#highest volcano

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Two of Africa's most outstanding icons in one sight. Unbelievably mesmerizing.

🤍🐘🤍

🌍 wildfriendsafrica.com

—

Mount Kilimanjaro is a dormant volcano located in Kilimanjaro Region of Tanzania.

It has three volcanic cones: Kibo, Mawenzi, and Shira.

It is the highest mountain in Africa and the highest single free-standing mountain above sea level in the world: 5,895 m (19,341 ft) above sea level and about 4,900 m (16,100 ft) above its plateau base.

It is the highest volcano in Africa and the Eastern Hemisphere.

It makes up one of the ‘seven summits’ (the highest peaks on the seven continents).

[natandacat]

Do yall known about mount damavand

[switchscene]

Watching the Mayday feature length episode about the Tenerife Airport Disaster and I am so sad that all these people are dead except the KLM pilot because he was horribly impatient and probably the reason for the crash, but also Mayday has portrayed him as such an unlikeable ass hole. Like the guy they got for his reenactment is just such a dick

[amanitacz]

Model of the Set of 4 highest mountains.

Link to see more about this model on Turbosquid.com:

https://www.turbosquid.com/3d-models/4-highest-mountains-2038269?referral=amanitacz

Link to the whole gallery:

https://www.turbosquid.com/Search/Artists/AmanitaCZ?referral=amanitacz

Link to the software:

http://www.cazaba.cz/

[crashthegates]

i need my heated blanket to burn my leg off

[downfalldestiny]

Tumpak Sewu, also known as the

"Thousand Waterfalls,"

is a maiestic natural wonder nestled in the enchanting region of East Java, Indonesia. Located near the slopes of Mount Semeru, the highest volcano on the island of Java, Tumpak Sewu is a breathtaking cascade of waterfalls that captivates visitors with its sheer beauty and grandeur 🌲🌊 !.

[delirious-donna]

I Will Possess Your Heart [Nanami Kento]

an: I started thinking about Curse User!Higuruma and naturally that led to me writing... Curse User!Nanami (why am I like this?). I haven't explored this AU for him before so please be kind <3

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: dub-con (reader is willing but the warning is there so take it how you wish), Curse User AU, slight yandere behaviours, toxic traits, spanking (with open palm), unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, breeding kink

Masterlist

For weeks you had been on edge. Conscious of the impossible presence that seemed to lurk in every shadowy recess, the malicious whisper of laughter on every breath of wind and the scent of someone who was long gone. Were you afraid? You should be, but you weren’t. 

In the back of your mind, if the faint traces of Cursed Energy that you sensed before disappearing as quickly as they emerged were real, it meant that he wasn’t dead, that he hadn’t been captured and executed as you had been informed.

Satoru swore he was dead, that you should put him out of your mind and move on. Especially after his betrayal, after his bloody rampage that took out more sorcerers from the three big families than any Curse User in the past twenty years. Yet, you loved him. Grew up standing right beside him until… 

Kento snapped.

You shook off the feeling of unease that had followed you around all day like a personal spectre, finally kindling the sense of security that came with approaching your apartment. It was new to you, decked out in the highest-grade security equipment that money—specifically Jujutsu High’s money—could buy.

Whilst it didn’t quite feel like home, at least you were protected. You waved at the guard posted in the entrance hall, smiling when they blushed and turned their eyes from you, a scowl creasing their brow. Shaking your head in humorous exasperation, you travelled the remaining distance to your front door with the tension of the day melting from your shoulders.

Little did you realise that the precious bubble of safety you believed yourself to be protected by was about to pop like a thorn piercing an overinflated balloon. 

Kento observed from the shadows, watching, seething. They’d moved you. Lied to you. Kept his name from caressing your tongue, and he had more than had enough. He hated the games played by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world, hated the politics and strategic alliances of the big three families which were no more than thinly veiled facades to cover the knife in the back that was around every corner. Power play far worse than the corporate drudgery he had tried to escape to, though he was ashamed to admit how long it took for him to finally open his eyes to it all.

They deserved what had transpired. He would ensure that the pain he inflicted would only be the first taste of his retribution. Hate was too emotional a word to use for those he considered to be less than human, and it was his mission to be the one to eliminate them all. Perhaps, Suguru had been right all along.

You were the exception, the one and only person he wanted to protect from the white-hot fury that poured through his veins like magma spewing from an erupting volcano, its path steady and devastating. He was still furious, and rightly so. The second you turned your face from his, he felt the last shreds of his bruised heart wither in his chest. You turned to Satoru and Shoko instead of moving towards him. You chose to remain in a world that cast him out, that actively tried to hunt and bring him down. 

He refused to believe that you had picked them over him. No. You were bewitched by the six eyes, hoodwinked by a false narrative that they were the good ones, and he was the monster. Kento couldn’t blame you, he had believed the lies for just as long and it was only now that he stood on the outside, peering in, that he could recognise the lies for what they were. 

It would be okay. He would enlighten you. After he punished you.

The front door unlocked with a quiet snick; the interior bathed in cool darkness that held no hint of the impending situation. Your fingers instinctively found the light switch, flicking it once and then twice when the bulb didn’t flare to life as it should. Click click click. Had there been a power outage? No, the neighbouring apartments were as well-lit as normal. 

Something crunched underfoot when you stepped deeper into your apartment, and that was when you realised the trap you had fallen into. Only then did your nose inhale the warm scent which had plagued you for all these long weeks, the rich aroma of expensive coffee mixed with leather and spices you couldn’t name. Only now did it intertwine with coppery, bitter notes of blood and the unforgettable reek of death. An impossibly hard body slammed into your back, sending you tumbling forward and only just catching yourself before your knees slammed into what you now knew was the broken glass of the bulb above.

The bodily contact lasted all of one second before he disappeared again. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the pure darkness that no longer felt comforting, and fear kept you from bathing yourself in the brilliance of your Cursed Energy, certain it would only help him target you all the quicker. Instead, you slapped a hand over your mouth to silence the sound of your breathing, crouching into a defensive position and fumbling forward. You weren’t as intimately familiar with the layout of this apartment as you were with the one you had lived in prior. All you could do was control the pulse of fear thrumming through your body and ignore the competing reaction that spoke of hungry anticipation. 

Kento smirked, head canting sideways whilst he watched you flail pathetically. If you wanted him dead, then he would already be a corpse on the floor, but that would never be the case, would it? His eyes had long adjusted to the absence of light, gaze following you around the room as you bumped into furniture and flinched at every touch. He could smell the terror escaping your pores. He could almost taste the frantic beat of your pulse on his tongue. Patience wasn’t a new concept to him, but right now... he found his fingers flexed deep into his thighs.

He waited until the kitchen island was at your back, stepping with silent footsteps around you and leaning back against the granite. You moved in a slow, perfect circle with your arm outstretched. Your fingertips came within an inch of grazing his abdomen, but alas, his calculations were as perfect as ever. When your back was to him once more, both arms shot out to tug you with one forceful effort into his chest. You struggled; arms pinned by your sides, but his hold was impenetrable as it always had been.

“Kento?” 

Kento laughed and even to his ear it sounded cold and devoid of emotion. “A silly question,” he answered. His voice was rough, unused for many days and the effect resulted in a ripple of something unspeakable down your spine, dripping—dripping—until you swallowed harshly and tried to twist your head around to see him.

“I think not... that luxury will be earned. I didn’t take you for such a silly girl,” Kento mocked, tightening his hold on your biceps until you squirmed in painful discomfort. “But then again, I didn’t take you for someone who would abandon me, and I was proven wrong there.”

You felt the temperature of his body skyrocket. His essence crept into you in every imaginable way, tendrils of his fiery anger licked against your bones and whilst you wanted to sob at this unexpected reunion, the rational part of your brain roared to life. He left you! He abandoned his friends and colleagues. He broke the hearts of the students who looked up to him, and yours... your heart hadn’t even begun to mend. The relief you should have felt for knowing what that poor shell of a heart had done all along, that he wasn’t dead, was a secondary reaction.

“I didn’t abandon you. How dare you say that... I thought you were dead!” 

“Did you now? I guess I should add stupid to your list of transgressions, or perhaps gullible would be more fitting. Since when did you take everything the six eyes tells you as gospel?” Kento gripped your chin with finger and thumb, the scent of his skin so close to your nose that the salty tang invaded effortlessly. With one fluid movement, he wrenched your head around and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

The action was so unexpected that you gasped into the depths of his mouth, lips parted in surprise and Kento refused to miss the opportunity to let his tongue curl past your teeth and stroke along the pink muscle he had long admired and desired above all else. He tasted like coffee, nothing to be surprised by, given his penchant for the most expensive French roast. What did blindside you, aside from the kiss itself, was the sweet caramel that chased those bitter notes. Even now, the mellow caramel burst upon your tastebuds and brought an abundance of saliva to your mouth. The kiss was heady, all teeth and tongues, until it ended abruptly, and you were shoved forward.

It was a well-aimed push to propel you over the seat of the kitchen stool, and he smiled when he heard the air knock loose from your lungs. Before you could brace your arms onto the plush leather padding and try to stand, he moved up and let his heavy palm rest at the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. “Hold onto the legs of the stool, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

Did you wish to redeem yourself? Did you even believe you had anything to atone for? Shockingly, your hands trailed lower until your fingers curled around the cool brushed metal. Your heart was in your throat. Tears threatened to sting your eyes but only the desire to grit your teeth and prove that you were still the woman he had once trusted above all others outweighed your loyalty to the people trying to protect you. Keeping you in the dark was no protection, it was no life to lead when the man at your back no longer looked upon you with that crinkle of warm hazel eyes that you loved.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking with the right incentive,” he cooed whilst leaning over the curve of your spine and planting one wet kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. With his lips so close to your ear, a rumble of laughter was followed by words you never dreamed of hearing from him. “Imagine how receptive you’ll be when I fit my cock in your pretty little cunt.” 

Happy with your position, and certain you weren’t going to go crashing to the floor, he let his hand loosen from your neck and traversed the path of your spine. His fingertips grazed over every bump and ridge beneath the thin material of your blouse until his palm found your backside. He pawed at you once, filling his broad hand with the meat of you and imagining himself doing this to you on both sides without the barrier of clothing in his way whilst his heavy cock sawed between the cleft of your cheeks. There would be time for that, all the time in the world if he had his way.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes of your apartment now visible and yet you chose to squeeze your eyes shut to it all. It heightened your remaining senses, the even breathing of your captor injected with muffled little noises of satisfaction when you complied without question. His hand rounded your hip, kneading you before searching for the button and zipper of your trousers. At that, your eyes flew open, and a startled squeak escaped your tight throat. It didn’t deter him—oh no—if anything he delighted in your reaction, slowing the descent of your zipper so that every scrape of metal against metal as the teeth released tore at your nerves until they were frayed.

“Lift,” he commanded, crouched low at your feet and tapping your ankle until you did as requested and your trousers were divested of you completely. The air-conditioning was conveniently not on, leaving your bare legs to feel prickly and clammy with the warm air permeating the room and worsened by the heat of Kento’s hands as they slid from heel to backside. 

He hummed when they reached the waistband of the black thong which did so very little to cover your modesty. You wriggled, experiencing the weight of his hungry stare and clenching your thighs together in the hopes of hiding the small yet very obvious damp spot on the cotton. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you were expecting my visit… you wouldn’t let anyone else see these, would you?”

Rough calluses scraped your soft derriere, toying with the fabric that disappeared between your cheeks and cupped your beautiful sex. You mewled out a ‘no’, readjusting your hold on the legs given how sweaty your palms had become and basked in the answering grunt of appreciation when your backside swayed in nothing but pure temptation. Kento wanted to rip apart the threads holding him back from you, to take out his cock that had been pulsing for release since before you even entered the apartment and force your walls to accommodate him. Fuck… he would envelop you in him—only him. 

Rub his scent right into your untainted soul until it was soiled just like he wanted. 

Paint your womb with his seed with the chance of it taking. His eyes rolled over at the thought alone.

Later.

He would see you ruined beneath him soon enough, he merely needed to get your punishment over. Kento needed to hear your apology—heartfelt and sobbed through a veil of tears. Without warning his palm reared back and with the sound of a whipcrack he brought it down against your right cheek. You struggled, bucked at the impact that forced your eyes to bulge and your throat to convulse. Only his palm at the middle of your back kept you in position.

The pain was not as immediate as you assumed it would be. It was more the startle of having it happen so unexpectedly that kicked you into action, on the heels was the warm tingle of your backside. Pulses of pain moved outwardly from the impact site like a stone causing ripples on a calm lake. “Ken—"

“Uh uh. This is not time for speaking,” he chided with a click of tongue against perfectly white teeth and a tone that silenced you instantly. “This is the least you could endure after you ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it beneath your heel. Ten. That will suffice, and then we can converse like proper adults. Until then, the only words out of those pretty lips are going to be the number we are on.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, knowing that you would take whatever he chose to gift you like a champ. You were strong, always had been, and this was nowhere near enough to break your spirit. Kento didn’t want that, he wanted the real you that he had fallen for all those years ago as an emotionally stunted young man. You would come to understand his point of view when presented enough evidence and he had stacks of that to show you. Not now. Later, he thought again. So much had to wait but patience was his forte. 

Standing to his impressive height, he skimmed his palm over your tender backside and let out a bark of laughter when you tensed, waiting for what was to come. He waited until you relaxed, listening to your breathing mellow before delivering a short, hard smack to your left side. “Good girl,” he murmured thickly when you hissed out a ‘two’ from between clenched teeth. 

Kento was painfully hard; the length of his cock pressed stubbornly down the leg of his trousers to lay trapped against his thigh. His every inhale was like a knife to his groin, every squeeze of the muscles in your backside was a torture that he was inflicting upon himself. He twitched, precum dribbling down his thigh and turning the golden hairs of his legs sticky and wet. He would see this through. It was for the greater good, of that, he was convinced.

The repetition was agony. A vicious cycle that felt like it would never end though you had a target so close yet so far. A wealth of salty tears sprung from your eyes, falling to the floor to gather as a pitiful little puddle given the gravity of your head and body. Blood rushed through your ears; the pounding of your pulse nearly loud enough to drown out the weight of the smacks levelled against your arse. The plump tissue ached endlessly, throbbing to its own beat and it left you trapped inside your head. 

This was Kento—your Kento—delivering a punishment he deemed necessary, and you poked at his earlier words. If you were honest with yourself, you had suspected that the attraction between you was a mutual one and that the feelings ran deeper than either of you was willing to admit. You pondered how you would have felt if he had been the one to turn from you, taking the morality of who was wrong and right out of the equation, you would have been devastated.

Noiselessly, you wept for the connection you had lost all those months ago. You should be repulsed by the blood that stained his hands, but you couldn’t find it in you when all you wished to do was pull those bloodied hands to your mouth and suck the fingers between your lips. How badly you wanted to hear him groan in pleasure, to cup your face and drag his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip until it bounced back into place. 

“Ten…” 

Kento’s harsh breathing became apparent, the sound building in your ears whilst you dared not move an inch. Sweat caked your skin—hot and uncomfortable—it slid over the natural dips and curves of your frame, and you knew your face was warm enough to cook eggs. Your fingers slid against the metal legs resulting in a loud squeak and you winced… waiting, suspended in a moment that couldn’t last forever, the spell would be broken but by whom?

The rustle of clothing popped the bubble you were both suspended in, the telltale jangle of a metal belt buckle and stammered curses brought your focus behind you, your head turning to find Kento with an expression you had never seen before and undressed from the waist down. He looked like he was ready to explode. A thick vein popped from his temple, throbbing against the etched scowl and snarled mouth. You moaned and his eyes snapped to you, lips curling back from teeth to show you the ferocity firing through his veins.

Without a word, Kento moved you, so you were bent over the kitchen island, and you sighed from the reprieve of the awkward position you had been forced to hold. The buttons of your blouse skittered across the kitchen tiles when two powerful hands fisted either side of them and ripped it open. His mouth and hands were everywhere and all at once.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted. Wet kisses decorated the side of your neck, lips moulding over your pulse and humming happily at the frantic rhythm that mirrored his own. The brush of his bare thighs against yours elicited a guttural groan, taking the opportunity to reach back and scratch at the rough undercut at his nape, fingers delving into his hair and pressing him deeper into the crook of your neck whilst he marked you as his.

“…’m sorry, Kento. Please forgive me,” you sobbed brokenly, completely torn between burning joy and icy regret. An urgent hand pressed between your legs, thick fingers prodding and feeling the sopping fabric slick with arousal and sculpted to the molten heat of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Save your apologies. I’ll hear them later, preferably whilst you’re gagging around my cock.”

Your backside rippled from the impact of his pelvis slamming into you, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. Kento chuckled darkly, the heat of your abused flesh warming that part of his soul that refused comfort until this very moment. He had no time to spare to remove your underwear, having used up all his patience in the measured delivery of his hand against your perfect behind. Ignoring the sharp prickling sensation radiating in his palm, he simply shoved them aside until he could push his heavy cock through. He wanted to ask if you were this wet because of the spanking or if you were merely pleased to see him, but the beastly part of his brain was firmly in the driver’s seat.

He was merciless; kicking your feet apart to widen your stance, tapping the fat head of his cock against your swollen clit and roaring in triumph when you pushed back against him. One second, he was teasing you, the next he was notched at your cunt and shunting himself forward. Kento gripped your hip, pulling you back whilst he worked inside, and the stretch was exactly what you expected. Every inch tickled your insides, thick veins stark and massaged by gummy walls made to take him.

“That’s it… there we go. God, look at you. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in… mm, more? All yours, sweetheart.” He crooned his lust-roughened rhetoric, and all you could do was hold onto the counter so your knees wouldn’t give out entirely. They shook with the force of his thrusts whilst he held you so tightly as if he worried you would slip through his fingers again. Not a fucking chance. You were his, and he wanted you to know that.

“Mine,” he growled, spittle flecking your shoulder as he bent over your body and bit into your tender skin. You howled, a mixture of pleasure and pain lighting up your insides. Stars winked in and out of your vision and you danced on your tippy toes as an orgasm near forced him out of you. If not for his determination to remain in the heart of your body, abusing the soft tissue near your belly, you would have expelled him with the force of your release.

Kento crowed like a maniacal king. Fucking you right through your high without a care for the overstimulation that left you whimpering and drooling onto the granite countertop. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, eyes flickering between open and shut as you fought the desire to pass out. The pressure of your pulsing walls, the suction of your cunt drawing him back inside each time he pulled back was his undoing, and although he had planned to cum down your throat so he could see your tear-stained face, he couldn’t pull out. His balls drew close to his body, the familiar drip of impending release stirring at the small of his back but so much more intense than ever before. His head was thrown back at the first spurt of seed exploding outward to knock up against your fertile womb with only thoughts of what it might be like to have your soft stomach grow with his child on his mind.

Never had he produced so much, and he wondered if he had been saving it up for you. A ridiculous thought had he been in his right mind, but you both knew that wasn’t the case. His hands gentled, bruises forming the pattern of his fingertips marked your hips and waist. He smiled, the first true smile in what felt like forever. Soon he was laughing, and the jostle made you moan out, his softening cock twitching in your cunt and tickling you.

“I think I am more than ready to hear your apology, little dove.”

And you were more than ready to give it to him, after all… Kento possessed your heart.

[ckret2]

Ok but why DO the teens of Gravity Falls start worshipping Bill after everything he did to them? Isn't there a better counterculture figure they can use that didn't traumatize them for life?

You'd think. Pre-TBOB I sure wouldn't have made them worship him—but if canon says they worship him to be edgy, who am I to argue.

So since it IS canon, I justify it two ways:

One: who says they were traumatized? I'm not saying "Weirdmageddon wasn't traumatic"; I'm saying "maybe they didn't feel traumatized by it." Not everyone comes away from should-be-traumatic situations with trauma, ESPECIALLY if they have a large support group that understands what they went through... like, say, literally everyone else in town.

And a WHOLE LOT of Gravity Falls—maybe even most of the town—had VERY little exposure to Bill or Weirdmageddon. Based on Wendy's account, she and her friends didn't know anything was wrong until the eye-bats swooped in to petrify them. Anyone captured "probably" wasn't conscious (based on how Lazy Susan seems disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, I assume they were mostly unconscious, partially dreaming). All the teens (along with the other townspeople) were freed from the throne while Bill and his minions were outside, escaped (except for Wendy & Robbie) before Bill got back, and then everything went back to normal and nothing was broken and nobody was hurt.

For Wendy, it was the most stressful, dangerous, terrifying week of her life.

For all of Wendy's friends (and probably most other teens in town), it was just a pretty bizarre 15 minutes.

Since the eye-bats were picking off stray townspeople days into Weirdmageddon, I'm sure not all of the teenagers in town were captured so quickly and painlessly... but like, the teens that got the highest doses of trauma from the incident probably aren't the specific teens worshiping Bill to be edgy.

Two: it's a way of reclaiming power over the situation. Do you know one way to stop fearing the monster you imagine under your bed? By imagining really hard that the monster you can feel so, so close in the dark is actually friendly and there to protect you.

The triangle guy's dead and not coming back right? Then there's no consequences if we clown around in his name. You want to be a big fancy god? Okay, now you're the God of Making My Teacher Give Me An A+ On The Final. You're the God of Please Don't Let Me Get Fired From My Part Time Job For Showing Up Late. You're the God of Putting Me In The Same Classes As My Friends This School Year. I'll sacrifice a chicken nugget to you and you'll do me a favor.

If you're a chaos god then I'm calling on you when we spray graffiti, secretly throw a house party, sneak into the movie theater, sell weed in the restroom. If you're a chaos god then keep away the cops and parents when we're breaking the rules. (It's lucky coincidence that Bill would probably love to be the god of illegal parties and drug dealing.)

If you wanna be a god, then you're hired, buddy—and on this planet, that means if we bow to your image and chant your name and sacrificially burn a one dollar Bill over a candle for you, then you have to do what we ask, and you can't scare us anymore. And if worshiping you DOES scare the authority figures we're yearning to buck against, that's just a bonus.

Pantheons all over the world worship gods of volcanoes, sea storms, war, and death. When humans see a force too terrible to defeat or escape, we give it a face, a name, and a temple, and start feeding it with offerings and prayers in hopes we can domesticate it the same way we domesticated wolves with meat and back scratches.

[typhlonectes]

Mice thrive at 6700 m, higher than any mammals were thought able to live

Survey turns up several mouse species living on Andes peaks, breaking records for the highest dwelling mammals

Few places are as inhospitable as the top of Llullaillaco, a 6700-meter volcano on the border between Chile and Argentina. Winds howl nonstop and no plants live there; daytime temperatures never get above freezing and plummet even more come nightfall. Oxygen levels are just 40% of those at sea level, too low for mammals to live there —or so biologists thought until 3 years ago when a research team captured a live leaf-eared mouse at its summit. Now new work shows this animal was not a fluke. The team has found other leaf-eared mice on additional volcano tops, and genomic studies of these summit dwellers and their lower elevation relatives confirm the rodents make their homes nearly 7000 meters above sea level, making them the highest dwelling vertebrate found so far. (Some birds soar higher but appear not to dwell at those elevations.) The team has also come across five other mouse species living above 5000 meters on various mountains in the Central Andes...

Read more:  https://www.science.org/content/article/mice-thrive-6700-kilometers-higher-any-mammals-were-thought-able-live

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

My understandings of what Primarchs are currently alive and dead, what their status' are: Loyalists: Leman Russ: Running butt ass naked in the Warp, if the armour if any indication. Probably a Wulfen and horribly mutated like Corvus. Possibly could be fine. Chances very slim for him not be a mutated wolf thing with viking braids. Anyway his sons are mildly disturbed by the armour they keep finding Lion: Alive and pissed. Commits so many war crimes behind Guilliman's back. May or may not be making it his personal goal to give Guilliman as many grey hairs as possible. Roboute Guilliman: Stressed and thinks humans can't rule themselves. Asshole. Needs a break and to actually spend time with humans and actually thinking about the fact it's been ten thousand fucking years. That's impressive for an empire. Corvus Corax: Fucked up bird man in the warp. Probably learning that feathers suck to get blood out of and questioning how the fuck his white winged brother kept his feathers so fucking clean even though said brother routinely caused blood baths in life. Has probably pecked someone to death. Vulkan: Probably alive. Somewhere. Might actually be in a volcano somewhere. His death goes against his lore so who knows what the fuck is going on here. Jaghatai Khan: Also in the warp, has no idea where the fuck he is and isn't stopping for directions. Honestly he's actually existed the warp couple of times he was going so fucking fast. Probably also slowly getting mutated. Might be fine though. Probably passed a naked Leman a couple of times and is really confused by the fucked up bird thing calling itself Corvus. Rogal Dorn: Could be dead, could have a sick ass prosthetic hand. No idea what's going on with him. Sanguinius: Incredibly dead. Probably a good thing that he is. Otherwise he'd probs be a traitor primarch too with the Imperium in its current state- Ferrus Manus: Also very dead. Probably was seething mad at being killed by Fulgrim. Very likely died seething mad. Traitors: Fulgrim: Is a four armed winged snake thing. Having mad sex and doing way too many drugs. Probably also eating a lot too. And then sleeping it off because snake. Has a chunky boyfriend if Tumblr is to be believed. Magnus: Trying to rebuild, also an arrogant prick. I support him even if he's a dick. If only because what happened to Prospero was a travesty of the highest order. You go my weird rainbow nipple horned demon prince. What is your obsession with titty horns??? Mortarion: Depressed but has family. Is infected with diseases that are probably not even invented yet. Probably also not a skinny rail of a man anymore courtesy of Papa Nurgle who is a better dad then the Emperor ironically. Probably can't stand to look himself in the Mirror. Angron: Angy, so very angy. And obsessed with blood. Even if he wasn't immortal by virtue of being a demon prince, he'd probably be too angry to die. Not entirely sure if this is actually better then being dead. Lorgar: Not entirely sure, but I assume he's somewhere in the warp spreading the word of chaos like some sort of messed up anti jesus or something.

Alpharius /Omegon: One's dead, the other is alive. Which twin died and which one is alive is a damn good question. Possibly neither are even dead. Absolute bastards (affectionate). Perterabo: Grumpy old man wanting to be left alone and forge. He yearns for it. Mostly content to just make stuff and burn his skin off. Good things he's a demon now I guess. Go make stuff, have a hobby that's kinda healthy. Sort of. Konrad: Pretty dead. Saw it happen and let it happen. Probably for the best because dear god this man as a demon prince is terrifying. Horus: Also very dead. Might actually be even more dead then Sanguinius considering Horus' soul was probably destroyed.

[famousinuniverse]

Mt. Fuji, Japan: Mount Fuji is an active stratovolcano located on the Japanese island of Honshu, with a summit elevation of 3,776.24 m. It is the tallest mountain in Japan, the second-highest volcano located on an island in Asia and seventh-highest peak of an island on Earth. Mount Fuji last erupted from 1707 to 1708. The mountain is located about 100 km southwest of Tokyo and is visible from the Japanese capital on clear days. Wikipedia

[kiichilog]

秋田駒ヶ岳　トレッキング 最近の噴火は1970-1971, 秋田県最高峰 Volcano trekking

The volcano last erupted from 18 September 1970 to 25 January 1971.It is the highest mountain in Akita Prefecture.

[amanitacz]

Model of the Set of 3 highest mountains.

Link to see more about this model on Turbosquid.com:

https://www.turbosquid.com/3d-models/3-highest-mountains-2030362?referral=amanitacz

Link to the whole gallery:

https://www.turbosquid.com/Search/Artists/AmanitaCZ?referral=amanitacz

Link to the software:

http://www.cazaba.cz/

[zoradementio]

Block Tales Predictions & Headcanons Because This is my New Hyperfixation

Predictions

So the next sword is 100% the Firebrand. And what better fire level is there than an active volcano? I believe the next demo will open up the docks & we're gonna be sailing to a tropical, volcanic island for the Firebrand.

Added with that, I believe we'll meet the ship captain mentioned by Mayor Monty (can't for the life of me remember the name rn), as he'll be the one to sail us across.

I also believe that this Chapter or maybe the Windforce one will be weilded by Kyoko's sister, since Kyoko's dialogue in Chapter 3 hints that at the very least something is going wrong with her.

On the UnkownSpaceGuy Youtube channel - the channel that uploads both demo trailers & the OST - there's a track listed called Space Battle. While some might think the background & track are misdirects, considering the Weird Battle OST teased enemies from Chapter 3 well before it was implemented, I think it's possible this could also be hinting at future content. Specifically, I believe the Chapter taking place on the moon will either be the Darkheart or Illumina one.

Once the game is finished, there'll be a New Game+ mode where you can actually have the chance to beat Terry at the beginning of the game.

Headcanons

~Cruel King~

Dude needs a different moniker than "Cruel King" because that is a misnomer and a half. So, unless he's given an official name, his given name will be Rex to me.

His favorite foods include warm drinks like hot chocolate & coffee and frozen desserts, especially ice cream.

His favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry.

He likes Mexican cuisine but it also destroys him.

Had a German Shepherd when he was growing up.

~Griefer~

While Mayor Thaniyel is mostly right about Brad not being 100% like that before the influence of the sword, he still was a bit of a little shit. It's just that Thaniyel didn't see most of it and it was mostly relegated to online games/forums.

Despite what his soda addiction may lead you to believe, he really likes fresh fruits, apples being a particular favorite.

Likes sherbet & sorbet more than ice cream.

Really likes spicy food. Man would fuck up a bag of Flammin' Hot Cheetos & puts jalapenos on everything he can.

It is often said that the highest honor one can give a fictional character is to headcanon them your personal lived experiences and traumas. Thusly, Griefer has mommy issues. Undecided whether I prefer her being kind of a bad mom or if she simply wasn't around when Brad was growing up.

Big fan of Pokemon. Favorite Gen is 3, both in terms of the Gens in 2010 and all Generations to modern day. Favorite starter is Treeko, though Grooky would be a close second.

~Greed, Solitude, & Fear~

I like to group these three together as The Vices.

Greed is a bit of a fashionista, keeping up to date on the latest trends.

Greed likes carbonated drinks. Particularly, they like champagne.

If Greed were to order a steak, they'd order it Blue.

Solitude gets uncomfortable in large crowds. A large crowd to Solitude is more than 2 people.

It's difficult to tell at any given moment if Solitude is concentrating really hard on something that caught their attention or if they're just disassociating.

A picnic in the park might not fix Fear, but it would do a whole lot to improve their mental state.

Fear's favorite foods include fruity drinks/juices, comfort food, and baked goods.

Fear's favorite colors are dark blue and dark green.

Despite them literally being the embodiment of fear (or perhaps because of that), Fear is fiercely protective over those they care about. Can't have courage without fear after all.

[the-daydreaming-show]

(0.) Preface

SUMMARY: You make some last arrangements before leaving for the Night Court.

Or.

You make a stupid decision that will change everything.

CHARACTER(S): Poly!Feysand x Fem!Reader, Feyre Archeron x Fem!Reader, Rhysand x Fem!Reader.

WARNING(S): Short; The reader makes stupid decisions; No-beta reader, we die like the Suriel.

NOTE: Tag List is open.

You were once a mortal from the lands of Prythian, born to poor parents who had been the children of equally poor parents, whose ancestors were lost to history. You used to live at the edge of the forest, in the poorest streets of the town where you were born and thought you would die.

When you were twelve, in those woods, hunting to survive the onset of winter, you first encountered a hungry and frightened Feyre Archeron, trying to hunt for her family but being too loud for your liking. There, you both became friends, allies, and each other's only company in the labyrinth of forests where you sought your lives each week. It was as if the world was only you—just the two of you among those trees.

You realized this the very night after the birth. You had taken over the child's care while your mother recovered, and you found him at night staring into the fire. The way he looked at you when you walked past him to heat water left you frozen in place. You were used to walking past wild beasts in the woods that looked at you like you were their next meal, but the look from your father made your stomach sink.

However, when you were fifteen, your mother gave birth to a boy after years of your father waiting for a son for his family. I had always found your father’s obsession with the family name and legacy ridiculous. Your family was so poor that you had been out in the woods foraging for food ever since you had the strength in your fingers to create your first rabbit trap. Your mother had given him two healthy daughters, you and Rue. But she had miscarried twice and given birth to a stillborn child. It wasn’t until that child was born that he seemed satisfied with it and with your mother. He named the child after himself, as if it were some sort of honor or meant anything more than poverty.

But the child was sickly, and your mother was weak from childbirth. You and your sister became dead weight in your father's mind.

It took a week before you and Rue disappeared. He walked you to a coastal town, and you thought he would abandon you there. You were mentally prepared for that. You were stupid, looking back. Because he sold you—both of you—on a hill overlooking the sea. Your little brother should have gotten his medicine within twenty-four hours, and your mother too, for sure.

You didn’t doubt that no one in the village asked anything. After all, people disappearing from one day to the next wasn’t so abnormal in a place where hunger took more people than age. You hoped Feyre had asked, but you didn’t insist too much because you knew what she was like. She would go crazy searching if she asked too much, and you didn’t want that for her.

In the hands of the slavers, you and Rue were sold as one to a brothel in the pirate islands of the southeast. There, Madame Petra saw something in you and offered a deal that you took. You danced and charmed everyone on the island. You had been the highest-paid courtesan in the area—until you were condemned to work in the volcanoes until death for taking the life of a free man while being a slave.

he forests of Prythian. The brothel on the Pirate Islands. The work in the volcanoes. It was as if they were three different lives you had lived before you turned twenty. Now you lived another, in Slave Bay—renamed Trinity Bay—as queen of the freed slaves and mother of the beasts that spit fire into the sky.

At the beginning of the year, you had sent a clear and decisive message to the mortal lands, starting a new life before you turned twenty-five.

From this day, one will be, and only one, the queen of the mortal lands of the world. Those who bent the knee to you would keep their land and titles. Those who took arms against you and your dragons would be thrown down, humbled, and destroyed.

You had been answered with an offer from the Night Court, and a handwritten letter from Feyre Archeron, the High Lady of the Night Court, offering a helping hand in the form of a political alliance between your lands and hers. You had accepted in hopes of killing a petty promise that you stubbornly wanted to keep. Now you were heading to the Night Court with three of your dragons in the morning, as visits had been arranged that would define the process of the agreement. Whether it would be signed or not would be decided based on those visits.

Night was falling over your city, and the moon illuminated your figure hunched over the dresser in your private chambers, staring at what you had on the table in front of you.

“You know how that will end,” Armin’s voice, your chief advisor, broke the silence of the room in a hoarse tone. He was as sorry as you were, that was certain. “You will find nothing but disappointment and bitterness on the other side of the sea, child.”

You raised your hand, dipping it into the open trunk you had been staring at. The inside was filled with shiny rings of different shapes, colors, and materials. You lifted your hand, letting the rings fall between your fingers like grains of sand tinkling in the night.

“I know,” you admitted, staring as the rings slipped from your fingers without you trying to stop them. You needed to start thinking about which ones you would take and which ones you would throw into the fire once you returned, as a final step to removing any memories they might hold with their meaning. “But I think it’s what I need, Ar. I don’t think I can do what I need to do without seeing whatever awaits me there, no matter how much it embitters my heart and breaks it. I will heal it with the freedom of my people and the fire of my dragons.”

You whispered as if afraid to hear yourself speak, but Armin heard you anyway.

Armin didn’t say anything about that, and you knew he wasn’t sure of your decision. But you also knew that he had followed you into the volcanoes when you were both slaves, and you sought freedom by force. And then he had accompanied you across the sea from the volcanic islands, on the backs of your dragons, and on the conquest of Slaver’s Bay.

At this point, there was little trust to build between you, and if you didn’t do what you said you would do, he would remind you of the truth. One way or another, you both shared a goal, and he would follow you to the Night Court, to your Fey, to finish what you knew no one expected you to accomplish.

Before sunrise, you chose the rings and put them in a small cloth bag that you tied and closed with a knot. You fastened it to the belt of your riding habit and decided to leave the trunk with the rest of them by the fire, to never forget the truth.

(Behind your back, Armin ordered the trunk to be moved after you left that morning on Balerion's back, heading in the direction of the Night Court. It was done a few hours before the emissaries arrived, who would later deliver it to their guests at the House of Wind. The trunk did not return to that room.)

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch

Next Part: (1.) THREADS OF TIME.