#Hindu Kush Mountain Range

[kumrattourism]

Discover Atrango Meadows Hidden Gem in Dir , Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Pakistan tourist destination

  Welcome to Kumrat Tourism Private Limited! 🌄 In this video, we take you on a journey to Atrango Meadows, a stunning tourist destination in Dir Bala, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Located in the majestic Hindu Kush mountain range near Lowari Top, these lush meadows offer breathtaking views, serene landscapes, and an escape into nature. Just an hour’s drive from Dir Town, Atrango Meadows is a perfect spot…

[banglakhobor]

আফগানিস্তানে ভূমিকম্প, আঁচ পড়ল ভারতেও, ফের কাঁপল দিল্লি, কাশ্মীর

নয়াদিল্লি: সপ্তাহান্তে ফের ভূমিকম্পে কেঁপে উঠল দেশের রাজধানী। শনিবার রাতে কম্পন অনুভূত হল দিল্লিতে। আফগানিস্তানের হিন্দুকুশ পার্বত্য অঞ্চলে শনিবার ভূমিকম্প হয়। রিখটার স্কেলে কম্পনের তীব্রতা ছিল ৫.৮। তারই প্রভাব দিল্লিতে এসে পড়ে বলে জানা গিয়েছে। তবে কম্পন অনুভূত হলেও, ক্ষয়ক্ষতির কোনও খবর মেলেনি এখনও পর্যন্ত। এর আগেও আফগানিস্তানে ভূমিকম্প হওয়ার পর, তার আঁচ এসে পড়েছিল দিল্লিতে। ন্যাশনাল সেন্টার ফর…

[molkolsdal]

The white domes of Chitral Mosque point upward to the 25,289' summit of Tirich Mir, the highest mountain in Pakistan's Hindu Kush Range, some 50 miles in the distance.

Ric Ergenbright

[terrence-silver]

Also I had the best idea the other day after seeing Nick Marini Silver in the camo(?) with young Kreese in the cave.

Post 'Nam Terry Silver, with his new little ponytail, going back home to Cali only to somehow meet innocent hippie Beloved whose all about love and peace and hope- all the things Twig was concerned with- until it was purely just survival and he had to evolve into a Cobra. Yet, he can't help but become obsessed with Beloved...

Summer of Love.

Twig!Terry Silver x Reader.

―

You had a ‘make love not war’ badge pinned to your jacket and Terry Silver thought that was the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

Of course, you weren’t the only one; that year in California there was an abundance of these smiling, airheaded cockroaches drifting around aimlessly with handmade embroidery featuring their empty, meaningless slogans — jeans patches, spray paint backpacks, sharpied on mud-crusted sneakers, assholes hand painting Yoko Ono’s likeness on their shirts thinking they’re making some big statement, vans decorated (if it could be called decoration) with corny, one-word mottos in the likeness of ‘Peace’ and ‘Love’ that made Terry’s gut lurch up in amusement at the vapidity. Must’ve been easy. Ranting about peace and love from the comfort of home, the easy summer of the West Coast washing away all problems with a warm, seaborne salty breeze, not doing anything at all but slum around in the heavy shade, but regardless, in spite of all their comforts, they all gave the impression of being dirty. Unwashed. Something the ocean couldn’t exactly scrub off considering it was internal as much as, often times, external. He thought you were the dirtiest of all. Not physically, but something about your manner as you spoke enthusiastically about your plans to go overland, on a trailer from one end of Europe, all the way Bangkok, through the Silk road along the Hindu Kush mountain range gave him the irresistible urge to wash your mouth out with soap and make you swallow the bitter, soapy load.

-"Kabul, Peshawar, Amman. I guess I wanna see these ancient, hallowed places before they’re irrevocably changed."-

You explain, engrossed in your own imagination like a child, a colorful crochet blanket sprawled out beneath you in the back of an open van, your legs hanging and dangling from the edge. Terry had learned you didn’t exactly have an address in the classical sense. Heck, hilariously enough, you didn't even drive the very vehicle you were laid up on, considering the act somehow backwards and harmful, a notion that made you inherently comical, ; you came to California and by extension joined your traveling troupe, to, as you put it, see the world. Go wherever the path took you. For all you were concerned, he was just some guy with the same goal in mind and not someone who just rotated back to civilization a couple of months ago. Who’s already seen the world, alright. Who’s already walked paths you could scarce imagine. Who’s already witnessed the change you were babbling on about firsthand. He left one country behind and came back to a totally different one. A country filled with people like you. You were everywhere, one way or another. Unavoidable. Reflected in every face. Every person. Every sight.

-"You know? Everything is eventually changed, usually for the worse and it’s good to grab the chance and see stuff while they last, in their original form."-

You continue, leaning on your elbows and smiling, your enthusiasm and zest like a biting into something way too sweet; both addictive and slightly disgusting. So. You wanted to go to Goa, Bangkok and India. What was next? Go to Vietnam too? Carry a transparent that said ‘Americans go home’? Was that it? -"Oh, I know exactly what you mean."- Terry interjects, feigning innocence, watching you idly twirl one of the suede leather frills on your shirt, not in a manner deemed seductive, because no, you weren’t out to seduce him or anyone. He could tell as much. He could tell someone who had insidious intentions from someone who didn’t. You merely thought you’ve made a new friend in him these past couple of weeks in the grand soulsearch called life, feeling relaxed enough to act whoever you wanted to act in front of him — he cultivated that atmosphere for you on purpose, wanting to have you trust him, wanting you to be relaxed, right before…right before — well, Terry wasn’t entirely certain what he wanted to do to you just yet, but he was certain it would hurt. -"I just recently came back. And the place isn’t the same."- He tells the truth by effectively lying; things have changed, yes, you just weren’t privy exactly how things changed for him. So naive and wide eyed, he told you he was part of the Peace Corps and you believed him because you had no reason not to. You didn’t think people were fundamentally bad, just occasionally misguided at worst and that was a worldview so alien he thought it should be placed in a jar and examined under a microscope for good measure. You went by Beloved around these parts, after all, instead of your actual name. That alone deserved to be scrutinized and laughed at in the line up of all the other facts about you that were funny all on their own. But then again, Terry found he strangely enough didn’t mind. He knew your actual name, and he recently discovered he didn’t want to share it with anyone. -"All around Asia, yeah? Right on!"-  You beam up, a light visible in your eyes. The light of admiration. Heavy, omnipresent, addictive. He wanted more. Needed more. Revolted that he did, yet still craving it. He wanted to take that light and crush it in the palm of his hands like a puny ant. But, he needed to separate you from everyone else here first; separate you from all these cockroaches mingling around with too many eyes that could potentially be on him. So far, nobody suspected him to be a returning vet. Especially you. That was your fatal flaw, Terry figured; the fact you trusted anyone at all.

Least of all him.

He supposed, irony of all ironies, that the handful of hair tied at the nape of his neck helped the overall impression and image you had of him. Half of the bums here had long hair. None was like his, of course. Unlike theirs, his hair was sacred. But, it helped perpetuate a certain look. Even the Cobra ink on the side of his ribs; you were convinced it was an aesthetic statement and no more than that.

-"I really respect that, Terry. I wish I could go too. You’re so lucky!"- 

You sigh dreamily, throwing your head back under the shade of the van’s roof.

Lucky?

He was lucky?

Sure, why not, so long as you keep bearing your neck to him the way you were.

-"Yeah, Cambodia, Thailand, Korea."- Terry keeps perpetuating a half-lie, seated on a low wooden lawn chair in front of you, his blue Ford pick up truck he procured for the occasion parked nearby, neglected and busted up just enough to give him the visage of some working class schlub mingling with other schlubs, the fan from inside your the van blowing in a cool breeze his way; he’s been to all of those places, that much was true, you just weren’t aware of the context he was there in; admittedly, you didn’t hate returning army men either like he initially was convinced you and all of your ilk would, finding roundabout ways to question you of your worldviews — no, you merely thought they were deluded, lost souls someone took advantage of, which was somehow only ever more infuriating than plain old hate. Humiliating. Pitiful. Like a disgustingly sympathetic nod nobody asked for causing him to feel a bit like a stray street dog someone threw a dry bone to chew on. Terry Silver preferred death rather than for someone to feel sorry for him, fueled to an even darker place every time you were hideously empathetic, towards him and the whole world, hit with a flash of greed, wanting your stupid kindness for nobody but himself. So, he keeps on lying. Anything to momentarily distract him from the violence brewing around in his mind like a tempest. -"But, my favorite experience has to be with the Peace Corps in ‘Nam, hands down. It was life changing."- Terry allows himself to smile, finding the urge irresistible. He’s told you so many made up stories about his volunteer work abroad that he almost felt bad for you and how desperately you believed him. Almost. All those hours spent on various lawns, picnic blankets, on the backseat of a car, walking along the beach, spinning made up scenarios you ate up like a child full of wanderlust, eager for someone to tell them a story of how the world is full of possibilities. Hope. Terry leans forward suddenly, his elbows pressed against his knees and your body moves, matching his, engrossed in the conversation, looking at him like he was about to share with you the answer to life itself. -"Would you like to go one day?"- Terry asks, all figuratives and future tense, chuckling, and oh, he would take you down a path unwalked before. That’s what you said you wanted after all. Go wherever the road took you, no? You nod vigorously, smiling wide, a warm twinkle in your eyes. Trusting. Pliant. Unspoiled.

He returns the gesture, bearing his teeth in the visage of happiness.

So, you wanted to have a Vietnam experience and that could very well be arranged.

But, thing is, he doesn't.

The thought remains firmly lodged in his head, all the things he could to do to you, make you suffer, take that sweet, sparkling light in your eyes and ensure it is a dimmed, lifeless thing after all the various methods through which he could cause you pain. Make you suffer again and again until you're a husk and your lesson has been learned; a remainder forever that life isn't just travel and seeing pretty places, instead, he's laid up with you in a pretty place all of his own, thinking he deserves his Summer of Love too, perhaps more than anyone else --- after all, he's fought for it. Toiled for it. Seen his friends murdered for it. He spent months in a cage for it. He's earned his place in the sun tenfolds over. And he enjoyed the game. He enjoyed this role he played in front of you. If Captain Turner could see how now he'd say he's 'gone native' and the idea only serves to amuse Terry doubly so --- the notion his commanding officer would be mad at him for anything only intensifying him further, supposing he wanted to spite the man from beyond the grave, if possible --- your head in Terry's lap, the foliage of the palm tree casting a long, heavy shadow from above obscuring your face, your jacket riddled with badges cast to the side in the beach sand at the foot of the tree. Thank fuck. -"You know, I always thought my travel companion wouldn't be anyone but myself."- You sigh, keeping your eyes closed only to flutter them open suddenly, looking at him engrossed in the task of smoothing the top of your head, fingers drawing patterns along your scalp. The thin layer of skin atop of the skull, potentially so easy to peel. -"As in, that I'd mostly be hitting the road on my own."- You continue; Terry spots the odd bit of hesitation in your voice. You lean up because he lets you, your weight prepped up on your elbows. -"All these others, they have someone other then themselves. Not me, though."- You glance further down the beach and the ramshackle collection of vans parked up along the coastline, the distant sound of music echoing through the seaboard. Beatniks making a barbeque and someone strumming a sappy guitar tune. Your tribe. The punks that drove you around. Dragged you from place to place. Occupied your time. Perpetuated this way of living you took to heart. Not for long, though. -"But, I think that's changed now."- You remark, forlorn. Of course it has changed. You were less and less a part of them and more and more a part of him than you could imagine. That's the way he liked it too.

-"When I leave here, I'd like you to come with me, Terry."-

You ask sweetly, halfway pleading, as much as he relished the notion of you begging him for anything, imaging you doing so on your knees, he had to concur internally that as much as you were convinced of the opposite in this very moment, you weren't in fact going anywhere. Where would go anyway? San Francisco? Out to Mexico? The thought made him want to throw his head back cackling. No. You didn't realize it just yet because Terry didn't want you to realize, but you'd be staying put, right here, with him. Indefinitely. Instead, he gives you the softest look he could muster to camouflage his intent, something within him melting and bleeding forth like warm, overly sugary pus, as he nods slowly, that desire to scrub the inside of your mouth out with soap every time you talked about leaving for somewhere else subsiding for a second, taking a backseat, overtaken by a certain gentleness, the assurance it was all just make belief on your part anyway because you wouldn't be going no matter how badly you were convinced of the opposite and no matter how badly he was convincing you of it. -"Yeah. Sure thing."- He says, absentmindedly, deliberate in his choice of words, deciding to never say 'yes' or 'no' decidedly, but you never notice, falling back on his back momentarily content and closing your eyes once more, seemingly enjoying the ocean breeze, choosing to trust the way you always did so far and when you're not watching, he weighs his options between tossing the 'Make love not war' badge he took off of your jacket into the sea and keeping it for himself as a memento and deciding it belonged to him rather than the depths of the rolling waves. After all, in Vietnam, they always had the tendency of collecting trophies. Sometimes it was ears. Sometimes it was chopped fingers. But, in your case, the notion of separating you into pieces he could keep starts becoming less and less alluring compared to the idea of having you whole and this thought hits Terry helming the steering wheel with you beside him on the passengers seat, all tender smiles and quiet warmth. During the war, he always daydreamed of someone writing him the way Betsy wrote to John --- the way all the other boys had sweethearts, wives and fiancées writing them too, wondering what it would be like if it was you who wrote to him, filling every page with your idealism and this puny belief in a better tomorrow. A field opens up in front of him. A coastal superbloom spreads as far as the eye can see. He figured you'd get a kick out of this shit, and just as he thought, you do, sighing deeply. -"Words can’t describe how pretty this is, Terry, so I’ll say nothing."- You turn to him, appearing serene, shrugging simply, your hand on his shoulders, touching him. He allows the gesture, leaning into it. Of course it was pretty. Desert Lillies, Verbenas, The Indigo Bush and Dune Evening Primroses spread on for miles. That's why he privatized the place. That's why he owned it. For you to indefinitely do what you liked with it. A gift you didn't even know was a gift just yet. -"Lets just enjoy it together, okay? Take in the moment."-

Terry feels his lips spread and a smile form in place of his stoicism so far.

He couldn't help himself. He brought you to a field of flowers and you were convinced he was the best of men. You were wearing a jacket riddled with pins, a weaved wicker purse, the birds chirping and your face was sunkissed with light; the fact he had to ruin this moment and squash the innocence of it both filled with blood with heat and made his gut lurch out in pain. Terry allows his himself to cackle quietly ---- at first as a slow rumble emanating from the back of his throat and then open, into his own chin. You give him a confused look. You were going to hate him so much for what he was going to right now and he both relished and reviled the fact.

-"What’s wrong?"-

You ask.

-"This is really funny."-

He manages. And it was. It genuinely was.

-"What is?"-

You prod on, scooting closer like you were worried for him, your fingers squeezing and kneading his shoulder and the concern shoots his blood down into his groin; at this point, he's outright laughing. How could he not?

-"Peace Corps."-

Those two words alone provide him with enough humor for him to barely contain it.

-"I was in Vietnam, but not with the Peace Corps."-

Terry shakes his head, feeling his own mouth pucker up comically, like he was teasing a child for believing his elaborate story about the toothfairy, and still, your trust stands there unshaken, your expressions lost and confused. You really bought into this crap.

-"Wait, what do you mean?"-

You scoot in your seat, fidgeting a bit, poor, beautiful idiot, your bag and all its many jiggling keychains and ornaments firmly clutched against you like a subconsciously protective barrier, your body facing him. A man just comes along, tells you a story and you go with it because your philosophy in life and first instinct was to not think someone just went along lying for its own sake, but see, that's where you were wrong. Terry supposed he loved and hated you for it, envying and coveting you and how unpolluted your mind was. Anyone could've come along and sold you on some bullshit and the idea of that momentarily infuriates him and relieves him --- he was infinitely glad it was him and that he was the first.

-"And I lied because you provided me with such wonderful sensations. Hated to see it ruined."-

He continues, ignoring your previous queries, the budding shock on your face positively delicious; the way it spontaneously grew in scope in real time as you sat in his busted up car surrounded by a meadow of flowers like a scared fairy or a deer caught in the headlights about to be trampled --- he could have the image and the whole scene commissioned and painted, framed and hanged above the mantlepiece facing his tub so he could have the vision of your naiveté collapsing in on itself for all eternity, admiring it while he bathed, had his mourning champagne, took calls. Touched himself underneath the searing hot water. Squeezing his cock in the palm of his hand. -"What sensations?"- You mouth, more breath than words at this point.

Your body language changing slightly. Skittish. Uncertain.

-"Friendship."-

Terry smiles into the word.

-"Hope."-

He adds leisurely, chewing on those four letters like they're bones.

-"Love."-

Finally, his hand grips the place where your shoulder blades meet your neck, caressing and squeezing there, ensuring his own body is distant; he was touching you and you weren't to touch him. Not when you were so close to realization and then, with in an instant, it hits you. The light from your eyes is gone and he feels the space in his trousers tighten. His teeth digging into his lower lip. -"You were in the army!?"- You gasp, like your lungs lacked the oxygen necessary for you to actually raise your tone and yell out, your voice crackling your throat as you tried to move backwards, further into your seat and the door on the passenger's side --- Terry doesn't let go, his hand still ever-present on your neck. A lover's touch transforming into a vice grip within seconds. He shrugs, deliberately mocking, paraphrasing and twisting every hippie-dippie bullshit talking point he's ever heard ever since he's stepped back on American soil.

-"What can I say, I was a demographically exploitable, impressionable youth and the big mean man from the poster tricked me into killing Gooks. I wouldn't have otherwise. I'm strictly anti-violence."-

Terry senses his own brows shooting up in a make-belief mask of feigned, parodied innocence only for your own to furrow and you look offended. Angry, for once in your life. Beautiful enough to consume. -"You're making fun of me!"- You cry out, desperately as he grabs you, both hands, and you struggle, to no avail. Your running days were over. You'd stay put for a change and you'd stay down. -"Don't you love me?"- Terry cocks his head only to find you quelled. Hesitating. Oh, you loved him alright. You just loved the pacifist idiot listening to you how you wanted to be a nomad backpacking in every backwater dump on the surface of the planet and not the man with the past and you couldn't immediately reconcile the two without betraying everything you stood for. -"I ---"- Your mouth falls open and he feels you shiver, your words caught on the precipice of your mouth. -"You said you wanted to see ancient places before they're changed, but do you think they were built on notions of peace? Every empire you'd like to travel to with me was built on war and conquest."- He shakes you, only slightly, hoping it'll make you come to your senses. You thought Xerxes in the remnants of Persia you wanted to see was a pacifist with a flower garden atop of his head or something? Did your beatnik friends tell you that? Your eyes shimmer, horrified, glossed over with suppressed tears he wanted to lick off your cheeks. -"God, what else did you lie about to me."- Your voice is barely audible, raspy, like the gravitas of the situation only just started settling in. If he wanted to mess with you further, now would be the ideal time, so he does just that, pointing his nose across the field, towards the skyline of the city and the tallest tower visible from plain on the outskirts of the highway. Impossible to avoid, juxtaposed like a distant fortress against the blue sky vista. Terry points the tip of his nose towards it, feeling rather triumphant of Dynatox's expansion. -"That compound. I own it. Along with half of the real estate in the country. Content?"- He snarks, tilting his head at your outrage. Not only was your lover a war criminal, he was an eco-terrorist mass profiteer as well. He's fucked you and you loved it too. -"I don't know you. Jesus. I don't even know you."- You murmur, wiggling out of his grip and moving because he lets you, very well intending to give chase once you practically jump over the closed door of the van, and unto the grass. Sure, why not. He'd get to fuck you knee-deep in flowers next. It was perfectly in-line with the life you led. He steps out of the Ford, slamming the door shut, his arms open and inviting once he finds you hastily walking down the meadow, no doubt intending to hitchhike your way back to the city. He couldn't allow that.

-"Why are you running? You've got it all now! A ticket away from backpacking your entire life away with a bunch of aimless bum punks!"-

He speaks plainly then; the jig is up, he tells himself, and playing games as only as fun as the revelation of true intent. His true intent being, taking you, his diamond in the rough, cleaning you up and separating you from those who'd get you hooked on a life of slumming it on every street from here to India. His wild blossom needed to be plucked, re-planted, placed in a hothouse, tended to, domesticated and copiously watered until it bends or breaks for him. You're practically running at this point, glancing back at him, face radiating ire. You were pissed the fuck off. Nice. Perfect.

-"Maybe I'm an aimless bunk punk too! Have you thought about that!? But, at least I didn't kill anyone! And I don't lie! Get away from me!"-

You yell, and Terry doesn't recall the last time he's seen you this angry, if ever, but the vision makes him smile and this point, he's so hard he can practically feel himself pulsate as he follows after you at a brisk pace, allowing you enough leeway to have you stupidly think you can just walk away from him while he's right there only to come up from behind you, always in your shadow, grab your forearms from the back, stop you in your tracks, spinning you to face him. Chest to chest, face to face, there was no escape. Why should his well-earned Summer of Love ever end? Have you asked yourself that?

-"See, that's where you're wrong, baby."-

He practically giggles, steadying you in his grip.

You're slippery, like a bar of soap. Luckily, he's stronger, not intending to let go.

-"You aren't an aimless bum punk. You're mine."-

He states the fucking obvious, grinning at the levels of your vexation growing.

-"And you are lying. You're lying to yourself when you refuse to fess up that you care about us."-

He inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dragging itself against the outline of your neck, inhaling all that sweat, the aroma of the great outdoors, the pollen of the field caught on your skin, smiling against you as he spoke, feeling you dig your fingers and nails into his arms, the jab of pain a relish, like an injected aphrodisiac in his system. His hand travels down, cupping you between your legs and on instinct, he hears your breath hitch. You liked that, didn't you? He rubs up against the side of your thigh, craving raw, dry friction. -"When you pretend that targets living in mud huts halfway across the planet getting napalmed matter to you as much as they do."- He presses his mouth next to the lobe of your ear, caressing the shell with his lip, feeling a slight shiver there, like your body spoke out in confirmation instead of you, even as you pushed and struggled, spilling words of venom when it was so clear your very nervous system craved to shout out a definitive 'yes'. -"You murderous son of a ---"- You seethe, trashing only to get hooked even more firmly against him, until he's practically embracing you not unlike wrangling a slithering Cobra, attempting to tame it. What's wrong? Were you afraid your friends will exclude you if they find out you've been getting fucked by a vet? Will they label you as less progress for it? Take your hippie credentials away? The continues massaging the seam between your hips, swearing he could feel the warm sensation of moisture and heat through the fabric, watching your mouth part even as you struggled. Bodies don't lie. He finds your zipper and the material of your panties underneath it, soaked to the very flesh. Ah, yes. There it was, all your political philosophies flying out the window proven just by how wet you were for him. -"You don't care about it that much."- Terry whispers laced with giggles, finding the bare skin of your cunt ready for his touch. Suddenly hungry, he devours your neck with kisses in-between words, pushing you backwards, hands all over, on the small of your back, around your waist, coaxing you down into the bed of flowers. He was going to have you, right here, right now. He's slept under the open sky and the wilderness for months and months only up until recently before rotating back to civilization, so for all intents and purposes, this should've been true return to form. -"You care about how good my fingers feel inside of your cunt much, much more and the thought of not being morally upstanding while getting fucked kills you on the inside."- He laughs, on top of you, finding you were no longer fighting it, maybe just barely, enough to make it interesting for him. The faintest spice of struggle with his hand up your leaking hole.

-"It kills you that your lizard brain rules you when I'm near."-

His hand propped up underneath your head, pillowing your contact with the bare soil underneath you, he admires you, all of you, cooing to you surrounded by flowers bent and broken at the stem through the impact of you both laying down in the bosom of the meadow, or more like, crashing into it; he supposed he despised the natural world as a whole --- a distaste he cultivated in Vietnam, in the jungle, overgrown, deep, impossible to traverse, during six months of monsoon rain, the perpetual, sinking moisture of the ground and the insects, centipedes as long as his arms, snakes, scorpions and things stemming forth from the muddy, slick bowls of the earth that would make any man's skin crawl, mowed down, culled and leveled, sprayed from above with an orange dust, the brainchild that birthed everything he wanted Dynatox to be --- a great equalizer of nature. The big, final X. But, you? Seeing you surrounded by the natural world? He supposed the only way he could ever tolerate nature is if it is in relation to you personally and no other way at all. Terry found no use for it unless it was in connection to you. That was his own lizard brain working overtime when you were near and he wanted you, needed to hear it from your own mouth that you were much the same as him. Weak around the resolve where he was concerned. -"Say it."- He demands it, firm lipped, his hand fishing around his trousers, pulling his cock out, hard, dripping precum, entirely ready for you. You shake your head, avoiding eye contact, pinning your gaze up at the sky; he could swear he spotted the faint, pale glimmer of suppressed tears. -"No."- You mouth bluntly. No? That just wouldn't do in this dojo. -"Say. It."- Terry repeats himself, insisting, annunciating every syllable, not intending to do it a second time, pulling your trousers down to your knees and spreading you. You could've shut your knees, but you never do; not that it would've stopped him, if anything, it would make this all the more profoundly enjoyable, but he reads desire, guilty, transgressive, hidden between the lines, yearning to burst forth. You wanted him too, but it went against your core values. Were you really as free as you thought you were, though? If you couldn't even fuck who you really wanted? Sounded like a miserable way to live. You moan and sob up at the same time once he's inside of you, bucking your hips up against him, managing a single word.

-"Yes."-

-"Yes, what?"-

-"It kills me ---"-

You stutter, attempting to repeat his words back to him beat by beat, only to stop, cutting yourself off once Terry picks up a pace, back and forth, back and forth, his fingers long since having undone your blouse, your tits and nipples bare, kneading them, greedy, wanton, unsure of what he'd do first, what he'd rather touch and when, finding he wanted all of you at once, no waiting, no hesitation, on a plot of land he owned, fucking someone who belonged to him.

-"What kills you?"-

He encourages, kissing along your jawline, biting, all spit, lack of decorum.

Finally, you break, and the tears flow like a river, your hands pinned above your head.

Complete defeat. Complete surrender.

-"You do."-

You whimper under the warm breeze, giving up even the faintest notion of finishing your sentence the way you should've; but he didn't mind this subversion. Actually, he rather prefered it, finding your mouth and kissing it deep, longer and hard, separating himself if only just a moment mid-trust to admire his handiwork and the pink bruise left behind on the side of your perfect lips that promised to grow blue by tomorrow --- a punishment for his tiny lack of control. Punishment for you not parroting his words back the way he ordered. But, you weren't going anywhere anymore, the final destination being right here, in this very city, so he'd have all the time in the world to train you as he liked. Teach you as he wanted and he feels his own throat hum in contentment, his cock lodged deep inside of you, remembering your badge and how he still had it somewhere in the inside pocket of his jacket left behind on the driver's seat of his truck; claiming one thing and then claiming another and ultimately, claiming everything you were, piece after piece, part after part, from the smallest, most insignificant pin, to the biggest, most crucial segments that made up who you were.

-"Good. Perfect."-

Terry murmurs victoriously, smiling, caressing the hair sticking to your forehead slick with sweat.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Day 10 - Jack Frost!

Race: Fairy

Alignment: Neutral

Nothing peculiar here ;)

Jack Frost needs no introduction. The mascot of SMT as a whole, the feral hee-homeboy of many a player, and a demon with so many spinoffs that he could be considered a race in-and-of itself! There's a reason so much of this blog heavily features him- Jack Frost is probably the most iconic part of SMT.

Based on the Jack Frost legend of European folklore, the personification of winter, ice, snow, and all things bitter and cold, this mischievous fairy loves nothing more than pranks and saying hee-ho!

Jack Frost is commonly believed to have originated as a spirit of the winter, particularly in Finnish tradition, in the form of Pakkasukko, effectively working as a Nordic equivalent to Santa, also known as Father Frost, Kung Bore in Swedish areas, or up in Slavic territories, a spirit known as 'Grandfather Frost.'

The Hindu Kush mountain range of the Himalayas has its own legend similar to that of Jack Frost as well, as, as it would turn out, the idea of a frost spirit is rather ubiquitous. The most popular interpretation, though, is the English- wait for it- Jack Frost, earliest referenced in a 1734 book titled "Round About Our Coal Fire, or Christmas Entertainments." I tried reading it for this analysis, yet it's as archaic as you'd think it would be... neither does how choppy the scan looks on the Wikimedia website.

That's it for this daily demon analysis... or not! Happy April Fool's day!

Jack Frost still has his family, after all.

...And no, it isn't these clowns. Get outta here, Frost Five. We have many, many more Jack's to cover this coming week. Be prepared.

[gunsandspaceships]

The Mountains

Tony Stark - Prometheus

According to the myths about Prometheus, Zeus ordered him to be chained forever to a rock in the Caucasus Mountains ("the realm of the barbari"), where every day his center of life (liver/heart) was pecked by an eagle/vulture.

The ancients thought the Hindu Kush Mountain Range (Afghanistan) was a continuation of the Caucasus Mountains and alternatively used that name.

"When the Greeks saw the peaks of Hindu Kush, they believed they were heading for the mountains where Zeus chained Prometheus to have an eagle peck at his liver every day for 30 years - perhaps not the end of the world, but a land where even the gods were tortured."

"To the north from Bagram, Afghanistan, is Panjshir Valley. Halfway up in the mountains, a rock, half a mile high, became identified with Prometheus, a hero from the most remarkable Greek legends that had always been placed in the Caucasus." (Source)

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

How big can a desert oasis be? I know the Nile river delta is massive but how much bigger can it get? I'd like to have one half the area of Egypt. What also needs to be done about the rivers that flow into them?

Tex: An oasis has a geological underpinning that is man-made in its longevity (Wikipedia), so I suppose they’re only as large as they need to be. Some factors in that include amount of irrigation, size of the underlying water table, how long you can travel from one oasis to another before running out of water, and mode of transportation that typically dictates rate of travel. By definition, an oasis resides in a desert. If something is large enough to cover, as you say, half of Egypt, then the resulting changes in the local environment might create a temperate climate rather than an arid one. Rivers are part and parcel with sedimentary or metamorphic rocks because of its more porous nature than igneous rock, and are the surface-visible part of water movement that also works underground through things like water tables/aquifers.

Licorice: Apparently the largest oasis in our world is 33 square miles. It has four cities and 22 villages. It's in Saudi Arabia and it's called Al-Ahsa. Al-Ahsa_Oasis (Wiki)

I think it might all be a question of scale. An oasis half the size of Egypt wouldn’t be an oasis in the Sahara desert, but if your desert took up half your planet, then that huge oasis might be considered an oasis.

Utuabzu: The exact definition of oasis gets a little fuzzy, since it’s not super clear at what point your lake becomes an inland sea. But an oasis is typically a body of water formed by upwelling groundwater - generally from an artesian basin of some kind - in an otherwise arid environment. They can range in size from a glorified puddle to the one Licorice mentioned, and they’re not necessarily permanent features on the landscape. Plenty of oases are seasonal, only present when the groundwater has risen due to rains elsewhere and vanishing again once the water table drops.

You mentioned the Nile Delta, which is not an oasis. I suspect you may have meant the Fayum, which is a body of water formed by a branch of the Nile entering an endorheic basin - a watershed that cannot empty to the sea because it is too high on all sides - and has been and remains a very agriculturally productive region of Egypt. Endorheic basins can also produce what are called inland deltas, where a river fans out into a large wetland at the bottom of the basin, as it is unable to reach the sea and does not have high enough water flow to flood the basin and create a lake or inland sea. Examples of this include the Okavango Delta in Botswana and the Sistan Delta in Iran and Afghanistan. More commonly endorheic basins have lakes (often salt lakes) or saltpans at their lowest points, and small or intermittent to non-existent waterways.

If we take what you want to be a region approximately the size of Egypt with a river that ends in a delta but does not flow into the sea, surrounded by desert, then that is possible. The Syr Darya and Amu Darya rivers flow through the Central Asian deserts and steppe to empty into the Aral Sea, which is an endorheic basin that once housed an enormous freshwater lake.* The region between these two rivers - called Transoxiana in classical sources - has been home to a chain of vibrant, prosperous civilisations and a vast diversity of peoples and cultures. So if you want to have a big river run through a desert and empty either into a lake or an inland delta, so long as you know where the water is coming from - the Syr Darya and Amu Darya are fed by snowmelt from the Hindu Kush and Tian Shan mountains, while the White Nile, which is the source of the Nile floods, rises in the Ethiopian Highlands and is fed by the wet season rains there - then there’s really no reason why you shouldn’t. Far stranger things exist in real life.

*Soviet hydroengineering has resulted in the Aral Sea all but drying up, causing immense ecological damage to Central Asia.

[world-of-wales]

❥ PAKISTAN TOUR : DAY III - 16 OCTOBER 2019

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge visited the Chitral district located in the northwestern region of Pakistan. Upon arrival they were greeted with traditional Chitrali hats, jackets and shawl.

William and Catherine visited the Chiatibo glacier in the Hindu Kush mountain range as their first stop on the day and walked around the northern tip of the glacier.

They visited Bumburet where the Duke and Duchess saw several inspiring community-led initiatives aimed at equipping locals with the tools needed to adjust to the changing landscape and weather patterns of the area.

Finally, they visited a settlement of the native Kalash people, to learn more about their culture and unique heritage.

[princesscatherinemiddleton]

The Duchess of Cambridge visited the Chiatibo glacier in the Hindu Kush mountain range in the Chitral District of Khyber-Pakhunkwa Province | October 16 2019

[potsmart]

What’s the Deal with Kush? The Origin of a Classic Strain

Before we get into the article about what the deal with Kush is, here is an actual deal on Kush, delivered to your door in Canada. Rad.

Everyone knows Kush means quality. There’s a built in expectation that the weed should slap if it bears the classic name. It’s also a well known parent to many classic varietals. Before the names O.G. Kush, Chem Dog, and Cookies became household among growers worldwide, there existed a time when the Kush strain remained relatively obscure. Let’s look into the intriguing history of the Kush strain and its transformation into one of the most renowned medical marijuana varieties globally.

Just like any other modern cannabis seed strain, landraces played a pivotal role in establishing the fundamental genetic foundations of everything we smoke today with the Kush name on it. Numerous countries harbour a diverse array of marijuana landraces, thriving particularly in regions characterized by hot climates and mountainous terrain. In these areas, expansive fields of landrace cannabis plants flourish organically. Owing to the cannabis plant’s inherent robustness, these fields have been subject to countless generations of natural backcrossing over the span of hundreds, if not thousands of years.

Among the most well-known Kush varieties today are Hindu Kush, Master Kush, and Afghan Kush, all originating from these locations as original landraces. Through meticulous backcrossing efforts, breeders sought to unearth the quintessential phenotype for cannabis cultivation. Since its introduction in Amsterdam nearly three decades ago, numerous seed banks now offer a broad spectrum of landraces and hybrids, with many of the original landrace strains still available to enthusiasts.

The Kush cannabis strain found its way to Amsterdam during the late 1970s or early 1980s, carried by intrepid cannabis enthusiasts who ventured through the rugged landscapes of the Himalayas, spanning Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan. They returned with seeds sourced from the Hindu Kush mountain range, nestled between northern Pakistan and Afghanistan. The name “Kush” derives from this region and intriguingly translates to “killer” in ancient Persian.

The aromatic profile, taste, and effects of Kush strains are the key attributes that make them highly sought after both in the context of a coffee shop’s offerings and for growers. The scent of this medical marijuana variety is unmistakable, often likened to the odour of jet fuel and characterized by a pungent, dank, and lemony quality. The potency of the Kush aroma is such that even the tiniest dried bud can fill a room with its distinctive fragrance. When it comes to taste, a well-cultivated Kush strain mirrors its aroma but adds a lingering jet fuel undertone that lingers with every puff, creating a truly unique and memorable experience. Typical of other heavy Indicas, real kush plants stay short with tight internodal spacing, creating dense foliage and buds. The plants finish quickly and produce well, making them a favourite for more modern growers all over the world for decades.

A joint of OG Kush, like I posted above, will transform the surrounding air, saturating it with a dense, rich, and almost viscous quality. A few puffs of this potent strain with its unmistakable jet fuel aroma will promptly initiate a profound shift in your state of mind and body. The initial effects manifest as heavy eyelids and an almost immediate sense of being pleasantly stoned. Energy levels plummet, and motivation wanes, ultimately leading to a state of complete relaxation and tranquility. Notably, the THC content in Kush varieties has consistently been subjected to testing, with results often exceeding the 20% threshold.

Kush strains are renowned for their robust pain-relief properties. Whether smoked or incorporated into edibles, the medicinal impact of Kush is often likened to a nearly narcotic experience. It proves highly effective in addressing a range of conditions, including insomnia, appetite loss, and anxiety. Patients grappling with pain stemming from bone, nerve, or muscle issues also find considerable relief through Kush usage. For those coping with conditions like Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s, and a multitude of other illnesses, medicating with Kush and similar indica strains has proven to be indispensable.

Cancer patients, in particular, derive substantial benefits from Kush, often experiencing relief that surpasses the effectiveness of pharmaceutical resources. Many report improved appetite, better sleep, and the restoration of regular bowel function when incorporating this cannabis strain into their treatment plans.

While sativa strains are typically favoured by patients seeking heightened energy levels and motivation, Kush continues to hold appeal for many due to its potent anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving effects. Recognizing this, numerous breeders, including Spliff Seeds, are now focusing on developing Kush hybrids that aim to preserve its distinctive medicinal potency while mitigating its pronounced couch-locking effect. One such example is Spliff Blue Medi Kush, a strain developed in collaboration with medical marijuana users, tailored to serve precisely this purpose.

If you’re looking for a classic you can’t miss with a well grown Kush strain.

By Meso Potamia, Ganja Guy, for Potsmart

[non-conventionnel]

In this unique book, The Secret Gospel of Jesus AD 0-78, the well-respected scholar and philosopher Anton Sammut offers a captivating journey into the hidden realms of esotericism, spirituality, and transcendental philosophy, inviting readers to explore profound truths long veiled by time and mystery. Embedded within this work there are also additional profound insights that reveal ancient controversial truths which will resonate due to their gnostic, esoteric, theological, and historical importance. Furthermore, it provides a detailed analysis of a controversial topic that has long divided the academic community: Jesus's mysterious 'lost years' and his enigmatic travels outside Palestine to Alexandria, Al-Matariyyah, Heliopolis, and other Egyptian lands, the Hindu Kush Mountain Range in Afghanistan, modern-day Pakistan, Tibet, Nepal, Kashmir, and Northern India, from the great ancient cities of Magadha and Rishikesh, Varanasi, to the entire Indian state of Uttarakhand, where he had the opportunity to acquire arcane wisdom from the most esteemed yogis and gurus of those mysterious lands. What teachings did Jesus receive from these enlightened sages and mystic philosophers in those distant places? How did these teachings affect his ministry later on when he returned to Palestine? Additionally, the book offers a brilliant analysis of the noble origins and transcendent level of consciousness unique to Jesus’s most beloved disciple: Mari of Magadha, better known in the Western World as Mary Magdalene, as well as the crucial role she was destined to accomplish for the spiritual advancement of mankind. What crucial role was Mary Magdalene destined to fulfill? A pivotal aspect of this magnificent work is the detailed and brilliantly researched historical insights into the emblematic events following Jesus's crucifixion and what happened to Jesus afterward. In this respect, one important question soon arises: Did he die on the cross as the official versions suggest, or were there other alternatives? In conclusion, this book also includes 636 historical notes for in-depth inquiry which unveils previously unknown aspects of the lives of Jesus and Mary Magdalene along with their profoundly esoteric teachings as well as their spiritual writings that have been obscured over centuries for various 'mysterious' antecedents...

[qurashigemstone]

Fine Emerald collection from chitral

The Chitral Emerald is a rare and highly valued variety of emerald that is found in the Chitral district of Pakistan. It is known for its medium  green color and exceptional clarity. The Chitral region, located in the Hindu Kush mountain range, has been a renowned source of emeralds for centuries. Chitral emeralds are prized for their intense  green hue, which is considered to be among the…

[dooms-word-is-law]

Where does cannabis grow naturally?

Societies and people have delighted in marijuana for millennia. While the greater part of the marijuana consumed today is planted and tended by people, there are areas all over the planet where it develops normally.

Numerous specialists accept that marijuana started in South and Focal Asia and had the option to spread across practically every region of the globe over a time of many years.

Various strains are worked to fill in different environments which can essentially affect their innate capacity to develop without human mediation.

However regular developing marijuana happens in a wide range of environments and districts, the vast majority of the marijuana consumed today is created through a particular cycle to upgrade its planned impacts after utilization. Marijuana makers all over the planet hope to exploit the different environments in which marijuana can develop to create the ideal completed item.

Where marijuana fills in nature

We should take a gander at the conditions and districts in which marijuana can develop normally.

DRY Districts

A few sorts of marijuana can flourish in staggeringly dry locales, like the Center East and Northern Africa. These districts are many times exceptionally breezy which helps the marijuana seeds spread across the desert.

Strains that fill in these dry locales should adjust to the steady difference in temperature that happens during the constantly.

Well known Strains in Dry Locales

Sinai

Afghani

Mild Districts

These subtropical districts are likewise a typical environment in which different kinds of marijuana can develop normally. These strains normally need to reside and fill in a moderate climate and would battle assuming set in a locale that is very warm, cool, dry, or wet.

The ideal temperature and environment for these marijuana strains to flourish should be warm, not excessively hot, and wet, yet all the same not excessively wet.

Famous Strains in Calm Districts

Lebanese Red

Swazi Gold

Mainland Districts

One more district in which marijuana can develop independent and in the wild falls under the class of a mainland environment. Mainland environments are by and large extremely sweltering all year but at the same time are known for their weighty downpours throughout the late spring. Winters in mainland districts are ordinarily cold and extremely dry.

Strains that can endeavor in mainland locales should likewise persistently adjust to the changing of each season to make due.

Well known Strains in Mainland Areas

Swiss Sativa

Nepalese

TROPICAL Areas

These locales are known for their intensity throughout the late spring, dampness, and customary precipitation over time.

A huge piece of marijuana strands flourish in this sort of environment which is the reason tropical districts all over the planet are in many cases the central command of pot makers hoping to make enormous amounts of item.

Tropical locales generally approach all year daylight which empowers strains that need daylight to fill around there. Strains worked for tropical regions don't do well under cool winter conditions.

Well known Strains in Tropical Locales

Sheep's Bread

Malawi

Marijuana is one of the world's most one of a kind plants, and its flexibility considers it to fill in locales from one side of the planet to the other.

The Hindu Kush Mountains

Maybe the genuine home of exemplary pot is the Hindu Kush Mountain Reach, which goes through nations like Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Tajikistan. The dry and desert-like mountain range offers an ideal environment for wild weed blossoms to spring up everywhere.

The main test is tracking down them. Since weed plants need a specific measure of water, shade, and daylight, most wild plants in the mountain reach must be tracked down close to wellsprings of water in rough and rugged corners.

Asian Areas

Asia has the absolute best environments for developing wild marijuana. From Pakistan to China, the mild to dry environments frequently develop various strains and plant types. Truth be told, a 2013 report on "Pot: Development and Ethnobotany" noticed that a few roads in Kunming, China, really keep normally developed marijuana for style. Be that as it may, as far as other ridiculously developed plants, they're frequently areas of strength for really can endure the intensity, dryness, or changing temperatures inside these environments.

African Nations

In Morocco, Malawi, South Africa, Lesotho, and Zambia, odds are good that you'll run over a wild marijuana plant or two. Despite the fact that these districts are fairly dry and hot, they're additionally unbelievably breezy, making it simpler for fertilization and seeds to spread across the locale. But, since the temperatures are continually fluctuating over the course of the day and into the night, wild marijuana should adjust to these progressions to get by.

North America

It's not difficult to track down wild marijuana in North America, particularly out west in English Columbia, Oregon, and California. Yet, we would rather not let you know that weed didn't begin here, so those wild plants you could see are alluded to as "ditch weed." Indeed, it can fill in a trench, however the term alludes to somebody who brought pot seeds to North America and chose to dump them. In this way, wild pot plants in our landmass were conceived.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 10.26 (after 1950)

1955 – After the last Allied troops have left the country, and following the provisions of the Austrian Independence Treaty, Austria declares that it will never join a military alliance. 1955 – Ngô Đình Diệm proclaims himself as President of the newly created Republic of Vietnam. 1956 – Hungarian Revolution: In the towns of Mosonmagyaróvár and Esztergom, Hungarian secret police forces massacre civilians. As rebel strongholds in Budapest hold, fighting spreads throughout the country. 1958 – Pan American Airways makes the first commercial flight of the Boeing 707 from New York City to Paris. 1967 – Mohammad Reza Pahlavi crowns himself Emperor of Iran. 1968 – Space Race: The Soyuz 3 mission achieves the first Soviet space rendezvous. 1977 – Ali Maow Maalin, the last natural case of smallpox, develops a rash in Somalia. The WHO and the CDC consider this date to be the anniversary of the eradication of smallpox, the most spectacular success of vaccination. 1979 – Park Chung Hee, President of South Korea, is assassinated by Korean CIA head Kim Jae-gyu. 1985 – The Australian government returns ownership of Uluru to the local Pitjantjatjara Aboriginals. 1989 – China Airlines Flight 204 crashes after takeoff from Hualien Airport in Taiwan, killing all 54 people on board. 1991 – Three months after the end of the Ten-Day War, the last soldier of the Yugoslav People's Army leaves the territory of the Republic of Slovenia. 1994 – Jordan and Israel sign a peace treaty. 1995 – Mossad agents assassinate Palestinian Islamic Jihad leader Fathi Shaqaqi in his hotel in Malta. 1995 – An avalanche hits the Icelandic village of Flateyri, destroying 29 homes and burying 45 people, and killing 20. 1999 – The United Kingdom's House of Lords votes to end the right of most hereditary peers to vote in Britain's upper chamber of Parliament. 2000 – A wave of protests forces Robert Guéï to step down as president after the Ivorian presidential election. 2001 – The United States passes the USA PATRIOT Act into law. 2002 – Approximately 50 Chechen terrorists and 150 hostages die when Russian special forces troops storm a theater building in Moscow, which had been occupied by the terrorists during a musical performance three days before. 2003 – The Cedar Fire, the third-largest wildfire in California history, kills 15 people, consumes 250,000 acres (1,000 km2), and destroys 2,200 homes around San Diego. 2004 – Rockstar Games releases Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas for the PlayStation 2 in North America, which sold 12 million units for the PS2, becoming the console's best-selling video game. 2012 – Microsoft made a public release of Windows 8 and made it available on new PCs. 2015 – A 7.5 magnitude earthquake strikes in the Hindu Kush mountain range in South Asia, killing 399 people and leaving 2,536 people injured.

[ramaarya]

travel diaries: the caucasus and talysh mountains

Mountains come in all shapes, sizes, and colours in Azerbaijan. 🙂 Dear Diary, After exploring the Himalayas and Hindu Kush in recent years, I thought I knew it all about mountains. Those soaring peaks on our earth which reach out to the heavens. Could I be further from the truth. I instead learnt, whilst in Azerbaijan, that every mountain range has its own soul. Even if they happen to be…

[gunsandspaceships]

The Torture of Prometheus

Tony Stark - Prometheus

According to the myth of Prometheus, the titan stole fire from the gods to give it to humans (in another version of the myth he returned it to the people because Zeus took it from them). For this, Zeus ordered Hephaestus, a friend of Prometheus, to chain the titan forever to a rock in a cave in the Caucasus Mountains and sent an eagle (or vulture) to peck at his liver (or heart) every day.

Zeus' actions towards Prometheus are seen as a cruel betrayal, given Prometheus' role in the Titanomachy (the war between the Olympians and the Titans), where he fought on Zeus' side and ensured victory for the Olympians.

The Mountains

As has already been shown in that post, the ancient Greeks called the Hindu Kush (the mountain range in Afghanistan where Tony was held captive) the "Caucasus Mountains". After Alexander the Great set foot here on his way to India, these mountains became a place associated with Prometheus.

"Hephaestus, Bia and Crato Securing Prometheus on Mount Caucasus" Henry Fuseli

Crucified Hero

Prometheus was condemned to eternal suffering and chained to a rock in the mountains. He is often depicted bound in a cruciform manner.

"Prometheus Bound" Thomas Cole

Tony in front of the Hindu Kush (first of many "Crucified Hero Shots" with him)

Three months

In each version of the myth, the time Prometheus spent in the mountains includes the number three: 13 generations, 30, 300, 3000 years...

Prometheus' Heart

In this part I have shown that the eagle or vulture tormented Prometheus by pecking at his center of life, which in some versions of the myth was the liver, and in some other versions the heart.

Every day the eagle tore apart Prometheus' chest, and every night his body healed.

Tony underwent two complex surgeries in that cave (performed by Yinsen - Chiron). The first surgery he had to endure awake, while his chest was "pecked out" to remove beak-shaped shrapnel.

"The Torture of Prometheus" Gioacchino Assereto

Then, to implant the reactor and a pacemaker, he went through the second surgery, for which his chest was cracked open again.

He was left disabled, with constant pain and conditions that put him at the risk of sudden (due to arrhythmia) or slow and painful death (pneumonia, blood poisoning, reactor damage, etc).

Prometheus chose to suffer in silence.

"Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise; What was thy pity's recompense? A silent suffering, and intense; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain, The agony they do not show, The suffocating sense of woe, Which speaks but in its loneliness, And then is jealous lest the sky Should have a listener, nor will sigh Until its voice is echoless."

"Prometheus" by Lord Byron

"The Titan’s response to his condition, his “precepts,”--Prometheus is silent throughout his suffering. His will not speak “…but in loneliness,” and even then, he is jealous should the sky listen in, nor will he utter a sigh for fear of the echo." (Source)

This torturous execution lasted for many years, and Prometheus was forced to endure terrible pain every day. However, he did not lose heart and continued his fight against wicked gods.

"Titan! to thee the strife was given Between the suffering and the will, Which torture where they cannot kill; And the inexorable Heaven, And the deaf tyranny of Fate, The ruling principle of Hate, Which for its pleasure doth create The things it may annihilate, Refus'd thee even the boon to die: The wretched gift Eternity Was thine—and thou hast borne it well."