#vortice mortale

[marypickfords]

The Washing Machine (Ruggero Deodato, 1993)

[mariocki]

RIP Ruggero Deodato (7.5.1939 - 29.12.2022)

"I've been doing the rounds for about ten years, doing the festivals, where I'm invited for Cannibal Holocaust, you know, and other fairly violent movies; festivals that specialise in exploitation style movies. The people I've met there, the fanbase, the people who actually pay to go and see the movies, the people who take part, are the nicest, most lovely people I've ever met. They may be scary in appearance, with piercings, tattoos and stuff, but they arrive at these conventions with their kids in the prams, dressed up as little devils, but it's like a carnival. They changed my mind about people's appearance; they're incredibly peaceful. These festivals, these conventions, are about having fun in a very peaceful way; it's just a fun weekend."

[darkforestfae-tea]

How to talk to the Wind~ Air Elemental

This turned into an extremely long post. I debated on splitting it into 2 parts, but I’d rather keep it together. This took me about 2 weeks to write out! Thank you so much for reading!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

1. If the wind Falls silent, she is listening to you. Speak.

When the wind falls silent, an almost ethereal stillness takes over, creating a moment ripe for introspection and connection. It's as if nature itself has paused, holding its breath to listen. In such moments, one might feel compelled to speak, to share thoughts or emotions that have been swirling within. This silence, often rare and fleeting, can feel like an invitation to open up, to let the words flow freely and honestly. It's a reminder that communication isn't just about being heard by others but also about the cathartic act of expressing oneself.

The wind, in many cultures and literary works, symbolizes change, movement, and the passage of time. When it ceases, it can signify a moment of clarity or a break from the chaos. This stillness can be seen as a sacred space where one can connect with deeper truths or even with the universe itself. It’s an opportunity to speak without fear of judgment, knowing that the silence is there to absorb and understand rather than to critique or dismiss. In this quietude, your words can carry more weight, echoing in the stillness and perhaps resonating more deeply within yourself and the world around you.

So, when the wind falls silent and you feel that she is listening, speak with authenticity and courage. Share your innermost thoughts, dreams, and fears. Embrace the silence as a chance to communicate not just outwardly but also inwardly. Let your words be a bridge between your inner world and the still, listening universe. This is a rare and precious moment, a chance to be truly heard, even if it is just by the silence itself.

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2. Always Whisper

When speaking to an air elemental, always whisper. This subtle yet crucial guideline underscores the ethereal nature of these magical beings. Air elementals are creatures that embody the essence of wind and air, often depicted in folklore and fantasy as graceful, invisible entities or whirling vortices. Their very existence is intertwined with the gentlest breezes and the softest whispers of nature. As such, they are attuned to the delicate sounds that most mortals overlook. Speaking in a whisper not only shows respect for their domain but also allows for clearer and more harmonious communication.

Whispering to an air elemental can create a profound connection, aligning one's voice with the subtle currents of air that they inhabit. Loud or harsh sounds may disturb or even anger these beings, as they are accustomed to the serene and tranquil aspects of their element. By whispering, one communicates on a frequency that resonates with their airy essence, fostering a sense of trust and mutual understanding. This approach can be especially important for those seeking the favor or guidance of an air elemental, as it signals a willingness to meet them on their terms.

Moreover, the act of whispering can be a meditative practice for the speaker, encouraging mindfulness and a deeper awareness of the environment. It requires one to slow down and consider the impact of their words, fostering a more intentional and respectful interaction. In this way, speaking to an air elemental in whispers not only honors their nature but also enriches the speaker's own experience, creating a serene exchange that mirrors the gentle and flowing characteristics of air itself.

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3. In case there is a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back. Let her dance.

In case there is a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back. Let her dance. Imagine standing on a crisp autumn afternoon, with the sun casting a golden hue over the landscape. Suddenly, a playful gust of wind sweeps through, lifting the fallen leaves into a mesmerizing dance. The leaves whirl and twirl, creating a spectacle of nature's artistry. This is a moment to pause and appreciate the beauty that often goes unnoticed in our busy lives.

Every leaf in that swirl has a story. They have transformed from vibrant greens of spring and summer to the rich reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. As they float and spin, they remind us of the cyclical nature of life and the beauty in every stage of existence. The wind's choreography is spontaneous yet perfect, showing how nature can create art without any intention or effort. It’s a gentle reminder to find joy and wonder in the simplest of moments.

So, the next time you encounter a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back and let her dance. Embrace the opportunity to reconnect with nature's serene and fleeting beauty. Allow yourself to be captivated by the elegant dance of the leaves, and let it inspire a sense of peace and gratitude in your heart. It’s these small, magical moments that enrich our lives and remind us of the profound beauty that surrounds us every day.

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4. Don’t go outside if the wind is howling. There are spirits passing through.

The notion that howling winds are a sign of spirits passing through has long been a staple in folklore and ghost stories. It's a belief that has been handed down through generations, often to instill a sense of caution and respect for the unseen world. When the wind howls, it can create a symphony of eerie sounds, from whispers to wails, which easily stir the imagination. These sounds can be interpreted as the voices of spirits, adding a supernatural element to the natural phenomenon.

In many cultures, the wind is considered a conduit for spirits and otherworldly beings. For instance, in ancient Greek mythology, the Anemoi were wind gods, each representing a cardinal direction and possessing distinct personalities and powers. Similarly, in Native American traditions, the wind is often seen as a messenger, carrying the voices of ancestors and spiritual beings. These cultural narratives contribute to the belief that howling winds are more than just a meteorological event—they are a moment when the veil between the physical world and the spiritual realm becomes thin.

While science explains howling winds as the result of atmospheric pressure differences and natural air currents, the enchantment of these stories persists. Whether taken literally or metaphorically, the advice to stay indoors when the wind is howling serves as a reminder of the mysteries that still captivate the human mind. It’s a poetic way to acknowledge that there are forces in the world that remain beyond our understanding and that sometimes, it's best to respect the unknown.

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5. She already knows everything about you. Never lie.

The wind elemental possesses an uncanny ability to perceive truths hidden from mortal eyes. This ancient entity, often depicted as an invisible force that flows seamlessly through the world, has a profound connection with the very essence of nature. As such, it can sense the innermost thoughts and feelings of those it encounters. To lie to the wind elemental is not only futile but also unwise, as it already knows the truths that lie beneath the surface.

When one interacts with the wind elemental, honesty and transparency are paramount. This being of air and spirit can effortlessly read the subtle nuances of human intention and emotion, much like how it reads the shifting patterns of the weather. Attempting to deceive the wind elemental would be akin to trying to hide a secret from the sky itself. It is said that those who are forthright and open with the wind elemental often find themselves rewarded with its favor, whether that be through a gentle breeze guiding them on their path or a timely gust that aids them in a moment of need.

In legends and stories passed down through generations, the wind elemental serves as a reminder of the power of truth and integrity. Its omniscience teaches that living a life of honesty and openness can lead to harmony with the world around us. Whether seeking guidance or simply coexisting with the natural forces, respecting the knowledge and wisdom of the wind elemental can lead to a more enlightened and fulfilling journey. So, when faced with the presence of this all-knowing being, remember to speak truthfully, for the wind elemental already knows everything about you.

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6. You may play the flute. (Or another wind instrument)

Playing the flute for an air spirit is a poetic and enchanting concept that bridges the realms of music and mythology. Imagine standing on a misty hilltop at dawn, the first light of day casting a golden hue over the landscape. The air is crisp and filled with the soft rustlings of the wind through the leaves. In this serene setting, you raise your flute to your lips, poised to create a melody that will resonate with the very essence of the air spirit.

The notes of the flute, light and ethereal, seem to blend seamlessly with the natural sounds around you. As you play, you can almost feel the presence of the air spirit, a delicate and invisible entity that moves with the breeze. The music you create serves as a bridge, connecting the tangible world with the intangible, inviting the air spirit to dance and play. Each melody you produce is a tribute to the freedom and fluidity of the air, embodying a sense of grace and movement that mirrors the spirit’s own nature.

This act of playing the flute for an air spirit is more than just a whimsical idea; it's a celebration of the profound connection between humans and the natural world. It speaks to our innate desire to communicate with and honor the unseen forces that influence our lives. Through the music of the flute, you are not only entertaining an air spirit but also paying homage to the beauty and mystery of the natural world, reminding us all of the magic that exists just beyond the veil of the everyday.

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7. Listen to the Storms. Don’t talk.

The symphony of the storm is a language unto itself, a dialogue of the elements that speaks in a cadence both ancient and powerful. When the wind howls and the rain pelts against the earth, it is as though the very essence of nature is communicating in a voice that transcends human speech. To understand this voice, one must listen with more than just their ears; they must open their soul to the raw, untamed energy of the wind elemental. This force of nature, unseen but deeply felt, carries messages of change, transformation, and the relentless passage of time.

To truly connect with the wind elemental, silence is key. In silence, you can feel the whispers of the wind as it dances through the branches, swirls around rocks, and sweeps across open plains. This connection is not just about hearing, but about feeling the energy and intention behind the movement of air. It’s about recognizing that the wind is more than a mere force; it is a messenger, a guide, and a companion. By listening, we honor its presence and allow its ancient wisdom to permeate our being, grounding us in the present while connecting us to the timeless dance of the natural world.

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8. She gives life to your words. Make them meaningful. Especially when you talk to her.

The wind spirit, ethereal and ever-present, dances through the trees and whispers to the leaves, carrying stories and secrets from distant lands. When you speak to her, let your words be imbued with the same grace and fluidity she embodies. Speak not just with your voice, but with your heart and soul, allowing each word to flow like a gentle breeze caressing the earth. Your words should be as vibrant and life-giving as the wind itself, breathing existence into the thoughts and emotions you wish to convey.

Imagine your words as seeds, carried on the currents of her breath, finding fertile ground in the minds and hearts of those who listen. Nurture these seeds with sincerity and intention, allowing them to grow into something beautiful and meaningful. Acknowledge the power she holds, the invisible threads she weaves through our lives, connecting us in ways we may never fully comprehend. By doing so, you honor her essence and the life she breathes into every syllable.

When you converse with the wind spirit, let your dialogue be a symphony of respect and wonder, a harmonious exchange that elevates both speaker and listener. Embrace the silence between words, for it is in those quiet moments that her true wisdom often lies. Let your words be a reflection of the natural world she so effortlessly navigates, filled with the same awe and reverence that she inspires. In this way, your words will not only carry meaning but will resonate deeply, leaving an indelible mark on the tapestry of existence.

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9. If she whispers in your ear, listen closely. It means she trusts you enough to share secrets.

When a wind spirit whispers in your ear, it is an invitation to connect with the unseen world around you. This ethereal being, often depicted as a gentle, invisible force, chooses to share its secrets with only the most attuned and trustworthy individuals. Listening closely to these whispers can be a profound experience, offering insights that transcend ordinary understanding. It is a rare and precious gift that signifies a deep bond with the natural elements and an openness to the mysteries they hold.

The secrets shared by a wind spirit can encompass a wide range of wisdom, from ancient folklore and forgotten histories to personal guidance and intuitive knowledge. These whispers might carry messages about the environment, urging you to respect and protect the earth, or they might offer personal revelations that help you navigate your own life's journey. The key is to remain open and receptive, allowing the wind spirit's voice to resonate within you without skepticism or doubt.

Embracing the whispers of a wind spirit requires a mindful and meditative approach. Find a quiet space where you can attune yourself to the subtle nuances of the wind. As you listen, let your mind and heart remain still, creating a sanctuary for the spirit's voice to be heard. In doing so, you not only honor the trust bestowed upon you but also deepen your connection to the natural world and the timeless wisdom it offers. This sacred exchange can enrich your life, guiding you with the gentle yet profound truths carried on the wind.

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10. Word travels far and fast. Don’t say anything to awake the spirits.

In many cultures around the world, the concept of words carrying immense power is a common thread. Words can travel far and fast, transcending time and space, influencing those who hear them. This is particularly true in folklore and myth, where speaking certain words can invoke spirits or other supernatural entities. The cautionary advice to "not say anything to awake the spirits" underscores the belief that words have the power to affect the unseen world, where spirits reside.

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11. She has a strong temperament and gets angry easily. Make sure you’re always nice to her. You don’t want to be on her bad side.

The wind spirit, sometimes known as Zephyra, possesses a strong and unpredictable temperament that can change as swiftly as the breeze. While she can be gentle and soothing, her anger is a force to be reckoned with. Legends say that Zephyra's fury can stir up powerful storms, uproot ancient trees, and send ships veering off course. Thus, it is wise to always approach her with respect and kindness.

To stay in Zephyra's good graces, one must be mindful of their words and actions. She values honesty and sincerity above all else, and she can sense deceit like a sudden shift in the wind. Offering small tokens of appreciation, such as delicate feathers or fragrant flowers, can also help in winning her favor. These gestures show that you honor her presence and the natural world she governs.

Remember, Zephyra's moods are as changeable as the skies. Her anger may be intense, but her forgiveness is equally profound. If you find yourself having inadvertently upset her, a heartfelt apology and a promise to be more considerate in the future can go a long way. By cultivating a relationship of mutual respect and understanding, you can enjoy the blessings of Zephyra's gentle breezes and avoid the wrath of her tempestuous gales.

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12. If she’s talking to thunder, leave them alone. They don’t want you to hear.

Imagine the mystical conversation between wind and thunder, two forces of nature that hold immense power and mystery. The wind, with its gentle whispers and fierce gales, embodies the freedom and fluidity of movement. It travels across the world, touching every corner, carrying with it the secrets of faraway lands. Thunder, on the other hand, is the voice of the storm, a booming presence that commands attention and respect. It heralds the arrival of rain and lightning, bringing a sense of awe and sometimes fear. Together, they form a dynamic duo that shapes our natural world in profound ways.

So, if you ever feel the wind rustle through the trees or hear the distant rumble of thunder, take a moment to appreciate the secret conversation happening just beyond our grasp.

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13. A sudden draft can be seen as a bad omen.

The symbolic interpretation of drafts as bad omens can also be linked to the more tangible effects they have on our environment. A sudden draft can extinguish a candle, cause a door to slam shut unexpectedly, or create eerie, unsettling noises. These occurrences can easily evoke a sense of mystery and fear, especially in dimly lit or isolated settings. Consequently, such events have become fertile ground for ghost stories and superstitions, reinforcing the idea that a draft is an indicator of something ominous or otherworldly.

Despite these traditional beliefs, it's important to view sudden drafts through a rational lens as well. Modern science offers explanations for such phenomena, attributing them to changes in air pressure, temperature differences, and architectural features of buildings. While the eerie sensation of a sudden draft can still cause a shiver down the spine, understanding its natural causes can demystify the experience. Ultimately, whether one sees a draft as a bad omen or a simple quirk of the environment often depends on the interplay between cultural beliefs and scientific knowledge.

14. Never, ever, complain about her. She will remember.

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Sources:

— pictures off Pinterest.

--Content taken from a list of "how to talk to the wind" The original list was bullet pointed and kept in this post as the numbers. (i.e. 1. If the wind falls silent, she is listening to you,. Speak.") I added in the paragraphs following each bullet point to go further into detail for new practitioners or anyone interested in working with the air element.

Thank you for Reading! I absolutely love sharing my knowledge & learnings with others. I try to make posts a few times a week! & they are all organized on my profile.

Until we cross paths once more! Best wishes to all you wonderful witches! Warm regards, Tea.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

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Pagans & Witches Amino @ darkforestfae

[xawkward-ariesx]

Rose Tyler doesn't have scars.

At least not in the way that normal people do. She used to, once upon a time. Jagged areas of raised flesh where her skin had knit itself back together from childhood injuries acquired from the reckless abandon of youth and from an ex who threw around harsh words and even harsher hands. But the days where scars meant silvery patches of skin are no more an occurrence than her aging.

Rose Tyler will always look permanently twenty years old with streaks of gold running through her flesh were Bad Wolf knit her back together with the power of stardust and time vortices instead of allowing her to bleed out as mortality would demand. She had hated them at first. Yet another reminder that she was broken and yet no longer human. Another sign that she would have to hide from people lest they realise there was something not quite right about her.

But with time she came to appreciate them the same way she had the marks left behind by Jimmy. They were a reminder that she had survived. She had survived an army of Daleks and it's emperor, absorbing the time vortex, becoming a goddess of Time temporarily and had come out the other side with a heart that still beat and blood still running through her veins, so very much alive despite the odds that had been stacked against her. She could accept that though her skin may glimmer with streaks of gold that glowed in a way that no human should, that they were also a sign that she had survived something that should have otherwise destroyed her.

That didn't mean she felt any need to showcase them though. All the glittering cracks that showed she'd survived what the universe had thrown at her, that was. They were just apart of her that was all. Another thing that she had to accept as her new normal regardless of how she might feel about them.

Or so she had thought.

She was in a museum in the wrong country, in the wrong decade waiting for the dimension canon to pull her back, unable to do anything about her destination but wait. It had only seemed natural that she might as well try and blend in by wandering around the museum while she waited to be pulled back through the void once more.

She hadn't been in a museum in a long time, not for any particular grudge against them, she just didn't have the time for frivolities anymore. The last time she'd been in a museum the Doctor had been pulling her along babbling about their exhibit on the development of Venusian aikido practices through the ages. There was no Doctor by her side now to correct the plaques laid out by the museum as she meandered through the artifacts on display. Despite herself she felt the ache of his absence most strongly in quiet moments like this when there nothing to keep her preoccupied. It was with that thought in mind that had pushed her to turn to the next display.

Within the glass case that was mounted to the wall before her, was a beautiful blue and white vase with veins of gold running through the pottery's structure in spidery webs. It was beautiful. There was no denying the love and care that had gone first into its creation and then into the repair of the vase. She turned to read the plaque accompanying it.

"Kintsugi ( 金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi ( 金繕い, "golden repair"),is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold or other metals. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise by beautifying the cracks, which serve as a visual record of the object's history."

Rose smiled to herself. It was a rather lovely concept to take something cherished but broken and painstakingly put it back together but to do so in a way that made the damage part of its story rather than something to hide away in shame or pretend didn't exist at all, elevating it in the process.

Perhaps there was a lesson in there for herself.

[abbraccigelidi]

Alla fine, riesco a capire ogni tuo gesto, e ogni tuo pensiero.

Siamo uguali, hai detto.

Lo so, ti ho risposto.

Mi hai stretto la mano e mi hai chiesto perché fossi ancora lì, nonostante tutto.

Mi è scesa una lacrima, poi un'altra, e un lento susseguirsi di sentimenti trattenuti.

Per te, che l'amore di una persona lo pesi tramite lacrime versate.

Che pensi sia un cyborg, e m'incolpi del fatto che cerco di salvarmi, senza mai farlo.

Che non ti permetto di portarmi a fondo con te.

Eppure non lo capisci, che c'ho messo vent'anni a capire che certe volte tocca andarsene per salvare ciò che resta.

Anche io ero così. Ferma e ferrea su ogni decisione e punto di vista, che non sono stata in grado di perdonare un'azione, ma di perdonare tutto ciò che mi è stato fatto, perché amavo e capivo tutto.

Tutto, tranne me.

"Perché sei sempre stato il più sveglio di noi, davi in culo a tutti, non voglio accettare il fatto che sei arrivato a stare così".

C'è stato un grande silenzio, in quella casa che ti ricorda il dolore vissuto, dove c'è ancora l'ombra di tua madre, con il vizio mortale della mia.

Su quel letto, buttato nell'unica stanza ancora vergine di dolore, che ha visto solo il peggio di te.

Una casa distrutta nel momento in cui l'unica persona a cui tenevi veramente, si è spenta.

E hai avuto quella crepa dentro, la stessa mia, così profonda, dolorosa, a cui non hai mai voluto porre rimedio.

E nel tempo si è infettata. Proprio come la mia.

Capisco la tua autodistruzione, perché è uguale alla mia.

Capisco i tuoi occhi, perché sono come i miei.

Capisco le tue cicatrici, perché sono come le mie. E capisco come non senti dolore, perché in realtà ti aiuta a rimanere lucido.

Ti sento addosso.

Probabilmente sarai la persona con cui avrò il mio filo speciale.

Spero di vederti un giorno stare bene.

Spero di non vederti mai più piangere così.

Spero che un giorno tu abbia voglia di disinfettare quella ferita.

È che ti perdono tutto, alla fine tutto si può perdonare.

Ma non posso starti accanto, ad assistere all'omicidio della persona che ho sempre stimato.

Ti ho visto, e sentito davvero.

Vorrei solo che anche tu riuscissi a sentirti, e viverti.

Vorrei ti dessi una possibilità di stare bene.

E no, io non posso, perché ci ho provato ma mi hai massacrata.

Ci ho messo tanto a togliere il vizio, e farlo tornare un vezzo.

E mi ricordo come la morte di mia madre m'avesse spezzato il cervello e il cuore.

Non posso tornare a quel punto.

Nel giro di qualche giorno ero già aspirata nel tuo vortice, a maglie così strette che quasi non respiravo, con gli occhi che stavano tornando vuoti come quelli di un tempo.

In quella casa che puzza perennemente di ammoniaca, ma sia mai che a me puzzino i capelli, perché ti faceva schifo, e mi mettevi la maglietta in testa per salvarmi da quella morte lenta.

Avrei voluto essere abbastanza forte, per salvarti e non farmi crollare.

Eppure no, non lo sono stata capace.

Alla fine di quella breve conversazione, in cui giocavamo col fatto di esser sull'orlo di tutto, mi hai detto di pensare ai fatti miei.

Non ne sono capace.

Non riesco a guardare il dolore, e voltarmi dall'altra parte.

Con te l'ho dovuto fare, perché l'acido del tuo, faceva tornare a corrodere il mio.

Sarà la cosa che non mi perdonerò mai.

Spero tu un giorno riesca a farlo, anche per me, e capire che dovevo salvarmi, e non permettere più a nessuno di mettermi le mani in faccia.

Eri strafatto, e io stanca. Si poteva evitare, potevo calibrare la reazione a tutto.

Ma non l'ho fatto, perché sapevo che non era ciò che volevo, che per una volta ho sentito la tremenda mancanza di tranquillità.

Un piatto caldo, un letto dove poter dormire sotto le lenzuola, un abbraccio tranquillo.

Pensavi che fosse tutto per Leo.

Ti dicevo di no, ma in realtà era così.

È che a te volevo aiutarti, volevo arrogantemente salvarti.

Mentre lui poteva farmi riposare, perché ne era in grado.

Non voglio più distruggere tutto.

Vorrei un telo, la spiaggia, un libro e asciugarmi al sole dopo un bagno.

E ci abbiamo pure provato, però a te premeva più avere una lattina vuota.

Un'altra sfuriata, stavolta con la polizia di mezzo, perché la gente non sa e pensava fossi vittima di violenza.

Anche se qui, l'unica vittima, e del suo stesso dolore, sei tu.

Vorrei abbracciarti forte.

Spero tu riesca a trovarmi, quando starai meglio.

Vorrei brindare al tuo successo, e vederti stare finalmente bene.

[catgirltoofies]

Daedrons are particles of chaotic creatia imbued with sufficient purpose and function from the exertion of Daedric or mortal will. Though injurious to the mortal form, they can nonetheless perform work. Underutilized daedrons usually return to quiescence, but if imbued with sufficient purpose, they may escape and coalesce to form potentia vortices. These are dangerous if allowed to self-optimize into events known as 'realm-rips' that can cause damage in Oblivion.

this is a fantastic opening to this lore page

the existence of daedrons is one of my favourite pieces of elder scrolls lore because it's so fucking dumb. we should do that in real life. gravity is actually caused by angelons which is a special type if particle that grabs you and pulls you down. and you can do magic with it too.

[andrewsmoviereviews]

The Washing Machine (1993)

aka Vortice Mortale

Plot: Three sisters are at the centre of a string of murders, but scheme and manipulate to misdirect the officer in charge of the case, and obscure the facts.

Review: Once in a while you may expect a Foreign, non-English language film to lose a little something in the translation, but you would suspect The Washing Machine is a mess in any language.

Literally the only reason this has secured any type of release is name recognition; Director Ruggero Deodato is the man who made Cannibal Holocaust (amongst others), and lends a cult authenticity to the film. That’s as far as it goes though - Deodato has certainly lost whatever talent he had for watchable B-movies, and this is a mess of unexplained scheming and nudity that plumbs the depths of even this genre. It’s unclear precisely what the film is really aiming for, or who is playing who at any given point.

The three sisters (above) are Vida (Katarzyna Figura), Sissy (Ilaria Borrelli), and Ludmilla (Barbara Ricci), and if it weren’t for the fact they look nothing alike each other, you could confuse each character for any of the others they are so bland. Inspector Alexander Stacev (Philippe Caroit) is a waste of space, his gormless gawking at the sisters flirting going down about as well as can be expected. The four flounder amongst a plot that seems unnecessarily convoluted, and barely explained.

Granted it’s not exactly the biggest budget film ever, but it does make you wonder how awful ideas keep getting the money while good ideas falter, and end up getting changed time and again by hacks. A complete waste of time.

[bacejelerenvorthos]

The Lore of Strixhaven: Outside the University

The Vastlands

“Most of the known plane is broken across two huge continents—the northern continent of Orrithia, commonly known as the Vastlands, and a mysterious southern continent, called Galathul. The two are linked by a land bridge called the Isthmus of Omens. Strixhaven University is situated in the northeast of Orrithia.

The Founder Dragons

At the birth of the plane, as the mana of two planes overlapped in conflicting ways, many forms of life adapted to the new structure and many new forms of life were spawned. Five particularly powerful vortices of overlapping mana became luminous spheres, from which were hatched five dragons. These dragons have become emblems of the magic of the plane, living symbols of the clashing forces of the five dichotomies.

The Founder Dragons were the first to master the magic of the five enemy color combinations. When the humanoid races arose, at first the dragons were angered that mortals would try to harness the wild forces of magic, but they came to realize that only through disciplined study would magic be in safe hands. So, centuries ago, the dragons founded an institution devoted to the study of the five mana dichotomies, and that institution is what we now know as Strixhaven. The five colleges were based around the magic mastered by each of those dragons.

To this day, the Founder Dragons roam the plane, the five deadly sages of the skies. They no longer associate directly with Strixhaven, preferring to let the deans of the college speak in their stead. The dragons' wisdom is vast, but their tempers can be short. Mages seek them out only to learn the most elusive of secrets.

The Oriq

The Oriq are a secret society of mages who wield forbidden forms of magic. They reside far from Strixhaven but often infiltrate the university looking for spells and recruits for their dark schemes. Oriq agents use deception, stealth, and their darkly powerful brand of magic in pursuit of their sinister goals.

Duels to the death, stealthy assassinations, infiltrating institutions full of mages, blood rituals—the Oriq agenda is dangerous and taxing, so the organization frequently needs new members. Oriq agents actively seek out and recruit promising mages, and one of their favorite hunting grounds is Strixhaven. An Oriq agent will frequently reach out to powerful but underperforming mages or students who have fallen through the cracks of the institution, using illusion magic and subterfuge to hide their Oriq identity. A student doesn't typically know they're being groomed for Oriq recruitment—they only see that they're being invited to an exclusive engagement by an alluring and complimentary stranger. And then when the mage is at their most vulnerable, they are offered the mask.

The Archaics

The Archaics are a race of wise, giant, long-lived beings with an innate talent for magic. They can be seen striding through the Vastlands, exploring sources of magic with their many arms or contemplating existence through their "eye," which is a magical focus of some kind. Archaics can live for thousands of years; many are thought to have been alive since the Dawning Age. Mages seek out Archaics for their vast knowledge of history and magic, but Archaics tend to communicate in obscure allusions and cryptic metaphors.

Star Arches

Gravity-defying arch shapes crop up all over this plane, looking like mystical shrines or monuments. They're made from spokes of natural materials that float in an arch shape, with a precise inner curve and a rough and irregular outer arch. They can stand straight or lie at an angle; they can be small or enormous, whole or broken, grown over or mysteriously clean. Their irregular spokes evoke the radiating lines of a shining celestial star.

The star arches are a mystery left over from the Dawning Age, when the plane was young and none of the humanoid races yet walked the earth. In most cases, the arches simply sit there, floating inexplicably, silent, immovable, and inert. But many have said that they've seen an arch appear to them at a critical juncture in their lives, helping them understand a lesson or answer a burning question in their mind. Some believe that each arch marks a place of great magic, such as the site of the birth of a great mage or the location of a time-lost spell. Others believe that they're connected with the Archaics in some way—some claim they've seen an arch come to life with powerful magic in their presence.

Snarls

Mana flows through all the plane of Arcavios. But in certain sites, the mana becomes knotted and tangled. At these places, magic and spells can be at their most powerful—and at their most dangerous. These places are known as Snarls. According to the Archaics, the Snarls are places where two conflicting sources of antagonistic mana overlapped together at the birth of the plane.”

[marypickfords]

The Washing Machine (Ruggero Deodato, 1993)

[lesewut]

A Norton critical edition of H. Melville‘s “Moby Dick” - Edited by H. Hayford (Northwestern University) and H. Parker (University of Southern California)- With many pictorial materials prepared by J. B. Putnam

The story isn’t just about how a man becomes a monomaniac fanatic, but much deeper: Philosophical settlements paired with anthropological considerations. Many biblical and ancient allusions, showing how our collective memory forms our collective psyche and our spirituality: “Methinks we have hugely mistaken the matter of life and death. Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance. Methinks that looking at things spiritual, we are too much oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water the thinnest air. Methinks my body is but the less of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me.” (P. 40) • “And if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves, and in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists.” • “Sensible conclusion that a man’s religion is one thing, and his practical one quite another.” (P. 72) • “O horrible vulgarian of earth! From which not the mightiest whale is free.” (P. 264) In a prophetic manner Melville is emphasising the importance of general tolerance and respect: •”A man can be honest in any sort of skin.” • “Ignorance is the parent of fear.” (P. 29) •“Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.” (Cannibalism is also a demonstrative motif of his storytelling used for comparison) But the main subject of Captain Ahab’s hunting of the sperm whale Moby Dick is highly linked with the mighty ocean and the feeling of abandonment that leads into madness, an impressive example is the story of Pip, a castaway: “The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, through. Rather carries down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of the unwrapped primitive world guided to and fro before his passive eyes; and the miser-merman, wisdom, revealed his hordes heaps, and among coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters heaves the colossal orbs. He saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it, and therefore wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, with to reason, is absurd and frantic, and well or woe, feels them uncompromised indifferent as his God.” (P.347f) Also Melville uses philosophical systems plus their specific attributes (like Socratic simplicity, Descartian vortices or by pointing out how many romantic melancholic and abesent-minded young men sought an asylum in the whale fishery, disgusted by earthly lifes duties “(…) young Platonists, have a notion that their vision is imperfect, they are short-sighted.”) and literal examples for his narration strategy, admiring Cervantes, Byron and Shakespeare. Really liked Melville’s visionary attitude towards the risks of smoking (Cf. P. 106, where Captain Ahab is quitting smoking immediately as this activity lost its charms), the meaningless of time (“(…) for time began with man.”) and the collaboration of money and the devil: “(…) a man receiving money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills.” • “No fairy fingers can glaube pressed the gold, but devil’s claws must have their mouldings there since yesterday.” (P. 360) • Also a maxim I gained for myself, not only because of Melville’s extensive introduction into cetology, is to live more like a whale: “Do thou, too, live in this world without being of it.” (P. 264) and to accept the heavenly gift of going bananas 🍌: “(…) Do the heavens yet hate thee, that you can’t go mad?” (P. 403) • “(…) So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense.” (The Castaway Chapter, P. 347). It was an exciting but sometimes turbulent reading experience, I often had the feeling to be one of the thirty man on the Piquod. In conclusion the story is not without reason part of the world-literature, but whale-fishery is horrible!

[lunamarish]

Ci sono cose che ti sfiorano soltanto, ma lasciano un segno indelebile. È come se fossero venute alla luce nonostante la luce non l'abbiano mai vista. Per quanto siano fisicamente assenti, il tuo cuore ne avvertirà a vita l'ingombrante presenza. E gli spariti battiti di quelle cose, assorbiti da un vortice mortale, scandiranno i ricordi che avrebbero potuto essere e che mai saranno. Così accade che ti rendi conto del peso e dell'esatto significato di una decisione solo a cose fatte, quando il tempo e la solitudine hanno iniziato il loro lavoro, quando è troppo tardi per tornare indietro e troppo presto per soffrirne già nella misura in cui ne soffrirai. A quel punto recriminazioni o ripensamenti saranno vani. Potrai solo imparare a convivere con quell'assenza che, nelle notti più lunghe, si farà presenza e ti parlerà di sé con la flebile voce delle cose disattese.

Filippo Alosi

[oswald-privileges]

wow. unfollowing now. i admired their work in trying to fix PO3. had no idea their mortal form was an eternally-churning series of vortices, interconnected and spiralling downwards to show the true moment the universe came into being and the true moment the universe will end at their core

hey dude if you got those pictures from my onlyfans page then thats on you

[twitchesandstitches]

what of the most malicious fae in Crossthicc and my settings in general?

what of the primordial, terrible things that mimick the worst and most terrible narratives of mortalkind, periodically tearing loose to sate their illusions of cruelty and even taking back mortals, to break them apart and reshape them into traumatized toys, tools and servants?

what of things that frighten even fiends, that baffle angels, and whom fill mortals with dread?

these are the true fae; they are largely inspired thematically by the True Fae of Changeling The Lost (though individually less powerful), based very heavily on the fair folk/raksha of Exalted (especially in terms of what they are like, their powers, and their general vibe), and on some of the most maliciously indifferent and obliviously evil interpretations of fae antagonists.

they are, at their core, pieces of chaos and a vague sense of narrative; they are sometimes said to be the native inhabitants of the great chaotic plane that forms the basic roots of magical energy and thus the rest of the multiverse, making their way to other realms and taking on forms based on the emotional energies they consume. this is a bit of a misnomer; in their most basic form, they’re not individuals or really alive in a meaningful sense for most traditional meanings (though their ability to use magic implies they have souls). they are shards of the primordial chaos, thrown up in its constant roils and battles with itself.

in this form, they are swirling vortices of chaos, taking on thousands of forms as dreams and ideas filter through them, giving them brief flashes of meaning and the basics of a personal narrative; over time, this builds until they start to acquire a sense of self, and then become a true individual, otherwise cannibalizing each other until one’s personal story dominates. Towards the mortal planes, however, certain attitudes speed up the process, and the stories of mortals inspire them, giving them new roles to define themselves: the Conquering Tyrant who forges vast realms with which to amuse ihmself, the Sorcerous Queen who ensnares helpless kingdoms within her grip, and countless other stories, reinventing and assimilated by the fae.

they don’t have a real sense of personhood. they’re not really individuals. they appear that way, putting on personas and acting out a part to fulfill their craving for sensation and emotional food that sustains them, but its just a game to them. ultimately, none of it matters; they are heartless creatures, delighting in the pain of others, and their hollow hearts know nothing of love; they do not understand compassion, or perspectives, or the idea that other people matter. They simply do as they please, tormenting others to sate their own diabolical desires.

they are very much not ‘real’; they are like living nightmares, dreadful forces of abusive thought that simply would love to swarm into the physical plane en mass, killing all they can and dragging the rest back to their personal fiefdoms in the magical realms. Some for food; others to twist into their slaves and playthings and perhaps kill on a whim, and it is said that being dragged into hell is kinder than what becomes of the true fae’s toys. in hell, the cycle of reincarnation and absolution promises escape from fiendish torments, but there may be no escape at all from the fae.

they largely reside within a plane that exists as a parasitical growth of the material realm, similar to it but overflowing with nightmares and dreams woven into a physical form, similar to the illusion magic and crafted dream-things they employ; anything is possible here, but mostly the terrible things. This infinite realm contains countless fae lords battling their personal stories out, each seeking to become the true master of all. And others plot to completely erase the boundaries between this land of nightmares and the physical world, so that the hordes of Faerie may rush into the physical world and sate their unspeakable desires upon the mortal flame, and in doing so, snuff it out.

(Other beings usually referred to as fae are not quite the same things as these; in general, if it’s got the capacity to not be terrible, it doesn’t count. These are other beings altogether, though they have similar sources of power. They do have a common origin, depending on whether or not they simply assumed a persona, or embodied it to grow into something more; personable or moral fae fit this criteria, and tend to loathe their hollow-hearted cousins. In scholarly circles, the malicious fae are known as Hollow Fae for this reason, that they are truly empty inside.)

[undertheweightofthiscrudelworld]

L'affetto

L'affetto, può essere inteso come un vortice di dolore, quando decidi di affezzionarti a qualcuno, tutto ciò che fai fai lo fai per lui, cominci a temere di perderlo, e continui a farlo, anche sapendo che ti deluderà, ma ogni volta lo perdonerai ricandendo in quella morsa mortale. Il concetto dell'affetto e simile a quello dell'amore per una cosa, dai tutto anche sapendo i rischi, ma continui a farlo perché è meglio dello stare da soli, e perché ti rende sempre più forte. È questo concetto che manda avanti il mondo, che lo muoce e lo cambia, ma che alla fine resta sempre lo stesso.

@undertheweightofthiscrudelworld

[lalucda]

'Mi sembrò di essere in un vortice, in un caos totale, e c'era soltanto la mortale possibilità di rimanere lì per sempre.'

Charles Bukowski, Panino al prosciutto

[whenyouarereadingabook]

Lettori e lettrici, siamo di ritorno!  Ed ecco a voi la nostra recensione del secondo libro della trilogia:

Il Signore delle Ombre. 

Un chiaro epiteto riferito all’inquietante Re della Corte Unseelie che infesta la sua terra con una nebbia che priva gli Shadowhunter dei loro poteri. Un re che vuole.. che vuole? DISTRUGGERE.

Ma questo titolo potrebbe tranquillamente essere usato come epiteto del libro stesso. Tante ombre lo popolano, tanti lutti, che forse da Cassandra ci saremmo aspettati più probabilmente nel prossimo ed ultimo capitolo della trilogia. Ebbene, l’oscurità di questo libro lo rende proprio il signore delle ombre nella trilogia perché siamo costretti a dire addio ad alcuni personaggi di cui mai ci saremmo aspettate la dipartita. 

Sotto certi aspetti, ci è piaciuto più del primo. Conosciuti i personaggi, qui assistiamo alle dinamiche che li avvicinano, il trio così precocemente e crudelmente sciolto di Ty, Kit e Livvy e il dolce incontro tra Dru e Jaime, li allontanano, Kieran e Mark (solo temporaneo, sono sicura *wink*), li fanno inaspettatamente innamorare, Diana e Gwyn, li fanno cadere in un vortice di tira (forte) e molla (debolmente), sapete a chi mi riferisco, che si conclude, ovviamente.. in niente, perché manca un libro. 

Tornando a Drusilla e Jaime, è interessante anche l’incontro di Dru con il bambino fatato, dopo aver toccato il cimelio di famiglia dei Rosales lasciatole da Jaime. Ancora non ne conosciamo il significato, ma ogni sguardo, parola o sensazione ha un significato nei libri di Cassandra. 

Avvincente e vincente (Kieran è salvo grazie al cielo) l’avventura di Mark, Cristina, Emma e Julian nella Terra delle Fate ma orribili le parole pronunciate dalla bellissima Regina Seelie. Cosa sentono le mie orecchie, cosa? Rompere ogni legame parabatai mai esistito? Abbassa il tiro, Cassie, o potresti ritrovarti tra le mani una vera e propria rivoluzione alla Katniss Everdeen. Speriamo che i diretti interessati, *grida* EMMA E JULIAN, non prendano mai in considerazione questa possibilità, dopo che quella dell’esilio di Emma muore con Robert Lightwood. Simon ha sudato sette camicie per diventare parabatai di Clary,  volete gettare via così il sudore della sua fronte e delle sue ascelle? Noi no. 

Perfect Diego, se davvero vogliamo definirlo perfect, è apparso e immediatamente scomparso agli occhi di Cristina, che gli ha lanciato non più di due sguardi adirati. Di perfect c’è stato solo il modo in cui ha eseguito gli ordini di lei, portando il nostro adorato Kieran in salvo. È bravo, bravissimo, dice Ke Jian Ming, ma poteva giocarsela meglio. 

Inquietante il personaggio di Annabel Blackthorn, non solo in quanto morta vivente, ma nella furia vendicativa che la anima. Spietata, come qualcuno di nostra conoscenza, che decide di riportarla a casa, a Idris, promettendole il mondo per salvare il proprio. Sì, parliamo di Julian, “il genere di persona che sarebbe potuto scendere all’Inferno e uscirne con il Diavolo in persona che gli deve un favore”. E beh, purtroppo ora conosciamo le conseguenze della sua scelta. 

Gli eventi che concludono il volume sono chiaramente l’apoteosi delle ombre, eventi che se non eri sicuro potesse andare peggio, ti confermano che il peggio c’è sempre, in agguato, pronto a spuntare anche quando ti mancano tre pagine e pensi ‘beh, ci siamo, altro non può succedere’ e pem! si palesa in tutta la sua beffardaggine, crudeltà, funzionalità. 

Si, funzionalità, l’inevitabile conclusione a cui si arriva è che le morti di Arthur, brav’uomo, Robert, redento, e Livvy, la tenera, forte, straordinaria Livvy, siano funzionali a determinati scopi di trama e di relazioni tra personaggi.  Vogliamo parlare della Spada Mortale distrutta?! Per l’Angelo. Suona molto più funesto che rompere uno specchio. Ora mi sembra di vedere ombre più scure all’orizzonte..

Abbiamo buttato il sasso e tirato via la mano, adesso sta a voi trarne riflessione. 

Ci risentiamo per la prossima e *prende un respiro profondo* ultima recensione della trilogia. 

Dear readers, we’re back! And here we are with the second volume’s review: 

Lord of Shadows.

A clear epithet of the unsettling Unseelie King who infects his land with mist that deprives Shadowhunters of their angelic power. A king who wants.. who wants? TO DESTROY. 

But this epithet could perfectly be used to describe the book itself. Many shadows lurk in it, many deaths, that maybe we would have expected Cassie to make them happen in the next and last volume of this trilogy. Well, the darkness of this book makes it exactly the Lord of Shadows in the trilogy because we are forced to bid farewell to some characters whose light we would never have expected to burn out so soon.

In some ways we loved it more than the first one. Now that we know the characters so well, here we witness some interesting dynamics that bring them closer, the Kit-Ty-Livvy trio so precociously and cruelly dissolved and the sweetly surprising encounter between Dru and Jaime, bring them apart, Kieran and Mark (just temporarily, trust me *wink*), unexpectedly make them fall in love, Diana and Gwyn, make them fall in a whirl of push and pull, you know whom we’re talking about, which, obviously ends up.. in nothing, because we’re missing a book. Going back to Drusilla and Jaime, it’s also interesting the meeting Dru has with the fairy boy, after touching the Rosales heirloom which Jaime left her. We still don’t know its meaning, but every look, every word or sensation has a meaning in Cassandra’s books.  Compelling and rewarding (My Kieran boy is safe thank God) the squad (Mark, Cristina, Emma and Julian)’s mission in Faerie but obnoxious the words spoken by the strikingly beautiful Queen of Seelie. What are my ears hearing, what? Breaking every parabatai bond ever created? Hands low, Cassie, or you could face a Real Katniss Everdeen Revolution. We hope the people concerned, *screams* EMMA AND JULIAN, ever consider this a possibility, even now that the one including Emma’s exile has expired together with Robert Lightwood. Simon Lewis had to sweat through to become Clary’s parabatai and now you wanna throw away all his forehead and armpits’ sweat for this? We really don’t. 

Perfect Diego, if we really want to call him perfect, appeared and immediately disappeared to Cristina’s eyes, who gave him more than one angry glare. Perfect was only the way he followed her orders, taking our beloved Kieran in a safe place. He’s nice, very nice, says Ke Jian Ming, but he could have played the game a bit more skillfully. 

Annabel Blackthorn is a rather creepy character, not only as a living dead, but also for the vengeful rage that animates her. Ruthless, as ruthless as someone we know, that decided to bring her back home, to Idris, promising her the world to save his own. Yeah, we’re talking about Julian, “the kind of person who could descend into Hell and come out with the devil himself owing him a favor”. And unfortunately now we know what are the consequences of that decision. 

The events that wrap the volume are clearly the shadows crowning moment, events that if you weren’t sure it could go any worse, they prove you the worse is always beyond the next corner, lurking, ready to come out when you’re three pages to go and think ‘well, here we are, nothing more can happen’ and boom! here it is, the mocking, cruel, functional worst.

Functional, yeah, the undeniable conclusion is that Arthur’s, the good man, Robert’s, the redeemed, and Livvy’s, the gentle, strong, amazing Livvy, deaths are functional to certain plot goals and characters’ relationships.  Also the Mortal Sword shuttered?! By the angel, man. Sounds far more unfortunate than shattering a mirror. Now I think I can see darker shadows in the distance.. 

We’ve thrown the stone and hidden the hand, now you think about it. See you for the next and *breathes deeply* last Dark Artifices review. Linette & Ke Jian Ming