#GOD i love magmatic

[funishment-time]

🔵 Kodaka BlueSky Q&As: Rain Code Characters (All)

⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Please be advised! Translations of all Japanese answers derive from a combination of Google Translate and my manager's three-quarters-remembered Japanese. We've tried our best to work out what he's saying, but there will be mistakes here and there. Do not take this as gospel!

To avoid spreading too much misinfo, where we're completely boggled about an answer, we've decided not to even make an attempt. We'll still list the post, but mark it accordingly.

➡️ AN IMPORTANT NOTE FROM KODAKA BEFORE READING:

First of all, the questions answered here are not official. Everything that is official is what is said within the work. In contrast, this is simply what Kodaka, the creator, thinks, and it is not the correct answer. Use this as a starting point to enjoy the depth of each character, or to say, "That's not right!" and enjoy it with your own interpretation. I think of this as a way of communicating with the characters who live in fiction. This is important, so please spread the word.

💕 FEBRUARY 2024:

Q: I love shinigami chan. Please make games forever!

A: YES

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Q: What happened to everyone at Amaterasu Company after the main story?

A: Yomi [Hellsmile] is growing magmatically angry with the opportunity to revolt while imprisoned…!

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Q: Why does Vivia wear such stringy underwear? Does he untie it every time he takes a bath or something?

A: I feel like he just goes in like that.

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Q: Was Vivia's umbrella tattoo done in Kanai? I was curious because that was the only tattoo related to rain.

A: I think he likes the gloomy rain. I'm sure he doesn't think Kanai Ward is so bad.

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Q: The pattern on Director Yakou's uniform is really cool, is there a reason for that?

A: I leave that up to Komatsuzaki-kun, but being a detective is, after all, a job in the underworld, so I think it's better to have that sort of shady side to it.

NOTE: Komatsuzaki is the guy behind Danganronpa and Rain Code's art.

/////

Q: [the question has since been deleted, but I remember it was about the ages of Master Detectives in Rain Code]

A: It varies quite a bit, but let me just say that most are in their 20s to late 30s. By the way, I'm 45. Oh, you didn't hear that.

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Q: How much does the director smoke in a day? That ashtray is disgusting.

A: That's probably three packs a day. I smoke half a pack a day. Oh, you didn't hear that.

NOTE: This is about Chief Yakou.

/////

Q: I would like to hear about your impressions of the masked man, and what you were conscious of when writing. I will continue to support your work☔️

A: He's nonchalant, talks about himself without listening to what the other person has to say, but seems intelligent. That's the impression I get.

NOTE: This is about Rain Code's Makoto.

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Q: Kodaka-san!! Thank you for your wonderful works as always ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎⊹ Amaterasu is exactly my type of organization (especially the head of security...!) Even if it's not a sub-story, I'd like to know if you have any small details that haven't been made public 🙏🏻💞

A: Thank you! Of all the Amaterasu characters, Komatsuzaki-kun was most enthusiastic about the robot researcher.

NOTE: We're pretty sure this is about either the character known as "Akira." The one weird about the Ama-pals.

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Q: A question about Rain Code: Are there plans to release a book that delves deeper into the backstories of the people who appeared in Chapter 0?

A: If there's a demand, I'd like to see a spin-off novel or something...

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Q: Excuse me for asking a question about Yuma, the main character of Raincode! What type of woman does Yuma like?

A: I wonder...! I think he's a pushover. lol

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Q: The names of the characters in Rain Code are sprinkled with elements of Japanese mythology, but is there any inspiration or backstory for this? Is there a reason why you named Makoto after the god of fire?

A: It all started with me wanting to incorporate a Japanese flavour.

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Q: Rain Code was really fun! I wonder if there will be an "if" story where the five train detectives (all real) arrive in Kanai Ward!? I'm ready to buy all the DLC and whatever else it takes👍

A: I would love to depict stories of their success. It would add more depth to Chapter 0.

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Q: Are there any characters who are certain that Halara's gender is this or that?

A: I don't think anyone can ask. Even if they did, Halara would probably think there's no point in answering. They might tell someone they like...

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Q: Mr. Kodaka, what is your impression of Director Yakou of Rain Code?

A: He's caring but also lazy, sloppy but cool... I think he's a very human detective.

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Q: Is Vivia's name a reference to the movie "Ghosts of the Sierra de Cobre"? Are there any other works that the names of the other characters are also based on?

A: I'm ashamed to say that I hadn't heard of that movie. The characters in Rain Code were named with an emphasis on giving them a stateless feel, and on the sound of the name.

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Q: Was there a deciding factor in casting Uchida Yuuma for the role of Seth?

A: I basically leave the casting up to the sound company. They did a very good job.

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Q: I'm sure Desuhiko has picked up as many women as there are stars in the sky, but does he actually have much experience in love?

A: Although he is not unpopular, he is most likely rejected quickly.

🍀 MARCH 2024:

Q: I'd like to know the ages of the Resistance members (even a rough estimate is fine if you haven't thought about it)! Since Iruka is planning to receive a birthday present from her parents, is she the youngest member?

A: Judging from his voice, Shachi sounds like he's 52 years old.

/////

Q: Excuse me. Who is most given chocolates on valentine day in raincode ?

A: Maybe, Vivia.

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Q: Why did Shinigami-chan give Halara-san the nickname "Hellara"?

A: I wanted Halara to be so stoic it drew Shinigami's attention.

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Q: There may not be sushi in Kanai Ward, but I'd like to know what your favorite sushi toppings are, folks at the detective agency.

A: Desuhiko likes sea urchins, Yakou likes mackerel, Vivia doesn't feel like eating, Halara likes maki rolls, and Fubuki tries to save the fish with time reversal.

/////

Q: [The question has since been deleted, but I believe it was about Seth's childhood.]

A: His childhood must have been similar to that of Jataro [Kemuri]...

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Q: I would like to hear about Martina's "calculation" of Yomi, which came up in a previous Rain Code interview. Did you have any stories in mind, Mr. Kodaka?

A: She thought she could use Yomi's favor to advance her own career.

/////

Q: I'd like to know the name of the Amaterasu Researcher who appears in Director Yakou's DLC!

A: His wife? It's a secret! I only tell people when I'm drunk, so... nope. (said cutely)

/////

Q: I'm guessing the age order of the train detectives is Zange > Melami > Zilch > Aphex > Pucci, is that correct?

A: There are various theories about the location of Melami [in that order].

🥬 APRIL 2024:

Q: Do special abilities have a genetic component? (e.g., Vivia's family is more likely to see spirits)

A: Sometimes it is and sometimes it is not. It is said that the Clockford family will rarely produce a child like this due to genetics.

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Q: Sorry if this has already been mentioned❗️ Harara Nightmare's gender is unknown, but do they ever wear feminine clothes like skirts as fashion?

A: "No. I only wear clothes that are easy to move in."

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Q: Halara is often depicted holding a lollipop, but do they have a favorite flavor?

A: Anything as long as it's sweet. It's to get the sugar needed for that person's brain.

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Q: I played Raincode to the end ☔️ I love the masked man...! I'd be happy if you could tell me anything about him.

A: "I made the masks myself. I made them suspicious on purpose to scare people away."

NOTE: This is about Rain Code's Makoto again.

/////

Q: A question! I'm curious about what method the Raincode super detectives used to get into Kanai Ward! What other routes could they have taken besides the Amaterasu Express!? I'd be happy if you could tell me who got there and how!

A: I'm saving [this info] so I can make a special edition someday! lol

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Q: who would you choose to solve a mystery and why? kirigiri, saihara or halara?

A: It would be great if the three of them performed together!

🌺 MAY 2024:

Q: What do you think about animals other than dogs and cats, Halara?

A: "More precious than humans."

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Q: Can Chief Yakou cook?

A: "I can make lazy meals."

☀️ JUNE 2024:

n/a

🎇 JULY 2024:

n/a

🌭 AUG 2024:

Q: I want to know how Yomi Hellsmile is doing after the main story of Raincode. Also, how is Seth Burroughs doing?

A: In his luxurious cell, his desire for revenge boils.

🍁 SEPT 2024:

Q: Is there any reason why the masked man in Rain Code has one eye?

A: Apparently he chose the most suspicious mask possible, so that no one would like him.

NOTE: This is about Rain Code's Makoto once more.

[lazodiac]

It's time once again to ramble incoherently about magic cards. Lets try and divine where each of the cards of Outlaws of Thunder Junction are from, why don't we!

You can find the first two parts here and here! And today we're covering...

BLACK

Starting us off with a native to Thunder Junction. God this critter is spooky looking. Love it though!

Aaah, the Hellspurs. I'll get more into them once we meet our first creature Hellspur, but for now just accept that this magmatic thread of doom is native to Thunder Junction.

Another native creature of Thunder Junction! Vultures are important and regal birds and shouldn't be so villainized, I think... but I can't deny they do sometimes look this nasty.

While we've seen a number of vampires in magic practice ye ol' Sanguimancy, the plane most often shown to do this (and the plane most likely to pop their collars THIS ridiculously) is Innistrad.

As mentioned with ghosts in the Blue cards, dead and revived means you're bound to the plane- zombies are native to Thunder Junction, regardless of where they're from previously.

Sweet lord kill it with fire! This abomination is from Thunder Junction and if it's not I never wanna see where it's from. Snorses are wonderful an idea but god they look comfortable.

Gonna say something controversial about this one- the way the lady is posing, her culty robe, and the predominance of ash in her fire, makes me think this is a deep-cut to Azgol, last seen in MOM. It's got similar vibes to various Hellspur aesthetic stuff, but the woman is clearly just too alive to be one of them- more on that later.

Okay this is probably the best place to bring this up. Hellspurs! One of the criminal factions of Thunder Junction. Lawbreakers, murderers, and thieves to a man. Each follows the brutal scorpion-dragon outlaw Akul, and almost every single one of them is mutated beyond all belief by the Chaotic Thunder of the plane.

As a result, much like with zombies and ghosts, these guys have fully stripped away all of their previous life in exchange for lava hands and shit. So, there's gonna be a lot of folk who are native to Thunder Junction purely by this metric, and it'll skew things a little. This is why I'm counting the numbers by colour, since the Hellspurs are predominantly red and black.

A natural (and very spooky!) magical mirage of death. I love this art.

See? This is what happens when you don't "lower" yourself to feeding on animals. You end up shoving your stupid ass face into a cactus. This is a Ravnican vampire, since we've seen before they're often stupid enough to pull this exact trick.

*Dry bones falling apart noises* Tinybones' funny trick and/or prank! This is from Dominaria since that wonderful friend is from Dominaria too.

Raised on the plane, native to the plane. This skeleton owns by the way, this is a good ass skeleton.

Gisa Cecani is, much like her brother, one of my favorite characters in Magic. She's Innistradi born and raised, and seems to fit in like a glove on this plane.

Really unsettling art on this one! Ghost, so native to Thunder Junction... though we can actually, likely, identify the body here; four arms suggests a Mirran Vedalkan. Neat!

Our first actual look at the main antagonist of the set (for as much as that means in a villain focused set). Akul, the Scorpion Dragon of Gastal- a fact revealed right before I started doing this!

Kaervek! The Merciless! The Conqueror! The "too big a deal to be dealing with this shit", imo. Everyone's upset at Marchesa being here but Kaervek is the one that bugs me the most- this man is a country-conqueror, not a petty crook!... but, it's fine, because it's clear in the story Kaervek is insulted Oko's recruited him for such trivialities.

Anyway, he's from Zhalfir. I hope he gets to kill Oko.

Swing your partner round and round, rip their corpus from the ground! Gisa doing a barn-raising in the most literal sense, a uniquely Innistradi way of waking up the dead, with a Thunder Junction flavor.

A hellspur bursting his way out of a shallow grave- oak box included. Funny, and native to the plane.

No real way of figuring out where this guy is from or his gaseous death-cloud... so I'll say Eldraine, based purely on the fact that it's the plane most likely to have such a simple burst of "sleeping" poison.

An easy one! He may be a rat man but he's called out as a Nezumi and that's a Kamigawan thing.

There are a couple places this delightful fellow could be from... but given the pickpocketting and the general demeanor, he's from New Capenna.

Azul, laying a horrific waste to his "friends" to benefit. The scorpion claws being a vent for his breath weapon is exceptional a design, incidentally.

A ridiculous piece of art for many reasons, this one is native to Thunder Junction purely by the fact that this is where the gang was born.

The reason why this is ridiculous is because every single height here is wrong. Vraska is taller than basically everyone to the left of her. Oko is using magic to make himself look taller that's literally canon so that's fine, but Kellan? Annie? One's a baby (described as small for his age) and one's a grandma. Tinybones is also probably far too big. The only person here who is the right height is Rakdos, whose height is "whatever height he wishes to be he can change shape depending on how excited he is". Wild shit.

The only plane with actual snakes-for-hair gorgons is Theros, and even then only half of the time. So this lady is from there. Fitting too, apothecaries making booze and poison is within Pharika's perview absolutely.

As fun as it would be to say this is a raven from Dominaria, implying the presence of Omenpaths are allowing the (currently suppressed and trying to fight his way out of Lili) Raven Man is doing some work, naw. This is just a normal raven.

An all-natural undead member of the Hellspurs, double erasing his identity. God dangit.

This being an ASSASSIN vampire suggests New Capenna. It's kind of their jam, you know?

Gisa showing she is more impulsive than a monkey-goblin obsessed with explosives is why this story spotlight (that isn't given a story spotlight tag) is happening. Innistradi magic running wild and giving us a real Train to Busan energy.

A later card explains that the demons that are natural to the plane grant gifts like this, so this scorpions and their soon to be scorpionman friend are native to the plane.

Fun fact; scorpions do just glow like this. Bio Luminescence is fun!

Jana has the exact same vibe (and the same demon-snake familiar) as Elnor from Yuma's story, so I'm calling it for New Capenna here. Also, funny flavor text AND reminder text. Fantastic work.

And that's it for part 1. Tune in momentarily for part 2 of Black!

[ularkanojo]

SP Fallen God Orochi S-jade Skin 'Finality Incarnate' Bio

The Sun Goddess defined good and evil in her laws, and locked desires away with her so-called love. Yet both evil and desire came from her, from that hypocritical light. What the light feared is what interested me. Even when I was plunged into that dark Rift, void of light, I vowed that one day I would cover the world with the Goddess’ flowers of sin, initiating judgment on the world.

With the help of the God of Lies, I returned to the high heavens of the past. Finally, after countless attempts within endless possibilities, I became the God-Emperor of the new world created from the ashes of that dark, yet beautiful old world. The gods had fallen and the walls had collapsed. I freed everyone from the shackles of love. As I had expected, they shed their disguise and started killing each other for their desires until they had all been assimilated into true evil. But as the benevolent God-Emperor, I didn’t allow them to have regrets. I sat on the throne of the Adjudicator in the very center of the Scales; walls and seats rose up to form the Trial Ground.

“Today, I will pass verdict on everyone using my own divinity to rule, instead of Yata Mirror. I will show the old gods and the world the sins they have committed!”

“Lambs of the gods, you were born on your knees to pray for peace from birth. The gods bestowed blessings upon you, only to make you weak, ignorant, and shackled to your pitiful existence. They claimed this would prevent you from committing evil deeds, and thus keep the world in peace. What the gods didn’t tell you was that sins are born out of weakness, and committed out of ignorance. The shackles were forged for the sinners.”

The first star crashed into the land. Magma spewed out of the ground, creating a sea of fire which burned the grass and trees to ashes. Then, with a gust of wind, the wildfire was pushed further, scorching meadows and forests into the distance.

“With the fall of the old gods, a new Adjudicator came into the world. Thanks to his discerning eyes, no sins could escape. But when he laid his eyes on the world, he saw a place filled with crime, and everyone a sinner. And so, he ascended to his throne and passed his verdict on the world, `Guilty!`”

The burning star crashed into the sea. Burning mountain peaks fell into the sea, and the water boiled causing a steamy mist to rise up. Ships drifted helplessly into turbulent currents then swallowed by huge waves. After the waves had passed, the boiling sea water turned red as hundreds of boiled wrecks emerged from the water; the ocean looked like a graveyard stretching into the horizon.

“`Please forgive me! It was never my intention to commit any crime,` The lambs pleaded.”

The third star struck towards the part of the world where it was night. As it fell, it brought with it a meteor shower, turning the night into day. The meteors burned and disintegrated along its trajectory, transforming into countless meteorite fragments which smashing into the earth like a torrential downpour. Mountains collapsed and rivers were cut off, villages were obliterated in the blinding flare, and forests were consumed by a sea of flames. Magmatic tides surged forwards, engulfing everything in their path.

“`Please correct the unfairness. It was not our intention to wear these shackles.` The lambs pleaded with the Adjudicator.”

The fourth star struck towards the part of the world in daylight. White clouds dissipated then were refused into burning red clouds. Magnificent buildings and towering trees were split in two. Any living being still hiding quickly fled as a chasm appeared in the ground which started to consume all.

“The Lambs lamented, `My body burns in eternal torment, my soul wanders in an endless labyrinth.`”

The fifth star fell towards point in the sky where day and night met, breaking the divide between light and shadow, yin and yang. Darkness consumed the sun, and daylight consumed the stars. The sky was turned into a messy palette where light and shadow intermingled, trying to corrupt each other. Before long, all light was lost; the day ceased to be bright and the night sky lost the glimmer of the stars. Complete darkness shrouded the world where only the echoes of the people’s wailing could be heard.

“`Please give the first light of the world back to this infinite darkness. Please show pity for the hopeless land one last time. Please begin the end and purge the sins. Please grant me a peaceful rest before the new world comes.` The sinners pleaded.”

Aether poured from the crack and engulfed the stars and the world like a dark wave.

I was sure that this was the end of the world, but then I found some humas huddled in dark caves. Some of them still clung to the beliefs of the old gods, and it intrigued me. So I sent the Evil Gods to stir up their desires, and waited for them to show despair when their beliefs collapsed. But no matter how much torture they underwent, those fragile mortals still refused to give in.

When I came back to my senses, I was once again under the cherry tree; unlike before, the surroundings were so silent that it was as if time had stopped. I ended the age of the old gods, salvaged everything from the injustice it had suffered, and liberated everything from bondage. Then a cherry blossom petal fell into my hand.

“The falling cherry blossoms that fade after blooming are so fragile, yet so glorious. The same goes for you, who have remained unchanged for thousands of years.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Seven.

Just in case you didn’t see, it’s double update day so this is the second chapter I have posted this morning! Go read chapter six if you haven’t already :) 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,243

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Yo, what the fuck? Are you trying to give me a heart attack in my sleep with that underwear?”

“It wasn’t my choice, but I am working it, aren’t I?”

Angel snorted softly. “Y’all over there making me wish you were working something else, mamacita.”

She sauntered over to him, her hands stroking up his hard thighs before sitting astride him, Angel leaning forward and running a lick along the black lace of the underwear set she had on. “Hmm, I might have to.”

His eyebrows knitted slightly. “Might?”

Pushing herself against him, she felt the thick bulge in the front of his jeans press at her sex, Angel moaning as he kissed the side of her neck. Reaching behind her, she unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor, pressing her hand against his throat and pushing him back, her mouth on his, kissing one another with magmatic desire. “How badly do you want me?”

Pushing her back on his thighs, he held her eye contact firmly as he undid his jeans, shifting a little, pulling his cock out, looking down at it and then back up at her. “That badly.” Her eyes followed his, biting her lip, beginning to grin, leaning to him again, their kisses frantic, feeling him pull her undies to the side, Keri reaching for him, positioning the thick head of his cock at her opening before sinking down.  

God, if he felt that good in dreams, then just what the hell would the man feel like in reality?

“Kinda loving that you ain’t so shy these days,” he groaned, his mouth closing over her nipple as she began to gyrate against him, his cock slipping effortlessly back and forth within the soaking clasp of her cunt.

“I still would be in reality,” she panted, holding his face in her hands. “But in my dreams, well. I think you bring out something in me, something that wants to enjoy being a bad girl.”

She kissed him again then, his arms tightening around her, beginning to bounce her on his cock as he groaned against her tongue. It was, just like the rest of the sexually charged nocturnal experiences they’d begun to find themselves in more and more often, a short-lived indulgence. In that particular offering, though, it wasn’t the sex, or earth-shattering orgasm she’d had atop him that had woken her. It was his words.

“I wish this was real.”

She found herself questioning why, though. Did he just want to have sex with her, or was it more for him? It was built upon something so inconceivable that despite her own judgement, or the talk she’d had with Frankie two weeks before, she just didn’t know. As a result of this, as well as the ever-escalating sexual nature of their mutual dreams, she began pulling back from him a little in reality, trying to gather herself.  

It had been a month and a half since the very first dream, and they’d gotten to know one another about as well as two people who only met in dreams and spoke on the phone could, but still, something prevented her from coming out and asking him in as many words, what his intentions were towards her. Also, he hadn’t further mentioned them actually meeting up either, but then again neither had she.  

It was a situation she wished happened with more frequency, so that maybe she had someone to reach out to about it, share her experience, have them maybe be able to offer advice. As it stood, it was just her in it. Well, her and him. Literally, the only frame of reference she had was a movie about the same subject, one that Angel had mentioned to her during one of their long telephone conversations, called The Good Night. She guessed she should probably get around to watching it. For science.  

“Hey, little!” David called from the door, Keri sitting on the couch engrossed in a picture gallery featuring different hair colours and cuts, contemplating a change. “Come grab these beers before I drop ‘em.” She raced out to meet him in the hallway, her face lighting up to see the paper bags from her favourite burger restaurant in his arms. Meryl was a strict vegan who refused to cook anything that had once had a face, as she worded it, so Keri and David had to get their fix when she wasn’t around.  

“Oh my god, double cheese’s, yes!” she announced with excitement, David kicking the front door shut.

“Yeah, I gotcha. Got the loaded fries, too. Let’s get this movie night started, huh? What are we watching?” He kicked his boots off before following her into the lounge, the pair having the house to themselves since Meryl was out for dinner and drinks with her friends.

“It’s called The Good Night. It isn’t new, it was released eleven years ago now in two thousand and seven.” Taking the bag from him, she pulled out the contents as he sat his bulk beside her, the heavenly smells of freshly seared steak patties making her mouth water.

“So, was this a recommendation, or did you just find it while surfing Prime?” he questioned, twisting the caps off the beers and placing one next to her.

“Remmomemdafon.” Her reply was muffled through the mouthful of cheeseburger she’d just bitten into, David unfolding a napkin with a little shake and tucking it into her t shirt, save her ending up covered in the sauce. He knew of old, after all.  

They were taking advantage of no Meryl there to nit-pick the junk food splurge, David picking up their dinner on his way home from work at the logging company he owned. With that, she pressed play and they settled, falling silent other than the sounds of eating delicious, greasy food. For the entire duration, he couldn't help but notice what sharp interest Keri was taking in it, nodding in parts like she was empathising, concentrating on it intently.

“David?” she spoke suddenly, leaning forward and grabbing the remote to pause it about half an hour from the end. “Would you think I’m crazy if I was to tell you I can empathise with what Martin Freeman's character is going through?”

He grinned in interest, wondering where she was heading with her statement. “What, whenever you dream, you're in a situation with your ideal other half who turns out to be a real person who thinks you're insane?”

She took a breath, setting her beer down and turning to face him. “This sounds like utter lunacy, I know it does, but for the past two months almost, I've been dreaming about the same man over and over again. But here's the deal, he's dreaming the exact same thing too. We’re having what is known as mutual dreams. Also, we’ve managed to get in touch with each other and well, we're kinda becoming friends now. It's all so inconceivable, but when I speak to him, I dunno, it stops being strange.”  

He paused for a moment, eyes narrowing a little. “Are you being serious?” His words were slightly incredulously delivered, but with a certain ripple of excitement in his voice.

“Hand on heart.” Placing her hand to her chest, she held his eye contact to enforce the sincerity. “It's completely unbelievable I know. Even I still wonder at the state of my sanity. But it's real, he's real.”

He sipped his beer, reaching to grasp her hand. “You're not crazy, hon. Believe it or not, I have heard of this before. Mutual dreaming, from what I know it isn't common, but that doesn't make it impossible. So, what's the nature of these dreams you have with him? Or do I not wanna know?” he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.  

“Yeah, you’re not getting the deets on a lot of it,” she began. “I’d say use your imagination, but ick.”

He shuddered. “Nope, won’t be doing that, kid!”  

She chuckled, reaching for her beer again, finishing it and opening herself another. “What I am comfortable revealing is that in our dreams, it’s almost like we’re together. We’re affectionate, we just kinda hang out too and talk for as long as we can. Lucid dreaming is difficult, though, so we’ve done most of our talking and getting to know one another over the phone.”

“And where in the world is this guy?”  

“Santo Padre, Southern Cali,” she confirmed, David’s eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh, so he ain’t that far, then? I mean, alright it’s a good few hundred miles, but he could have been in New Zealand or Namibia or something, you know? Somewhere truly far from you. I kinda get from the fact you say you’ve been getting to know him that a meet up is on the cards, am I right?”  

She coloured up a little, David laughing warmly, reaching out to pinch her cheek softly. He’d never been blessed with his own children, but for the last ten years he’d been in a relationship with Meryl, he’d very much looked at her like she was his. “Come on, little. You can tell me!”

She shrugged, the corner of her mouth quirking. “It’s been mentioned briefly.”  

“Might you be letting your shyness with guys get in the way of something that could be special? Come the hell on, Keri. This is something almost completely unimaginable, so much so that it can only be fate come calling, don’t you think?”

Was that truly what it was, fate?  

“Hmm, perhaps.”

“Psht, perhaps nothing,” he snorted dismissively. “Meet the guy, see if there’s anything there. You’ll kick yourself eventually if you decide to never find out.”

“I doubt you and mom would approve. He’s... ah, a little older than me,” she broached, David raising an eyebrow.  

“How old?”

“Thirty-six.”  

The eyebrow continued its ascent. “Well, yeah that is a bit of an age gap, but heck, I’m twelve years older than your mom. I kinda feel like if I said anything with negative connotations, I’d be a massive hypocrite.” He paused for thought before continuing. “And from what you’ve confided in me over your dating life, most guys around your age are a walking shit show these days, so I dunno, maybe someone older might suit you better.”

David’s simple, yet sage advice stayed with her through the rest of the movie, both deciding to watch another, Keri being introduced to the Jackass movies for the first time, sitting there cry laughing on her stepdad’s shoulder for the duration. He knew it would work in taking her mind off a situation that he sensed she might be in a little bit of tumult over. Laughter was a tonic, after all. It also ensured that when Angel called her at just gone 10pm, she actually felt relaxed enough to pick up.

“Ahh, finally she answers the phone. I was starting to think you'd gone quiet on me.”  

“Sorry about that. I did go quiet on you,” she confessed, turning her music down a little.

Sitting down outside the clubhouse, he rested his feet up on the table, sipping his beer. “I did wonder if you might, with how our dreams have been. I know you get shy, even if dream you has been the exact opposite, and driving me out of my damned mind.”

“I have?”

He laughed softly. “Oh, hell fucking yeah, you have.” She didn’t reply to that, Angel reading between the lines, knowing that dream Keri and reality Keri were two very different people in that respect. “How’s your day been?”

She instantly relaxed at the change in subject, happy to talk about what she’d been up to, both sharing their news for a while since it’d been a couple of days since they last spoke.  

'What's that music you're listening to? Sounds interesting,” he asked later in the call, noticing he'd been on the phone to her for almost an hour. It was a good job he got free minutes plentifully.

'Danheim, it’s ambient, Nordic folk,” she revealed. “I find it soothing.”

'I like it, I’ll have to check it out,” he replied, hearing it grow a few notches louder. “Listen, imma head home and call you back, okay? I want more beer and I can’t.”

“Ahhh, you don’t drink and ride. Good to know,” Keri chirped, liking that he wasn’t an asshole who put himself in charge of transportation while under the influence.

“Nah, not unless it’s a woman.”

She couldn’t help but snort laugh. He was such a shameless flirt. “You’re so bad.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby. I’ll be about twenty minutes, alright?” Just under half an hour later, and her phone rang again. “I’m home, and I believe we were talking about music.”

“We were,” she confirmed, down in the kitchen making herself a coffee, David distracting her by writing ‘Keri’s got a boyfriend!’ on the big chalkboard Meryl used to write anything from her grocery list to inspiring quotes and silly messages to her family upon. ‘Stop it!’ she mouthed as he danced and pointed at his scribble, picking up her mug and softly kicking his shin on her way out. “I have a really diverse taste in music.”

“Yeah? Hit me with a few, lemme see if you’re as eclectic as me.”

“Alright, I’ll read you everyone on my usual Spotify playlist, hang on.” She switched the call to speaker before loading the app, beginning to recite all the artists that featured. “The Smiths, Iggy Pop, Lizzo, Taylor Swift, The Ramones, Twiztid, Snoop Dogg, Greta Van Fleet, Danheim, Wardruna, Tool, Machine Gun Kelly, Cardi B, Oasis, Nirvana, Panic at the Disco, Motionless in White, Megan Thee Stallion, Deftones, Sam Smith, Massive Attack, PJ Harvey, Madonna, The Distillers, Tricky, Cypress Hill, Digga D, Miley Cyrus, Zara Larsson and Goldfrapp.”

“Okay, y’all got me beat,” he laughed, thinking that truly, he’d never heard such a diverse list before.  

“How about you?”

“Oh man, loads. Mostly I like hip hop, classic rock and metal, but I got some classical shit in my collection, bit of country as well. I like that you mention Tool, because most chicks I’ve been around don’t even know of ‘em, and then haven’t liked their stuff when I’ve played it,” he snorted, Keri scoffing.

“How can people not like Tool? They’re so atmospheric! Even my mom likes them! Me, her and David went to see them on their last tour two years ago.”

“Yeah, I did, too. Went with Coco, who I lost halfway through because he went and banged two chicks in the restroom in rotation,” he revealed, snorting with laughter at the memory, and how that for once, it wasn’t him being indecent in public, sliding further down in the bathtub, the hot water soothing to his recent iguana-related injury, his thigh still purple and black from the tail whip he’d received.  

“What was the swooshing noise?” she asked, sipping her coffee. “Are you in the bath?”

“Yup, you get what so many other women crave. A naked and wet Angel Reyes, talking to them on the phone, and not charging by the minute,” he joked, making her giggle.

“So, you fancy yourself as a woman magnet then?” she teased. She knew from his Instagram it was true, though. Women flocked to him.

“Honey, I know I'm a woman magnet.”  

“Modesty who? Do we even know her?” she teased, Angel laughing. “So, how come you're single?”  

“After recent events, I’m choosing to be fussy. What's your excuse?” His last relationship had ended quite well, he and his ex-girlfriend Lucy remaining friends, but the women who had followed... not so much.  

She groaned softly, remembering the disaster that was her very recent attempt at dating after breaking up with her boyfriend of two years five months previously. “The same, being fussy and hoping not to attract the same kinda guys as the couple I went on dates with. Especially the last one. He was... well. A grade A dick, to borrow from Frankie when I told her about him.”

“Why was he so bad, then?”

She cringed, feeling herself going red. “It’s so embarrassing!”

“Come on, you can tell me,” he assured her. “I’m your friend, or something like that.” She was glad that he seemed to not really be able to define what they were either, but she liked that, that he considered himself her friend, flirting and dream humping the hell out of each other aside.

“Alright, so he seemed perfectly fine to begin with, he was nice and courteous, but then when things began to get a little spicy, well, he point blank refused to have sex with me.” If she could have seen Angel’s face in that moment, she’d have died laughing.  

“And why the fuck would anyone not want to have sex with someone as stunning as you?” he snorted, reaching for his beer.  

“Because I don’t wax my pubic hair, apparently, and he doesn’t like that. Well, I do, I get my bikini line done, but everything else I just trim so I’m nice and tidy, and he said he’s only into chicks who are bald from the waist down, apparently. I was mortified! Made me so self-conscious!” Angel probably should have timed his bursting into hysterics a little better, but he couldn’t hold it in. “Stop laughing at me!” she cried, covering her face with her hands as she shook her head. Shit. Why had she told him?  

“Oh, baby I ain’t laughing at you. I’m laughing at him. That’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard!”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “So, it doesn’t bother you, then?”

“Hell no! I got one stipulation with women. Wash. End of list.” Entirely reasonable on the stipulation front, she thought. “You know, an ex of mine was a beautician, and she talked me into letting her wax my balls once. Fuck, that shit hurts! And I’ve been shot, so I know pain. Never again, even more so that I got an ingrowing hair that blew up into a big fucking lump, made me have a meltdown, thinking I had fucking testicular cancer!”

“Oh, don’t,” she began, chuckling. “I had my own brush with that. I had a lump come between my armpit and boob once, and panicked like hell thinking it was cancer. I went to the doctor to get it checked, and thankfully it was just a sebaceous cyst. He gave me this drawing ointment for it, but I ended up getting impatient and popping it. It was like the nastiest zit ever, so gross, yet so satisfying.”

“EZ’s wife would have been right up in your bra trying to get it for you, I swear, she has a fixation on it. I had a blackhead behind my ear one time, and she wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d let her pop it,” he shared. “You ever seen that doctor pimple popper channel on YouTube? She subscribes to it, that woman has issues, man.”

“She’d get on so well with Rachel, she loves watching that and torturing me and Frankie with it!” And so, their conversation continued, talking about various content they found interesting online, covering a vast wealth of subjects for the next hour. Friend, guy she might date, whatever he was, Keri was enjoying getting to know the literal man of her dreams regardless of where it might or might not end up.

[mxdragonica]

I've got a character rattling around my head at rapid speeds, so I'mma talk about 'em. Heroforges will be at the end.

Introducing: Risha, the Hadozee warlock of an Efreet. This flying monkey is a pyromanic gambler who got her deal because her patron liked the cut of her jib. Risha was a wizard's apprentice, in theory anyway. The wizard wasn't interested in actually teaching anyone anything, so used Risha as a glorified errand girl, and thus, quickly got a high score on her shit list.

Cut to sometime later, the wizard has sealed a Noble Efreet in an iron bottle. Whatever plans he had for this powerful extra-planar being are about as important to this story as they are fruitful, which is to say, not. Risha, once her 'mentor' had left the tower to get off his ass and do something himself, slips into his lab, and promptly pops the cork. Having been told very much not to, she figured there'd be something in there to help her get some revenge.

So, the Efreet comes out, and before he can actually get into any kind of spiel or theatrics, Risha asks this:

"What do I need to do to get you to melt this tower into slag?"

Now, this understandable takes the wind outta the sails of any tirade this guy would've gone on, and instead he strikes a deal. Not every day a scorned apprentice releases a powerful elemental of fire and dubious morals to destroy their captor's house after all.

So, Risha gets to collect a few things, including the iron bottle the Efreet was sealed in, now with brass filigree added on as it will be her spell focus, and the material symbol of their deal. Then, once outside, the Efreet melts the stone tower to magmatic sludge, and arms his new monkey friend with pyrotechnic spells.

Now, as well as being a fire mage that is often watched as entertainment by her patron (he just kinda wants to see what she's gonna do), Risha is, as I mentioned, a gambler.

She loves shiny things, and money. She's proficient with dice, and even has a loaded set. However much she's able to bend the rules in her favor though, there is another who does it just as well. And unlike the Efreet this character actually has a name.

Introducing: Mayja, Queen of Bones. She's a Loxodon, and has had a reputation in among gamblers and gambling houses alike for likely a good couple of decades longer than Risha has been at it, earning herself a title befitting of someone that is rumored to have seduced some god of dice, luck, or both.

Mayja and Risha have had an ongoing rivalry for about as long as they've known each other, potentially as long as they've known of each other.

I haven't got to use her in a campaign yet, and the ones I'm currently in she either wouldn't fit in setting wise, or probably wouldn't work with the party. Well, actually she could maybe fit into the Knights of the Road game, but it just wouldn't be the same, I don't think. She was made for 5e D&D after-all and Knights of the Road doesn't give you access to magic, iirc.

Honestly, after typing all this, I think i might work on Risha's patron a bit more, or at least give him a name.

Anyway, as promised, everyone's heroforges. I just kinda wish that HF had better monkey options, since they've even partnered with Fools Gold, and one of the player characters is an awakened monkey wild mage. Risha's wings aren't accurate either, since the options for flying squirrels are even more sparse.

I'm also most happy with Mayja's expression of all the character's I've made in HF, just because I was pretty much only needing to worry about the eyes, without the mouth making things weird, or needing to be accounted for.

Risha

The Efreet

And Mayja

[skyistheground]

[sentient78]

VERSE EMOJI MAGMATIC LET'S GO

VERSES DRABBLES

"The chamber's all sealed up, sir." Voices are muffled through thick walls of steel, though from the sounds of raspy trilling, it's easy to tell that's some crocodile.

"Then cast the spell," a gruff pig's voice says. "Set a time for five."

Footsteps walk away. A trapdoor hinges open.

WX watches little blue, glowing particles drift down from the opening. The bot usually sits in the upper left corner of this room, for no other reason then it’s habit. As the particles hit the ground, blue blooms magically sprout from the ground. The bot can feel their effects immediately-- puffs of pollen seal tears in their chassis and smooth over dents and scratches. How it works is beyond the bot. It’s beyond anyone. The only thing these people know is that the bot seems completely unaffected by the pollen’s sleeping spell. Somehow, that same magic actually repairs them.

They don’t complain. Why should they? It’s free repair for their service of enacting bloodshed onto the lava stage. Besides, it’s a little relaxing for the usually high-strung bot. Their posture sinks a little, crunching into their fiery core as exhales of black smote leave through the vents in their head and shoulders. 

This room would be toxic to anyone else, WX thinks to themselves. Sleeping pollen combined with their smoke would lead to a sleep nobody could ever wake up from. At least WX doesn’t need to breathe.

They hold one of the blossoms in their hand. Their blue glow begins to fight with their fire-orange one, trying to show up against the petal. The bot tugs up, ripping that single blossom from its stem. Immediately, the flower wilts and ceases to glow. At least it’s still blue.

They crumble the petals in their hand then let it drop to the floor. It’s devoid of its magic now. How easy would it be, WX wonders, to stomp out a field like this?

They won’t get the answer to that. The flowers shrivel up into an ugly grey, slipping back into the rock solid ground from which they came.

Well, that’s done, but the bot knows they have to wait a bit longer before they’re retrieved. The Forge residents are wary of lingering pollen. Though WX usually can’t see any after the flowers die.

So they straighten themselves back up in their corner and wait. Wait. Wait.

[vanillasakura]

RDRSW21 Day 4: Clothes

Title: Breathe Our Vows While the Stars Chase the Clouds

Word Count: 1452

Pairing: Abigail/Reader

Notes/Warnings: NSFW, slight exhibitionism, domme Abigail

Title from A Wistful Waltz by Teddy Hyde

≿━━━━━━━━━━༺❀━━━━━━━━━━≾

Let me rest in your eyes, hide in your ears

Abigail always looked perfect. No matter what time of day, no matter what she wore, she was always gorgeous, a magmatic queen for the rest of the world to behold. You were convinced that you could keep your eyes locked onto her the entire day through and it still wouldn’t be enough, you’d still want to trace your eyes along her figure, studying the way her clothing accentuated her body and the softness of her skin that wasn’t covered. You were enamored, obsessed, and you would do anything to keep it this way. She was the most gorgeous woman you’d ever laid your eyes upon.

“Abi…” you whimpered, hiding your face in her chest, arms wrapped around her as you ground down on her thigh, both of your skirts hiked up and your bloomers discarded somewhere on the ground. The two of you were behind your tent, Abigail sitting on an old crate with you in her lap, her plaid jacket pulled tight around both of you so as to shield you from the cold night air. 

“Sh, you’re doing so good… so good…” she coaxed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I need more… please, touch me…” you begged, still rutting against her. 

“I know, I know, but can you hold on just a little bit longer for me? I know you need me, but I just want to watch you for a while longer. Please, my darling?”

Your hands squeezed at her waist, encircling it and pulling her closer to you as you kept on riding her thigh. Abigail dropped one hand from around your back, touching your chin lightly and pulling it up to face her. You flushed red, embarrassed from the forced eye contact, but also couldn’t help taking in just how loving Abigail looked. Her eyes reflected the lamplight, her smile soft and loving as she smoothed her other hand over your back, running it back and forth over the openings of her jacket and the little bit of your shirt that stuck out in between them. 

“Mm, do you know how good you look right now, my darling? I can’t think of a better sight in the entire world.” Abigail whispered, and fuck she was so attractive you had to bite your lip to hold back a whimper. “I love watching you, so much, my darling, so, so much. My good girl, such a good girl.”

You felt your face flush, and you bit down on your lip to hold back a groan. “Abigail…”

“Could watch you like this for hours, just grinding down on my thigh, chasing your high again and again…” she paused, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’d love to do that, y’know?”

The fact that she still had your chin in her hand, eye contact unbroken was threatening to break you. “Oh God, Abigail…”

“I love you, by the way. Love you so much. So damn much it almost kills me sometimes…” Abigail tightened her grip on your back, and you kept grinding down, letting yourself drown in her. “You mean the world to me, you know? I have no clue what I’d do without you, my darling…”

“Abigail, my love, please, I’m…” you cut yourself off, not able to finish your sentence. The praise, the eye contact, the closeness, it was beginning to be too much.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, my love. I always do.” Abigail cooed, slipping the hand off of your chin to between your legs, the hand on your back halting your movements as she began to rub at you, and relief swept through your entire body as you began to shake against her.

“So wet for me, such a good girl.” Abigail praised once more. Her hand may not be on your face anymore, but you still didn’t want to break eye contact with her. You’d never felt this physically close while you made love before, (you’d definitely have to try the jacket again in the future,) and not getting to see all of the adoration in her eyes would be like throwing the last piece of a puzzle into the Dakota River. It just wouldn’t be right. 

“Can feel you dripping down my thigh, by the way. How utterly soaked you are, how much you need me… do you have any idea what that does to me?” Abigail asked, running her finger around your clit in hard, fast circles. 

You weren’t sure whether to nod or shake your head, so you just sat there, rolling your hips against her fingers. When you didn’t respond, Abigail chuckled, taking her hand off of your back and grabbing one that held onto her waist, hiding it under her skirt and her bloomers. “How ‘bout you see, hm? See what you do to me.” Abigail’s gaze was full of lust, and when she guided your hand up against her completely soaked core, that was it. You threw your head against her chest as you started to come, vaguely conscious of her grabbing your chin and forcing you into a kiss as she helped you through your high, moaning into her mouth and letting the waves of pleasure carry you away. For a moment, you and her existed as one, and the rest of the universe around you faded into nothingness.

You slumped against her once you finished, squeezing your arm around her waist as she did the same to you, kissing the top of your head. Lazily, you began to rub at her in return, cherishing the sounds she made quietly.

“Love ya, Abigail…” you murmured into her chest, the soft cotton of her bloomers rubbing against the back of your hand while you pleasured her. “I love you so much…”

“That’s good, my angel, just like that… good girl.” Abigail moaned your name gently, letting her face fall into the crook of your neck as she tried to coax you inside of her. You obliged, sliping two fingers into her warm heat and dragging them along her walls, utterly adoring the sound that she made as you did so. 

“Come whenever you need to, okay?” You whispered into her ear.

 She laughed. “You really think you’re the one in charge here, my darling?”

“Hmm, I mean, I am the one giving you what you need, am I not?” you teased. “There isn’t anything stopping me from pulling away now, is there?”

Abigail laughed again, low and sultry. “Oh, but I know you, and I know that right now, you’re far too enamored with me to tease me.” She pulled her head up and kissed your cheek. “You can talk all you like, but I’ve got you right under my thumb, and you’ll give me whatever it is that I need.”

You clenched your jaw, not meeting her gaze, and not stopping your ministrations.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“...You are.” 

Abigail moaned softly, pleased. “Just as I thought.” She kissed you again. “Fuck, you’re really good at this, my love.” 

“How good?” You couldn’t help but tease her just a bit more.

“Good enough to make me come.” Abigail responded, grinding herself down on your hand. “I’m getting close.”

“I love you, Abigail.” you told her, moving your hand faster at her words. “I love seeing you feel good.”

“I love when you make me... feel good. Fuck, my darling, just like that, keep going…” Abigail coaxed you along, and you kept fucking her, smiling as you heard her let out a choked cry and fall against your chest, arms gripping you close to her as she trembled.

You kissed her as she came down from her high, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she caught her breath. “God, you’re gorgeous, Abigail.” You told her again. “I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you too, my darling.” Abigail smiled, pushing you off of her lap and inviting you to take the space next to her instead. You obliged happily, resting your head on her shoulder as she wrapped her jacket around your two figures once more.

“Was that good?” you asked, hand finding hers and fingers interlacing,

“Of course it was, my darling. It was just what I needed.” Abigail assured you, putting her head on top of yours as she stroked the skin on your hand with her thumb. “You’re always just what I need.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and pulling the jacket tighter around you. Jack would probably need to go to bed soon, meaning you two would have to make your appearance at the campfire once more, but for now, you simply let yourselves bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Reality could wait a few more minutes.

[sasorikigai]

How does Grandmaster Hasashi feels about that thunder God? Does master think he's reliable or trustworthy? Despite deceiving his champions and omitting pertinent information... And actually inducing Grandmaster Kuai into searching the kamidogu and exposing him to unfathomable dangers and all...

Send my muse anons about their relationships. || anonymous, mention of @indulgentia || always accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Excruciating forlornness, combined with undying, unconditional love becomes a set of perfect words for the way Grandmaster Hasashi feels for the past gruesomely slaughtered and pulverized. Weary words for a weary feeling; the coalesced twisting of joy and hurt that comes with each thought of his beloved Harumi and Satoshi. Closing his tenebrous chestnut eyes bring forth the long-disintegrated and faded reflections of them in  their pinnacle, along with his own being, who looks much less melancholic and at ease. His subconscious absent from the hoisted torture of despair, vengeance, grief, and regrets. This version of past Hanzo Hasashi looks more agreeable and pleasant, yet so far away. 

How the pyromancer finds himself drifting into the cerulean abyss above his head, despite all the unspoken love poems and bird calls, all fading into the sky like woolen embraces with an absent lover. They remain divine poetry that forever touch his heart and soul so deeply, ardently, and passionately. Yet, there is a silver lining in all this; that his days used to be empty, sorrowful, and colorless. For everything he does even in the name of righteous justice and rebuilding of the Shirai Ryu still reminds him of so much irreversible pain and loneliness, and his defiant love is the one that saturates awestruck passion, making his heart swell with transformative gasps of divinity, crossing the realms of humanness and godhood. His hellfire could be windswept, soft-caressing, and yet simulate widespread, all-engulfing destruction. 

His complex emotion towards the Thunder God had entombed unparalleled hatred and wrath in deep mind, as Scorpion once lost himself to the pool of rhythmic vibration that was the magmatic explosive inferno. A ripping whirlwind that would even unfurl and unravel even the atoms of a demigod. For his resolute, indefatigable passion is the bridge that had taken him from wallowing in pain, to take on such a transformative change; utilizing his grief-fueled wrath and vengeance to save the world on the precipice of extinction, as the weaponized memory of helplessness sprawl of his brutalized body become the catalytic valor and strength. 

“There are things even a Thunder God cannot foresee, for he is not an omnipresent nor an omniscient God,” Hanzo believes such omittance of information could have accelerated the annihilation, along with himself drowning in the sorrows of unworthiness, afraid of receiving the very thing he craves so deeply, because the pieces of his past he doesn’t know how to let go of holds him hostage in the melancholic and morose depression of his head, as he lays awake at night with the emptiness in his chest, as chasm widens, as his soul would cry, and every night, feeling a little more dead inside (what an irony, as a resurrected man losing pieces of himself as his reflection would scream). “Lord Raiden deals with immense, incomprehensible responsibilities as Earthrealm’s Protector. However flawed and human the demigod has been in his fated role, I simply abide by what is asked of me, regardless of vices I continue to deal with affect my own responses, frequently in sudden gush of fury and vitriol.” 

“Perhaps I was loveless back then, when I sought Sub-Zero out to defeat him alive or dead; we were both cruel and perhaps heartless to some degree, as our respective hearts burned in their own light without taking regard for the different frequency and intensity, never finding the perfect constellation of words or actions as we both were wounded souls. I simply wanted to translate my pain onto the pages, but no words could ever assuage the punishing brutalization Liang took because of Kamidogu possession.” Hanzo’s fathomless chestnut eyes seem to speak to the soul of the inquirer; they remain deep, perhaps full of unadmitted revelations and secrets and dimensions that no member of mankind will ever comprehend, unless that individual was Kuai Liang. For his tenebrous darkness will shine an illuminative light upon the wise sapphire of Sub-Zero’s understanding and empathy, as pools of ink, once devouring light in their intensity would speak of Hanzo Hasashi’s subconscious and psychological torment and trauma. 

“Unless it was Sub-Zero, it would have been an impossible for anyone to endure the fatal exsanguination, lest breathing one’s last as my unforgiving rage would have suffocated, scorched, and burst one asunder.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[queen-eevee]

COLA ok i yelled already abt the hiroto fic but AHHHH the landry fic... landry 🥺 its so sweet god landry replaying his final moments then THE ENDING Landry opening his mouth fuckkk yes god i wish we got landry fireproof let him kill umps

!!!! OH THANK YOU!!! <3

I'm just. I love him. And I think about his parallel to Achilles and the Hall Stars game ALL the time. A small part of me does wish we had gotten to see fireproof fire-eater Landry Violence (let him kill umps!!), but also god...I wouldn't change a thing about his story arc. I still get emotional every time I think about him becoming magmatic...

[whereisthesun]

working for vacation - sibo matto & magmatic refinery - nanoray ^_^

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this / downloading immediately | already in my library

THIS RULES SO MUCH OMG. OMG. OMG... i really like this voice. this is really good. definitely going to listen to this a ton. Straight into my listen more playlist

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this / downloading immediately | already in my library

ooo i know of nanoray bc i like desktopbuddy so i was excited for this and it ALSO delivered god i love songs like this make my brain feel so fast. youve done it again...your music taste always gets me

[kmp78]

I’m loving We Crashed! Have you seen it? Jared is really doing a tour de force performance. He’s really nailed this guy. : yeah. The real Adzz a m is a trip and you love hat Ed him bugg TV JL does a spoof on job of nailing his magmatic but obnoxious personality. Yeah Zi you will say that’s J’s real personality but ya know, this performance is spot on.

As far as the magic between AH and JL, I think IG idd sad there the way it might be with the real characters. Real but sometimes restrained…

Well going by the trailer and clips, the "magic" between Hathy and JL seems about as electric as the "magic" between Dakota J and Jamie D in that god-awful 50 Shades trilogy... 😭😬👎

[justinehudock]

Genuine.

When Blanche Wisener was brought into that aluminum-wrapped closet and positioned on the floor decals shaped like a pair of men’s tractionless loafers and heard the X-Ray machine turned beepedybeepbeeped on accompanied by a climactic full-blooded slide whistle sound and the big iron thing laboriously fiddled with so that it faced her and the rays of hair-singeing energy flew through her body like beams of a sunrise yawning through a suncatcher, nothing changed. The X-raying apparatus, spotted with little barcoded apple stickers from the technicians’ snacks, radiating faintly skull-shaped silhouettes of an electromagnetically green shade that set off car alarms for three square blocks and induced rapturous labor in nearby women who were not due for several weeks, produced an image on its receptor screen between which, and what Blanche looked like to the naked eye, there was no difference at all. This is how genuine she is. 

Blanche, as true to her name as any one could hope to be unless one’s name is Ugly and Unentertaining Joe in which case one had better hope for the antonym to that, is peeled of the regular veiling, protective trappings that women are imposed upon to develop, portraying the supernovic potential of blinding authenticity that a woman might be. Blanche is daylight, a single beaming red circle in the center of a white canvas; the magmatic heart of a great, burbling volcano. Unprocessed and pure as non-homogenized milk or a well-asseted woman’s naturals, Blanche wears her heart on her sleeve, and hangs her kidneys from her earlobes, and wraps her intestinal track up the length of her forearm like a gladiatorial bangle. 

There are billions of feme covert type-women whose personality and capacity for sincereness are subsumed by that calculated feminine reticence that makes men fall in love, but Blanche does not hold a membership with this calico group, all arched backs and deliberate movement, like just any fluffy-headed dandelion breezing back and forth in the mild but persistent wind of misogyny. Blanche chose to inhabit a body with candor, plumply and ingenuously and immovably insistent that she was the only one who would put one leg in front of her other, that she was the one to make up her lunch boxes and nobody else, and that her metaphors for autonomy need only hold wisdom for her. A frank portrait, or sometimes a medium shot or over-the-shoulder-shot, depending on your point of view, to the world at large: a woman on display, a real woman, one who can be observed by anyone as if the observer was an X-ray machine peering into all that lay behind Blanche’s blue-veined eyes, miasmic like empty words; everything from the interior of Blanche’s soul, to her dense tissues, to all her other kinds of physiological matter, even to any emotions processing themselves into the full range of multicolored biles.  It was not unlike watching an ant colony by cross section, watching Blanche.

The X-ray machine unscrambled all of these facets to the fact of nature that is Blanche; its only function, after all; praise is hardly called for. Her large, generous mind (like an empty ballroom), the density of her flannel-slacked thighs (rugged and dark and close with a layer of thick-coming hair that was disturbingly similar in texture to a five-o’clock-shadow), but above all this, it focused on the nauseating, unaccountably bruised, massive and disagreeably heart-shaped tumor punching out of her abdomen.

  That X-ray and annual medical feel-up after the fact led to the expert opinion of her doctor -- a woman, by the way, by the name of Renée Donet -- who attributed this grotesquely misshapen goiter on Blanche’s lower stomach with an apocryphal-level of evil and peccancy and malevolence, finally diagnosing it anecdotally as a kind of growth that will “cause middle fingers to raise from every direction, as if inspiriting them with a larvae of some supernatural thing that has a very low tolerance for vileness.” The doctor’s note burned up upon contact with these words, the charcoal marking of Renée’s pencil rising upwords and leaving the word larvae on her forehead in mirror. 

Renée even admitted to Blanche, as if under the hypnosis of a high fever, that she and the other radiologists had hung the image of this lump above the donuts in their break room in a pitch to ruin everyone’s appetite. It was nearly Summer after all. 

“It’s disgusting,” said Renée.

“What is?” asked Blanche.

“Your lump.” said Renée.

“Which is?” asked Blanche.

“New one.” said Alrene.

“This?” asked Blanche.

“No. Lower. The goiter thing.” said Renée.

“Hm. Can you remove it?” asked Blanche.

“Don’t think so.” said Renée.

“Think so? Or know so?” asked Blanche.

“Know.” said Renée.

“Alright. Bye then.” said Blanche.

“Goodbye. Don’t come back.” said Renée.

“Alright, bye then.” said Blanche.

“Thank God I’ll never see her again,” said Renée.

“I’m still here, Renée.” said Blanche.

“Sorry, wasn’t looking at you. As I said, I’ll never see you again.” said Renée.

“Bye. I don’t know where I’ll find another doctor whose name rhymes.” said Blanche.

“Try Francisco Banananisco, on 32rd Street.” said Renée.

“Alright.” said Blanche.

This was a shock. A grave shock. Blanche had long dismissed the loaded nacho platter-sized lump as anything to worry much about. It was only characteristic of her patient approach to life and its issues that Blanche should have assumed the mass was merely the snowball those boys in the neighborhood had thrown at her some months ago, after they hijacked a travelling magic troupe and held the headlining magician’s head in a toilet until he conceded their demand to produce enough snow to terrify their dinosaur action figures. She had planned simply to continue to cover the lump, the sticky, slow-thawing snowball that she thought it to be, with clothing until the excess water melted and was absorbed into her bladder. Blanche knew enough about human physiology to know that the bladder was nearby. 

But it was as disgusting and real and genuinely worthy of fear as she dreaded to accept; scary things are always as scary as they can possibly be. With knowledge of its doctor-determined evil, Blanche became afraid to touch the lump, worried to bring objects or clothing even near to it. The thing was so large and veiny and had so many life lines running across it, as though to say to Blanche “I will be with you for this and any existence after,” that it was fearsome, and maybe, she thought, capable of incorporating anything that came close to it and becoming stronger all the time, like an Increasingly Lethal Enemy or what gas is to a fire, whatever that relationship is. Clothing became unwearable, but the Spring air, being so humid and revealed to her bare skin, only made the lump bloom larger and fatter, like cotton wool in water. The large holes Blanche had cut into all of her tops, including ample border space around the lump to give it even more room, put much of her wardrobe out of commission, and because they were her tops and public barebreastedness was still on the books, consequentially a major blow to her ability to venture into public at all.

Blanche was changing, now in roars like the changing sea, beyond her power which was once almighty and head-spinning. Some speculated this change was the effect of the lump in a literal way, that it was leaking dark, unvaulted emotions this special woman’s brain had never before experienced (these people are quacks). The emotions of misery, bitterness, butterness (always scrambling for control over the slippery constitution of true agency), and nausea, like her body was a boat surrounded by sharks that were shaking the craft, shaking it, and laughing at this, her funeral, the death of a one-woman civilization and its god, the same woman. But what was happening to her was not biological, or kenotic, and with Blanche’s last ounce of that particular, unparagoned vigor of self-certainty, she was convinced that the lump was calling in the favor she had benefited from all her long life: calling her back to the ugliness of self-consciousness, and ugliness. 

Under a mental smog so dense that might have been imported from San Francisco, Blanche would leave her apartment wearing nothing but a skinny scarf and large sunglasses, her posture reduced to an all wrong sort of curvacious C-shape, it seeming to all who passed her that Blanche had forgotten herself completely and assumed the role of the third member of the Village People. The lump grew larger daily. Imperceptibly, like a child, but nevertheless larger, assuming more and more of its host’s stomach, growling for ever more flesh to integrate. Blanche had no sense, no idea what to do, only tears that dribbled off her chin to fall on the lump like an eyedropper. The lump grew shiny with these tears, expanding with her stomach as she breathed heavily in abyssically large sobs. As snow blows off a car’s hood at speed, Blanche was beginning to blow away from herself. Blanche, once a model city of a woman -- silver skyscrapers and plastic lakes and abstract topographical icons all her own unparalleled design -- now ground down daily toward unparalleled impoverishment. 

On the first day of Summer, Blanche in her greatest despair was discovered: a small purple tumor sitting in the center of a T-shirt, a circle of fabric cut out of it. One day a man came in, looked at the tumor, and squashed it with his boot. The tumor squirted and spread into the shape of a pair of tractionless loafers.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Fervid - An Alfie Solomons/Reader Smut Short.

Words - 414

Warnings - Smut below the cut! Features anal sex.

You said you never would, but Alfie Solomons, as you have learned, does not take the word no for an answer often. It took much coaxing, many promises of gentleness, how much you would love it, before you let him finally explore the passage you once only considered to be an exit only.  

There you lie, spread wide before him, your bum rested atop his thick thighs as equally thick fingers burrow deep in your cunt, his fat, hard, well-oiled cock nudging into your other hole, so tight around him that he cannot stop the grits and curses that fly from his mouth, panting hard, his chest glistening in the candlelight.  

You purr with pleasure, Alfie grinning at you, his other hand moving to begin thumbing at your clit, chuckling as you wail. “Yeah, you like having a big cock right up your arse now, eh, love?”

“Never, ever stop!” Your demands are met by more amused tones.

“Might have to, darlin’, fuck, you’re so tight.” He moves within you with steady, yet determined strokes, his fingers burrowed deep, your dewy centre slicking his entire hand, you’re so lit up with desire for him. “Yeah, look at you, absolutely loving it now, ain’t ya?”

“Yes, fuck yes!”

“That’s my good girl.”  

“You’re the best fuck in the world, Alfie. Oh, god!” you wail as he hits you deeper, his groan all gravel, the tight constriction around him utterly magmatic.

“Tell me something I don’t know, my sweet.” His words are cocky, accompanied with that smile, the smile that got you into his bed in the first place, the charm of him. It’s the thickness of him in that moment charming you the most, though, splitting you wide, fucking up into you in time with his fingers, his thumb incessantly circling at your clit.  

He has you both frozen and on fire at once, your nails grazing his chest as he gives himself to you with aplomb, again and again, desire streaking through you like shooting stars as you feel your undoing charging upon you. 

Your wails fill the room, everything tight and fervid until finally, your sun begins to shine over his horizon, the beauty of your release glimmering through you, ecstasy fizzing though your entire being as you take him with you into the same heavenly realms.  

“I think she liked that,” Alfie pants, winking as he gently exits you, leaning to kiss you from your sternum to your throat.  

“Oh, she did.”

[tripstations]

20 of the most beautiful villages in Italy

(CNN) — Fabulous food, amazing art, rich language, dramatic and gorgeous landscapes — we all know what makes Italy so special.

Perhaps best of all are the scenic small towns and villages, where it’s possible to enjoy all these while surrounded by picturesque coastline, mountains, valleys, rivers or volcanoes.

Here are some of the most idyllic villages where you can travel that perfectly sum up the beautiful country, or “Bel Paese.”

Pietrapertosa

Pietrapertosa is popular with extreme sports lovers.

Courtesy I Borghi più Belli d’Italia

Located between the gigantic crags of the Basilicata region’s so-called “Southern Dolomites,” Pietrapertosa almost looks like it’s being swallowed by the mountains.

It takes its name from the ancient Petraperciata, which means “perforated stone,” a reference to the huge rock that in whose clefts this pretty village sits.

Shards of human-shaped rocks jut out everywhere in Pietrapertosa, which is shaped like an amphitheater.

Standing at an altitude of around 1,000 meters, its residents proudly say they live suspended mid-air between the sky and the earth.

This backdrop has allowed Pietrapertosa to become a hotspot for extreme sports lovers.

The most thrilling activity here is the Angel Flight, which sees visitors zip line from Pietrapertosa’s highest peak to that of the nearby village of Castelmezzano, offering an adrenaline-filled glide over sharp pinnacles and hairpin bends.

The village is also home to an ancient, crumbling Saracen castle that offers splendid views of the mountains.

Stand out local establishments include restaurant Le Rocce, located on top a hill, serves fantastic local dishes and cozy B&B Palazzo del Barone, with fabulous mountain views.

Le Rocce, Via Giuseppe Garibaldi, 109, 85010 Pietrapertosa; +39 0971 983260

Marina Corricella

Marina Corricella is flanked by fortress Terra Murata.

Courtesy Sergio Aletta

Procida’s oldest fishing village is easily one of Italy’s most beautiful thanks to its patchwork of purple, yellow, pink, blue and green houses.

Dating back to the 17th century, Marina Corricella has a simple, laid back vibe that’s hard to replicate. Lined with wooden boats and fishing nets, the harbor here is usually buzzing with shouting fishermen and vendors.

Fortress Terra Murata, a former prison, serves as the highest point on the island, with views stretching across the Gulf of Naples.

As for accommodation,18th century aristocratic palazzo Hotel la Casa sul Mare is a stand out, featuring just 10 designer rooms, while La Corricella restaurant serves signature fish dishes.

3. Ricetto di Candelo

Ricetto di Candelo — a tiny medieval village in the region of Piedmont.

Courtesy I Borghi più Belli d’Italia

Situated in Piedmont, the name of this fortified hamlet literally means “refuge.”

Locals hid in this medieval village in times of war and it was used to store grapes, wine and grain after peace was declared.

Dubbed the “Pompeii of the Middle Ages,” the original architecture of this pentagon-shaped village has been incredibly preserved.

Surrounded by tall walls, it’s made up of around 200 reddish-brown cube-like houses and five main roads, with cobblestone alleys so clean they shine at night.

Locanda La Greppia is one of the top restaurants here thanks to its delicious local cuisine, including various pork dishes.

And with only three rooms, local B&B Al Ricetto provides an intimate stay for travelers.

Locanda La Greppia, Prima rua, Ricetto, 13878 Candelo; +39 333 370 0425

B&B Al Ricetto, Via S. Sebastiano, 35, 13878 Candelo; +39 015 253 8838

Marettimo

Marettimo — the most remote of the three Egadi Islands.

Courtesy Silvia Marchetti

The wildest and most pristine island of Sicily’s Egadi archipelago, Marettimo is a hideaway in every sense.

Electric carts and donkeys are the sole means of transportation in this peaceful fishing village overlooked by an abandoned clifftop Saracen fortress.

Consisting of a cluster of white-washed dwellings with blue trimmings that sparkle at sunset, its simplicity is hypnotizing.

Islanders have been instilled with a primitive fear of the sea gods, which is apparent from the prayers scribbled on walls and doors to keep storms at bay.

Made up of cozy studios, Marettimo Residence is the only hotel in town and blends with the natural surroundings perfectly.

Another local highlight is seafront restaurant Il Veliero, a hotspot for bleeding sunset dinners.

Il Veliero, Corso Umberto, 22, 92027 Licata AG, Italy; +39 0923 923274

Chianalea di Scilla

This village has been dubbed the “little Venice of Calabria.”

Courtesy B&B Chianalea

Located in Calabria, at the tip of Italy’s boot, this fishermen village is built on layers of rocks rising out of the emerald green water.

With waterfront homes so close to the sea that waves that wash into courtyards, it’s known as the “little Venice of Calabria.”

Most of the homes here have boats and dinghies parked outside instead of cars, with locals proclaiming their “houses are boats and boats are houses.”

The tiny village lies on the Strait of Messina, believed to be the mythical location where dog-headed sea monster Scylla attacked the ship of Ulysses in “The Odyssey.”

At dawn, fishermen sell their catch down at the harbor, alongside Zibibbo wine and premium lemons.

B&B Chianalea 54, a restyled fishermen dwelling and restaurant Glauco’s, with specialties including sword fish rolls are both local stand outs.

Scanno

Lago di Scanno was created after an enormous landslide fell from Mountain Genzana.

Courtesy Cesidio Silla/Regione Abruzzo

Located in the wild Abruzzo region of central Italy, Scanno is a rural heaven.

Once a lair for bandits and outlaws, this pretty village nestled in the Apennine Mountains features a wonderful mix of Baroque, Romanesque and Gothic architecture.

Decorated with portals, masks and angels, its impressive facades, mansions, churches and fountains were originally commissioned by rich shepherd families, who competed against each other to ensure their properties were the most beautiful.

The village also boast various humbler stone and wooden dwellings that resemble something from a nativity scene.

Scanno overlooks a heart-shaped lake named after it, which some claim possesses magical powers.

Set in a 1930s Liberty-style mansion, hotel restaurant Roma serves regional cuisine using local products.

Hotel Roma, Viale della Pineta 6, 67038 Scanno; +39 0864 74313

Pienza

Pienza lies in the province of Siena.

Courtesy L’ Informaturista Pienza

Set in Val D’Orcia, Tuscany’s most pristine corner, Pienza has been dubbed the “ideal city of the Renaissance.”

Renamed and redesigned by Pope Pius II in the late 15th century, its packed with architecture masterpieces like Palazzo Piccolomini, designed by Florentine sculptor and architect Bernardo Rossellino, located in the stunning Piazza Pio II.

Positioned on a landscape of green rolling hills, the UNESCO World Heritage site, famously features a series of streets with romantic names like Love Street and Kiss Street.

Local restaurant La Buca delle Fate offers typical Tuscan menu items including picci pasta.

Bosa

Bosa is divided into two parts by the river Temo.

Courtesy Archivio RAS

This medieval village, also known as Sa Costa, is divided into two parts by the river Temo.

The region’s only navigable river lures in kayak lovers, its waters reflecting the multicolored buildings of the ancient district set in the western part of Sardinia.

Here simple artisan dwellings are juxtaposed with lavish palazzos of shiny pink magmatic rock.

Bosa was once renowned for its leather-making industry and is still filled with historical boutiques, where the art of tannery has been passed down across generations, as well as stores selling coral jewelry and asphodel baskets.

Built by the Tuscan Malaspina family in the 12th century, the Castle of Serravalle overlooks the town.

The impressive fortress can be fully admired from hotel restaurant Giardini Malaspina, which boasts a terrace and bar

Giardini Malaspina, Loc.s’abbadolzeddu, 08013 Bosa; +39 320 031 5896

Calcata

Calcata is popular with day trippers.

Courtesy Silvia Marchetti

Located close to Rome, Calcata is perched on a reddish hilltop rising out of a green canyon.

Shaped like a huge mushroom, the hamlet dates back to ancient Italian tribe the “Falisci.”

A labyrinth of moss-covered cobbled alleys that lead to openings overlooking the precipice, it’s been chosen as a lair by various modern artists and hippies.

With grotto dwellings adorned with scary masks and statues and alleys featuring squeaky wooden benches and rock altars, Calcata has something of a spooky vibe and is popular with day trippers.

Calcata Diffusa offers accommodation in grottoes scattered across the village, while restaurant Il Graal has outdoor dining on the piazza.

Il Graal, Via Giuseppe Garibaldi 9, 01030 Calcata; +39 360 788 110

Manarola

Manarola — one of five of the Cinque Terre towns.

Tristan MIMET from Pixabay

Not only is Manarola the second-smallest hamlet of Liguria’s Cinque Terre, it’s also the oldest and most romantic.

Enclosed by cliffs, the best way to get here is by train or by foot via the panoramic Lovers’ Lane connecting to Riomaggiore village.

Steep uphill stone paths connect the village’s colorful houses and orchards all the way up to a strange pyramid made of white cement that guides sailors at sea.

One of Manarola’s main streets, Via Belvedere leads to a natural panoramic balcony overlooking the Ligurian Riviera, dotted with olive groves and vineyards.

Hotel La Torretta, a 17th century tower, offers amazing sea view, while Trattoria La Scogliera serves delicious traditional pesto dishes. La Torretta, Vico Volto, 20, 19010 Manarola, Riomaggiore; +39 0187 920327

Marzamemi

Marzamemi is home to an ancient “tonnara,” or tuna plant.

Courtesy Sebastiano Campisi/Proloco Marzamemi

Situated near Noto in southeastern Sicily, Marzamemi is a tiny village of Arab origin.

Once a vibrant fish industry hub, its yellowish-grey Arab-style stone buildings are one of many nods to its history.

The village famously boasts an ancient “tonnara” or tuna plant as well as a wide piazza that’s been restyled into ceramic boutiques, bars and cozy apartments.

Tainted with black spots, the facades of the buildings make for an interesting sight.

The town, which served as the filming location for Gabriele Salvatores’ 1993 movie “South,” hosts the Blue Fish Festival each June.

Visitors B&B MaNanna, an old family dwelling run by the daughter of the last head tuna fishermen, is one of its top rated accommodation options and restaurant picks include Taverna La Cialoma.

B&B MaNanna, Via Salvatore Giardina, 12, 96018 Marzamemi; +39 349 733 6855

Sperlonga

Sperlonga — a charming seaside destination.

Courtesy Riccardo de Simone

Built atop a cliff about halfway between Rome and Naples, Sperlonga’s history is steeped in Greek legend.

The shiny white limestone of this village is said to have once guided Odysseus’s ship like a lighthouse.

Sperlonga also sits atop an underground maze of sea grottoes, where a beautiful “nymph” of the same name apparently lived.

Legend has it that god Jupiter, who had fallen madly in love with Sperlonga, turned himself into a meteorite in order to be with her, landing between her legs on the beach.

Their night of passion is said to brought about the high crags the village was later built on to escape Saracen incursions.

Today Sperlonga largely consists of terraced layers of houses and winding staircases that descend to the beach, where locals sunbathe close to ancient Roman pillars and and the ruins of Emperor Tiberius’ lavish grotto villa, a must see site.

Located close to the village’s Blue Flag beaches is the splendid Virgilio Grand Hotel, which is also a chic seafood restaurant.

Castelrotto

Castelrotto is favored by winter sports enthusiasts.

Courtesy Alpe di Siusi Marketing

Situated in northern Italy’s South Tyrol, Castelrotto sits in a lush valley surrounded by Alpine peaks and premium vineyards, near the Austrian border.

Once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the village is a blend of northern and Mediterranean cultures.

The locals speak in a weird German-sounding dialect and eat apple Strüdel and Canederli (knödel) dumplings.

Strolling through the town feels like walking through an open-air art exhibition thanks to the works of art on display. The mountain dwellings, a mix of Baroque and Liberty-style, are covered in colorful wall paintings by renowned 19th century artists.

Meanwhile bucolic scenes adorn bakeries, stables, barns and hotels, including the historic Hotel Wolf and tavern Zum Turm.

Hotel zum Wolf, Via Oswald Von Wolkenstein, 5, 39040 Castelrotto; +39 0471 706332

Cornello dei Tasso

There are no roads in Cornello dei Tasso.

Courtesy Museo dei Tasso

Time stands still in this fairytale medieval hamlet near Bergamo, Lombardy. The only way to reach Cornello dei Tasso is via a 30-minute walk along a crooked path.

There are no roads here, only cobbled alleys and narrow arches, and the houses have thatched roofs.

Despite its remoteness, Cornello dei Tasso was actually the birth place of the founders of the first European postal service back in the 13th century.

The village also boasts a museum dedicated to the postal pioneers, Bernardo Tasso and his son Torquato Tasso, author of the Renaissance epic poem “Jerusalem Delivered.”

The local museum also organizes guided tours around the hamlet.

Trattoria Camozzi is the only tavern around, serving game, hare and venison and La Tana del Tasso is a no-frills B&B.

Carloforte

This picturesque village is positioned approximately seven kilometers off the southwestern coast of Sardinia.

Courtesy Archivio RAS

Positioned on the isle of San Pietro in Sardinia, Carloforte was founded by the families of coral fishers from a Ligurian town of Genoa in the 18th century.

As a result, the picturesque village features the type of bright, Genoese-style architecture and “carruggi” alleys (wide enough for small carts) one would expect to find in Liguria.

Carloforte is the only place in the entire Mediterranean where the “mattanza,” a hunt in which hundreds of rare bluefin tuna are trapped in nets and massacred, is still practiced.

For locals, this brutal and highly controversial custom is a sacred ritual. It takes place each year during the Girotonno, which also showcases tuna gourmet delicacies and offers guided tours inside the tuna factory.Restaurant picks in the area include low key seafood dining spot Luigi Pomata and hotel Nichotel, which boasts cozy suites overlooking the harbor. Nichotel, Via Garibaldi, 7, 09014 Carloforte; +39 0781 855674

Civita di Bagnoregio

Civita di Bagnoregio has a population of just 12.

Alexandra Voicu from Pixabay

Founded by the Etruscans more than 2,500 years ago, Civita di Bagnoregio sits precariously atop a plateau overlooking the Tiber river valley in Latium.

Dubbed the “Dying City” due to constant soil erosion and a dwindling population, the remote village looks like it could crumble into the deep chasm at any minute.

Abandoned by most of its inhabitants years ago, only a dozen residents live her now, as well as many cats.

The footbridge was bombed during World War II and just one single metal catwalk connects the village to the main road today.

Visitors can check in to Corte della Maestà, a chic boutique hotel, while restaurant Alma Civita serves up good Italian and Mediterranean food inside a grotto.

Alma Civita, Via della Provvidenza, 01022 Civita; +39 0761 792415

Ginostra

Ginostra sits within a natural amphitheater.

Courtesy Silvia Marchetti

Only accessible by foot, or boat, the isolated hamlet of Ginostra lies on a secluded flank of the volcanic isle of Stromboli, part of Sicily’s Aeolian archipelago.

The tiny village is made up of a handful of white and pastel-colored huts covered in prickly pears and bright red bougainvilleas that clash with its jet black rocks.

According to legend, the village was built by a group of stranded sailors who took refuge here during a storm and were so struck by the beauty of the place that they never left.

Today the population here is estimated at around 40. Visitors enter through a steep path of stone steps winding up from a tiny docking bay, wide enough for just two boats.

Serving “volcanic dishes,” restaurant L’Incontro is a village along with charming B&B Luna Rossa.

L’Incontro, Via Sopra Pertuso, 98050 Ginostra; +39 090 981 2305

Luna Rossa, Via Piano, 3, 98050 Ginostra; +39 338 141 4620

Cetona

Medieval hilltop town Cetona lies in Tuscany’s Siena.

Courtesy Silvia Marchetti

Enticed by the slower pace of life and fresh air, Cetona is where the royals and fashion designers come to relax.

Set in southern Tuscany and shaped like a snail, the ancient hilltop town is incredibly well kept.

Starting at the magnificent Piazza Garibaldi, visitors can head up a narrow, paved road that circles round the tile roof houses and pretty churches, all the way to a panoramic castle tower complete with secret, exotic gardens.

The village’s surrounding countryside is known for its high-quality extra virgin olive oil.

Historic family-run hotel restaurant Il Tiglio di Piazza is a great accommodation option.

Malcesine

Malcesine has Monte Baldo as its backdrop.

Pixabay/Creative Commons

Forget the holiday crowds. This corner of Veneto is one of Lake Garda’s best kept secrets.

Surrounded by olive groves and the gigantic Mount Baldo, Malcesine sits at the feet of a historic castle, Castello Scaligero.

Nestled between the lake and the mountains, silence rules in this charming village, with its steep cobbled streets lined with artisan shops. Sunbathers relax on its pebble beaches, whiling away the hours as fishermen sell their catch nearby.

Local restaurant La Vecchia Malcesine offers innovative twists on traditional recipes and B&B Casa Mosole is based in an interesting building that was once a cured meats shop.

Casa Mosole, Via Bottura, 3, 37018 Malcesine; +39 348 531 0790

Ventotene

Ventotene — a former prison island.

Courtesy Silvia Marchetti

This two-kilometer-long island close to Rome was once a prison, with lustful Roman women and anti-fascists among its detainees over the years.

Bright orange and pink dwellings, former prisoner cells, mingle with ancient cisterns and fisheries in its small village.

The little harbor is lined with fishermen grottoes that have been turned into lounge bars, while the main Piazza Castello features an old Bourbon fortress tower.

The ruins of Julia’s Villa, named after the daughter of Emperor Augustus, exiled here by her father on charges of adultery, are still visible.

Italian politician Altiero Spinelli, who became one of the European Union’s founding fathers co-wrote the “Ventotene Manifesto” here in the village.

Positioned within Piazza Castello, hotel restaurant Mezzatorre has a dining terrace overlooking the main Cala Nave beach.

The post 20 of the most beautiful villages in Italy appeared first on Tripstations.

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[elisaenglish]

Elizabeth Gilbert on Love, Loss, and How to Move Through Grief as Grief Moves Through You

“Grief is a force of energy that cannot be controlled or predicted. It comes and goes on its own schedule. Grief does not obey your plans, or your wishes. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants to. In that regard, Grief has a lot in common with Love.”

“All your sorrows have been wasted on you if you have not yet learned how to be wretched,” Seneca told his mother in his extraordinary letter on resilience in the face of loss. One need not be a dry materialist to bow before the recognition that no heart goes through life unplundered by loss — all love presupposes it, be it in death or in heartbreak. Whether what is lost are feelings or atoms, grief comes, unforgiving and unpredictable in its myriad manifestations. Joan Didion observed this disorienting fact in her classic memoir of loss: “Grief, when it comes, is nothing like we expect it to be.” And when it does come, it unweaves the very fabric of our being. When love is lost, we lose the part of ourselves that did the loving — a part that, depending on the magnitude of the love, can come to approximate the whole of who we are. We lose what artist Anne Truitt so poetically termed “the lovely entire confidence that comes only from innumerable mutual confidences entrusted and examined… woven by four hands, now trembling, now intent, over and under into a pattern that can surprise both [partners].”

But we also gain something — out of the burning embers of the loss arises an ashen humility, true to its shared Latin root with the word humus. We are made “of the earth” — we bow down low, we become crust, and each breath seems to draw from the magmatic center of the planet that is our being. It is only when we give ourselves over to it completely that we can begin to take ourselves back, to rise, to live again.

How to move through this barely survivable experience is what author and altogether glorious human being Elizabeth Gilbert examines with uncommon insight and tenderness of heart in her conversation with TED curator Chris Anderson on the inaugural episode of the TED Interviews podcast.

Gilbert reflects on the death of her partner, Rayya Elias — her longtime best friend, whose sudden terminal cancer diagnosis unlatched a trapdoor, as Gilbert put it, into the realization that Rayya was the love of her life:

“Grief… happens upon you, it’s bigger than you. There is a humility that you have to step into, where you surrender to being moved through the landscape of grief by grief itself. And it has its own timeframe, it has its own itinerary with you, it has its own power over you, and it will come when it comes. And when it comes, it’s a bow-down. It’s a carve-out. And it comes when it wants to, and it carves you out — it comes in the middle of the night, comes in the middle of the day, comes in the middle of a meeting, comes in the middle of a meal. It arrives — it’s this tremendously forceful arrival and it cannot be resisted without you suffering more… The posture that you take is you hit your knees in absolute humility and you let it rock you until it is done with you. And it will be done with you, eventually. And when it is done, it will leave. But to stiffen, to resist, and to fight it is to hurt yourself.”

With an eye to the intimate biological connection between the body and the mind (which is, of course, the seedbed of feeling), Gilbert adds:

“There’s this tremendous psychological and spiritual challenge to relax in the awesome power of it until it has gone through you. Grief is a full-body experience. It takes over your entire body — it’s not a disease of the mind. It’s something that impacts you at the physical level… I feel that it has a tremendous relationship to love: First of all, as they say, it’s the price you pay for love. But, secondly, in the moments of my life when I have fallen in love, I have just as little power over it as I do in grief. There are certain things that happen to you as a human being that you cannot control or command, that will come to you at really inconvenient times, and where you have to bow in the human humility to the fact that there’s something running through you that’s bigger than you.”

Gilbert goes on to read a short, stunning reflection on love and loss she had originally published on Instagram:

“People keep asking me how I’m doing, and I’m not always sure how to answer that. It depends on the day. It depends on the minute. Right this moment, I’m OK. Yesterday, not so good. Tomorrow, we’ll see.

Here is what I have learned about Grief, though.

I have learned that Grief is a force of energy that cannot be controlled or predicted. It comes and goes on its own schedule. Grief does not obey your plans, or your wishes. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants to. In that regard, Grief has a lot in common with Love.

The only way that I can “handle” Grief, then, is the same way that I “handle” Love — by not “handling” it. By bowing down before its power, in complete humility.

When Grief comes to visit me, it’s like being visited by a tsunami. I am given just enough warning to say, “Oh my god, this is happening RIGHT NOW,” and then I drop to the floor on my knees and let it rock me. How do you survive the tsunami of Grief? By being willing to experience it, without resistance.

The conversation of Grief, then, is one of prayer-and-response.

Grief says to me: “You will never love anyone the way you loved Rayya.” And I reply: “I am willing for that to be true.” Grief says: “She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.” I reply: “I am willing for that to be true.” Grief says: “You will never hear that laugh again.” I say: “I am willing.” Grief says, “You will never smell her skin again.” I get down on the floor on my fucking knees, and — and through my sheets of tears — I say, “I AM WILLING.” This is the job of the living — to be willing to bow down before EVERYTHING that is bigger than you. And nearly everything in this world is bigger than you.

I don’t know where Rayya is now. It’s not mine to know. I only know that I will love her forever. And that I am willing.

Onward.”

Gilbert adds in the interview:

“It’s an honour to be in grief. It’s an honour to feel that much, to have loved that much.”

Complement with life-earned wisdom on how to live with loss from other great artists, writers, and scientists — including Alan Turing, Albert Einstein, Abraham Lincoln, Rachel Carson, Charles Darwin, Johannes Brahms, and Charles Dickens — and the Stoic cure for heartbreak from Epictetus, then revisit Gilbert on creative bravery and the art of living in a state of uninterrupted marvel.

Source: Maria Popova, brainpickings.org (17th October 2018)