growing decay

Random Wilderness Encounters (1d20) #2

[1] A band of muggers attack the party, they are completely drunk and can barely hold a dagger

[2] It seems you’ve stumbled onto the hidden base of an Alchemist, strange abominations infused with Chromatic Orbs guard the premise

[3] “Huh. That’s weird, did that plant just move or was it just me?”

[4] While scavenging for food, you stumble upon an adorable but frightened rabbit. Every time it sneezes it changes forms, starting with Owlbear

[5] An abandoned grain mill provides some convenient shelter for the night. Inside the mill the party discover a complex mechanical endoskeleton, the rusted metal gears creak uneasily

[6] Nearby, a crowd has gathered around a clay golem without a master. The crowd watches, enchanted as the golem paints masterpieces. The paint has a strange property…

[7] Two Monsters are locked in combat, bloodied and breathing heavily. It seems their glorious duel is one of honor, maybe bet on a winner?

[8] A Dragon flies overhead holding onto a hoard of gold and treasures. A sudden change in direction causes a piece of their treasure to fall

[9] Dozens of fish with human legs crawl out of a lake. This school of peculiar fish seem to be on a mission

[10] Rock music is heard in the distance followed by bouts of cheering, strange aromas fill the air. It seems you are approaching a Music Festival

[11] You’ve wandered onto the premises of a camp for young Wizards. A Wizarding tournament is taking place and things get very dangerous, very fast

[12] A cobblestone bridge stretches across a deep ravine. An Orc guarding the bridge demands you pay the toll, fortunately it is very small. After crossing the bridge you simply cannot remember where you are or where you’re going- Oh, a hey! A bridge! (And repeat)

[13] A Mage stands in front of an unfinished tower. Upon seeing the party, they ask for assistance

[14] A few hundred feet ahead, a strange house on wheels attached to two horses is parked on the side of the road. The house is somewhat destroyed but a sign on the roof is visible, “The Legendary Vagabond’s Sensational Creature Exhibit”

[15] The ground below rumbles as a Monster emerges catching one of the party members in their teeth

[16] In the center of the forest clearing, an abandoned field of flowers sway. These strange flowers are growing out the decayed body of a Dryad

[17] A wild chicken jumps out of the bushes, it’s beak covered in blood. Surely this chicken is no threat, right?

[18] Seated beside the river shore, an ethereal creature weeps. They reveal themselves as a Demigod with daddy issues

[19] Hungrily, a non-traditional Chimera stalks the party. The beast is stitched together poorly

[20] Inside the log of a fallen tree lies a poorly concealed treasure chest full of stolen loot. I’m sure nobody will mind if we take it?

(Feel free to use and reformat to your campaign. These are a lot of fun so I’ll keep on posting this periodically. Maybe I’ll even set it up for a couple days a week? I guess we’ll see!)


Ask Ethan: Do Black Holes Grow Faster Than They Evaporate?

“Wondering why black holes wouldn’t be growing faster than they can evaporate due to [Hawking] radiation. If particle pairs are erupting everywhere in space, including inside [black hole] event horizons, and not all of them are annihilating one another shortly thereafter, why doesn’t a [black hole] slowly swell due to surviving particles that don’t get annihilated?”

So, you’ve got a black hole in the Universe, and you want to know what happens next. The space around it is curved due to the presence of the central mass, with greater curvature occurring closer to the center. There’s an event horizon, a location from which light cannot escape. And there’s the quantum nature of the Universe, which means that the zero-point-energy of empty space has a positive value: it’s greater than zero. Put them together, and you get some interesting consequences. One of these is Hawking radiation, where radiation is created and moves away from the black hole’s center. It occurs at a specific rate that’s dependent on the black hole’s mass. But another is black hole growth from the mass and energy that falls through the event horizon, causing that black hole to grow. At the present time, realistic black holes are all growing faster than they’re decaying, but that won’t be the case for always.

Eventually, all black holes will decay away. Come find out the story on when evaporation will win out on this week’s Ask Ethan!

Mihael Keehl was not meant to grow old.

In a candle-lit church stood a young boy, shuddering in the November cold. Behind his eyelids flashed images of death, flames, deep sorrow. God whispered to his dreams, “You will not grow old.”

The decay, the melting of skin and flesh and bones and hopes and dreams and goals and pain, pain, pain.

He was nauseous for two days.

“What’s your name?”


The danse macabre was his favourite pastime.

Until he was rotting away in an alley, slipping in and out of consciousness.


There was God, mocking him. There was God, whispering old truths into his ear. Yeah, you told me so. I know.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay. Fuck. Shit. Just – here. Okay.”

Mello was as dead as half the skin on his face.

Mihael Keehl sat on a worn-out mattress. It was 2am.

His encounter with death was no longer a dance, smooth and light and fast. No, it only took one misstep to ruin the illusion. Now death had tasted him, and it wanted more, more, more. Left a mark for the world to see, as a reminder to everyone that this man belonged to death alone.

Death’s grip around his throat made it hard to speak.

Matt’s lips tasted like ash and blood.

Mihael was insatiable.

Death smiled into the kiss.

January 26th.

When death took Matt, it was over.

Death seized his heart and stopped time.

Mihael was not meant to grow old.

Neither was Matt.


Fall colors year-round: the high desert in Technicolor

Story and photos by Greg Shine, BLM Oregon/Washington Tumblr blogger

Fall is known as the season for nature’s colors, but what if you could see magnificent oranges, bright yellows and fluorescent greens year round? One place you can is on public lands in central and eastern Oregon.

Far from the black and white of old cowboy movies filmed in the area decades ago, a multitude of colors – including autumn’s reds, oranges and yellows – abounds perennially in Oregon’s high desert, compliments of unlikely hosts.

At closer glance, those monstrous, jagged, fault scarps and rocky remnants from ancient volcanoes and shifts of tectonic plates – the outcroppings and rims that give the area its rugged, desolate look – are far from barren of bright color. Same with the dead limbs and decaying trunks of evergreen juniper and pine trees. Even the wooden fence posts studding the range harbor flamboyant life.

Keep reading


Request: do you think you could please do something for pennywise waking up from his hibernation and seeing his s/o older?

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy

Word Count: 1.3 K +

Warning: None

Pennywise’s hands dug deep into the cobblestone. It’s bearings loose and allowing for his fingers to mold into his past grips. The wet moss that had grown over the years smelling damp and strung out, he sniffed the air once before pulling himself up in restricted movements of sore muscles. Painful aching to his bones accompanying the mindless thoughts that ran through his head. His long rest over, Pennywise’s stomach then rumbled, and he opened his mouth. Drool falling onto his ruff while he breathed heavily. His eyes a menacing yellow and his costume dirty from the dirt and weeds that had grown over him in the time being. 

At first, just like any other awakening, Pennywise didn’t think about anything else but food. To get… Something. Even just a month old baby would do him good for a few hours. However, those were hardest to find as mothers kept strict eyes on those little things. He huffed. His mind gazing upon countless tactics, ways of getting what he needed, before his heart ran colder than usual and his breath hitched in his throat. A slow whine coming from his lips as they quivered and he remembered… Something. You. Something about you… How you smelled, how you tasted. You had been a young teenager when he first met you, growing to a woman as he nurtured your thoughts under his control. He could only imagine where you were now… Still waiting for him? He doubted it. Humans had a particular notion of not following the rules set for them. 

Moving through the tunnels with long arms and a mindset on what to capture, or when best to feed, he also thought about the changes in the people. He knew there were changes, oh definitely. He thought about the changes with you, first and foremost, the thought bringing him to the upsetting factor that he’d be forced to relearn his tricks and now learn how to abide it to the society of 27 years later since his last feeding. Pennywise let out a growl, something about the lack of energy he felt making it hard for him to focus. You drained him, just the thought of you. Just the worry of whether or not you had left. Whether or not you were okay, safe. Alive. 

The sun beginning to peer through the entrance of the tunnel, Pennywise lifted his hand and dragged it through the cobblestone. Standing with his shadow casting over the running waters for a heartbeat. Before looking up, and lifting himself into a separate, disconnected tunnel. He knew it was stupid… His acknowledgment of his thoughts coming with a harsh ruffle of his bells and a low growl. He knew it was stupid to see… But he felt the overwhelming desire And that seemed, in the moment, to trump all responsibilities to feed himself. 

Dragging his feet into a lower part of the sewer system, pennywise changed forms in order to fit through the shallow walls of the tunnel, that would ultimately lead to where he knew you’d be if you were still here… Here. Derry. The town that he had underneath his fingertips. 

Once he could see the entrance of the library, pennywise pushed his energy through the grass field, up the stairs, and through the glass doors. His shadow casting long, powerful surges into the people’s hearts. Settling inside of one of the walls, where the view was clear for the next hundred or so feet, at least, Pennywise melded into the kid’s mural of fluffy colors and happy smiles. 

“I was thinking about working there.” 

“Where?” He grumbled, his chest rising and falling heavily with your face pressed against his ruffles. Your fingers were playing with one of his bells, the slight ding through long silences reminding him that you were still awake. 

“The library.” You took a sigh, glancing up at Pennywise’s face. No matter how many times you looked at him, your heart skipped a beat, running cold for a split second and then returning to normal. Moving your gaze back down, you adjusted yourself against him. Your body curled on top of his chest, knees tucked in and your fingers dancing lightly against his costume. 

He could see it now, the way you loved talking about how the library smelled, how it felt to be in there. The kid’s section was on the second floor, out looking the rest of the library without many obstacles other than a few small shelves. 

There was suddenly a woman who walked up the stairs, and Pennywise locked eyes with the slim waist, moving his concrete gaze over the slim fitted skirt that reached her ankles, the cardigan that fell just at the waistband, and the white blouse. She was wearing her hair up in a bun, a few strands falling lazily over her face, glasses pushed up the bridge of her nose. Turning into the kid’s section, Pennywise saw that she was holding a stack of picture books. 

She sat them down on the fourth shelf, and Pennywise felt himself getting more and more agitated. Trying to find something that could… Show him it was you. It can’t be. No no… No… It can’t be. Show me. He thought to himself, his eyes beginning to dissolve from the light blue into a golden fuel. The woman pushed her glasses up higher, moving the loose strands of hair back behind her air and then pushing her sleeves up higher on her wrists. There was a single scar. One that had been cut deep, one that-

You leaned against the shelf and crossed one leg over the other. Your arms over your chest. High waisted black jeans and a white t-shirt tucked into the front. Shelly was stacking the children’s books, her glasses continually falling down her nose and her frustrated grunts making you laugh.

“Need some help?”

“I got it.” She glanced over at you with the side of her eye, pushing another coloring book into row 4A. 

“Oka-” You began to turn around, your eyes catching sight of the clown that had been painted on the wall. Your heart stopping and your breath catching in your throat. It was him–His orange hair the same, yellow eyes feral. You stopped moving, and Shelly turned all the way. Inspecting you as you lifted your hand to your shoulder. Feeling the tingling sensation of the scar that had been left by one-time Pennywise bit into your shoulder… That one time leaving you with a scar for life. The scar you stared at in the mirror, the one you touched when you thought of him. 

“You alright?” Shelly turned to you and squinted her eyes. “You look pale.” 

“I-I-I um… I h-have to go.” Turning, you fled down the stairs, feeling overwhelming nausea come over you. That was him. It was him, he was back. And you couldn’t face the reality that you had changed–and he had seen you.

Pennywise fell back into the sewer water, his back slamming against the wall as he choked, shaking his head. You were different-your… Hair now laced with silver strands and your face… Tired. Bags under your eyes but still the young smile he had kissed. You weren’t… You. The young woman he had met that one winter, her jacket’s fur grazing her rosy cheeks as she stood in the wind, overlooking the canal. The beautiful young woman that he had become obsessed with, only to leave and… Let her grow old and decay like everyone did. 

His shock was buried in the pit of his stomach with an overwhelming, boiling hatred for time–for his form, shape–nature. Breathing heavily, Pennywise lifted his gloved hand, now soaking wet, to his mouth. Feeling the accentuated frown that had peeled his lips into a scowl. Warm tears flowing and mixing with the drool that he couldn’t stop from dripping from his teeth. 

You were gone. The woman he knew now someone different, only with the same scars. 

When the war begins,
there is no way of predicting
the person you are fated to become.

I tried to be the good girl,
but that was never my story.
She decayed, mold grew from
her lungs. I left her to rot
under my floorboards.

She fought not to give into
the darkness within her,
but I have always been there.
I always will be.

Some girls grow up to be princesses;
some of us grow up to be witches.

—  The Princess and the Witch

Trying to get into the swing of practicing comic pages regularly so…have some entirely unplanned Rampage vs Botanica for my vaguely Beast-Wars-Y setting? I’ve been calling it TF: Paradise.

Both of them are incredibly adaptive, functionally immortal, and capable of almost entirely re-growing their bodies for different environments, to heal damage, or to give themselves specialized features. This is probably relatively early after the first time they met- seeing as Rampage seldom underestimates his opponents, and likely doesn’t know that deserts are just as happy to host plants as anywhere else, yet.

Transcript under the cut, because of my handwriting.

Keep reading

So, Halloween is very far away, but hear me out.

Spooky AU

The idea is that the ninja are some sort of halloween/scary related “monsters”.


His eyes are like those I have for the demon au. He has a massive scar on his chest/stomach from when he died before hand. He was brought back through dark magic, very similar to what Clouse used. He has markings all over his body that binds his soul to his body.
He doesn’t age at all because he’s quite literally a walking corpse that doesn’t decay. Nothing grows and nothing falls out or rots.
He can take any hit, any injury, and not die. A hole was punched through him? No problem, it’ll heal within a day if he lays back and lets his body do it’s wonders.


He had died in an explosion when working on an invention. His father, a famous scientist and inventor, couldn’t handle the loss of his boy. His father stitched together body parts to what was left of Jay and brought him back to life. Everything on his body is natural, except one arm, a leg, a large portion of his abdomen, and one side of his face. Those are all slightly green tinted from the rotting.
The appendages are quite literally stitched on. Jay’s clumsy, and always seems to accidentally lose his body parts. He has to get one of the others to stitch it back on.
Lloyd and Kai have absolutely messed with him and sewed on the parts facing the wrong way. Zane usually fixes it.
He absolutely does the “need a hand?” joke when eh takes off his arm.


Kai was bitten when he was young. He doesn’t remember anything from the incident. He just remembers bits and pieces of Nya looking over him in concern and then waking up to the bites on his neck. Nya refuses to talk about it.
Kai gets very upset whenever someone brings up vampires turning into bats. He can’t do it, and he gets irritated that he can’t fly.
Even after being a vampire for years Kai still hasn’t gotten used to talking with his fangs. He constantly pokes his tongue or lips, cutting them open.
Kai has to put on a special cream to be able to go outside in the sun. He’s only forgotten to put it on once, and from that one time alone he learned to never forget it. 
Kai can go about two weeks without feeding on blood. The longer he waits, however, the weaker he gets. He’ll usually go a week before sneaking into a blood bank or hospital. He tries to avoid bitting people as much as possible.


Nya grew up surrounded by spell books. Kai never even noticed. Nya studies books that their mother had used. She found the books on accident while cleaning the blacksmith shop, triggering a secret door that led underground to a small witch with a cauldron, spell books, enchanted items, and much more.
Nya can cast small spells without muttering a word. Small spells are for things like creating balls of light or summoning something into her hand.
For bigger spells, Nya has to use spells from spell books. She can cast things like force fields if she uses words.
Nya has a room she can fly on. Kai is very jealous. 
She refuses to wear skirts and dresses like the stereotypical witch. She wears warlock cloaks instead. She does wear the witch hat, though.


Lloyd ended up as a skeleton by being cursed. When he had stormed through a village demanding for candy, he had bumped into the village’s fortune teller. He screamed at her, demanding that she bow to him, the “son of Lord Garmadon!”. The teller only laughed, telling him that if he wanted to be so much like his father then she could give it to him. She tricked him, and cursed him to be a skeleton, the very thing that his father ruled over in the Underworld. 
Lloyd hates magic as a result of this. And is still very cautious when he’s around Nya.
Lloyd can’t die. He’s literally just a skeleton with a soul trapped inside it. The only way he can “die” is if his soul is somehow damaged. 
His bones can shatter into millions of pieces, they’ll just reform back into their original stage and he’ll look like nothing ever happened.
Lloyd’s “eyes” are just glowing lights in his skull’s eye sockets. 
Lloyd wears the hooded cloak he had as a child all the time. It hides the fact he’s a skeleton, and he calls himself the “grim reaper”.


For the longest time everyone thought Zane was human (or… well… you know). They thought that he wasn’t a creature or affected like they were. But then they started noticing a pattern in Zane’s disappearances. 
It was Cole who found out Zane was a werewolf. He found out the hard way, after he had followed Zane. Cole had startled Zane in his wolf form, causing him to go feral and attack the earth ninja. Zane was horrified when he found Cole the next morning.
Zane goes very deep in the woods, so he knows that the only thing he can harm is any wildlife. He hates the idea of taking any lives, let alone humans.
A day before Zane turns he grows a lot of hair. Chest, facial, just body hair in general. He grows sharper teeth, and his pupils narrow. 
Zane will change if he’s too emotionally stressed. If he finds a threat and is angered enough, he will transform and attack anything around him. This transformation is much more painful than a normal one, and he stays as a wolf up until the next full moon ends. 
Zane gets extremely hungry after the day he transforms. He’ll eat practically anything on the Bounty.
Once wolf!Zane grows used to a person’s scent, he practically turns into a giant lapdog. Wagging his tail and panting excitedly to the person. Sometimes even playing fetch. 

sedgeygrass  asked:

Hi I have a question! I'm a new gardener (I'm in high school) and I was wondering if it's bad for mushrooms to grow in my raised beds of vegetables/my potted herb plants? I'm kind of unsure about the whole thing. My mother (who admittedly is a pretty bad gardener) always grumbles and picks them out of the soil saying they're poisonous and bad, but then I see all your pictures and suddenly I'm wondering if they're actually good/neutral? Please let me know! -Emily

Mushrooms are actually a good sign in the garden! Mushrooms in the garden are usually either:

1) Saprobic, meaning they gain nutrition from breaking down organic material (this means they’re breaking material down into elements your plants can use)


2) Mycorrhizal, meaning they form symbiotic relationships with plant root systems. 95% of all plant families form mycorrhizal associations! The fungus and plants work to exchange water and nutrients and often the fungus provides an immune system for the plant, meaning it will grow healthier! Many garden soils contain mycorrhizal fungi for this reason

As well, mushrooms are known to accumulate toxins, pulling them away from your plants. One of my favorite mushrooms, the Dead Man’s Foot (Pisolithus tinctorius) contains a pigment called norbadione A. that binds to radioactive cesium, removing it from the soil. Different species accumulate different toxins. The Agaricus genus contains the most species of mushrooms that concentrate cadmium, while Oyster mushrooms (Pleurotus) concentrate the least amount of cadmium. Basically, if you live in an area with a lot of toxins, the mushrooms are doing your plants a favor. AND! If you do a soil test and you know which toxins are present in the area, you can match the appropriate mushroom species to cultivate in that area to clean up the soil. This process is called mycoremediation.

Hopefully to calm your mom’s fears of mushrooms: mushrooms can only be poisonous or harmful if eaten. Not all mushroom species are toxic, a lot are edible and tasty and some are technically edible but we just don’t eat them because they’re not very tasty. Only a handful of mushrooms are actually deadly, the rest will just give you gastrointestinal distress, and anyway most of the deadly ones are mycorhizal with certain tree species and you will NOT find them in your garden bed because they are not saprobic. For example, the Death Cap (Amanita phalloides) only forms mycorhizal associations with certain trees, meaning it will not just grow off any old decaying material and it won’t grow in a raised garden bed. 

You can’t accurately make generalizations about the safety of mushrooms because each species is so different! Honestly, this is the case for most plants but people do not make similar generalizations about plant species or regard them with similar disgust!

You should try to identify which species is growing in your garden! Then you can better understand what that fungus is doing underground to help your soil! 

[“Towards a New Journey” by Anne Bachelier]

Escapism and witchcraft

It does seem to be a common thing in the occult community for people to cling to the esoteric as an escape from the world, and across a spectrum at that.

This craft cannot truly bring real changes unless you actualize the fact it is a tool for this life and a tool for interacting with the spirit world, a spirit world that is not divorced from this world and the physical phenomena of this world. In fact, all these natural phenomena are structures of that other place and it’s awareness’s and intelligence; the winds, snows, rains, rivers, oceans, biomes of all sorts, dirt, rocks, flora, fauna, and perhaps other things we can only guess at outside our immediate perceptions.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I despise much of the problems of civilization (the oligarchy and greed of today, the monarchy and theocracies of the past), but that doesn’t change the fact that this is our life. It is full of something deeper and present here and now.

There is nothing to escape to. Real power comes with that mastery over yourself, and understanding those sorcerous mechanic and alliances in this world to further this. Your body is your soul being expressed, not a prison of flesh, waiting to expire, for some better paradise.

I have no need for a longing of some fantasy away from the social and natural perks and ills of this beautiful and terrible life. Because no doubt, there are many other modes of existences that have wonderous and foul qualities, despite the less subjective and restricting state they may be. Predators will always prey, things grow and they decay. They have their fragrances and rots over there too. They have their loving mothers suckling their offspring, and their cold hungers for essence of another being.

I decry the need to be some important figure and cosmological structure in a drama. I am a tiny piece of the whole, the only importance is here, is now, and ongoing my design of manifestation.

I am here, in this sensuous moment, exactly where fate put me, going on to wherever my will and destiny will take me. I’m free, wild, and living a life of actually interacting with people and the world (and the presences in it). I’m not bound by some box of rules, except the ethos I’ve found worthy of my time and the mechanics I see with the weaving web of fate.

Stop running. Stay a while, look around, look at the gorgeousness of the flower simply existing, the aw inspiring nature of the rotting beast feeding others persons of the non-human verity, the human people that deserve your compassion and admiration, the activities that light your world up.

Let your flesh actually engage, dear witchling. Stop trying to run away to a hidden transcendental land of elves, and see the one already here. Re-Enchant your living and then De-Enchant it as it normalizes, and goes from “other” in your personal culture, to a “sameness” in that one person society.

What is fair, is foul, - J

Rescued pt 2

Captain’s Log: Day 52 out of 854

  We were rescued today.

We are healing in the medical area aboard the ship. It seems that the humans in our crew have been looking for us since we ran away. Tracking us part of the way and then splitting up in teams to search around the spot we fell. When we were found we had started fading, Tiny’s barking alerted the crew to our location. We have been told about the search by various crew members.

The humans had apparently picked up branches and other items to be use as weapons. They also used flash lights to continue searching after the darkness came, and radios to relay location and updates. They determined that whom ever hacked the camera and logs when the ship was first vandalized were also able to hack into my private logs, like this one now. They used the information to try to find locations we reported. It is still unknown to us who this individual is but they may have saved us. We will note that the humans reported that they attempted to go through proper channels to get the information released to the crew but they were told all information is classified and first had to be reviewed by our commanding officer before being released to the crew. As she is currently in hibernation on her home planet and not expected to return for another 2 months, we have stated that we wish to pardon this individual from all crimes due to the emergency situation. 

After we were rescued, on the other side of camp from where we ran, it was found that when we could not climb up the hill, we followed the gully that curved nearly 180 degrees. Due to the thick jungle, we could not see that our camp was in a meteor impact zone that has been filled in over eons of the jungle growing and decaying. 

We have not been release from med bay. they have stitched my arm from the blood spurt or as the doctor said, “blood explosion.” We did have minor fractures in our right leg and are now in a cast. This is not out first broken bone but we hope it is the last. We thought being a captain on a science ship was a safe job. 

End Log


I, myself, the sugary
The inventive maenad
Consign to exhale

Polarized in my defenses
Have no secrets
Yet I find my holding

Pretend I don’t get it
But I get it
How can I not

My blood is recumbent
A tempered rush
Through the whorl of peppered psyche

Whatever I resolve of flowers
Grows gloom
In the decay of my follow through

How can God transcend Absolute Truth? I mean truth is truth, isn't it?

Truth is not truth. Truth is only on the mental plane and God is beyond the mind. Absolute Truth is far beyond the mind. You are five feet eleven inches tall; that is your height, that is your truth. Your truth will last sixty or seventy years and then it will end. On the physical plane your truth is the human body, which is flesh and blood. But on the spiritual plane, you are the soul, the eternal and immortal soul, the birthless, deathless soul.

If your truth is the birthless and deathless soul, you are constantly transcending. But if your truth is the human body, then here on earth you are only growing up and decaying; finally you will die. So with human truth, there is a limit. There comes a time when, at the age of seventy or eighty, you are finished; the game is over. This is one truth. But the other truth, the soul’s truth, is that you are immortal, infinite. One truth is earthbound truth, which is limited. At the age of seventy or eighty it is gone. That truth is of the body. Another truth is of the soul. And this truth embodies the message of self-transcendence.

- Sri Chinmoy, God and the cosmic game

verakeys  asked:


Xeranthemum- eternity, immortality

There was a hill in Crestwood where, every year in autumn, wild xeranthemums bloomed thick.

Mordred spied it for the first time six years ago when he passed through the area on some errant that guided him towards the lake – whispers of darkspawns in the flooded caverns that turned out to be Carta dwarves spreading rumors in order to acquire the space for their own illicit dealings. It was on that hill that he fought them, and under that hill that he buried their bodies, unsure whether this was acceptable burial rites for their kind but deeming it better than throwing them all to the lake.

He returned there every now and again not because he missed the Carta thugs or felt guilty for their death, because Mordred Surana at twenty-seven was Mordred Surana with ten years of murder to his name, but always the hill caught his eye. The red-purple-white rise, intersected with peeking green shoots of grass, struck him somehow.

Mordred read in a book somewhere – borrowed from Leliana maybe – that flowers often came associated with symbolism, and that xeranthemums (he knew because he picked a flower and compared it to the ones scouts drew up) meant, somehow, eternity. Strange that; Mordred couldn’t think of anything that would make those tiny flowers become associated with such a vast, borderless concept, but still.

Still, he sat on his dracolisk and stared at the hill blooming with xeranthemums, and there was an irrational longing in him to be buried under that earth, to have things grow on his decay.

“Aren’t you afraid to die?” someone (many-one’s) had asked Mordred multiple times in the past.

The answer had always been “no”. He was a mage, and a warrior. Dying was not a scary small eternity of its own. If anything, it would come swift and brutal, his flesh scattered in junks across an old stone walkway, his blood smeared into the floor.

But the what-then dogged his footsteps, a sad thing moaning about things that couldn’t change. Mordred turned his dracolisk away from the group and trotted her to the xeranthemum hill anyway, looked down at the bed of flowers, and wished.

It would not come true. Grey Wardens had no grave. Their bodies were lost to the Deep Roads and the Blighted lands where not even decomposition would free them of their own Taint, and anything that grew from him would no doubt suffer the same.

Still, here’s to an impossible wish, a longing for immortality: Let something take roots in my ashes and use it to grow.

Let me, at least, be the soil for a next generation of anything at all.

The round shapes of life

Flowers grow, as we decay

the moon shines while the sun is dying
at the end of day

the present will fade
when future arrives

which will become
the present
in the future

as we write
as we read
as we speak
as we breathe


is the circle of life.

anonymous asked:

How much more weight are you planning on losing? Youre sooo hot

i plan on losing zero pounds

i have lost no pounds (intentionally) in many years

i plan on being ‘natalie’ sized

until my body becomes one with the earth

and flowers grow from my decaying body.

Sucy’s Rhyme

Dianakko Week 2017 Day 5 - Spellbound/Enchanted Link

Fifth submission for @dianakko-week

Summary: The witches thought it was a great idea to go on a beach trip in the tropical islands for summer but then it became a horrid mess when their rented van broke down in the middle of the mountains and Sucy decided to have fun with her own kind of devilish way.

“Whose idea was it to suddenly have a camping beach trip in Southeast Asia?” Amanda asked.

Akko got irritated. She knew Amanda was trying to irk her. “Hey!” she pointed at the fiery redhead’s chest. “I wasn’t the only one who thought it was a good idea!”

Amanda was about to make a rebuttal when Lotte got in between the two hot-headed witches. While the two continued bickering, Professor Ursula looked at the van they rented from the Airport. Seeking for what caused the engine to suddenly die down.

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