as if something dawned on him, and then he shifted. The movement was so subtle Elain would have thought nothing of it if Nyx hadn’t immediately seized crying.

Elain blinked, craning to look at her nephew, then again at her mate. Nyx’s mouth was moving, his little face pinched. She could see the back of his throat rattle with the force of his anguish, could feel the vibrations thrum through his tiny body. But there was no sound.

“What did you do?” She wanted the question to sound closer to an accusation, but she could not strain the relief from her voice.

Lucien shrugged. “It’s just a glamor. You seemed overwhelmed.”

Her ears were still ringing in the silence. She moved her jaw back and forth, trying to focus on other sensations—the newborn scent of her nephew, the curious scratch of the wind against the townhouse. The slow, steady beat of her mate’s heart. Elain shut her eyes and began swaying to its rhythm, humming quietly to shut out the echoing remnants of the crying.

When it finally faded, she opened her eyes, unsurprised to find that Lucien hadn’t moved.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “He was… so loud.”

Lucien nodded. “You’ll get used to it one day.”

“The crying?”

“The fae senses.” He glanced thoughtfully at Nyx, and Elain wondered if he could still hear the crying. Did the glamor only impact her? “You’ll get better at tuning out unwelcome sights and smells. And if not—there’s always magic.”

Feeling Nyx start to settle, Elain shifted on the bay window until her back hit the wall. Lucien stared at the space she created on the other side of the cushion but didn’t dare accept the movement as an invitation. Not until Elain nodded, and he cautiously ventured forward, apparently unconvinced this wasn’t a trap.

“I don’t really know how to use magic,” Elain said. “I can… feel it. But I’m not sure how to control it.”

Lucien claimed a tedious seat at the edge of the nook, both feet planted firmly on the ground so that he might bolt at the soonest provocation. Carefully, he asked, “Would you like to learn? I’m sure Feyre would be willing to teach you.”

He didn’t volunteer himself, and she wondered if he had as little interest in teaching her as she had in learning from him. Which was a good thing, she reasoned. But her chest felt tight.

“I don’t know,” she said. It was honest. “I know that I should want to learn. But it sounds like it will be exhausting, and I am already so tired. Every day, it’s too much. All of the people in the city talking over each other, the crying seagulls and the roaring tide. I’d like it to stop. Just for a little while, and then maybe I’ll be ready.”

Ready for what? She could see him wanting to ask. Elain was grateful when he didn’t.

Instead, he glanced around this small, cushioned nook and asked, “How’s that?”

Elan’s brows merged, not following, until she paused her wandering mind long enough to listen. There was no lapping water, no writhing soil, no percussion of even breathing, layered and out of sync as the city slept around them. There were still some sounds. That ever-present heartbeat, twining with her own. Those were more coordinated, just like her slow exhale and his steady inhale. And though she could still hear more than she could as a human, for once, her existence was narrowed solely to this small nook in the world, where it was just Lucien and Elain and her nephew.

She exhaled again, feeling the tension in her body release in that single breath. “Another glamor?”

“A shield,” he said, raising his knuckles to knock against a solid, invisible barrier. “Let me know when you need me to lower it.”

“Are you staying?”

There must have been an edge to her voice. One he misinterpreted, for he shook his head.

“I don’t need to,” he said, already shifting his weight to his feet. “The shield will remain once I leave. You can always tug on the bond when you’d like me to—”

“Will you stay?” Elan wished he didn’t look so stunned. It faltered her confidence enough that she scrambled to add, “So that you can add the glamor in case Nyx starts fussing again.”

“Right,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Of course I can stay.”

Lucien settled back on the cushion, and this time, with the encouragement of a raised brow from Elain, he adjusted himself until his back was against the opposing wall. They were facing each other, and fortunately or unfortunately, there was enough space on the shared cushion for her legs to stretch to one side and Lucien’s to stretch to the other without touching.

What would it be like to touch him? She remembered the one time in Hybern. Cold and trembling on the floor, that first touch had felt like thrusting her skin into an open fire. The heat was too startling against the numb, thawing her too quickly, too soon.

But with the sun breaking the horizon in the distance, gilding all of his loveliest features in soft, glowing light, she thought it wouldn’t feel so excruciating to be touched by him this second time around. Less like burning fire and more like warm, buttery sunshine.

Realizing that they’d fallen into silence, and that she’d been staring at him without saying a word, Elain asked, “What brought you into the dining room to begin with?”

Cast in the rising light, his cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. “Rhysand knew I was awake. He asked me to come in here to light the fire.”

That drew Elain’s attention to the empty hearth, blackened from the fire that had died sometime in the night. She’d seen Rhys light the flames with his magic a hundred times before.

“Why couldn’t Rhys light it?”

“I was coming in here to ask him the same thing,” he said dryly. With a clipped laugh, he muttered, “Nosy bastard.”

Insufferable busybody, was more like it. Elain shook her head, though she was finding in this cocoon of silence that she was grateful Lucien had come.

She asked, “Why were you awake to begin with?”

His eyes met hers. Held, in a way that spoke far more than his explanation of, “the crying baby, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, breathless.

His heart rate picked up, no longer the rolling rhythm she’d used to rock Nyx to sleep.

“And you?” Lucien prompted. “What were you doing awake?”

She’s woken to the sound of that heartbeat. Pulled from whatever dream she’d been having, like some intrinsic part of her thought it was wrong to listen to that heartbeat and not follow its call. It was why she could never sleep very well whenever Lucien stayed in the house.

“The crying baby,” she said. “Same as you.”

[synnamonroll666]

Love Speaks Volumes

Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Warnings: Fluff, Smut, P In V, Creampie, Syzoth Holding Back Because He Loves You. 🥺💚 Word Count: 1k A/N: Happy Belated Birthday, @charliedaltonsgirl! I'm sorry it's so late but I fell into a bit of a burnout and I wanted to make sure it was perfect for you so I decided to take my time so it didn't feel half-assed. I hope you enjoy it! 💚 Main MasterList: 🖤 Syzoth's MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @@bihansthot, and @mmeerraa.

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"I love you." He whined for the hundredth time that minute. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

It fell out like a string of prayers as he laid on top of me, his member buried deep within me to the hilt as it twitched with desire for my heat. His face remained in the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses down its slope between words.

"Syzoth," I said in a whisper, my breath faltering as his tip twitched up into the right spot once again. "I'm ready."

The simplest utterance of those words was all he needed to retract his hips and push them back in, repeating the pattern over and over until he ended up in a pretty simple pattern. He started slowly at first, just sweet and simple love-making. I knew that this was him holding back the inevitable—the burning sensation of his instincts telling him to ravage me.

Though the Zaterran still stood his ground, moving his hips back and forth at a slow pace as he peppered the length of my neck with soft kisses. His nails tore at the bedsheets as he gripped them tightly in his fists, trying hard not to lose control and fall into the temptation that was my vulnerability. It didn't take long for him to arch his back just right, pushing himself deeper within me to allow his tip to kiss my cervix before pushing tenderly into my g-spot upon reentry. 

That's when I saw stars.

Before I knew it, I was moaning out loudly with pure ecstasy. My nails dug into the skin on his back as my hips moved rhythmically against his, desperate for as much friction as I could muster. I could barely focus on anything other than the glorious feelings he was generously giving me.

He whispered words in Zaterran—words I assumed were of praise and admiration. His voice blew into my ears like a warm summer breeze and echoed through my mind like drips of water within a deep cave. It was amazing how much of an effect the man had on me, and I considered myself lucky to be blessed with the honor of calling him my mate.

No matter how many times we had sex, I could never comprehend how he worked me up so fast. It was like my nerves were guitar strings and he was a talented musician, plucking away at my strings tenderly to make the most beautiful song, which was my moans for him.

"Syzoth!" I shouted as I was finally pushed into my climax. My body shook beneath the Zaterran like a leaf on a windy fall day. When my eyes lolled into the back of my head and fell shut, I swore that I saw space—the entire galaxy—and I was floating in the middle of it all during my orgasmic bliss.

When I finally came to, Syzoth was still moving slowly. Sorrowful moans and whines emitted from him as he worked hard to keep the animal within himself at bay. Though the overstimulation was a bit uncomfortable, it wasn't so bad that I couldn't hold on for him. I wanted my beautiful boy to feel just as good as I did.

"Syzoth, let go." I murmured to him, running my hand through his hair to soothe him. "It's okay. I can take it."

He stared at me for a moment as his hips continued to move as if he didn't even realize it. He seemed so unsure of what to say, watching me with confusion, his eyes as his lips stayed parted to allow his uneven breaths to filter through.

"I won't hurt you..." He finally whimpered, his voice sounding needy and pained. "I won't hurt you..."

"Syzoth," My voice lowered to a hushed whisper as I ran my fingers through his soft locks again to keep his attention, my eyes burrowing into his lime-colored ones to show him I was serious.

He released a heavy sigh before moving his hips just a bit faster than before. Not long after, his soft thrusts turned into hard ones, pushing me just beyond what I could take. Still, I gritted my teeth and bore it for him. Just being in his arms and knowing I had the power to make him feel how he made me feel was enough to dull the aching sensation and replace it with something more beautiful and euphoric.

Though it didn't take long for him to release. He pressed his forehead against mine as he came, his eyes squeezed shut as he hissed the most unique sound I had ever heard. We shared breaths as our lips met and shared the moment as our eyes fell shut, basking in each other's presence as he burst through all the emotions that came with his high.

We laid like that for several minutes, panting and shaking as we tried to relax. Eventually, Syzoth's muscular arms snaked beneath me to hold me tightly against his large frame. Soon after, he was once again planting soft kisses all over my neck before lifting his head from its crook to attack my face with as many as possible.

"Okay! Okay!" I chuckled as I tried to push him off of me, but he eventually retreated to pressing a sweet kiss to my lips before resting his forehead against mine once again.

"Happy Birthday, my precious little human." He cooed as he gazed down at me lovingly, his soft eyes telling me all the words he wished to say.

"Thank you, sweetheart—for everything. I love you." I proclaimed it like it were words I wanted to use my final breath on. And truth be told, it was. I could spend an eternity telling Syzoth just how much he meant to me. After all he had been through and all he had done for me, how could I not?

He smiled broadly as his eyes beamed with nothing but love for me, and I could feel my heart flutter wildly at the gorgeous sight. He placed one final kiss on my lips before murmuring back against them, "I love you too, beautiful. I will for a lifetime and more."

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[desceros]

ajkfljskj I saw you were taking requests now and I lowkey just- 👀 I'm having sexy Bayverse Turtles intrusive thoughts. Imma share a Leo one. Ever imagined Bay!Leo sharing his hobbies with reader after she earned his trust and teaching her Japanese calligraphy? Him watching her skin glow in the candlelight, dreaming to use her naked body as a canvas for a Japanese love poem written in kanji? Sexual tension, mixed with slow, agonizing brushstrokes? Cuz I have 😏 -💙

so i got this and immediately i was like 'omg. this would work So Well as a deleted scene of sorts for tea-verse' so that's what it ended up as. kind of sexual tension but it edges more on pining. also, i'm burning now, thank you everyone for playing, we had a great run here on desceros dot com leonardo x reader; T, GN!reader, 1.8k; leo pining like a TREE. officially takes place after the leaf scene in this fic if you want context for some of the subtler touches but tl;dr reader always makes leo his tea. (the fic itself has a female reader but this snippet is GN)

He wonders if you know. 

You’ve caught him staring, before. It makes his shell feel tight, his skin too-hot. Even with mating season coming up, it’s too soon for him to be reacting like this; the burning ache that comes just from the bell of your voice, the alluring sway of your footsteps as you come to his side. And yet he does. Because it’s you. Just because it’s you.

“Okay, I’m excited for this,” you tell him, teeth biting into a smile as you tuck as close as you can without touching. He knows you do it for him, that you stay away because of his wishes, but it’s an agony all the same. The sweet smell of your soap haunts him, even under the burn of the incense that ghosts the room with smoke.

“Yeah?” he asks, pleased when he sees the happy, easy glow of your face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s so pretty,” you say. “Plus I like how the ink smells. It smells really nice with the tea when I bring it in.” 

Pretty, he echoes, trailing his eyes down to your throat, your shoulders, your hands. The way all your angles and curves catch the candlelight and dance in a softness that makes his palms ache with emptiness.

…He wonders if you know how soft you make him.

“Okay. Tell me the names for everything,” you tell him, studying the tools laid out before him, a gentle eagerness brightening your eyes. He smiles, turning his head and gesturing at everything to share its proper name in Japanese, then English. Grinding the ink, he explains the process, looking to you and your fascinated expression and trying to remember to breathe.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks once he’s ready, causing you to look at him and smile.

“What do you want to write?” you ask. 

Reaching out, he picks up the brush between his fingers. He studies the paper before him, blank and infinite, but his mind is somewhere else. 

…It had rained, a few days ago. You’d come into the lair drenched, laughing as Splinter had sent him off to bring you a towel. He’d returned in time to see you lift your shirt, squeezing it out over the storm drain, miles and miles and miles of skin stretching before his eyes. The curve of your spine as you turned to speak to his father, the arch of your hips as you leaned to twist the fabric, the pull of skin over your flesh. Breathless, motionless, frozen, he’d faltered in the doorway, ensorcelled by the image forever, marked, seared into his mind.

It’s that sight that comes to his mind, now, as he closes his eyes. 

He could do it, he thinks. He could ask you to turn, to pull your shirt over your head. It’s so easy to imagine the way your shoulder blades would curve, the dip of your spine, the way you’d shiver when he pressed the brush to your skin. It would tickle, at first, until you got used to it; then you’d sigh, still, and let him spread his soul onto your canvas.

Oh, all the things he wants to write there, where it would sink into your flesh like a brand. All the little ghosts of you that haunt him, memorialized with love in charcoal: the way your teeth catch your lip, the flash of skin at your hemline when you stretch your arms above your head, the wet press of your tongue to your lips when they're dry, the way your eyes flutter shut when you have your first sip of tea, the hum of pleasure you give when it tastes good. 

…He’d make you feel so good.

“…Leo?”

Leo opens his eyes, feeling the hunger in them, letting them get as far as your mouth before he turns them back to the paper before him. A pointless daydream, a torment of his own making. 

“…Sorry. I was just thinking,” he says, and it’s not a lie, not entirely, but also nothing but. There is nothing just about the way that you consume him.

It’s easy, then, to think of what to write. In long, elegant nine strokes that pull from his shoulder, he glides the brush over the paper. Each inch of ink carries a memory of you, your hands as you pass him a teacup, your care in checking the flavor, your endless drive to perfect the art just for him. 

“…Tea,” you recognize, proving your familiarity with the subject. He smiles; of course you’d recognize it, what with how often the two of you share.

“Tea,” he echoes, waiting until the ink is dry enough to handle before he takes the paper and hands it to you. “Here. For you.” 

“Wh—Really?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Of course. It’s about time I gave some tea to you, after all,” he says with a smile that makes you laugh. He tucks the sound into his heart, next to all of the others. 

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” you compliment, holding it before you. Your eyes take in every stroke, awe open and genuine, before they meet his own and your smile goes warm like the sun. “Thank you. I’m going to hang it somewhere nice in my apartment.” 

And oh, but you are the sun, he thinks, heart pounding as he watches your fingers trail down the edge of the paper. Reaching out with warmth, lighting everything you touch, smiling as everyone around you basks in your radiant glow. What is life without you, he wonders, chest aching and so full and so empty all at once it hurts. Madness. 

…He wonders if you know. 

[latterdaydaisy]

How I Practice My Faith and My Craft as a Mormon Witch ~ daily (the basics)

I start my day with a prayer.

After I pray, before I do anything else I do a quick devotional study. I use the We Believe app and the RiseXP app for this.

After I have prayed and I do my devotional, it’s time to cleanse, recharge, and protect myself! I’ll draw a bath meant for cleansing myself physically and spiritually. The stuff I put in can vary, but I typically always use at least these items: clear quartz, salt, lemongrass, and a drop of some blessed water I’ve made for purifying myself/items. After my bath, I’ll put on a fresh pair of garments and my veil for protection (and a reminder to humble myself). Then I go out in the sun to charge and I’ll sip on some chamomile tea charged with my intentions for the day. I’ll say a prayer of gratitude during this time as well.

Once I feel sufficiently filled with light, it’s time to begin my day! I go inside and begin my devotional time. I’ll light a candle on my altar for Jesus, and do a quick tarot reading to see what God would have me focus on learning and doing for the day to help me progress along the covenant path. Once that’s done, it’s time for scripture study! I like to open with prayer and a hymn. I’ll ask God to lead me by the Spirit in my study so I may know what He would have me learn and how I can apply this principle in my life today. Currently I listen to one general conference talk and read a couple chapters of the Book of Mormon and the New Testament. I’ll do devotionals in my journal for a quote I liked in the talk and a verse that stood out to me following the SOAP outline. (Scripture, Observations, Application, Prayer. I leave space at the end of the page to reflect on my experiences applying what I learned at the end of the day.)

Now I’ve completed my morning routine, it’s time to move on throughout my day! As I go about my day I continually pray, try my best to keep my baptismal and temple covenants, and look for opportunities to be kind to/serve/and share the gospel with others. As an offering to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ I consecrate all my efforts to Them. I also try to make time to be still so the Spirit can speak to me, usually by taking a minute to breathe and be present (even if I’m doing chores). I also make an effort to listen to uplifting music/podcasts while I work on my chores to uplift my spirit. When I’m doing chores is also when I’ll usually cleanse my house of any energy/influences not of God. (Note on my house, it’s been blessed by the missionaries at my ward as well as myself, and I have wards set up)

Whenever I feel inclined to pray about something, I usually do a quick spell alongside the prayer. This is mostly to get me in the habit of practicing every day in small ways, but it’s really helped me to be less robotic and more sincere in my prayers. Not anything super fancy. It can be as simple as putting amethyst in my purse on the way to institute to calm my social anxiety, a bay leaf sigil burning, or just visualization. If I feel inclined, I’ll also do spell work for those I pray for. Note: something I’ve learned is crucial whether you pray, cast a spell, or do both- remember this pattern: ask, believe, act. Pray/spell cast, choose to believe all things are possible with God, and do your due diligence relying on God’s grace to bring about the things you prayed for (this is when the Lord works miracles).

When the day has ended, I’ll begin my night routine. After I go back on my morning devotional study and reflect on my day, I’ll cleanse myself once more, put some crystals charged with my intentions for the next day under my pillow, spray my peace essential oil mist on my pillow, and end the night with a prayer of gratitude, repentance, and asking for a good sleep to be prepared for the next day. I also keep my veil under my pillow for protection since it’ll fall off when I sleep.

I’ll make future posts on how I connect with Christ and some spells that I do, but here is a general outline of what my day as a Mormon witch looks like! (Might make another post on my sabbath days because those look a little different). Thanks for reading!

[esoteric-chaos]

Apollon's Blessing Deity Oil

"APOLLON (Apollo) was the Olympian god of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease, and the protection of the young." - Theoi

I actively work with Lord Apollon for my health and Herbalism. He aids me with knowledge along with helping me with my chronic pain and chronic fatigue. I venerate him on Sundays as that is the planetary day of the sun.

I made an oil for him to call upon him. I use it to carry him with me and as a candle-dressing. It helps me with my intuition, my mental/physical health (I am in no way claiming this will heal you. This is a personal association) and creativity.

You will need

Clean and cleansed bottle to place oil in

Chamomile - The Sun, stress, insomnia, anxiety, banish negativity

Rosemary - The Sun, mental clarity (to lift brain fog), memory and concentration

Bay Leaf- The Sun, healing, inspiration, creativity,

Cypress - The Sun, healing (traditionally eternal life and the continuity of the soul), strength, protection, historical plant

Carrier Olive Oil - Fire, protection, historical offering

You can either do the folk method or the hot method. You can find my post on infused oils here to learn how to make infused spell oils. I suggest if you are an animist or someone who wants more power from your oils. Speak to the herbs kindly, treat them less like an ingredient and ask them respectfully for their aid and the purpose they'll have in your oil. Use intention. The same goes for the Olive oil.

You can sub any of these, however, Cypress is historical for him. Try to keep herbs within the theme of the sun, fire and healing for his oil. Olive oil is a traditional offering for example.

Blessings!

Looking for all of my posts in one place? Check out the Masterpost

[nightmarebunnyking]

Prompt from: @luciusdaskel \/

One short what hidden inside us

It was a warm afternoon on flower fruit mountain,a soft breeze when though tree leafs,wukong was picking peaches for next meal,Liu'er mihou by his side once they Collected enough in a big basket,wukong place it down next to tree,he wiped his forehead off sweat,wukong sat down on soft grass next to basket,his head lead onto the big Peachtree trunk,his one arm behind his head,as wukong held a soft fluffy pink peach in his hand,that he grabbed from the basket, Liu'er mihou sit next to him.

Wukong turn to look at him,with kind grin that spread across his face.

"Want one Liu'er? here"

Liu'er mihou smile softly,his six ears twitch a little and flutter against light grey fur “thank you"

Wukong gently passed the fruit over, their fingers touch,the tender caress,was pleasant as the soft pink peach is pass to Liu'er mihou hand,They silence eat the peaches, enjoying each other company.

wukong was so busy as of late,being the new monkey king and training up the monkeys was time Consuming,wukong miss the days where he could hang out and play with Liu'er mihou,Liu'er was one of his best friends,his very first friend,wukong glad they're reconnecting again,after wukong when out to train with Subodhi far away from flower fruit mountain,training with Liu'er mihou is fun,it was gratifying to know there bond wasn't completely broken.

That there friendship was still there,wukong turn to look as his friend,wukong speaks soft almost quiet as the breeze "I wish you where their with me,when I was with Subodhi,I miss you,with fruiti and bai long,it was easier but I felt Like a outside and I didn't belong among the puti Disciples"

Liu'er mihou one ear twitch,Liu'er mihou understand the feeling,of unbelonging and feeling unwanted,he didn't feel connected to troop like he used too,their was Distant and creak between him and Generals that wasn't there before when he was younger.

"I understand shi-i mean wukong,I feel like I don't belong in the troop sometimes,like outsider watching from the sidelines"

Wukong heart ache when Liu'er mihou said those words,he didn't know Liu'er felt that way,wukong look into Liu'er light brown eyes "you will always belong with me,we can be outsider together"

Liu'er mihou heart flutter in his chest,his light brown cheeks flushed,his eyes widened "sh-wukong...your always so sincere" his hand out toward wukong "together" wukong hand grasp Liu'er,their fingers Entertained,wukong titled his head with small smile,he chirp with happiness.

"Together"

Sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it,I only touch upon one of their insecurities