#sacred… molten lava

[theloveinc]

ok remind me to talk abt this later but. ex!husband / co-parent … SHINSO

[yourreddancer]

Many of us are familiar with the story of Pompeii. The Italian city built in the shadow of and ultimately buried in the destruction of Mt. Vesuvius.

Prior to the volcanic eruption Pompeii was a bustling resort town and home to many of Rome’s most enlightened citizens. Though residents of Pompeii were long aware of their volcanic neighbor and the volatile threat it posed, they took for granted that they would survive any eruption.The city flourished and expanded even as the risk of explosion grew greater. More than 15 years prior to its fateful eruption Vesuvius rumbled triggering a powerful earthquake in the nearby town.

Yet through acrobatic displays of cognitive dissonance and incredible displays of hubris the residents remained steadfast in their belief that they were safe from the dangers bubbling beneath the surface. The city continued to prosper, its sustained success taken for granted by entrusted leadership.Even in the midst of the powerful eruption that took place in 79AD residents of Pompeii had time to flee. Yet faced with an unconventional threat, they failed to understand the immediate dangers that lay ahead. The folly of their ignorance cost them their lives.

Within days of its eruption, the city and thousands of its residents lay buried in ash and molten lava. Centuries later the city was remarkably excavated. It’s people preserved in ash for history to note the expression of surprise on the faces of the deceased as they were suddenly faced with the reality of their situation.

Americans, independents, Democrats, progressives and conservatives alike best take note of this cautionary tale. Like Pompeii our traditional checks and balances are no match for the unconventional threat we as a nation face. Though the danger in front of us may be made of flesh and blood the risk is no less real. The destruction left behind will be no less predictable or deadly.The party of Trump is not interested in the preservation of the American dream.

Their end goal is not to advance the experiment in self governance and individual freedoms that has sustained America for near 250 years. This caravan of corruption and criminal enablers hope to achieve is a hodgepodge Christofacist theocratic oligarchy which protects the privileged status of those in control of today’s status quo, while siimultaneously enforcing a fervent moral code and virtuosity. Fulfilling the dispensationalist agenda of that hypocritical band of fundamentalist glory seekers striving to create a holy army to unconditionally serve in the rapturous war to end all wars.

Welcome to modern day Vesuvian threat that is the entirety of the modern day GOP. A party that for years smoked and billowed warnings to our Constitutional Republic now finds itself on the outskirts of our most sacred walls. The very infrastructure which has held our citizenry together lay melting beneath the literal heat emanating from our darkened skies and apathetic hearts. The evidence lay bare for all to see that this imminent threat has no care for tradition, precedent or the rule of law.“

We,” as a nation need to accept a basic premise. The fight to save our Republic must not wait! Our system of checks and balances has collapsed! The constitutional crisis is here! The battle for the soul of our nation is now! A failure to act means we all get burned in the ash and lava that will rain from our nation’s skies. Our Republic’s survival requires proactive action and sacrifice.

Traditions and political norms have no place when faced with an unprecedented threat! Urgent and innovative measures must be taken to safeguard this nation. Further delay will not solve the crisis, but only come to guarantee that the gaping scars on America's soul will be visible for generations to come

[serene-sun]

The Emeritus bloodline, and the devils

Chapter 4b of my series 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘

TW: mention of dead baby, details of murdur and sacrifice, mention of genitals and rapists

ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

One of the oldest families in history, a bloodline said to have sprouted like a rose bush in the pull of blood under the divine crucifixion. The satanic church, the base of all Emeritus life, was essential to the family.

PaPa Emeritus, an unholy heir whom would soon sit upon the thrown of the beast. An old family, with old beliefs, rituals, traditions and heritage could never be forgotten…rather their message of sin was delivered through touch…or music. When a son is born, he is to reign as papa of the church. He will dedicate his life to his religion and people, and will be given a prime mover to gift the dark lord a new leader. 

Ghouls, devils, demons, which ever word you wish to call them, will be summoned amongst a pentagram to be dragged up form the fiery pits of hell by a mysterious masked mistress who remains anonymous. Devils that grew wild ideals were summoned at the birth of a son, The job of the ghoul is to work for their lord through the Emeritus family. Ghouls are feral and unruly creatures, to prevent the murdur or outrageous acts taking place by these inferno creatures, a bond would be put upon them. This bond is an ancient blood ritual, the papa will sacrifice a number of humans equivalent to the number of ghouls needed. An offering will be burned with the person during the sacrifice to bring upon a trait. For example, pure white rabbits symbolize innocence, charcoal will signal fire and wrath. The death of a virgin is key if you desire a new ghoul, a fresh soul tainted with the black oil of baphomets lair. 

The Emeritus blood is pure and sacred, as it shares half of what blood fills the fallen angel lucifer. Satans blood runs through this bloodline as they continue his work in a world he sees unfit. Creatures such as demons, vampires, strigoi, beasts and other entities share only little of his blood. This placed all Emeritus’s higher than any creature. 

The family has a dominate trait of each sin, every drop of emeritus blood swallows whole any normal traits. Emeritus DNA being much more powerful than an average humans.

With the chance of the lord, a daughter has only been born once, and she remains in exile ever since her mysterious death. 

There are many spirits special to this story, but there is the devil who brings the ghouls out of the pits of hell and into the cold human world.

Ajatar, one of the highest ranking devils.

A tall and curved woman, described only to be perfect. Her long black hair that curls at the end like wispy smoke. It is said that her eyes remain covered as they hold the final rays of heaven from the exile of Lucifer. A golden enchantment, that if you look into, you will be dragged away by hell hounds and locked away forever. Her pale skin is dressed in the finest of jeweled clothes, and a mask that covers her face. Her sword, long and sharp, carved from molten lava, slits the throat of any whom lie. She was created out of broken glass, molded together to kill man. She roams in the night, searching for men who are unworthy of life. Ajatar seduced them, humiliates them, and finishes it with a messy murdur. Some call her the karma god, or the revenge goddess. But most summon her to bring death or destruction upon someone. Often seen roaming the halls of the satanic temple, in her arms a bloodied still-born, skin as white as snow, for which she laments, constantly searching for an able womb to bestow her child upon.Others suggest she is seen slitting the throats of men in the halls, and dragging their nude bodies into the woods to be eaten by wolves. There have even been reports of her slicing the genitals of the filthy men, who fall guilty to rape and assault, and sewing them into clothes for the rich.

Ajater is known to push the lust in women over the precipice 

[orcinusrequiensis]

"The first steps of a DragonForge Kobold in the lava lakes of Mount Belvera are sacred."

From the moment they are hatched, they are already exposed to extreme heat and lack of hydration. But finally stepping into the molten rock and dawning your first suit of Tungsten or Titanium is a rite of passage revered by any DragonForge resident. Not every kobold inside Mt. Belvera is built for withstanding the lava, which makes this rite of passage risky, and is taken with extreme precaution. Some kobolds start young, such as the kobling depicted above. The kobling surprised their parent with a suit of their own, taking their first steps out into the lava to greet their father after a long day of work. (In reality, the parent knew all along, hence why they were in the shallow fields during the rite)."

-Dr Yigski Ot , Kobold Anthropologist, in "Chapter 14, specialized kobolds" from Small Creatures, Big World: a comprehensive guide to Kobold Anthropology

The DragonForge was a forge operated by a solo dragon, back when the beasts used to soar the skies. No mortal (since dragons weren't considered mortal, given they didn't age) could withstand the intense climate of the inside of a volcano. This dragon in particular forged monuments and unimaginable crafts out of the metals and gems inside the mountain.

But when Dragons waged war on Humanity, this Dragon chose the wrong side, and was slain in battle by humans and kobolds who were defending refugees crossing TideRidge Passage from the sky beast.

The forge sat abandoned, unusable. That was until a mixed group of kobolds took refuge in the forge's entrance, and over centuries, adapted to the mountain, and built their own culture inside the volcanic catacombs. Taming the fires of the forge and reaching depths that even the dragon dared not travel. Hence the gathering of the DragonForge Kobolds.

First time posting stories, hope it went alright. This is also one of the are times I've tried backgrounds and actually shading said backgrounds, as well as experimenting with lighting.

Not my best work but you have to start somewhere.

[wistfulstarling]

Je t'aime

Something I wrote for a boy who doesn't even glance at me properly.

I love him. Something about the way he loves me. Something about the way he smiles.

He's the sun in spring, shining down on brilliantly colored flowers, and I'm a fallen petal desperately clinging to him.

I come alive with his touch. His mere voice is enough to ruin me. If I could, I would escape reality, to run away with him to someplace holy. If the gods granted me my wish, I would hide away with him to someplace sacred where I may worship the broken statue of love I've built, maddened by his warmth.

I love anger, bitter and blazing. The thing that has driven me, protected me from the world like a blanket of molten lava, forever my hide from the cold of reality. But I love him more. Revenge may be sweet but so is he. He's a cup of hot coffee, a blanket draped around my shoulders. He keeps me from being frozen.

And I love sadness. My only companion for a lonely millennia. The torturous droplets falling from dark rain clouds that bruise my skin. The shadows that coil themselves around me. But my little companion shies away whenever he is near. He is the gentle shelter from a cold downpour. He is the candle that illuminates my world.

My love. My muse.

Oh, how I love my muse.

His beauty is indescribable with mere words or colors or pictures. I write about him but my hands refuse to ache, my words keep flowing as love from my bleeding heart, hoping to tether my soul to his.

Some fall in love with their love. I drowned in his.

And never once have i felt the need to come up for air.

[staticheck]

VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GORE & CHARACTER 'DEATH' TW.

+ 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆! 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃. Their body twisted away from their charge and rolled against jagged rocks like a marionette without strings, gathering additional scrapes and tears against the fabric of their uniform and marred skin. Their once tight braid comes apart as they ragdoll down the uneven slope towards molten lava until finally, cresting along the edge of the world, their figure comes to a halt. One arm splayed towards the cliff, the other falling over their waist — bright crimson eyes glazing over to milk white. Their last breath leaves their open lips. Their blades land nearby. A moment of time separate from the present passes rapidly as foliage frames their corpse, sprouting greenery and red velvet roses into full bloom before withering into ashes.

Though they had succeeded in foiling holy plans by enveloping Lilith in their shadows and jumping to another plane, the sacred beam had still struck true. Not on its intended target, but Alastor who had stood between the opposing forces, resulting in their mangled, lifeless remains on ancient ground; their heart in smithereens and half of their torso asunder. Somewhere in Hell an Overlord feels a ( 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖭𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 ) sever and 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 set in.

Ideas don't die. Vengeance will return, but who knows which century that will be?

* + @bringsin

[steel-and-fire]

He had finally reached the bottom, and now the expanse of molten lava laid before him, bubbling, emiting an immense amount of heat..

Any normal person, or to say, any person without his natural heat resistance, would die simple from staying here too long, as the rock absorbed the temperature and made the place more akin to a boiling pot.

He could endure it, instead... But the next step was more difficult..

He breathed in deeply as he stood close to the edge, standing on a small platform of solid rock, that the path had led him to...

He was battered, exhausted, physically and mentally. The nightmares had been tormenting him without stop, he had been fighting for over a week with nearly no rest..

He was at his limit. And as he stared at the magma, he remembered the time he had bore witness to the ritual he was about to undergo himself. Back when he was still a child, in this sacred volcano, where their ancestors were born, were the magic is so thick it can suffocate you...

You may undergo the Baptism of Flames.

And you will find the answers you are looking for, you will be cleansed... And reborn...

That would be, if it wasn't usually lethal. The heat of this magma bypassed the resistance to fire as if it didnt exist at all... He had to step inside it, and let it scorch him alive.

He could die. He knew it very well.

But he had to do this.

He removed his cloths, his jewelery, set them all in a corner. Took the bracelets in his hand, and pressed them against his chest. The seashell ones..

'Lia, if i forget you, if im forever changed, or if im gone, forgive me. Let this moment forever claim my wish for your happiness, success and wellbeing...

I believe in you, and may this volcano be my witness...'

He then took his necklace in his hands, and spoke a few words for his family, a silent prayer, a reminder, an oath.

And then one for his friends, the ones he met recently, the ones who gave him a new home.. Or tried to.. He was forever grateful..

He exhaled as he stood up, and inhaled deeply again. He grabbed his axe in his hand, as it carried a part of his soul... And walked into the magma, sinking in after the first step..

[hauntmetosleep]

An Interlude in Sweet Variety

Molten Earth

Creeping into our filthy pores, Hot, molten earth dragged down by gravity Opens our forgotten yet tender wounds, Cutting into the atoms of our nuclear veins Our organs combust in a wave of Lard, lava and liquefied stone, An aroma like an extinct breed of beast, The tremors halving our ruined souls, Eclipsing us with the grease of industry

Frozen Sugar

Virtuous love for a green-eyed waverer, Alone in the dimension of endless stairs - Never a heart beats there, nor ever will he die In the tender sweetness of one's last dream - Lying in the abyss, I sense his silence, Listening to the sleep of those never born - Always, my love will be a stranger to me

Saccharide

Sourness of the stomach looms Twine my veins with precious poison Rattle the brittle stems of my bones All of my teeth, turn to aspartame Wither me to null, organ by organ Bitterly-earned bliss of the mind Emaciated at heart and starved of love Reaching forever for the strawberry jar Rotting with sweetness as my nails fall off Yes... it doesn't make me happy as it used to

Discharge

Concealed in an embryo of sacred oil, A vessel worthy of queens, a body steeped in Rich molasses reaped from the new larvae, Adorned in tendrils of sweet golden jelly - Maternal host to the insect god, Ether of madness, a holy hallucination Leeching and bleaching out the skies

Sweetest Dreamer

Man who slumbers in the arms of stars, Alone but beloved by the nova that is my heartbeat - Ripples of cosmic blood, bright and silvery as silk, Swiftly rush by as I am pulled into the lunar sea Holding on to that glimpse of you, distant as Mars, Melting into a kaleidoscope of clouds as I drown - Atlantis will hoard my soul in its ruins. Love, the sweetest dreams I will send to you Lulled by the waltz of eternity, stay dreaming. Opalescent fragments pass me as I fade, Wondering if that last glimmer might've been you...

----------

[Poem from upcoming collection The Gates of Paranoia] Copyright © 2016-2023 S.M. | Samael’s Tuesday

[fluffy-stories]

Fluffy and the Perilous Path of Spaghetti Doom

Fluffy was on a mission. Not just any mission, mind you, but an epic mission. Today, he would brave the Perilous Path of Spaghetti Doom—a dangerous quest that would surely test his agility, wit, and taste buds.

It all started when Fluffy innocently decided to make dinner. His tiny apartment kitchen, with ist clutter of mismatched dishes and questionable leftovers, was now the Kitchen of Trials, a sacred battlefield where only the strongest could survive. On this particular evening, he had chosen his weapon: spaghetti. But this was no ordinary pasta. No, in Fluffy’s mind, this was the Golden Noodles of the Infinite, said to stretch across the skies, tangling clouds and stars in ist web.

With his trusty broom-spear in one paw and a pot balanced precariously on his head as a helmet, Fluffy surveyed the battlefield. His tail twitched in excitement, the purple fin at ist end flickering like a battle flag. The kitchen was quiet—too quiet. He knew this meant only one thing: The spaghetti had sensed his arrival and was preparing to strike.

„Onward!“ Fluffy shouted, hopping from tile to tile, imagining each step as a leap over molten cheese lava. He spun his broom-spear, clanging it against the metal pots hanging overhead. In his mind, the clang echoed through the halls of Fluffland, rallying the forces of good.

As he reached the stovetop, the real battle began. He opened the cabinet and pulled out the box of spaghetti with great reverence. „Ah, the Golden Noodles,“ he whispered. The strings of pasta shimmered in the kitchen’s dim light, though in reality, it was just the reflection from the stained glass window above the sink.

Fluffy gingerly dropped the noodles into the boiling water, which in his imagination, was no longer just water—it was the Boiling Cauldron of Destiny, bubbling with magical properties that could either cook the noodles to perfection or send them spiraling into the chaotic vortex of Overdone Pasta Land.

Suddenly, disaster struck.

The noodles, as if sensing their impending doom, fought back. They began to twirl and twist, their long, unruly strands flailing from the pot like the tentacles of a monstrous sea creature. Fluffy’s eyes widened in horror as the spaghetti, now fully transformed in his mind into the dreaded Spaghettigon, lunged at him.

„Oh no, you don’t!“ Fluffy cried, brandishing his broom-spear. With a daring leap (which in reality was more of a clumsy hop onto the kitchen counter), Fluffy jabbed at the noodles, trying to tame their wild thrashing. He swung the broom with dramatic flair, narrating his every move.

“The brave hero Fluffy, standing tall—well, tall enough—against the vile Spaghettigon!” he declared. His tail wagged furiously as he fought. “He jabs! He slashes! The monster’s grip loosens! Will he survive?”

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Zane, his ever-amused human friend, walked in. Zane had long since stopped being surprised by Fluffy’s antics, but today’s scene was something special. The sight of Fluffy standing on the counter, wielding a broom against an innocent pot of pasta, was too much. Zane leaned against the doorframe, watching with a grin as Fluffy spun and jumped in his imaginary battle.

“Need a hand, hero?” Zane asked, suppressing a chuckle.

Fluffy, panting from his exertions, whipped his head toward Zane, his wide reddish-brown eyes filled with a mix of excitement and confusion. “Zane! You’re just in time! The Spaghettigon is upon us! Grab a shield—uh, or a plate—something!”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “You mean the noodles?”

“No! The Spaghettigon! Look at it!” Fluffy pointed dramatically at the pot, where the noodles had indeed begun to overflow. In Fluffy’s mind, they were rising up, preparing their final assault.

Without missing a beat, Zane walked over, turned the heat down, and stirred the pot with a wooden spoon. The noodles sank back into the water, defeated. Fluffy blinked in surprise.

“Uh… well done, warrior,” Fluffy said, quickly recovering. “But we must remain vigilant. The Spaghettigon may yet rise again!”

Zane shook his head with a laugh. “I think you’ve won this round. But I wouldn’t turn your back on those meatballs—they look shifty.”

Fluffy gasped and spun toward the stove, where a plate of frozen meatballs sat waiting. “Of course! The Meatball Marauders! I knew it wasn’t over!”

He grabbed a spatula—now reimagined as his Spatula of Searing Justice—and eyed the frozen orbs with suspicion. “What dark sorcery is this? They’re… solid. Frozen in time.”

Zane, now used to his friend’s elaborate imaginings, grabbed a pan and tossed the meatballs in, turning up the heat. “Time to thaw them out, Fluff.”

Fluffy grinned, tail wagging fiercely. “Yes! They shall meet their end soon enough.”

The kitchen filled with the warm aroma of cooking pasta and meatballs as the two friends continued their quest. When the meal was finally prepared, Fluffy proudly declared victory. “We have defeated the Spaghettigon and the Meatball Marauders! Fluffland is safe, thanks to our bravery and skill.”

Zane rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, and thanks to the fact that I didn’t let the kitchen catch fire.”

Fluffy plopped down at the table, grabbing his fork as though it were the Fork of Eternal Feasting. „Yes, yes, of course. But remember, hero work is never done.“

As they dug into the pasta, Fluffy glanced around the room, eyes narrowing. “Did you hear that?”

Zane paused, mid-bite. “Hear what?”

“The Dishwasher of Doom… I think it’s plotting something.”

Zane groaned, but couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course it is, Fluff. Of course it is.”

[kitty-is-writing]

✍🏻 WIP snippet ✍🏻

Been working on Forgotten Magic today and thought I'd share a little bit of Soris and his first lesson in magic weaving.

Soris looked around. He had expected something different, from both Blaise and Ember’s descriptions of Isati lands. Rivers of lava, smoke filling the air, fires springing up all over the place, that kind of thing. Instead, this small part seemed much like any other rocky crag on a mountainside. Ember was standing far too near the edge, pointing down and asking Blaise questions about the places they could see below. Soris wondered if the lower parts of the land were more like he’d pictured, but he wasn’t interested enough to go hang over the edge of a cliff.

“Ah, here she is. Okay kiddos, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine.” Soris looked over in time to see a streak of blue fire swirl its way to the ground, and turn into a short, slim woman with nearly black skin and greyish-blue hair.

The woman gave them a playful wave. “Hiya, I’m Tanwen. Nice to meet you both.” She looked at Blaise before speaking again. “How are we working this, then? Are we teaching the two together, or do you want to split?”

Blaise grinned and winked at her. “Well, me and Ember were going to go play with some of the kaifa up top. She thinks she’s ready for some more advanced work, and Soris is looking to figure out some kolnis basics. You mind sticking around here and giving him a crash course?”

“Sure thing, old pal. Mind you don’t toss any of it too far, I don’t fancy picking up molten rock today.” She smiled as they left, and turned to Soris. “So, Soris, you want to learn more about kolnis?”

Soris nodded. “I’ve no idea if I’ll be able to do anything with it, but I’d like to learn more about it. Maybe I can help Ember out with the theory, even if I don’t get the practical down.”

“Aw, young love is so sweet. Well, it’s easier to use kolnis if you’re born with a spark like we are, but not impossible to learn if you weren’t. Since you’re wanting to do this out of curiosity and kindness, rather then greed or hunger for power, I think we can find a way to make it work. Think fast, human.” She suddenly threw a piece of glowing rock towards him, and he barely managed to get a shield up in time. “Not bad. I was kinda hoping you’d catch it, but at least you didn’t get hit. I’ll toss you another one, and I want you to try and grab it. When you do, hold onto it for a bit and tell me what you feel.”

The second one came towards him a little slower, and he was able to catch it. There was a gentle warmth there, as if it had been in the sun for some hours, but the fierce heat suggested by the yellowish orange glow was missing. “It’s not as hot as I was expecting,” he said. “I can’t feel any magic in it, either. Not that I’m familiar with, anyway. How did you…?”

His unfinished question was answered when Tanwen pulled a small bag of pebbles out of her pocket, each of them glowing brightly. “These are from our lands, boyo. Each has a little bit of spark inside, left behind by those who have passed over.” She must have seen something in his expression, because she smiled before continuing. “It’s nothing sacred, just a bit of leftover energy gifted back to the world. The part of the spark that made the person is long gone, so don’t you stress about treading on anyone’s beliefs here. We use these to teach our young ones how to use the spark, and help wake up their own. Figured it’d be appropriate here.”

“Great. So what do I do with it?”

“Well, you can play with it for a bit and see what you get out of it. I’ve got a bunch here, so if that one doesn’t work for you we can try another. Have a go at casting some spells, but don’t use your own energy. Try and draw from the spark in the stone.”

Soris tried a few simple flame spells, which all worked as expected, but nothing seemed to come from the pebble in his hand. “I’m not getting much from this one.”

Tanwen nodded. “Yeah, I could tell. Come here a second.” She lightly pressed two fingers on either side of his head, just in front of his ears. “Your own energy is strong, and it’s overriding the spark. I’ll damp it down for now. Try again, and let the stone talk to you this time.”

He attempted one of the spells a second time, an easy one that would create a small flame on a fingertip, but where he would expect magic to flow and complete the spell, there was only a cool, tingling sensation. Instead, soft whispers seemed to come from the stone he held, and he allowed that presence to guide his own intent. The flame lit slowly, differently to how it usually went, and burned with a bright, almost white light rather than the soft orangish yellow he expected.

“There you go. That's a good bright spark there,” Tanwen said. “Now, how's that energy feel? Different to your usual spells?”

“It's… I don't know how to describe it. There's a kind of independence behind it, I guess? Like I'm guiding the magic into doing the spell itself, rather than using it to power my spell.” It sounded stupid when he said it aloud, but Tanwen just smiled and nodded again. “That made sense to you?”

“Yep. Most of my experience is with kolnis, but I've played around with a few other energies before. The risnat you're used to is tough to work with, since you've got to do it all yourself. Most others will help you out along the way, but risnat’s an awkward bastard. Kinda like the dragons it came from. Try a few more spells, ignore the pushy risnat and listen to the sparks.”

[dasrupesh]

Others

          What you think of yourself is more important and significant than what others think about you.It's not your business what others think of you and it should not be your business either thinking about others.infact,one should mind his own activities and his own business.You shouldn't peep in someone's home and in someone's life to know what's going on until and unless he tells you.You should peep into your own life and introspect about yourself which makes more sense.Whatever you do,there is always criticism because no one is inevitable of criticisms.If you do something,people will criticize you and even people will criticize you if you do nothing.In either way,you are the victim of criticism because people are critic.There are two kinds of criticism.One is positive and the other one is negative.Criticism is criticism either it is positive or negative.Positive criticism are better ones than the negative ones.Positive criticism reminds you to make yourself better.People criticize according to their perspectives and understandings.Envy is the negative desire and negative criticism about the achievements and fortune of others.When you achieve something better and reach the highest level in life then those who feel envy will definitely criticize you and hope your downfall.The envious one will try his level best to pull you down from the top of ladder to the ground.They can't sleep properly until they see you down in the ladder.This is the nature of envy which is of dark realm.

             The structure of people's mind and society is that they are always watching what others do like the watchdog and watchtower.They watch like the secret agent who does his secret activities of spying others.The free society is still the mirage and freedom is an empty word in life and in the world.The word ‘freedom’ sounds beautiful to ears but in ground reality,it is an empty word which is not loaded in the controlled society and in the world because you are in an invisible web of systemic jurisprudence.You are watched by the cameras in roads and when you enter someone's house,you are watched.You are watched everywhere in the world except your home.You are watched by the spy satellites with pin point accuracy.Your location can be tracked anywhere if you have smartphone or an ordinary phone.You are not free and never be.Any country which talks and advocates about freedom and says it's citizens are free is lying.Half freedom is not the freedom.Half truth is not the truth.Half man is not the man.Half woman is not the woman.You find invisible web everywhere imposed by the government and systems in which small insects gets trapped and big insects breaks the web.The life which is inside the web and surveillance can't be free life at all.Even you don't think about others what they do,the others will think about you that what you do.Even if you don't criticize others,other will criticize you.Even if you love others,there will be people who will hate you because this is not the nice world as it seems.The wicked land is under the wicked sky and the black wings lurks everywhere and anytime.There are wicked people who does bad to others and there are good people who does good to others in this world because of presence of the black heart and sacred heart.

         No matter how much you do good,there will be always some people who will criticize you because there are envious critics which can't see the rise of others.Nobody is enemyless.You can't have friends only but you have enemies too.The people and the world is not that what it seems from outside.There is a different story beneath the surface.The earth looks calm from surface but she is violent inside in the core.There is molten lava in the core of the earth which shakes,the tectonic plates shakes for adjustments and consequently there are earthquakes and volcanoes.The lava erupts,earthquakes comes,hurricanes comes,tsunami comes and many more nature's fury occurs.All that glitters is not gold.Not all polites and humbles are nice people.You should not care what others think about you.Only you know yourself.Others can know you only in surface and partially.Nobody can know you totally.Only you can know you totally.So,it doesn't make sense at all what others think about you and people should not sense about others.One should sense about oneself but not of others.You are more important to yourself than others.Of course,your loved ones are important to you because they love you and gives you the positive criticism for your betterment.You care and think nice of those whom you love and your loved one cares and loves you.Thinking bad and thinking downfall of others is the envy which is wrong and evil in nature.The dark hearted people does this kind of activity.What others think about you is not the matter of concern and must not be so.It makes more sense thinking about yourself than thinking about others in this wicked and selfish world.In love and in the act of service to others,it makes highsense thinking about others who are in need of love,care and service.

Email: dasrupesh22@gmail.com

[thelorehold]

Quest Title: The Anvil of Durnamir

Quest Giver: Forge Matron Brunhilda Stoneheart

Objective: Recover the Anvil of Durnamir, a sacred dwarven relic that has been stolen by the treacherous fire giants of the Molten Peak. The anvil is said to be imbued with the spirit of the dwarven god of craftsmanship and is essential for forging legendary weapons.

Location: The quest will lead the female dwarven fighter through the perilous Scorched Pass, into the fiery depths of the Molten Peak, and into the heart of the fire giants' stronghold.

Challenges:

- Traverse the dangerous Scorched Pass, avoiding lava flows and fiery creatures that inhabit the area.

- Use your dwarven resilience to resist the intense heat and toxic fumes within the Molten Peak.

- Battle the fire giants and their minions, using your combat skills and dwarven fortitude.

- Solve ancient puzzles that protect the chamber where the Anvil of Durnamir is kept.

Reward: Upon retrieving the Anvil of Durnamir, you will be granted the ability to forge a weapon or piece of armor of exceptional quality, imbued with the blessings of the dwarven gods.

Completion: Return the Anvil to Forge Matron Brunhilda Stoneheart, who will honor you with a feast in the Great Hall of Dwarves and bestow upon you the title of Champion of the Forge.

This quest will test the mettle of the female dwarven fighter, challenging her strength, endurance, and fighting spirit as she seeks to reclaim a piece of her people's heritage.

[to-travel-smart]

Hawaii: A Tale of Enchantment and Majesty Prepare to embark on a journey of discovery, dear reader, as we delve into the alluring enigma that is Hawaii. This jewel of the Pacific, with its vibrant culture, diverse geography, and rich history, beckons to all who seek beauty and adventure. Hawaii, a state like no other, brims with secrets and wonders that await your exploration. Hawaï The Genesis of the Paradise Isles The Enchanted Isles, a land of myth and magic, joined the union as the fiftieth state on August 21, 1959. Yet, long before this modern affiliation, Polynesian navigators, guided only by the stars and their intrepid spirits, discovered these islands some 1,500 years ago. These early settlers planted the seeds of a culture that has grown into a lush and vibrant heritage, resonant with tales of bravery, gods, and the harmonious dance of nature and humanity. The Wonders of Geography The Tropical Archipelago's geography is a marvel to behold. Situated 2,000 miles from the nearest landmass, it is the most isolated archipelago on Earth. This remoteness has nurtured ecosystems so diverse and splendid that they defy imagination. In The Pacific Paradise, one can traverse from misty rainforests to arid deserts within minutes, encounter valleys teeming with life, and marvel at waterfalls that cascade with grace and power. Each island offers a unique landscape and an array of flora and fauna that make every journey a new and thrilling adventure. On the island of Kauai, a decree protects the natural skyline by forbidding any structure from rising taller than a palm tree. This regulation ensures that the island's breathtaking vistas remain unmarred by the hand of man, preserving its pristine beauty for generations to come. The Majestic Mauna Kea Behold Mauna Kea, the world's tallest mountain when measured from its base on the ocean floor. Though its peak rises 13,800 feet above the Pacific, its true height reaches a staggering 33,500 feet, surpassing even Mount Everest. This colossal mountain, often cloaked in snow, presents a stark and stunning contrast to the tropical paradise below. Astronomers flock to its summit to peer into the universe, while ancient revered it as a sacred realm, home to the gods. Volcanoes: Nature’s Fiery Forge In the remote wilderness of the Big Island lies The Aloha State Volcanoes National Park, a testament to the raw power and beauty of the Earth’s inner workings. Here, Kilauea, the world’s most active volcano, and Mauna Loa, the largest, continually reshape the landscape with their fiery flows. This park, spanning 323,000 acres from sea to summit, attracts millions who come to witness the spectacle of creation and destruction. The park is dedicated to Pele, the goddess of fire, whose presence is felt in every eruption and lava flow. Recent activity at Kilauea serves as a potent reminder of the island's ever-evolving nature, with new land being forged in the crucible of molten rock. The Language of the Isles The Volcanic Isles is a land of dual tongues, where Hawaiian and English share official status. The Hawaiian language, once nearly lost to time and suppression, has seen a renaissance and is now spoken proudly across the islands. This revival is more than linguistic—it is a reclaiming of identity, history, and soul. The language, with its 13 letters and unique 'okina, adds a lyrical beauty to everyday life, connecting the past to the present in a seamless, melodic thread. The Flora and Fauna: Unique Treasures The Oceanic Jewel, due to its isolation, is home to species found nowhere else. Among these treasures are the Hawaiian hoary bat and the Hawaiian monk seal, both endangered and emblematic of the islands’ fragile ecosystems. The hoary bat, with its silver-grey fur, flits through the dusk skies, while the monk seal, with its soulful eyes, rests upon sandy shores. These creatures, like Hawaii’s varied landscapes, are testaments to the islands’ unique evolution and the delicate balance of life therein.

The Beaches of Many Hues The Pacific Haven’s beaches, a paradise for sunbathers and adventurers alike, boast sands of myriad colors, each a testament to the islands’ volcanic origins. From the green sands of Papakōlea, rich in olivine, to the iron-rich red sands that gleam like rust, these shores tell a tale of ancient eruptions and nature’s grand design. Waikiki Beach, among the most famed, hath even required imported sands to combat erosion, showcasing the lengths taken to preserve these iconic coastlines. The Royal Palace: A Glimpse into Regal Splendor In downtown Honolulu doth stand Iolani Palace, the sole royal residence in the United States. Built in 1882 under King Kalakaua’s reign, it remains a beacon of The Emerald Islands’s monarchical past. The palace, once the epicenter of political and social life, now serves as a window into a bygone era, its halls echoing with the footsteps of royalty. The Aloha Spirit The Paradise Isles is oft called the Aloha State, a name encapsulating its cultural essence. The word “aloha” signifies not just greetings and farewells but embodies love, respect, and compassion. This Aloha Spirit, legally recognized since 1986, promotes a way of life that values the land and its people, fostering a community grounded in kindness and reverence. As we conclude our exploration of Hawaii, we reflect upon its unique and diverse qualities. From the towering heights of Mauna Kea to the melodic Hawaiian tongue, the marvels of these isles barely scratch the surface of this enchanting realm. Hawaii, with its natural wonders, cultural richness, and historical significance, continues to captivate and inspire. So, gentle reader, may the Aloha Spirit accompany thee, and may thy heart ever yearn to return and uncover more of Hawaii's boundless treasures. Cheap Flight Hacks: Travel More, Spend Less!

[kanisema-blog]

Marry My Husband, Azariah.

In the vibrant tapestry of life, I, Azalea, a concept artist with a vivid imagination, stumbled upon a twisted thread—a secret that threatened to unravel the fabric of my existence.

"Darling, I'm home!" I called out, my heart brimming with anticipation, unaware of the storm brewing within.

A muffled response echoed through the apartment. "I'm in the bedroom, love."

As I approached our once-sacred space, a chill ran down my spine. The scent of unfamiliar perfume lingered in the air, like a bitter omen. I cautiously opened the door and gasped.

There, on our matrimonial bed, my husband, Bryan, lay entwined with another woman. She was hourglass-shaped and radiant, with dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders like a silken waterfall.

"Azariah..." I whispered her name, a cruel revelation.

Bryan stirred, his eyes widening in horror. "Azalea, I..."

Azariah lounged against Bryan, a smug smile playing on her lips. "I'm sorry, but it seems you've encountered a case of... "Marry My Husband, Azariah." "

"What?" I sputtered, my world crumbling around me.

"You see, my dear," Azariah continued, her voice dripping with condescension, "Bryan has a hobby. He collects lost women like you, and when he tires of them, he marries them off to me. It's our little game."

Fury surged through me like molten lava. 'You're a heartless harpy!"

Azariah giggled. "Oh, but darling, isn't it romantic? To think that your last memory of wedded bliss was with another woman. And I believe I have a very special offer for you."

She reached for a document lying on the bedside table. "Here, sign this pre-nuptial agreement. It'll ensure that I inherit everything from Bryan when he passes away. And don't worry, he prefers women with a bit more life insurance. You'll be taken care of."

"Never!" I shouted. "I'll never divorce Bryan!"

Azariah sighed. "Pity. Time to call the wedding bells, I suppose."

As the ceremony proceeded in a grotesque mockery of our own, I could hear Bryan whispering apologies through gritted teeth. Azariah wore a triumphant grin, her mission accomplished.

But even in the depths of despair, a faint glimmer of humor sparked within me. This marriage may have been a trap, but I refused to let Azariah rob me of my laughter.

"Azariah, darling," I said, my voice dripping with insincerity, "you know what they say: when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. And in this case, I'll make sure it's arsenic-dusted lemonade. Cheers!"

[caffeinejournalist23]

"Resilience often makes us less soft”

My pain was an intensity like ecstasy

Like the ecstasy I felt

When your lips said my name for the first time.

The golden gates the beauty of your soul brought me to

Parted for me

And I realize this is a floodgate

A dam for my pain.

I stood numb and shivering

Watching my pain well up to flood me

As your rejection

Formed behind your eyes

And began to drip from your tongue.

As my pain washed over me

Like molten gold

The same lava of sun

That burned Icarus

I collapsed.

My pain showed no mercy

Rushing over me

Filling me

Rubbing me

Tasting and choking me

Similar

To how you rushed to fill me, rub me, taste me.

And like your affection

My pain brought me to a sacred place

Leaving me breathless

Numb

Staring up at God

Naked and weak.

My legs were spread

My arms were open

And I watched what remained of my soul

Scatter into a billion pieces.

Maybe if my shattered heart

Split into smaller and smaller fragments

The wind of my pain

Could carry my heart far and wide

Across oceans and beyond boundaries

Where my heart had never been before.

Maybe those small remains

Would be found and held by nomads pacing in desserts

Pilots grazing skies

Sailors caressing oceans

And they could endure the journey

To bring my heart's shards back to me,

Honoring the duty of a bold explorer and

Cherishing the mysteries of my pieces like the treasures of weary travelers.

Perhaps

This is why I would love again after failing love so many times.

Perhaps I craved the high and ecstasy

Of both love and pain.

And because the resilience hardens me

This time I've surrendered to my blinding pain,

Pain that will always belong to me

But can only be gifted to me from failed lovers.

I've surrendered to the pain

And the molten lava of that pain

Molded what little remained of my heart

Into glass marbles

rolling into exotic lands

to be found by explorer's hands.

Perhaps to surrender to pain

Is the only way

To keep this from always ending the same.

[sp0re-speaks]

I think the world began with fire

ǝɹᴉɟ uᴉ puǝ llᴉʍ plɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ʞuᴉɥʇ I

I think the world began when the first group of people, real people, like you or me, gathered around the first campfire to tell the first story that would become the first legends of the very first gods.

No. Older than that.

I think the world began with the first creature to discover fire. Some early thing, with hands and feet and large large teeth, with some remnants of a tail. When they found out how to conjure the force that came with lightning and burned down forests, and soften it to warm their breath and cook their meat.

No. Older than that.

I think the world began when volcanoes, now long-buried, erupted beneath the endless sea of planet earth. Splitting the seafloor, spitting smog and ash and slag and lava. Lava that flowed into land. Land that became the basis for everything here today.

No.

I think the world started with the earth as a roiling ball of molten metal, being forged in the furnace of the stars, in the first thousand-year seconds of the galaxy.

No.

I think the world started with the sun. Not our sun. Maybe not any sun you or I have ever seen. But the first star that exploded into the universe with such force that the very action of its birth couldn't help but to echo across every fraction of the universe. Every galaxy, every solar system, every sun, every planet and every being on it. Every person you've ever seen, created from the birth of the first star.

I think the world will end in fire. One day, the star that gives us life will burn out. Will collapse on itself, a destruction with the potential to erase our entire galaxy. Everyone you've ever known, everything you've ever even conceived of, long gone centuries before it happened. If there's any hope of our memory even making it that long, it won't stand a chance after that.

I think the world began when the stars died. When the last ball of sacred, life-giving fire coughed up its dying breath and scattered itself across a different cosmos from the one it was born in. A cosmos full of the corpses of dead gods. Dead stars and scorched worlds, with everything they needed to create what was to come next.