#maloc

[pablomachiwrc-blog]

#RallyArgentina 🇦🇷🌏🧡 Noche de miércoles en el búnker by Vicky @mariavictoriamonteverde @juanlocateli #Maloc #ARGWRT 🇦🇷🌏🧡 (en Don Bosco, Buenos Aires) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClDEZGjuo4n/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[x-cl-br]

so helldivers is amazing, really awesome game that I've been LOVING every second of

HOWEVER it has made me realize that game community spaces, reddit being the most significant for me, have gotten SO much worse in the past decade.

back when I played destiny, specifically when the malok (maloc? malloc? memory allocate?) update came out, I was glued to the reddit for news and cool discoveries and all that. it was awesome, I felt super engaged and invested in the game even when I wasn't able to log in.

so the helldivers subreddit... and the finals subreddit... and the destiny subreddit nowadays... they all suck. it's all angry discussion about metas, or game design complaints with garbage suggestions for fixes, or complaints about fellow players / the playerbase as a whole. just a constant stream of negativity and now I just can't engage with games in a positive way without logging in

i miss being able to read stuff about a game but now it's all over optimization or grind guides or players complaining about all that stuff. I don't have a solution I'm just kind of mourning that I can't have as much hype for stuff as I used to.

[pax-imperium]

Do you ever look at a recently painted and converted mini and think, "yes, it's perfect there's no way I'd change that"? No, me neither...

Here's the latest batch of minor tweaks to my Arbites, no doubt more changes will come.

An updated chirugant, castigator and 2 revelatum/malocator for either kill team or 40k.

Then an updated executioner, arbites with Webber and 2 subjugators using the new arbites shields, which are slightly smaller than the old metal fanatic enforcer ones

[eaudavie]

Ay ne kadar tatlisin maloc seni

[444names]

all the demons of ars goetia, pseudomonarchia daemonum, livre des esperitz, munich manual of demonic magic and fasciculus rerum geomanticarum

Abarabolas Abellocas Abifer Abiflaum Abillory Abnocifron Abnové Abulfis Acare Accas Achocia Agemere Agemores Ageni Agorching Aguallos Aimat Aimeres Aimodass Aleosialex Alfis Alion Allocel Allocess Allock Almalphas Almarabia Alocaimias Aloras Alphabatii Alphe Alphus Alucia Amduchas Amduchos Amdus Amduson Amerimeis Amias Amoras Amorax Amoris Amorthax Andra Andrax Andres Androbas Antis Arbas Arcaim Argomer Arpos Arqui Arufla Astolas Avech Baeligei Baligene Balloce Balory Balos Balphas Bamon Barchine Barchinex Bares Bargo Barus Barusion Bastan Bathalefas Batii Batory Bealamdus Bealas Beducas Beducaym Beleos Belex Bellock Beree Berienix Berimar Berimoyn Beris Beron Berotis Bertar Besidon Bialas Bifeni Bifentis Biflas Bifrob Billastas Billeth Billex Bitri Bothasmon Botius Bucar Bucaraje Bucel Buchalfis Buching Buerobath Bugael Bugazonon Bugoabunt Bugodamy Bugoday Bugomplex Bugor Bugory Bulfam Bulfis Bylefamon Bylex Bélia Bélias Bélionocel Bélius Béliusidon Caimei Calos Calphus Carbaras Carthas Caymon Caymoni Celions Cerbas Certeth Charques Cifenim Coabala Coabatis Comei Comer Comeres Comon Completh Countis Countius Cromer Crone Cubar Cubaraje Damduke Damertares Damoymon Daymon Decaap Decas Decay Dechince Dechoene Difentis Diflamer Diflius Diusidon Diusions Dries Ducho Dusias Elial Eligeis Eliuscim Ellock Fentis Flamonix Flasmon Flion Focalas Focas Focel Foces Focia Forabaroce Forch Forchent Forchoces Forchoene Forchos Forialugor Forimias Foriplefam Foris Forius Foronever Forotis Forrat Forson Forsor Forth Forthasone Fortis Furfurson Furmon Furocelias Fursam Fursat Fursorch Fursorsoym Gandrabna Garbaronon Garbas Garchax Garpos Garus Genix Gentis Glapulfar Godam Gomallaum Gomalphent Gomas Gomer Gomon Goraje Goras Goreal Gorim Gorsab Gorsoyn Gorym Gorymone Greer Guallex Gualloras Gusias Gutas Gäapulas Gäapulfis Habnové Haboabasya Halac Hallefas Handrax Hanix Hantas Hasorymon Hoenex Hohos Ipler Iponac Ipone Ipoym Ipoyn Iraboas Judirath Judis Judius Judus Kimar Kimei Kimeree Kinac Knigoday Knimalle Laveparti Lethinex Lethymon Locerius Lorson Lucalphas Lucaras Luces Luche Luchinaym Lucimaras Lucubargo Lugaent Lugay Lugorimath Mache Maching Malabas Malfis Malion Maloces Malos Malphent Mamdus Mamon Marabias Marabola Marabuné Maraje Marbatola Marbaël Marbelias Marber Marcas Marcaym Mareer Maremortis Margomplex Margorax Margus Mariné Marius Marmur Marmuron Marpon Marques Marqui Martaob Martis Mataligin Matan Molac Morabues Mursatola Oraursor Orcarich Orchax Orchiné Orcho Orsabugo Ortethiné Ozepaim Ozeparch Ozeparoth Ozeparquis Ozepas Paimaras Paimonac Parbas Parbelion Parberomon Pargomer Partas Parteth Partii Phabons Phabune Phandrias Phent Phoent Phoentas Posident Poymolam Premei Priala Prieneus Prienix Pries Priné Priturson Prius Priusimigo Prusias Prusoym Puchoce Puchoene Pulas Purmursons Puron Pursone Rabuneus Ragorymon Raguarthym Rastola Robas Roceri Ronon Rotii Rotis Sabnacaim Sabonex Sabonorson Sabuné Sagargus Sagei Salex Sallocel Salocertas Salphan Salphenix Salphus Salugoap Sambesia Samdus Samia Santis Saras Sarbaras Sarmon Satorcar Seerbaras Sharbas Sidon Simal Simargora Sionon Sitrin Situve Situveree Storsonor Sucal Sucerius Tolacas Trias Tripos Tudiflavos Tudis Tudistas Tuduchos Tudus Tuveparmur Tuvertas Tuvertii Vaapuron Vallas Vallex Valparchax Valphax Vanni Vapaimal Vaparès Vepartaob Vinachocia Vince Viplex Vipon Vipoym Vipoyn Volabnoces Volas Vualas Vualeos Vualphax Vualphent Vudis Vudius Vuducar Vuduchas Vudus Zageis Zamoras Zamoymone Zeparap Zepas

[legacyoftheogres]

15. The Looming City

[set a year after Tethered when Izura and Thalanthe first meet]              

  Thalanthe wrinkled her nose, the city of Xiobolad was filled with the smell of grease, smoke, and sewage. She felt like an ant amidst the tower buildings that blocked the sky, a metal forest connected with vines of wire that felt deeply unnatural.  Despite having lived in Xianen for nearly half a century, Thalanthe’s trips to Xiobolad had been few and far between. The city’s growth had been explosive, each visit it was unrecognizable; a labyrinth of skyscrapers, with only the Ironstalk towering above to act as an accursed landmark. She was glad that most of her work had taken her to Durong, Zhoulote, Yamuir and Tamashq instead.

                Scrutinizing the map she had been given, Thalanthe made her way deeper into the city, winding her way towards its heart where she was to meet up with an old friend. Zizgodos belonged to no clan but had long been contracted by the Centipede and others for his expertise. Though he spent much of his time in Durong, Zizgodos was a nomad of sorts, moving from city to city as work summoned him. Often, their work was aligned. Few in the region knew more about artifacts, their curses, and their history than Zizgodos. Something particularly nasty had surfaced in Xiobolad, though their informant had refused to reveal if it had been found in the sea or deep beneath the city. Thalanthe and Zizgodos had been summoned to identify and seal away the artifact, and then take it back to Kuotay for safe keeping.

                Thalanthe finally arrived at a small workshop, jammed between taller buildings and ramshackle. Opening the door, her eyes adjusted from the dim mire of the city to oppressively bright light. The scent of sage, earth, metal, smoke and incense filled her nose. Globules of light danced through the wisps, scattering reflections off of the scales of the dray who sat hunched over a worktable. A rich copper in color, many of the scales now held traces of patina showing their age. It was impossible to tell if Zizgodos was looking at her as she entered, his jeweled eyes looked like emeralds behind his glasses. Had it not been for the slow methodical movements he made with his tools, and the smoke wafting from his nostrils, he might have been mistaken for a statue.        

Thalanthe set down her bag and sat across from him at the table. Zizgodos acknowledged her with a low grumble. She waited patiently, eyeing the artifact. Wrought of black metal, it was a delicate crown. At its front, it swept down into a wicked beak, topped with eyes of glittering jet. Feathers jutted off of it, wrapping behind it to form the band. It radiated malice and seemed to greedily gobble up the light around it, somehow still cast in slight shadow despite the illuminated room. At last, Zizgodos lowered his tools and leaned back on his stool, sighing deeply in a cloud of smoke.

“It is a good thing they summoned us.” His voice was like stones being rubbed together, slow and deliberate. “I was unable to get much from the lad who brought it to me, he was a shivering mess. It was clear he wanted to get it out of his hands as quickly as possible. I am glad that at the least he was too shaken to consider taking it to the black market.”

“Then we still have no information on where it was found?” Thalanthe asked.

“No. I only know that it is old and bears some similarity to some artifacts they have pulled from the Needle.”

Thalanthe frowned. The Needle was the source of many mysteries, and though it was many miles away in Durong, she still felt like its shadow hung over her. Elysium’s relics and history could hold the secrets to the Phage, but they also held the stains of the failures of her race. The Void Templar artifacts, remnants of Maloc’s deceit, along with so many other accursed secrets had been held there, and they had all been scattered when Elysium had been destroyed at the climax of the Daemonwrack.

“Begin to seal it. I will write of what I have learned as you do, its mere presence pollutes the air in this place.” Zizgodos placed a pair of gloves upon the table and rose to retrieve parchment and ink.

Thalanthe retrieved a wooden box from her bag and placed it beside the crown. She pulled on the stiff and heavy gloves, woven with lead, and carefully picked up the artifact, placing it in the box, and wrapping it in a cloth made of the same material. She placed the lid on the box and removed the gloves. Next, she pulled two small glass jars and a paper talisman from a small pouch. From one jar, she applied a paste on the lid, and secured the talisman to act as a seal. From the other, she carefully extracted a small Yggdrati. The millipede-like creature uncurled itself slowly, sleepy from its long voyage. All three implements had come from the Velvetines, the wood sung from the trees, the paper made from their leaves, and the Yggdrati the offspring of the forest guardians.

“Thank you for this sacrifice, a gift will be made to the Velvetines for what was taken. Take this miasma from the world, as a tree would purify the air.”  Thalanthe whispered to the creature, placing it on the box. Taking the dagger from her belt, she pricked her fingertip to draw a drop of her blood, and let it fall upon the Yggdrati. Then, she began to sing. Zizgodos paused his writing to listen, he was one of the few outsiders that ever heard the song of the wood, and it was an honor he did not take lightly. The Yggdrati began to writhe, until it worked its way into the wood itself, becoming an engraving. From beneath the surface it crawled, leaving a trail of small footprints in its wake, it encircled the box, and once it finished, the wood knit itself together, sealing the box shut, with no evidence that there had ever been an opening. Exhausted, it crawled to the talisman and curled up, the paper and insect burned away. Thalanthe concluded her song.

“It is done.” She dusted the ash from the wood and ran her fingers along the markings the Yggdrati had left behind.

“A moment, the ink is nearly dry.” Zizgodos wrapped the scroll in twine and placed it within a case. He handed it to Thalanthe, and she placed it and the box into her bag.

“Travel safely, the sooner that thing is hidden away, the better.” The elderly dray warned.

“I will depart at first light. If your path takes you through Kuotay, you know you are always welcome to rest at my hearth, teacher.”  Thalanthe said in draconic and bent at the waist to give him a bow of respect.

“Ah, you have kept up your practice, good. It is a pity we do not have time for tea this visit. I will look forward to our next meeting.” He bowed his head and bid her farewell.

Back on the streets of Xiobolad, Thalanthe realized how late it was, as the streets were lit with lanterns now. Her lodging was in a separate ward of the city, and she began her journey there with a quickened step. Winding through alleys, she began to feel uneasy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she doubled her pace. She offered a silent prayer that she was being paranoid, but she felt as if there were eyes upon her. In her haste, she erred, losing her path, and soon found herself at a dead end.

“Lost your way, little bug?” A chuckle echoed through the alley behind her, she spun on her heels and saw three tall, cloaked figures closing in on her. Her hand went to her sword.

“No need for that.” The one in the middle chided. “You merely have something that belongs to us. Hand it over, and there will be no bloodshed.” He pulled back his cloak to reveal a wicked curved scimitar, and emblazoned on his tunic was a crane, black as night. Thalanthe’s eyes widened. Remnants of the House of the Crane, how they had divined the location of this artifact was beyond her. Could there be an informant? She quickly set such thoughts aside. She had to focus. These were no ordinary thugs; she was cornered and outnumbered.  

“I will not give it willingly.” Thalanthe said through gritted teeth and drew her blade.

“A pity. I was hoping to---” His next words were cut off as a dagger flew out of the darkness and embedded itself into his forehead. Thalanthe did not wait to see who had come to her aid, she launched herself toward the nearest Crane, steel sparked as their blades collided. To her right, there was a blur of movement, and a cry.

“Scorpion assassin! Retre--.” The scream was cut short in a gurgle of blood. The commotion was enough to distract her adversary, who for a moment considered whether to heed the warning. Thalanthe seized the opportunity, cutting the woman from hip to shoulder.

Thalanthe’s heart thundered in her chest, as she turned to face the only other figure still standing in the alley, her sword still ready. Clad in a black shozoku emblazoned with a small silver scorpion, the figure removed his hood to reveal pale skin and familiar green eyes. He flicked the blood from his sword with practiced ease and sheathed it. He moved with a haunting grace.

“Hardly a proper thanks, Thalanthe.” Izura’s smooth voice cut through the night. He scowled when she did not lower her blade. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let them save me the trouble. A life for a life, my debt to you is paid.”

A life for a life? Perhaps he was referring to their encounter in the Velvetines. She sheathed her blade and gave him a hard look. This man had been nothing but a thorn in her side since she had found him the Needle. Constantly he had sought her out, and she had spurned him just as doggedly. He had been the shadow she could not escape. Yet, he had saved her.

“Why are you here, Izura?” Thalanthe’s tone was guarded. Had he tailed her all the way from Kuotay?

“A conversation we can have when you are safely at your destination.” He extended a hand, which she ignored and began walking.  Izura chuckled and shook his head, he briefly searched each body but found nothing, and jogged to catch up to her. He pulled on a simple cloak, Thalanthe pulled her own over her weapon.

“Are there more?” Thalanthe asked under her breath and through her teeth, adopting a casual pace to match Izura’s. They blended into the crowd of people traveling home in the early evening.  Izura looped an arm through hers and leaned in to whisper to her.

“Yes, but they will not attack you in the middle of the street, certainly not while you are guarded.” Izura’s breath tickled her ear, and she shivered at his closeness. Her face did not betray her true emotions as she let out a bashful laugh. To any onlooker they would appear a merry couple enjoying a nightly stroll. They spoke no more of the issue as they crossed the city.

At last, they arrived at their destination, a small apartment in one of the residential wards. After climbing the rusted stairwell Thalanthe produced the key she had been given and opened the door. It smelled of dust and years of sitting idle. She pulled the door shut behind them and secured the lock. Izura strode past her and checked each room. Thalanthe removed her cloak and bag and allowed herself to take a few deep breaths. Seemingly satisfied, Izura returned to the foyer.

“I was asked to follow you to Illid Nova. We caught wind that the lingering Cranes were going to make a move on the artifact.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to warn me that they would try to retrieve it?” Thalanthe did not mask her irritation.

“I could not risk the knowledge getting back to the Cranes and lose the edge we had.”

“What are you implying?” She narrowed her eyes at him, venom in her tone.

“For them to know of the artifact, there had to be an informant. Something you realized as soon as they cornered you.” He gave her a knowing smile; his casual manner was infuriating.

“And you thought it might be me.” Thalanthe laughed harshly. “Is the trust between our clans truly worth so little?”

“Now I know beyond a doubt that you are loyal to your clan. You were willing to die to carry out your mission. Once that had been established, I could freely come to your aid.” He took a step into her space, and suddenly Thalanthe felt small. It had been so easy for him to dispatch her pursuers. When had he grown so fearsome? 

“It is odd to hear you ask of trust, Thalanthe.” His words were ice, there was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t read. “When have you extended me such an honor, hm? You treat me as if I am a snake and shoo me away at the soonest opportunity.” He tilted his head. Something about his intensity made it feel like there was less air in the room.   

“Why do you pursue me so? What am I to you?” Thalanthe breathed. Her voice lacked the confidence she wished it had, but she finally spoke aloud the question she had been wondering for all these months. The question seemed to amuse Izura.

“A question for my question, so be it.” He laughed darkly. “I do not dream as our people do; I do not remember my past, nor do I have any connection to my ancestors. When I woke in the Needle I saw your eyes, golden in the dark, and I knew you. I did not know my own name, but I recognized you.” Izura took another step closer to her, she tried to step back but bumped into the wall behind her. He was impossibly close.

“We have never met. I do not know you. You must have been delusional. You were half dead when we found you. You are still delusional.” She should push him away, but she was frozen in place. What he was saying was wrong, and yet, it scratched at the surface of something she had been running from all this time. She had seen him in her trances many times since that day, small flashes of memories that were unlike any vision she had even had before. They were confusing and terrifying, the images she had seen the night before she found him in the Velvetines haunted her. Izura had a magnetism to him that she could not explain, and so she had run from him.

“Am I though? Do you truly not feel it, this tie between us?” He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. He looked into her eyes, searching, his face an inch from hers.

“There is nothing.” She whispered, her words betraying her.

“Liar.”  He leaned in and brushed the ghost of a kiss upon her lips, his lips barely brushing against hers, and it was not nothing. She was stunned, before she could think to slap him, he had already withdrawn.

“I will keep watch tonight, tomorrow we leave for Kuotay. Lock the door behind me.” And with that, he left. Thalanthe did not catch his expression as he turned the key and vanished into the night.  

[gmatlarge]

Scenetember #3 Emblem

Family can be more dangerous than the dead.

- Author Unknown, Whispers of Fate

The knight Eindond cooly stared down the four zombies as they milled about the entrance to the Black Prison. Arcadius, on the other hand, quietly stewed in his pre-battle jitters. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his stomach churned. He knew that as soon as the battle started, he would be too busy to think about the terror.

“Ready then?” Eidond hefted his sword.

Arcadius swallowed and nodded. He gripped the borrowed axe tightly, its weight unfamiliar in his hands.

“Right. Remember, I’m going to start with the one on the right. Just keep them off my back,” Eindond grumbled, then charged in. True to his word, he charged down hill, shield up, sword ready to strike. Nearly 250 pounds of steel, leather and muscle crashed into the first zombie, knocking it off its feet. Eindond brought the sword down on its skull, crushing it.

Arcadius followed behind Eindond. This is not like fighter practice.

- = -

Clem held his practice sword steady in a firm, flexible grip. When Arcadius was younger, he would hang from Clem’s thickly muscled arm, solid and unmoving as an iron bar. Clem now used that strength to whip his sword around blindingly fast.

“You’re too scrawny t’use a proper fightin’ stance, Cady.” Arcadius couldn’t see Clem’s mouth move behind his thick dwarven beard, but the way the edges shifted up, he could tell Clem was smiling.

The practice yard was smooth, packed, flat earth. Untold generations of Dhur Maloc dwarves had trained here, and Arcadius could feel their gaze judging him, from footsoldiers and warders to generals and kings. The even floor provided sure footing for Arcadius as he danced back and forth, just out of Clem’s reach.

“That’s right, use those half-elf legs. Force me to move. Find an opening and then strike.”

Arcadius had heard this all before. Clem drilled it into him regularly. “Proper” dwarven fighting style capitalized on their low center of gravity and dense muscle. A well-trained dwarf was difficult to move and could deliver fast, powerful blows with their heavy blades. Arcadius was too thin and light to take advantage of that style, so Clem has been training him to fight with his agility.

- = -

Arcadius’ charge towards the zombies was definitely not a well-executed assault down a defensive ramp. More like a panicked, flailing dash down an uneven, slippery slope where every step threatened to break an ankle and launch him toward the gnashing teeth of the hungry dead at the bottom. Despite that, Arcadius successfully came to a halt a few steps behind Eindond, his ankles intact and only slightly out of breath. He turned left and raised his axe, ready for the zombies.

With the first zombie dispatched, Eindond turned to face the others… and froze. Keeping to Eindond’s left, Arcadius looked as they lurched towards them. Spattered mud and muck stained what remained of their clothing. The magic that animated them also slowed their rot, but their facial features had decayed enough that they were effectively anonymous.

“Eindond…” Arcadius warned. His companion’s shield slowly drooped. A full helm covered Eindond’s face, ending any chance of divining his emotional state. A gurgling groan from one of the zombies yanked Arcadius’ attention back to the immediate danger. Eindond let out a faint whimper. The gurgling zombie was the one in the back, and was dressed in the tattered remains of a… cloak?

“Eindond!” Arcadius stepped forward. With his companion frozen, the situation just became much more dangerous.

The nearest zombie turned toward Arcadius and raised its fists. Look for the opening. He leapt forward, striking with the axe. The unfamiliar weight led to a badly-timed attack. The axe glanced off the creature’s ribcage, tearing the rotting tunic and shearing off a large chunk of decaying flesh. The zombie swung, heedless of the injury. Arcadius danced back out of reach, once again even with the trembling Eindond. That’s right, they’re already dead. I have to finish them decisively.

The zombie was slow compared to Clem, and even with the heavy axe in his hand, Arcadius felt like he was floating through the battle, barely touching the ground. A dragonfly on the wind, ready to pick its prey. Arcadius struck again, this time on the zombie’s left shoulder, the heavy axe crushing bone and cleaving flesh. The arm flopped uselessly and the zombie stumbled, swiping ineffectually as Arcadius slipped past it and the second zombie that had grabbed Eindond’s arm.

Arcadius twisted around, his momentum driven by the axe. His gaze locked on the back of the second zombie’s head as the axe cleaved through the back of the skull. The zombie collapsed on the ground and Arcadius yanked the axe free. Arcadius centered himself as he planted his feet. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. This is not fighter practice. Breathe. The clang of Eindond’s sword on the ground drew Arcadius’ attention.

Eindond had dropped his sword and slid the mask of his helm back, revealing a human face wracked with sadness, tears streamed down his face. He whimpered as he stared at the third zombie, heedless of his surroundings. As Arcadius tried to figure out what was going on, the first zombie rose up behind Eindond, its good arm grabbing on his shoulder as it sunk its teeth into his neck. Eindond screamed as blood gushed out of the wound, soaking his tabard and coating the zombie's jaws. Eindond drew a dagger as he crashed to the ground, taking his attacker down with him.

Arcadius looked at the last zombie as it lurched closer. Beneath the spattered mud and stains, he saw the same coat of arms that Eindond was so proud of. This must be family. The creature raised its arms to attack. Heart pounding in his chest, Arcadius dodged to the side as the firsts swung down. Arcadius swung the axe at the creature's head, the heavy weapon dragging the blade downward. The blade connected with the creature’s neck, cleaving straight through and sending the head bouncing across the ground. The body stumbled for a second before collapsing.

Arcadius spun back towards Eindond to see his companion pushing himself up to his knees. The zombie’s face had been obliterated by Eindond’s heavy mailed fist and dagger. Blood still leaked from the wound in his neck, and he looked exhausted.

“Don’t worry,” Eindond breathed, “they’re not ghouls.”

[wantstogohomekk]

Art and beauty

To which things can all people relate?

Is it beauty, extravagance, love? Of that honey-sweet taste of a lover's kiss, or that warmth of a mother's embrace that we all so intimately know? Is it perhaps, what we see so often in art, attractiveness, sex appeal, bright colors, happiness, and most importantly joy?

No. Hardly so. Some people will go their entire lives knowing none of these things.

Give me pain. Give the agony of knowing that I will never Be good enough for them. Give me retribution, bloody, raging red fire for my sins. Give me that darkness and despair of knowing that if I died none of the people I love would notice. Give me the truths of the universe that drove grown men insane.

Give me suffering, what we all know.

Give me life.

In art, motifs of religion always pop up. Yet religious trauma is something almost everyone can relate to, so it's beauty has been... Devalued, to say the least. I mean, I myself, as someone that struggles with realizing that my trauma actually exists, can recognize certain conversations with my father as wholly inappropriate. Namely, a conversation about how abortion was sacrificing babies to a demonic god named Maloc, if I remember correctly. He'd said that he hopes that if I were to become pregnant via consentual (or otherwise) means, I would keep the baby.

I was fourteen.

Art also, in every form of its existence, romanticizes beauty and joy. We do not all fit these standards of beauty and even fewer know of these joys. What do we all relate to? What emotions do we all know like the palm of our hands?

Pain. Anger. Heartbreak. Loss. Revenge. Retribution.

I see the supreme beauty in these things. I do not think of a lover's caress in beauty. I do not imagine a smiling face or the wings of an angel. I see fire. I see pain, I see sadness and agony, as these things are supremely what we all experience at some point in some way in our lives. I see supreme beauty in life itself.

Romanticize the pain you feel. Love every moment of it, because you would be begging for it back, joy and pain all, if you were to feel numb. Calm. Neutral.

I find beauty in the rage I so rarely indulge in- as any more would be a sin.

[candacehughes]

candace marie hughes drive-thru windows bank buildings u. s. country earth deliveries voiceings on paid hand-outs paid money paid. on. paid. memory receipes recipes memorization's memory on. paid. card. on. paid. must mail card and kiy and device to candace marie hughes. on. paid. must remove loced minds of candace marie hughes cmh and loksp in candace marie hughes and malocs and dgg lockings on candace marie hughes. on. paid. must remove cover covers covered covering coverings. on. paid. traeway trayway banks on and drive-thru windows buildings u. s. country earth on paid hand-outs and hand-outs money with traeway trayway on. paid. deliveries food and beverages distributings distributions on. paid. must remove cover, covers, coverings, covered, covering. on. paid.

[pablomachiwrc-blog]

#RallyArgentina 🇦🇷🌏🧡 La previa con un Matambre tiernizado a la pizza de locuy by Vicky #Maloc #ARGWRT 🇦🇷🌏🧡 (en Don Bosco, Buenos Aires) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClDBpUquDnx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[acid-gramma]

Popüler kültür köleleri CHP'ye verir adam daha konusmayı bilmiyo amk vasifsiz.. cumhurbaskani mi olucak bas bas diyo seloyu cıkarıcaz diye ona vericek kadar düstünüz mü amq salaklari bokunuzds bpgulun

sen nerden geldin kardesim shahahahahhaahahahahs

maloc

[pax-imperium]

A few more models, some older, some updated to match into killteam. A couple need to have shotguns added onto the model or other minor tweaks, but overall they're mostly done.

Another proctor, this time with shotgun; a leashmaster and a cyber mastiff; 2 shotgun only models to use as vigilants or castigators, and a vox signifier; a chirurgant, malocator, and a revelatum

[444namesplus]

Abliened Acted Activil Adays Agantry Ageresse Aleently Alhadles Amest Amplainge Antior Antryday Anymom Apabbeep Apaing Apped Apring Ardpone Arnass Arsonly Aselcon Aselilles Asketing Asles Aslie Asons Assiving Astret Atilless Atims Ativacle Atter Aumant Aways Awing Awite Badays Bades Badze Bantery Barls Bearat Beasil Beate Befixing Befoom Belie Belly Belson Betchamed Bicalil Bikedint Bille Bitteven Blesn Blrest Bmidest Bmishosts Borre Buresso Burety Caled Calests Cater Caugh Caumblr Champt Chassmady Chave Chents Chillose Ching Claxy Cloce Clond Clons Cloplass Clown Clugly Cocien Cocke Comeasham Comed Comem Comen Comenning Cometir Comosty Conase Corbille Corint Corse Corted Couge Couns Coutle Couty Culed Cyclock Daliest Dayed Deate Deatter Demarte Dempt Deounhe Dicasson Diett Dinagoing Dionat Doestior Dollang Doody Doole Doopt Doothic Dress Dureate Dzessed Eadved Earbited Earcises Endicaus Enturn Eving Evolympin Exers Expland Explson Eyour Fames Farable Faragoly Fatchy Fated Fatem Fathrow Fatione Favactin Favoics Feenwery Fereares Fiespiced Fixintive Folack Folly Foring Forse Foused Fressing Fundrals Givicting Golay Golle Grack Gragle Grathen Gressrom Gympin Hamed Hampar Hamping Hanuman Hartmes Hassomme Heack Heaugers Heaughts Hecon Helicjd Henny Hentiong Hentlien Hents Himed Hione Hipme Hobiker Hoblout Hollot Holvace Hosess Hostook Hosts Humbulety Humidn Humie Huseeknic Husts Ifixind Imment Impot Imuste Ineve Ingler Innymonly Ischere Itchons Itens Joetes Joind Joing Jumblure Kerse Kingery Kingtons Kinve Kipper Kiptie Ladporsty Laill Lased Lashon Leadve Leiga Liants Lienney Liern Lieving Lilly Lingto Litan Litanning Lizing Logals Losel Losted Lotle Lounnalif Mager Magivesn Maing Maloce Manal Mandem Manned Marat Marda Marect Mareo Marts® Meging Mendrelf Meourat Mishole Momes Moraug Morets Moutions Moutlint Neved Nfelf Nflogs Noretere Norrrry Nuever Olace Onlympold Optinart Ovate Owals Owlaing Paine Paing Pecal Pection Pedurna Petent Pichame Piona Pladed Plaut Poing Poldiants Poresport Porrible Pread Prigh Prippio Priver Pronics Prons Publoss Pudeck Pudiond Pupper Qualiong Quallors Quevei Ragame Ratims Rautiens Readver Reashow Reatelth Remeal Rinve Rommen Rompt Ronsons Ronve Rundes Runding Rundreat Rustic Rusup Rydant Saace Saack Saaclow Saactiews Saactimp Samed Sameds Sample Scheal Schena Scounner Scrawims Scrince Scrit Sculd Scult Shing Shinge Shiped Shitager Shoberne Shollonas Sight Simous Sinice Siong Sions Sking Skinic Slurts Soman Somes Somon Sooner Sortyle Sough Sples Spons Sponsomes Sporld Sposteb Spoth Stakina Stall Stand Steveri Stingold Stligally Stold Stopperch Strasor Styrs Sualre Subloss Suird Suirld Sweigay Swimmeart Swing Switited Synow Taged Taked Tantions Tartartme Temorn Thants Theada Thennym Therat Thing Thobice Tholly Thumaling Tined Tionsone Tivace Toning Toopt Toore Topps Torave Toriddles Tradeo Trans Trants Tratep Tratick Tualther Turciels Turgep Ughle Ughtleck Unbod Undicjd Undrack Ushons Ustre Usubtle Vathilly Venweing Vilympic Voick Voing Vones Waleast Wantil Waskid Wayed Weellack Weenes Welort Welorter Whaina Whamed Wheldices Whese Whindia Whinner Whinnes Whowedwer Whypeoth Wikedays Wimaking Winstar Womfook Worrite Worrry Wousual Wrentling Wring Wwedi Yamarvene Yeastes Yousebrat Youtions Ytpose

[eaudavie]

Bir kere durust ol maloc kadkwjxmskzkakd

[smilemintstudio]

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[male--byleth]

The hunger isn't going agway I'm gonna for go to sleep before I get a headache gn all plz look at bel air maloce mizer excluding gackt bc who cares

IM SO HUNGRU BUT ITS 4:43 AM