Chase Blackhorn Modeus

If you don't smile at least once today, an alpaca will fart on all my shirts. Please don't do this to me!

Took 1500mg worth of edibles. I'll check back later.

Why argue with someone when you know you're in the wrong.

Instead, he paused, perhaps caught off guard by her unwavering stance. In that moment, something shifted within her. She realized that her beliefs weren’t just a rebellion against others; they were a testament to her own strength.

Clara stood her ground, breathing through the fear swelling in her chest. “I’m not here to defile anything. I’m here to celebrate freedom and self-acceptance—something you seem to misunderstand.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed, and Clara expected him to lash out.

As she approached the entrance, she was met by a figure swathed in darkness—a local priest, his face twisted in a scowl.

“What are you doing here, witch?” he spat, the word like venom on his tongue. “You shouldn’t sully this sacred ground.”

Clara’s heart raced, but she felt an unfamiliar surge of courage. “Stay here,” she whispered, her voice steady despite her fear. “I’ll check it out.”

With each step deeper into the shadows, Clara drew on her belief in strength over fear.

Clara felt a sense of trepidation as an unseen force seemed to permeate the air around them. It was then that they heard the sound of footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

The group froze, the flickering candlelight revealing panic-stricken faces.

Clara displayed the power of vulnerability, creating an atmosphere of acceptance and understanding.

But as they delved deeper into their beliefs, a chill swept through the church. The flames flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

As the evening unfolded, Clara guided her friends through discussions of dreams, desires, and the shadows that lurk within. They shared stories of feeling alienated in a world that often felt suffocating. With each confession,-

As the moon hung full and luminous above them, she arranged the candles in a circular pattern on the cold stone floor, illuminating their faces with a warm, flickering light. Her heart raced as she prepared to introduce the night's theme: the duality of light and darkness.

She invited a few friends who shared her interests, hoping to create a space where they could explore their thoughts without judgment.

She read books by Anton LaVey and Aleister Crowley, absorbing their teachings about self-empowerment and the importance of personal choice. One fateful night, Clara decided to hold a small gathering in the abandoned church.

To her, Satan was a symbol of rebellion against societal norms, a figure who inspired her to carve her own path. While others myopically followed the rules, Clara sought knowledge, questioning everything and grinding against the expectations that society imposed on her.

and piercing green eyes, found solace. At school, she was an outcast, a misfit who wore her identity like a badge of honor. Clara was a satanist—not the kind that worshipped evil, but one who embraced the freedom and individuality that the philosophy represented.

Smoke weed, Hail Satan!

Bah weep granna weep ninny bong

Typical Sunday. Chillin in bed on my laptop all day.

@hispersephone.bsky.social 😆

Forge your own path, embrace your inner power, and let no one dim the fire that burns within you. Hail yourself, for you are the master of your destiny!

😈

I had one joint, four rips from a 16in bong, 750mg gummy and four dabs all within 3 hours last night.

You'll be a blue-eyed bombshell till the end of time.

Absolutely! It'd be nice if you made more vids like this to motivate us to keep fighting.

750mg per gummy.

It's snew but it tastes like water.

This poem is dirty (and mine😈)

A tender bloom, a sacred taste,
No sweeter art, no love misplaced.
With reverence deep, I linger, stay,
A banquet served in passion's sway.

Eat all the forbidden fruits!