the filth will cleanse

This life, part 5

Pairing: Reader x Eventually Loki

Work Count: 3262

Warning: mild language

Part 1  part 2  part 3 part 4  

Your conversation with Loki left your body shaking by the time you closed the doors to Sif’s chambers.  Giving yourself only a moment, you allowed a quick breath before you began to remove your armor and leathers.  The Queen had laid out a gown, the color of the sky, for you after washing up.  It was not what the typical victor wore but you were not typical in any form.  Once you had cleansed the filth away and redressed you felt almost ready to meet with the court once more.  In the past, the victor had not had time to breathe let alone meet with everyone who had wanted to wish them well after their win.  The thought was daunting but you refused to let your fear consume you. Sif met you as you made your way towards the feasting hall; a smile lit her features.

“Are you prepared for what is to come?  I believe the whole realm has come to celebrate this eve for you.”  Slipping your arm through hers you returned the grin.

“No, but I do not believe I have any choice.  I won the Last Battle.  Now it is my duty to celebrate it.  Just promise me I will have an ale in hand at all times.  Without it I do not believe I will last the hour.”  The pair of you laughed as you came upon the feasting hall. There were so many people crowded into the room it astounded you.  It was little time before everyone had turned towards you, allowing you passage through the crowd.  A loud voice boomed over those gathered freezing everyone from word or movement.

“Asgard, I give you, Lady [Y/N].  Your victor!  This eve we revel for her!”  Odin’s deep voice echoed throughout the hall.  The cheers that followed were nearly deafening.  However, you could not deny the thrill that they sent up your spine knowing that they were celebrating for you.  A mug of dark ale was thrust into your hand.  Thor had moved close with his own mug and a hopeful smile upon his face.

“I was told you had better have a mug in hand at all times” You drank long enough that you had to catch your breath before you answered.  He was trying to make amends but you knew he had difficulty verbalizing it aloud.

“By the Gods that is good.  Thank you, my friend.”  Thor dipped his head towards you.

“Do I truly remain your friend or is it meant as a pleasantry?”  You stepped close hugged him tightly.  It took him only a moment for him to return the effort.

“You are my friend and always have been.  Without you and your support, I would not be here.  Not just here as a victor but here in Asgard.  You have been one of my only family for these years.  While I wish we had not argued over your brother and what had to be done, I would not sever you from my life.  But I beg you never to ask me again.  It takes too much to see the memories that are not mine.”  He nodded slowly finishing his own mug.

“I promise you, [Y/N] I will never ask it again.”  With that vow, you let the anger towards him dissolve.  There was already so many dark feelings within you, you did not wish to harbor more.  The two of you spoke for a few moments longer before you were pulled away to speak with the Queen and King.  Odin, too, has apologized for his past failings and treatment of you.  The king admitting his mistakes nearly forced you to drop your drink.  

“I ask for your forgiveness.  You have shown me how very wrong I was, about many things.”  You were starting to believe you were in a dream realm, perhaps you died during the battle and were currently in Valhalla.  Not only had you won today but now the king stood before you asking you to forgive all of the awful things he had said and done over the years.

“My Lord… I…  I could do nothing else but forgive.  I thank you for the words.  I needed to hear them.”  Both he and Frigga smiled at you before he moved to embrace you.  It felt like when you were young and caused a lump to form in your throat.

“Thank you, child. Enjoy your celebration tonight. For with the dawn I expect an answer to my question.”  You bowed your head in respect as they parted, the question heavy on your mind.  It stayed there for the remainder of the evening as you drank and danced.  Your friends made the evening tolerable.  They kept you laughing and smiling when the troubling thoughts would rise.  

Loki watched you from the shadows throughout the evening.  Not once did you sit and rest.  Everyone had wanted their time with you, the victor.  Whether they knew you or not.  As he watched you, he noted all of the changes that had taken place. The way you carried yourself was different, while you still walked as a lady, now there was far more confidence. Your hair was longer than before and now you let it hang down your back.  Before it was always tied back or up upon your head.  It was rare for someone to see you with it down.  He thought it added years to your face, no longer the girl but the beautiful woman.

While there were many differences what he noticed more now were the things that remained.  The way you could not turn from anyone who greeted you this night.  You would smile and speak to anyone, though he could see at this moment you were exhausted and using the false smile when you wished to be anywhere else.  The way you held the stein in both hands as though you would perish if you let go.  So many things he had memorized ages ago, that still made up who you are.  

“Your eyes could always find her in the masses before anyone else.”  Thor’s deep voice came from behind him.  Loki narrowed his gaze looking back to his brother.

“I know not what you are speaking of, brother.  I merely watching the crowd that would not welcome the Trickster back within their embrace.”  Thor smirked finishing off the drink in his hand, knowing his brother lied.

“Your heart has not changed, Loki.  It is her, and always will be her.  I never understood until… well I never understood until recently.”  Loki’s anger grew as he pushed past his brother.

“You think you know my heart?  There is no heart there according to many.  She is merely a girl who the misfortune of being promised to you once.” Clenching a fist for a moment, Thor let it relax as he turned back to his brother.

“[Y/N] is far more than a ‘girl’.  Never insult her again if you wish to continue to breathe.”  The comment surprised Loki as he smirked looking to Thor.

“Did I hit a nerve brother?  Could it be after the years, is it she who has captured your heart?  Oh how poetic.  The prince and the victor.  Think of the tales that will be told.”  His laugh was cold and lacked any amusement.

“I love [Y/N] as a sister, nothing more.  I never have. I refuse to let any insult her, especially you, who knows her as well as I do.  Do you think I enjoyed watching your pain as we grew, loving her?  Every time father and mother spoke of the betrothal, you would grow angry and run.  I was not blind, Loki.  As I am not now.”  Loki moved to speak, to deny every word, but Thor stopped him.  “Look me in the eye, and tell me I am wrong.  Look at her and deny your heart and I will never speak of it again.”  

Loki looked towards the hall, finding you amidst a large group, including Sif and the Warriors Three.  Fandral had taken your hand and kissed it, causing Loki’s blood to boil within his veins. He could not deny it; as much as he wished to, he had been lost to you as far as he could remember.  “It matters not.  I am the cause of so much of her pain and loss.  [Y/N] deserves everything pure and good.  I am neither.”

“Brother there is far more to you than you will ever admit.  In time you will see it, as will she.”  Leaving Loki confused, he walked back to the festivities.  His steps echoing down the hall.  Loki thought his brother had lost much of his sense in battle. He returned to torturing himself, watching you from afar.


Your feet hurt and your head was pounding as you stumbled down the corridor towards one of the empty chambers to sleep.  Far too much ale and not having a moment to sit down were the causes.  It had taken well over an hour to pry yourself from the revelry, as it seemed no one wanted to let you leave.  It was nearly dawn and you had been awake too long.  A wrong step on sore feet and you started to fall. Even in your drunken state, you were prepared to connect with the flooring but a pair of strong arms caught you first.

“I doubt it would be fitting for the victor to wake in the morning with bruises from falling instead of the fight.”  In your shock, you allowed him to ease you to standing once more.  “Does ale also lessen your temper as it does your faculties?”  Loki smirked at you as he stepped back.

“Do you wish to see my temper again, Loki?  For I would be quite willing to share it once more.”  He laughed, this time sincerely.  

“No my Lady.  I still bear the marks of your temper.  Was merely questioning what else in you had changed.”  You picked up your skirts in a huff and stomped further down the corridor.  He was close behind to ensure you did not harm yourself.  “Your cheeks still flame when you have too much drink.  You could light the torches this eve, with them.”  With a quick turn, you came face to face with the man.  Loki nearly walked into you.

“Why are you following, Loki?  Do you wish to torture me further?”

“Torture you?! [Y/N] you have no notion of true torture.”  For the moment, his own temper reared its head.

“I have no notion? None?  I saw what was done to you.  I felt it all.  Heard every one of your screams.  Now, I hear them in the quiet of the night.  I hear them in my dreams…  I know torture.  The torture that you ensured and the torture knowing there was nothing in my power to stop it.”  In your drunken condition, you thought it was wise to leave him standing there after your dramatic admission.  However, your body paid little mind to what your intentions were.  Your feet only made it a few steps before you fell truly. There you lay face down on the soft red rug for several moments contemplating what you would do.  It was all too much and something broke.  You began to laugh.  Quietly at first but as the moments passed it grew louder and deeper. Your body shook with it as you rolled over to stare at the ceiling above you.  Loki looked down at you with a raised brow.

“Have you gone mad?” His question only fueled your laughter.

“Possibly…  This life…  Oh, this life has so much darkness.  Yet here I lay on the ground of the palace of Asgard, drunk and laughing.” He stared at you, unsure of what he should do.

“Do you wish to lay upon the ground or would you allow me to help you to stand?”

“Oh how upset your mother would be if she found me sleeping here at dawn.  Perhaps…  No, help me up.  I cannot do it on my own.  I believe your brother was too good in keeping my drink full.”  You held both your hands up for him to hold.  Loki grabbed them both lifting you quickly, which only caused you to fall into his arms.  With a sharp intake of breath at the contact, he steadied you before stepping back.

“You need get to your bed before you force every grain of control I have to take leave.” Noticing the frustration in his words, you looked up to him.

“What is that to mean?”  Shaking his head, he took your arm and all but dragged you towards your chambers.

“Nothing you need to think of, [Y/N].”  Without another word, he deposited you in the room, closing the door behind him as he left.  As soon as you saw the large bed, everything else in the realm was forgotten.  You removed the shoes and dress, leaving them in a pile on the floor.  As you climbed up, your body relaxed and you slept as though you had not in years.

The pain in your head woke you in the morning.  Though perhaps not morning.  The sun was on the wrong side of the windows to be morning.  The looks of it more like mid-afternoon.  By the Gods, your head hurt and your mouth tasted as death.  “Damn ale… never again.”

Crawling out of the bed, you had to bathe completely to feel any semblance of your former self.  There were clean garments as well, the Queen had prepared everything.  As you entered the feasting hall searching for food to settle your stomach, the previous day’s event ran through your mind.  Your win and the party, with the crowd of far too many people.  One of the servants of the palace sought you out, bowing deeply before you.

“My Lady, the King asks you join him and the Queen for a late meal.”  Canting your head, you sighed.

“Lead on then.” You followed him slowly to the separate hall where the King and Queen waited.  Thor walked in as you took a seat with Loki following closely behind. The older brother set a large stein in front of you with a smirk.

“Volstagg sent a gift.”  Odin and Frigga looked confused as you eyed the stein warily.  

“If that it ale… I will castrate that fat bastard with a dull blade.”  The whole of the room laughed loudly, even Loki, causing a great deal more pain in your head.  Thor took a seat beside you, slapping your shoulder as he did.  Loki sat closer to his mother.

“While that would be entertaining, he sent his remedy.  Drink that and you will be as you were before the ale.  I warn you, it burns like the fires of Hel as it goes down.”  It took not a moment for you to open the stein and swallow half the contents.  Your body shivering hard when you took a breath.  Much effort was needed to keep the contents in your belly.

“Valhalla, that is awful.”  Thor smiled once more.

“Yes, but it works.”  Odin interrupted then, not wanting to delay further.  

“[Y/N], Frigga has made me wait since dawn to ask your answer.  I was told you needed rest.  Now I grow an impatient man.  What have you decided?”  The air within the room suddenly grew very thick.  You licked your lips as you glanced about the room quickly.

“May I request one thing if I do agree my Lord?”  Odin laughed quietly looking to his wife then back to you.

“Already making demands?”  Shaking your head, you finished the rest of the stein.  It was awful but it helped the pain in your head and the sour feeling in your belly.

“Allfather, it is not a demand.  I merely ask that if I become Captain of the Defenders that I be allowed to continue fighting alongside of Thor.  When he is called to the other realms I would still wish to go, my Lord.”  Thor stopped shoving food into his mouth long enough to look at you in surprise.  Odin’s face was difficult to read.

“You are asking me to allow you as a Defender to continue defending the other realms when they need you?”  Your gaze did not waiver as you nodded to him.

“Yes, my Lord.” Frigga beside him beamed at you over her wine glass.  Odin laughed again this time he shook his head.

“I hardly know the woman who sits in front of me.  No longer are you the girl who would have just been the pretty Queen on the throne of Asgard.  You may continue your journeys with my son if you wish.  I would pick a Second that you trust in your absence.  Tomorrow you will meet the Defenders as their Captain.”  

“Thank you, my Lord.” You smiled down at your plate though there was no desire to eat it.  The “remedy” had settled your stomach but you were in no fashion, able to eat at this moment.  Thor nudged your shoulder with his, as a sign of his congratulations.  Loki had been watching you closely from his seat across the room, but he looked away now in the instant that you caught him doing so. It was still an odd thing seeing him here, with his family.  

“[Y/N] if you are finished I will escort you to your chambers.”  Frigga wiped her mouth as she finished her meal.  As you glanced over at her, she could see the confusion on your face.

“I am finished, my Lady but I am able to return to the chambers, myself.”  Both Odin and Frigga smiled knowingly at one another.

“No my dear.  I will show you your chambers as Captain.”

She had slipped her arms through yours as she led you down the hallways.  As you stopped in front of a familiar door, you could feel your heart beating erratically in your chest.  It was the door to your family chambers.  The chambers where you were born and grew from infant to woman.  They were given to your father when he had earned his position just before your birth.  There were several rooms, a sitting area, a bathing room and a terrace looking over the palace courtyards.  Frigga opened the door letting the familiar scent hit you.  “No one has been here since you, my girl.  I would not allow it.  Your belongings will arrive in the morn.  Tomorrow starts a new day and life [Y/N].  Do not let it waste away.”  

She kissed your cheek before letting you have the time you needed, to let the old memories soak in.  The beating of your heart did not slow as you walked quietly through every bit of those chambers.  As much as they tried, the old memories would not bring you down this day.  Only the light was allowed into your heart. Everything else could wait or burn.

When Frigga left, she had shut the door to the chambers, allowing you your time.  As she left the chambers, she could sense her son close but chose to feign ignorance.  She had always known of his love for you.  Many times over the years, she tried to convince Odin to dissolve the arrangement so Loki could have the chance to show you.  Odin, of course refused, saying it would go against tradition and damage his friendship with your father.  Now that Loki had returned, perhaps you would truly be her daughter someday as she had always hoped.

Part 6

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Eldritch Mythos 202: Eldritch Energy Work

This particular post within the eldritch series I’ve put off for a long, long while, partially because I’ve been in the process of learning some finer nuances to this topic. This is a messy one, and what I’m writing below I’m tacking on with a warning; please do not approach any sort of eldritch energy work unless you are very well-practiced in cleansing and energy-surgical methods, a confident ability to identify energy parasitism and a 100% understanding that what you’re dicking with, no matter how much you think it likes you? Probably wants to take advantage of you in every way it can.

I’ve encountered a consistent issue in which people are unwilling to acknowledge the problematic natures of the entities they work with. Small, vocal groups may shit on people that have negative experiences, feeding these gross, stagnant mindsets between one another. To be unwilling to discuss and respect these negative experiences within the tags implies to me an insecure practitioner with less respect for physical human beings than the very potentially fake metaphysical entities we’re dealing with. (And if you can’t handle the possibility of all this being fake, what are you even doing?) So by making this post, never, EVER do I EVER want to come across as one of those people, and this isn’t for edge factor, this is about arming both those that WANT to work with this paradigm AND those that have been victimized by it. There are a bunch of people on all sides. Please, if anyone has ever encountered any personal problems, consistent parasitism or hounding I am more than willing to talk in private with you about these issues, as eldritch energy is one of the nastiest, most terrible things you can have sicked on you. I won’t fix it for you, but I’ll tell you everything I have that could help you. I am not going to claim responsibility for any harm that comes your way if you dive half-assed into this though. This post is for those of you out there who haven’t wanted to talk, who’ve been confused and unsure as to what the hell they’re even interacting with.

Now that I’ve slapped my full warning up on here, let’s talk about eldritch energy work. Because hoboy.

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At Your Service ~Nine/Finale~

Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four ~ Part Five ~ Part Six ~ Part Seven ~ Part Eight

You barely recalled falling asleep but you awoke nestled against Thranduil on his bedroll. Your shift hung loosely around you and a thin woolen blanket laid across the both of you. The king was still bare chested beneath and held you to him with an arm around your waist. You admired the serenity of his features as he dozed and slipped out of his grip with reluctance.

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you did this to me
i was 6
you were 18
i’m so angry at you
why did you do it?
do you know what you’ve done to me?
how much my parents have spent on therapy?
how long i’ve loathed myself for being dirty?
how many hours i’ve spent in the shower trying to cleanse myself of the filth you put in me?
i hate you so much
i wish you were dead
i wish i could rip your goddamn throat out

Best Friends [03]

Pairing: Neymar Jr x Reader

Synopsis: You and Neymar are both hopelessly in love with one another. It’s a shame neither of you have the courage to confess your feelings to the other.

P.O.V: Third-Person

Genre: Romance/Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,986

Warnings: Mentions of abortion. A few swear words.

A/N: My confidence has been crap, but I tried to whip this up for y’all as an apology for being MIA for over two months. Sorry if this is shorter than usual, but I’m just not feeling like writing right now, because I’m still trying to get my confidence in writing back after one of my teachers tore it down by criticizing harshly for every assignment I handed in, even though I finished it correctly and did better than most of my classmates. But I guess this is life, huh? So anyways, I’m not going to bore you with the details of my life, but I’m hoping to get to writing more often. Hopefully this chapter will be the first step to it. As always, feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. Hope you like this my loves! Love you all, hugs and kisses! 😘❤️ — jas

Best Friends Series Masterlist

Who was at the door?” (Y/N) asks, sitting on the edge of her bed as she ties the laces of her converse together.

“Oh, it was no one,” Adriana responds with the dismissive wave of her hand. “Just one of your neighbours wanting to know if you had some sugar to spare.” She glances at her daughter’s suitcases and bags sitting at the foot of the bed. “Are you all ready to go?”

,” (Y/N) answers, standing from the bed, and walking towards her walk-in closet, tugging a denim jacket from the hanger and slipping it on her shoulders.

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fuukonomiko  asked:

Lotara Sarrin, Argel Tal, Lorgar Aurelian

“You are as sick as the gardens of Slaanesh’s palace mortal. Fine. Fuck Lorgar, lights off eyes closed get it over with quick so we may never speak of it again. Kill Argel Tal, he is my true brother and I respect him too much for anything else. Marry Lotara, we get along and have a grand old time hunting Loyalists from the Conqueror. Now he gone from my sight I must cleanse my mind of this filth.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write a super fluffy scenario for Akutagawa? Like, he is watching s/o and their baby and they don't notice he is there. S/o is looking at a photo album with baby, and saying silly things like 'and who is this? this is papa! don't we love him?' (doesn't need to be this, it's just an idea). And Akutagawa is just there trying not to melt

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa had just returned home after completing a mission. He exhales a sigh as he removes his shoes that had a collection of red-brown dirt desperately clinging to the bottom of his boots. There was a heavy feeling of tiredness that was taking over him, fatigue that he didn’t feel before suddenly now catching up to him. But his appearance showed a state of frozen calm, like the surface of a serene lake after the wind has died down. 

All he could think about was the steamy, hot water raining down on his body to cleanse himself of the filth that accumulated on his porcelain skin throughout the day, and delving into a cushion of softness to acquire a good night’s rest to restore his energy and strength, as he learned the hard way that sleep plays a vital role in his health and can have a negative impact on him if he’s deprived of such necessity for too long. 

Slowly and steady, his footsteps paddles across the coldness of the marble floor but comes to a brief halt. He hears a small noise coming from a room just ahead of him, a laughter he’s all too familiar with. A sound he genuinely loved nonetheless. The corner of his lips raises delicately into a neat smile, and there’s a curious glint in his dark slate colored eyes. Slender fingers then begin to brush along the textured walls as he continues down the corridor to get closer to the sound to make sense of the distant words.

“And who is this? This is papa! Don’t we love him? Doesn’t seeing him make you happy?”

“Here’s one of him blushing! It’s a bit blurry because he was being a little camera shy that day, but doesn’t your papa look so adorable?”

“Aww. Look at papa holding you in his arms in this one, and the way he looks at you. You can really tell that he truly loves you a lot.”

Akutagawa stands there in the doorway. Casually leaning against the frame with hands concealed in the pocket of his coal-black trench coat while he softly observes you turn pages of the photo album. The infant that holds a piece of him sits calmly in your lap, smiling a dopey smile as you hold each polaroid photograph to its face and uttering sweet words in your lovely melodic voice. A laughter so pure and innocent escapes the child’s mouth. The kind that you can’t help but cast a smile upon hearing it and feel a sense of duty to keep the giggles coming.

Warmth slowly erupts deep inside his chest and happiness envelops his body the more he looks at you and his cute offspring. He forgets about everything around him for a moment and just stands there, overwhelmed with emotions and feelings whirling around inside of him. Akutagawa stands there and thinks it’s so strange. 

He feels as if he’s falling in love all over again with every fiber of his being, every inch of his soul, and every piece of his heart. Just by listening to the sound of your voice. Watching you pour your heart into the wonderful blessing that is his and your baby. You were like a magnificent flower that blossoms quietly, beautifully, and elegantly. Filling the emptiness of his heart with something much more than he can ever describe with words.

Akutagawa continues to watch you, and then you suddenly look up. Your expressive eyes light up the very instant he’s in your line of sight, and joy overtakes your face. You smile so brightly that not even the most brilliant stars in the night sky can outshine you. The one that spreads from ear to ear because you’re so incandescently happy that he’s finally home and that your family is all together again, and so you welcome him with a tremble of excitement in your voice.

And then his heart whispered, “I’m home.”

Philosophy of The Swastika - Essentials of Hitlerian Faith

Image by me, text by @sneeringimperialist

A solid introduction to our beliefs is long overdue, many misinterpretations and ignorance abound. Here I shall attempt to correct this, posting a brief summary of the core points and values of Esoteric Hitlerism, as well as explaining the difference of it to those who view faith through an Abrahamic lens. Lets just jump right in.

Veneration of Life

“I am in love with the beauty of life that I behold in animals, and would like to behold in man also, but simply cannot”

We hold nature to be something profoundly sacred and are filled with a deep, spiritual love of animals and plant life. We do not hold it beneath us, as the materialist does viewing nature as mere resources for exploitation, nor the Abrahamists who while viewing it as God’s creation, nonetheless relegate it to a role of distant, secondary importance behind man and his soul. To us, a mighty, beautiful oak or noble forest stag lies higher on the hierarchy than a broken and degenerate man. If put to choose between the two, I would take the axe to the man before the oak, for the oak fulfills it’s natural role whereas the man has shirked and ignored his, and is therefore inferior. The destruction of the natural beauty of our lands, as well as the cruel and disgusting treatment of animals in the modern age is as much a crime warranting death as facilitating the debasement of our race.

Aryan Tradition

“And in the heart of Northern Europe, there has awakened a heightened racial consciousness, the same racial soul idea taught by Zoroaster”

We know ourselves to be part of the last still surviving branch of the great Aryan migrations of pre-history, the European peoples and the Pagan faiths we found in Roman/Hellenic, Celtic, Germanic and Slavic civilization were but one of three branches originating from our spiritual and material birthplace of mystical Hyperborea, the other two are ancient Aryan Persia and India, and their spirit and beliefs we find in Zoroastrianism and Hinduism are as near to us as Odin and Zeus are. We mourn the loss of our blood kin in Persia and India, who have forever perished in the midst of racial pollution and the corruption of our faith through it’s blending with the Semitic and Dravidian elements of those lands. Yet we take warning from their fall and resolve never to allow such a thing to happen to this last, and most recent Aryan civilization in Europe. And indeed, once we have cleansed and defended Europe we shall raise the banners once more and pour over the mountains and plains as our ancestors did to reclaim those ancient lands and rebuild them anew in likeness of our kin who came before.

The Racial Soul

“Soul means race seen from within and conversely, race is the external side of a soul”

Spirituality and religion is inseparable from race, and we discard any notions that one universal faith may encompass every race on earth. To us, the negro, the semite and the mongoloid have fundamentally different spiritual worldviews and any mixing of their beliefs with ours is as abhorrent and destructive as the mixing of blood. They simply cannot perceive and understand the world in the same way that we do. Any universalist doctrine, whether religious or secular must be ruthlessly resisted by us if we are to survive as a people, whether it be the recent human-rights oriented democracies or the old Christian Church. We must instead, reach within our blood and find once more that eternal transcendent, life-oriented impulse originating in Hyperborea and awake our race’s faith once more.

National Socialism

“Someone once asked me what attracted me to National Socialism, I replied without hesitation; It’s Beauty”

National Socialism is the violent resurgence of the racial soul and Aryan spirituality in the modern world against the forces of decay and disintegration. Nowhere else in history has a single nation and era seen such a pure and true resurrection of our people’s way of life. It brought forth all that was healthy and noble, restoring our people in Germany to the highest place of honour without contaminating it with the baggage, sentimentality and lies of the past. It was a total revolution in every sense, both in the way it structured society in accordance with the traditional model and in it’s worldview with the exaltation of the racial honour and purity in accordance with the iron laws of nature as it’s highest value. National Socialism to us, is a holy, all-encompassing way of life that excludes everything else, we demand of ourselves and others absolute loyalty and embracing of it as truth.

Adolf Hitler

“Hitler is a medicine man, a spiritual vessel, a demi-deity or, even better, a myth”

Adolf Hitler is far, far more than a mere man, a mere politician, a mere organizer and revolutionary. He is something beyond human, an avatar of cosmic Aryan spirituality chosen to set the stage as He-Who-Comes-Before-The-Last, to give us the final form of our people’s faith so that we might recognize The Last/Kalki when he emerges from the mists of time carrying sword and flame to put an end to the dark age. To hear him speak is not to hear one man’s beliefs and words, but to hear an eternal, ancient collective voice speaking from beyond the material world through him to us. As an individual, he occupies the highest place of reverence and honour in our hearts, second only to Kalki and the eternal Aryan myth he embodies. He is forever and ever, the leader and high priest of our people from beyond the grave until the coming of The Last.

The Jew

“Our dawn will shine when new and mightier flames spring from the chimneys of Auschwitz as Jews and their servants are hurled into the fire below”

The Jew is the spiritual antithesis of the Aryan. As the Aryan serves life and life-oriented ideals, the Jew serves the forces of decay and disintegration. The Jew elevates himself beyond the natural order of things and indeed, seeks to destroy that natural order along with everything that is beautiful, true and noble. He delights in corruption and debasement, to see a people reduced to money-grubbing materialism, to see nature destroyed to make way for his own petty desires and ego, to pull and rip at life until nothing is left but a thread. His end state, his dream of earth is a vision of a blasted, industrial wasteland with feral tribes of mongrels squatting the ruins reduced to primitive cannibalism, finally conquering all that was above him and bringing it low. As such, every Aryan is obligation bound to root out and exterminate this disgusting race from the earth, even if it will take us centuries we will hunt them down to the last vile nest and rid this world of them. They are our enemies, forever and ever and no mercy is to be afforded to them at all.


“Through the flames of the Great End, into the sunlight of the new Golden Age" 

The Final Victory. Esoteric Hitlerists believe in the prophesy of Kalki, the final avenger of Aryan peoples destined to lead us in the apocalyptic final battle of the Kali Yuga and emerge triumphant over the vast horde in service of the forces of decay, and usher in a new age of light and peace for our people, cleansed of filth and alien elements. He is truly a god-man, purity and perfection taken form. He will unite our peoples, reclaim our ancient lands and will raise long-lost Hyperborea from the sea as his divine seat and kingdom. We cannot yet envision nor comprehend the details of his coming, however it will be a total transformation beyond description. Sieg Heil!

Originally posted by celticanglopress

We’re organizing a group for projects, education and research. Message me or @sneeringimperialist if you are interested.


Hey peeps! So while I was off celebrating my birthday and planning a wonderful day of kallura positivity to create sunshine and flowers and happiness for my beautiful kallura community, I hadn’t noticed that a lot of users (many of whom are mutuals, btw, and are absolutely all around lovely people) were getting upset about a certain concerning “list.” 

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, @starryklance made this dope list of “problematic people” who are “gr0ss disgusting sha-la-aladdin shiperz” for all of the sweet little innocent baby antis to block so they can “avoid drama and hate”, and be cleansed of the rotten filth they’ve bestowed upon themselves for ever virtually interacting with a god-forsaken shaladin.  

Well guys, pop out the celebratory cake and bottles of champagne, because yours truly has made the list.  

I’m truly honored, and I’d like to thank the academy, my friends, family, dog, and deceased beta fish named Sparkles, for this huge accomplishment. I never knew that having morals and knowing that it’s okay to ship two fictional cartoon characters would end up landing me on a list of “problematic” users who need to be blocked and disassociated with. I also never knew I was popular enough or that well-known to be put on a list of specific tumblr users. 

This is wild and I’m blown away, and right now, all I can say is I can’t wait to continue shipping Shiro with other characters while having insecure, tiny-braincelled bullies not attack me for violating their little safe space.  

Sounds of Battle

The sounds of battle could be both liberating and calming. But they could also wage war on one’s heart and soul. For the Commander, it soothed him unlike anything else. Whiskey and women could not even come close to the comforting embrace the sound of clashing of steel and the metallic scent of blood offered. The battlefield before him was a massacre of Horde. Slaughtered before ever reaching the Barony of Lilydale. It was his duty- his honor to keep this land cleansed of the filth that bred along the foreign shores. 

Piercing, earthy irises moved along the crimson soaked earth, watching as eight-hundred of his men checked for loot and any survivors that needed dispatching. The Highlands could be a dangerous place, not only for the terrain, but also for the lurking shadows of those wishing to take it from their Lady. But he was always ready, never to let them close enough for Lindon Schofield was born from steel.

The commander moved easily along the fallen, eyes slicking the horizon for sign of day. But it seemed the battle had raged far longer than any of them anticipated for the moon was now peeking through the dusky clouds. The sky was red like the ground, bleeding as the sun settled below the peaks. A quick shout called forth his attention as the Stromic armor he donned clanked and shifted with his weight.

“Commander Schofield! We’ve thirteen casualties, sir. The rest are accounted for.” The man never took well to losing his own. It was a personal failure on his part; he knew now that he’d have thirteen families to speak to. Their husbands and wives had died on his watch, a grave to be dug for each. It was how he honored his soldiers, informing the families personally and bringing their signet to their homes; but each death that occurred only chiseled his already cold heart further into nothingness. One day, he’d have nothing but a dead, black organ that beat only to exist.

With a stoic look downward to the blood soaked sword, the Baron’s memory came to the forefront. It had been his before he died, the etched steel and shaped pommel perfected for battle. It was the same sword that gave Lindon the gruesome scar on the lower-left side of his jaw and chin. He’d wielded it with honor and pride, the single thing the man had in his possession that he truly cherished.

“Bring them all in- get the casualties ready for transport and then form up. We head home to Lilydale.” The solider nodded his head quickly and began barking out the commander’s will, the army soon to do his bidding. They respected the commander. Trusting him always that he’d do the right thing, and perhaps even the immoral thing if it meant saving those under their banner. The Baron Daniels had ensured he’d chosen well for his commander after his death, training Lindon himself alongside his father who’d perished in service to the Daniels name.

It had been a gruesome year- but Lindon knew he’d not disappointed the man’s spirit yet.


anonymous asked:

What is Dua istaftah

Du’a al-Istiftah is the prayer that is said at the start of the Salah (prayer) after one says the Takbeerat al-Ihram (the start of the prayer where you raise your hands and say Allahu Akbar) and before the recitation of Surat al Fatiha. It is a Sunnah act (i.e. it is not obligatory in the prayer however it is highly recommended.) 

The Prophet (peace be upon him) taught us that there are several ways to open the prayer some shorter than others. SOme of 

سُبْحَانَكَ اللَّهُمَّ وَبِحَمْدِكَ وَتَبَارَكَ اسْمُكَ وَتَعَالَى جَدُّكَ وَلاَ إِلَهَ غَيْرُكَ

Subhanakallahumma, wa bihamdika tabarakasmuka wa ta'ala jadduka wa la ilaha ghairuk 

Glory and praise be to You, O Allah. Blessed be Your name and exalted be Your majesty, there is none worthy of worship except You. (Tirmidhi and an Nisa’i)

اللهم باعد بيني وبين خطاياي كما باعدت بين المشرق والمغرب اللهم نقني من خطاياي كما ينقى الثوب الأبيض من الدنس اللهم اغسلني من خطاياي بالثلج والماء والب

Allahumma baa’id bayni wa bayna khataayaaya kama baa’adta bayna al-mashriqi wa’l-maghrib. Allahumma naqqini min khataayaaya kama yunaqqa al-thawb al-abyad min al-danas. Allaahumma ighsilni min khataayaaya bi’l-thalji wa’l-maa’i wa’l-barad.

O Allah, put a great distance between me and my sins, as great as the distance You have made between the East and the West. O Allah, cleanse me of sin as a white garment is cleansed from filth. O Allah, wash away my sins with snow and water and hail. (Bukhari)

Hope this was of help insha’Allah. 

wyrus  asked:

Reaction to only wearing a towel: "Ah, good - you have finally cleansed ze filth from your body; I vas starting to zhink you never decontaminated."

“Hey I get clean as often as I can. I’m sorry I can’t do it every few hours like ya seem to think I should.”


So my friends, I am quite sure you are all rather perplexed by the events that recently conspired.

Allow me to fill in the gaps.

Amongst the fair-folk and other veil-dwelling creatures, there is a myth. The Myth of the Batter. They say he was an angel, disgusted by creation, and sought to purify it. He was of course, cast out into hell for displaying contempt for his creator. However, when he saw Hell for what it was, his distgust only grew further, and so swept through with a righteous fury, leaving a path of destruction in his wake. It was said that it took Satan himself, as well as his mysterious ally turning against him to defeat him.

So what, I hear you ask, does such a fairytale have anything to do with the bat ? Well you see, the Batter, although defeated, could not be competely destroyed. Although his physical form had been pulverized, his will, the will to purify all creation, remained. So Lucifer had it sealed in a simple staff, and cast it to Earth. The staff, or the Bat as most now call it, now bound to the physical realm, could no longer cause havoc in the spiritual. That is unless, it could bind to a fellow soul will the same desire to cleanse all evil and filth. The host would then be able to channel the Batter’s rage as they relased each seal, and purge all they deamed as unclean.

However, there is a catch. If the host were to release one too many of a seal, they would be overcome by the Batter’s will, and so become nothing but a flesh puppet, filled only with rage and a lust for destruction. The human soul and body cannot contain such pure energy for long, and so the host is led to their demise.

My master, despite my advice, sought out this bat. After the events of the cave she felt that if she could aquire the power, she would be able to prevent such a tragedy from occuring again.

Making a pact, she became the latest host.

Well, so now my friends, I hope you understand what went wrong there. I shall now return to tend my master. She will certainly have quite a headache when she wakes up!

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry, but I just have to ask. How do you "cleanse the filth" of ScarletVision by expressing your opinions so hatefully? How do you expect to cleanse "filth" with more filth? (I've just never understood hate blogs, and I'm hoping you can shed some light on what positive outcomes are produced from sharing your hate)

the filth cannot be cleansed it’s gonna be canon 

but might as well provide a safe space for the many people that find it really uncomfortable and disruptive to the narrative

A dua of the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم  

اللهم باعد بيني وبين خطاياي كما باعدت بين المشرق والمغرب اللهم نقني من خطاياي كما ينقى الثوب الأبيض من الدنس اللهم اغسلني من خطاياي بالثلج والماء والب

Allahumma baa’id bayni wa bayna khataayaaya kama baa’adta bayna al-mashriqi wa’l-maghrib. Allahumma naqqini min khataayaaya kama yunaqqa al-thawb al-abyad min al-danas. Allaahumma ighsilni min khataayaaya bi’l-thalji wa’l-maa’i wa’l-barad.

“O Allah, put a great distance between me and my sins, as great as the distance You have made between the East and the West. O Allah, cleanse me of sin as a white garment is cleansed from filth. O Allah, wash away my sins with snow and water and hail.” (Bukhari)

THE MATHNAWI BOOK I STORY XIV.The Chinese and the Greek Artists.

The Chinese and the Greeks disputed before the Sultan which of them were the better painters; and, in order to settle the dispute, the Sultan allotted to each a house to be painted by them. The Chinese procured all kinds of paints, and coloured their house in the most elaborate way. The Greeks, on the other hand, used no colours at all, but contented themselves with cleansing the walls of their house from all filth, and burnishing them till they were as clear and bright as the heavens. When the two houses were offered to tho Sultan’s inspection, that painted by tho Chinese was much admired; but the Greek house carried off the palm, as all the colours of the other house were reflected on its walls with an endless variety of shades and hues.
Knowledge of the heart preferable
to the knowledge of the schools.
The knowledge of men of heart bears them up,
The knowledge of men of the body weighs them down.
When ‘tis knowledge of the heart, it is a friend;
When knowledge of the body, it is a burden.
God saith, “As an ass bearing a load of books,” 1
The knowledge which is not of Him is a burden.
Knowledge which comes not immediately from Him
Endures no longer than the rouge of the tirewoman.
Nevertheless, if you bear this burden in a right spirit
'Twill be removed, and you will obtain joy.
See you bear not that burden out of vainglory,
Then you will behold a store of true knowledge within.
When you mount the steed of this true knowledge,
Straightway the burden will fall from your back.
If you drink not His cup, how will you escape lusts?
You, who seek no more of Him than to name His name?
What do His name and fame suggest? The idea of Him.
And the idea of Him guides you to union with Him.
Know you a guide without something to which it guides?
Were there no roads there would be no ghouls.
Know you a name without a thing answering to it?
Have you ever plucked a rose (Gul) from Gaf and Lam?
You name His name; go, seek the reality named by it!
Look for the moon in heaven, not in the water!
If you desire to rise above mere names and letters,
Make yourself free from self at one stroke!
Like a sword be without trace of soft iron;
Like a steel mirror, scour off all rust with contrition;
Make yourself pure from all attributes of self,
That you may see your own pure bright essence!
Yea, see in your heart the knowledge of the Prophet,
Without book, without tutor, without preceptor.
The Prophet saith, “He is one of my people,
Whoso is of like temper and spirit with me.
His soul beholds me by the selfsame light
Whereby I myself behold him,
Without traditions and scriptures and histories,
In the fount of the water of life.”
Learn the mystery, “I was last night a Kurd,
And this morning am become an Arab.” 2
This mystery of “last night” and “this morning”
Leads you into the road that brings you to God.
But if you want an instance of this secret knowledge,
Hear the story of the Greeks and the Chinese.
1. Koran lxii. 5.
2. Syad Abu'l Wafa, an unlettered Kurd, found a paper with the words Bismillah upon it, and, after spending the night in prayer, found himself able to understand Arabic (Luck-now Commentator).