#anch entrance

[fancyfloppa]

Entrance of my house in acnh, ofc it had to be royalcore🥳

Dress and inspo all from pinterest

[xodarling]

More than the tip, not talking about guidance - xodarling

includes: sub!silver wolf, dragon!fem!reader, g!p reader, breeding, marking, womb tattoo, size difference, fem!reader, head for a lil bit, established relationship, ty to that anon for the safeword idea, reader had a hoe era, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, knotting

a/n: silver wolf is love silver wolf is life

“so.. these are the almighty dicks those incels online were talking about..?”

in a random hotel room on some random planet, silver wolf’s kneeling in front of your average-sized but still soft members. “i mean, they look pretty mystical.” she hums, rubbing the blue tips and running her small finger up and down the ridges and curves of one of them. “is it ‘cause you’re still soft? maybe i should get you hard..”

now that she wraps her hand around one of them she can see the growing difference in size. grabbing both shafts with her hands, she begins to gently pump them, looking in awe as they grow more and more. you sigh and roll your eyes, the sexual touch of another was something you haven’t felt in centuries.

throughout your relationship, you refrained from doing this stuff with her and the only reason is that you’re afraid of her hurting her, even in your weakest moments you can without a doubt physically overpower her. but, she asked for this, so you caved in and said yes. slowly but very clearly, the two shafts grow in her grasp, the veins in my shaft pulsating from the feeling.

she stops pumping for a second, looking up at the two monstrous things before her, swallowing hard. “hm, maybe they weren’t lying..” she tries to sound confident but her voice betrays her. slowly, she leans in and licks the tip on one of them, letting out a whimper from the taste. then, she hears a noise that sounds like a growl coming from you, a grin appears on her face, “oh, I think you liked that..”

your arms give up on holding you up, your back now laying flat on the mattress, groans leaving your mouth as your throat bobs. silver wolf’s milking this situation to its final bits, her tongue running up and down on your left shaft, flicking the tip with her tongue, while her hand gently pumps your right. the muscles in your abdomen flex, the feeling of being intimate with someone else was something you haven’t felt in a long time, but the feeling was just as addicting as you remember.

your hands grip the white sheets below you and you continue to growl and groan, both of your tips leaking pre-cum. “not enough..” you mumble, with a growl, you sit up from the bed and pick up silver wolf by her hair. hard enough to make her bounce, but gentle enough so it doesn’t hurt, you toss her onto her hotel bed, kneeling between her legs, ripping her shorts off, and shoving your long tongue inside of her.

as you position yourself between her legs, her walls clench around your tongue, letting out whimpers of anticipation. her hips thrust upwards, grinding against your face as your tongue explores every inch of her pussy, she writhes and moans in delight. “more.. i want more..” you continue to tease her, alternating between gentle sucks and rough flicks.

her juices are already pouring up, covering the bottom half of your face with a sticky mess. you take your tongue out of her slick entrance, sitting up and growling at the view below you. both of your dicks, colossal in comparison to her, stand proud in front of her sopping pussy, your large hand takes one of your shafts and rubs the tip up and down her slit, groaning at the moisture.

after a few bumps of your tip onto her clit, you hover one of your shafts over her smooth stomach. “silver wolf, i’m not sure this will fit.” truth be told, just by hovering it over her tummy, it’s obvious it’s way too big for a girl her size. despite your concern, silver wolf huffs and stares up at you, her eyes pleading you to take her. “do it.. please.. i want it all..” she lifts her hips up, offering herself to you.

after a moment of concentration, you sigh and anchor your cock to press against her tiny hole, the other dick’s tip being caressed by silver wolf as you push. her walls spread to accommodate your giant shaft, those tight gummy walls stretching to an unbelievable width. you groan and stop halfway, “you remember the safe word, correct?” your thumb circles gently around her clitoris, waiting for her to get used to this feeling.

she nods vigorously, tears streaming down her face as your cockhead continues to push inside her, stretching her in ways she never thought possible. her body tenses up, unable to relax as it battles against your sheer size. “punklorde.. punklorde..” she manages to let out a shaky breath, affirming her memory of the safeword, g-go ahead.. i-i can handle it..” silver wolf exhales slowly, trying to adjust to the massive invasion.

you started to moving again, pushing inch by inch until your entire length fills her up completely. your eyes never leave her features, her eyes rolling back with tears beginning to form. you sigh when every inch gets pushed in her, one of her hands going to your lone dick and rubbing. your hand goes down and pats her small stomach and the obvious bulge on it.

you lean down and kiss her forehead while waiting for her to get used to the intrusion, one of your hands holding hers as you lean down to peck her forehead. “tell me when to move, dearest.” you coo. she nods slightly, still catching her breath and trying acclimate herself to the sensation of being filled like this. her vagina is stretched past it’s limits, muscles twitching and spasming around your cock, after what feels like an eternity, she whines,

“slowly.. please, move it slowly..” you nod and murmur, “alright. if it becomes too much, please, tell me to stop..” you kiss her head again. your hips pull back, taking out around half your length before slowly going back in, your eyes switching between her teary face to the bulge in her stomach. after a few thrusts, you rest your whole body on top of hers, her adorable face being smooshed in between your tits, whimpers now muffled.

you close your eyes and bite your lip, trying your hardest to keep the soft, slow pace you originally started with, but soon enough, you need more.. the predatory instinct of a dragon to fuck, to breed is getting more intense. “apologies.” you whisper, looking down at her doe eyes and flustered face. you take out every inch of your shaft, leaving the tip and then slamming down, repeating it and quickening.

she screams your name, her body shaking with the force of each thrust. the rhythmic pounding of her hips against yours, the sound of flesh against flesh fills the small hotel room. her pussy clasps tightly around your member, milking it mercilessly, the wet slapping sound echoing throughout the room. tears start to trickle down her cheeks as pleasure takes over her, the pain morphing into pleasure.

her hands tightly gripped the white sheets, nails digging into the fabric as she shakes violently. “more.. please.. give me more..” she sobs, legs hanging in the air. you let out a growl, one that belongs to a mystical animal only seen in folktales. your teeth being bared as you aggressively ram yourself into silver wolf’s pussy like a beast in an intense rut.

“it’s been..” you growl again and throw your back, “centuries since i fucked a pussy this tight.” the gentleness you were treating her with has disappeared, the only thing you care about is to breed the wanted hacker until she was big and round with your offspring. “so small, so easy to breed..” you huff, pulling your cock out and aligning you second tip against her slit, pushing suddenly.

you lean up and then tightly grip her hips, putting her legs onto your shoulders, and then starting to use the hacker as a fleshlight. she gasps and whines at the position change, your size stretching her even more now. she grits her teeth and widens her eyes, clutching onto anything she can, “..what? breed.?! a-are you seri-“ she gets cut off by you suddenly changing your pace again.

you thrust faster, her neck cranes and her back bends into a beautiful arch, drool leaving her mouth now. her eyes roll back, her legs tremble even more, and she beings to scream louder, her puffy jacket jingling with each thrust. “i.. oh, god..!” she screams, white-hot heat radiating throughout her body from her core, sending her into her first orgasm.

with each thrust, she pants and cries out, the double penetration driving her mad with pleasure. her walls clamp around you, milking your cocks desperately, an addicting feeling, she’s unlike any woman you fucked before, you start to regret not fucking mortals if this what their pussies feel like. you bare your teeth and roar, your muscles flexing and fingers leaving bruises on her stomach.

she’s small. easy to fling around. so, you pull her up and manhandle her to a hug-carry position, her arms around you neck and legs around your waist. your faces were inches apart as you continue to pound into her, you stare at her delirious face before pressing your forehead against hers, hissing and roaring more quietly now.

your hips keep bucking into her, fucking deeper and deeper into the overstimulated hacker, your skin slapping against hers gets louder and louder that, for sure, the other guests in this hotel can hear. you nuzzle into her neck and then sink your sharp fangs into her delicate skin, a deep red mark being left. the bed begins to rock aggressively and loudly because of the brutal fucking, her ass being red from the force.

“mine.” you growl, gripping her smooth body with such a possessive grip that it’s painful, completely overpowering her with your force. the pain and pleasure reach an all-time high as you plunge into her over and over. the feeling of ownership makes her heart race, the pain adding to the intensity of the experience. she clenches tight around you, holding onto you for dear life as you pound her with brute force.

she whimpers into your shoulder, every movement driving her closer to the edge. her body convulses, your cockheads rubbing against her g-spot with each stroke, sending electric shocks through both of you. “i can’t.. i’m.. i’m cumming..!” she screams out your name when she reaches that peak, the force of her orgasm making her a little nauseous. she spasms around your cocks even more, milking them with an intensity that’s unlike anything either of you have felt before.

your hips never tire, only going faster even as she cums for the second time. your pupils dilate when she squirms and screams her lungs out from pure pleasure, the ridges and bumps of your shafts heighten her pleasure, your long tongue licking up some of the tears pouring down her face. “i am going.. to breed you..” you huff. there’s no telling which one is louder, silver wolf, or the sounds of skin on skin, an unfiltered and perverted symphony of lovemaking.

silver wolf’s orgasm slowly subsides as you show no signs of stopping. the intense pleasure’s making her delirious, unable to form coherent thoughts. teary eyes plead with you, begging you to continue and never stop even as her body screams for an end. her hips gyrate, legs tightening around your waist, meeting your thrusts with equal ferocity, matching your brutal rhythm. “m-more.. i-” unable to find the words to express herself, she simply sobs and whimpers, lost in the labyrinth of pleasure.

your cocks twitch inside of her. so tight, and so wet. the lack of action for the past few centuries, catches up to you, you can feel it bubbling inside of you, ready to fill the young, incoherent girl up. you groan and stare at her face, your pace slowing down but becoming more aggressive. “close.. i’m close.” you pant, your brows furrowed as you fuck her dumb even more.

she whimpers in response, your words sending shivers down her spine. the thought of you cumming inside her, being pregnant with your children make her heart race even more. her pussy clenches around your cocks the feeling of fullness is unbearable, the sensation is overwhelming, her mind hazy with lust and desire. “c-cum inside me, please.. i-i want your-..” her sentence is cut off by a loud moan again.

your jaw clenches and you scowl from your focus, each thrust accompanied by a growl. it’s there, you can feel it get closer and closer. your bury your head in the crook of her neck again and buck your hips up once, twice, and then three more times before a guttural moan leaves your throat. one before the other, both of your tips begin to dump decades worth of stored up cum inside of her.

she screams as the first spurt fills her up, the hot liquid is the solidification of her being knocked up now. you sigh and groans as it keeps dispensing, your eyes rolling back in euphoria. after a moment, instead of cum leaving one of your tips, it’s something hard, sealing silver wolf’s womb once you finish cumming. “mine.” you whisper, you look down at her stomach and notice a pattern forming, the color matching your horns. you groan once you realize what it is.

“mine.” you repeat, sighing in exhaustion. she pants and sobs, your words making her heart race. the sensation of being owned and claimed overwhelms her, mind foggy with pleasure and emotions. she clutches you even tighter, your muscles tense underneath her fingertips. “i love you..” she murmurs, her voice breaking, the afterglow of your passion hitting her like a wave, tears streaming down her face.

you sigh and shift around so your laying down and silver wolf’s on top of you, mindful of the sensitive knot connecting the two of you. you kiss her head and hold her close to you, “i love you, too.” you confess back, looking down at her figure in an admiring way. she trembles madly as the heat from this encounter fades, being replaced by cold feeling, especially from the layer of sweat surrounding the two of you.

she sniffles and draws a smiley face onto your breast, eyes still teary from the painful pleasure, it makes you chuckle quietly. your hand goes onto her head and plays with her fluffy gray hair, massaging her scalp to comfort her after your fucking. “it’s okay..” you whisper, keeping her close to you, protecting her from literally nothing.

it’ll be a while until the knot releases, and until she can walk. but, at least you can cuddle the tired hacker, your tired hacker for the time being.

the people in the other room probably aren’t as happy as you two, though..

[leezlelatch]

Alyssum

A Primo Story

No plot, no drama, no sad. Just fluff. Can be slightly suggestive. Fem reader.

Tiny rocks scrape and crunch beneath your boots as you walk the pebbled path toward the Ministry greenhouse. Wisteria hangs from the lattice framed above the door, interlaced with ivy which blankets the facade and reaches with eager fingers across the roof. Potted plants litter the ground of various shapes and sizes, the stone patio wet from a recent watering. 

“Did you have a nice drink?” You question the plants, smiling softly as you continue through the greenhouse door which hangs slightly ajar as if expecting your arrival. The smell of soil and freshly cut flowers greets you upon your entrance, and you take a moment to breathe in the space. Primo’s space. 

Primo prefers to do his gardening outside, the greenhouse used mostly as a workshop and a place for his little experiments. You step around a few stray gardening tools, following your nose to the beautiful bouquet expertly potted on a little table fit with a lace cloth. You lean forward to take in the honey-like fragrance, your smile growing. Each day, a new flower. A new meaning. Primo always says each flower tells a story. And these stories are for you. 

“Alyssum,” Primo’s warmly accented voice sends a butterfly fluttering about your stomach, and you turn to watch as he takes off his soil-stained gloves, laying them casually to the side. “Worth beyond beauty. And you, my petal, are worth far more than any flower I have ever grown.” His lips twitch with a smile. “Sì, you are beautiful as well. Perhaps tomorrow will be purple heather.”

You turn and delicately pick one of the blooms from the bouquet, approaching Primo with a blushing smile. He chuckles softly, his well-used hands reaching out to settle upon your hips the moment you are close enough. You hold out the flower, “And for my Papa? Whose green thumb, clever mind, and sweet nature are invaluable. And very much loved.”

Primo hums, his hands sliding higher, fingers squeezing and massaging your sides. He lets go of one to take the bloom and bring it to his hooked nose, inhaling deeply with a gentle sigh. A slow smirk crosses his thin lips, and he bops you on the head with the flower. “Sweet, my petal? You know more than anyone how passionate my true nature can be.” Primo’s words end on a soft growl and he pulls you closer, his head dipping into the crook of your neck. You squirm and giggle against him as he bites playfully at your soft skin, soothing it with his tongue. Your hands come to settle on his shoulders and you relax in his grip, sighing gently. Your eyes flutter shut as Primo drags a wet line to the shell of your ear. “Ti amo.” 

A tiny squeak of happiness erupts from your throat, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Primo grins, dropping another kiss to your neck. “Hmm, my petal?” He murmurs softly. “Does that make you happy?” 

“Very happy, Primo,” you say, your voice dreamy. You place a hand on his wrinkled cheek, feeling how soft the sagging skin is under your fingertips. “Oh! And…anc…anche…io?”

“Anche io, sì,” Primo encourages, smoothing a few flyaway hairs back from your forehead. “Very good! Learning more every day, amore. I am very proud.”

“It’s just a few words,” you say a little sheepishly, glancing to the side. 

Primo catches your chin with a thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze back to his. “A few words that make my heart sing. It’s how you are willing to learn that makes me proud, not how quickly or how well.” He tickles your side and you can’t help but laugh, the sound of your happiness warming even an old man’s cheeks. “Do not worry, tesoro. You will be able to eavesdrop on my brothers’ conversations soon enough.” Primo’s eyes twinkle as you gasp, and he swallows your rebuttal with a kiss. He tastes of rosehips.

“Did I interrupt tea time?” You ask softly when you part, your lips brushing against his as you speak, neither of you willing to part fully. 

“Interrupt? Non essere sciocca! Do not be silly. You improve it,” Primo takes your hands, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “Rosehips for the arthritis, il mio amore for the soul.” He brings your hands to his lips and you beam, turning your hands in his to rub gently at his aching joints. Primo smiles sweetly at you for the gesture, his grip tightening as he pulls you toward his little parlor set up in a corner of the greenhouse. 

You delicately step over pots, and watch out for his propagating babies, ducking under drying herbs, and avoiding bubbling beakers on bunsen burners. Primo walks amongst it all, well-practiced and unworried, depositing you with a kiss into your favorite high backed chair: pink, and patched, and plush. You sit contentedly as he sets about preparing fresh tea things, humming some old Italian love song as he takes out a tin of loose tea. “Il mio amore’s favorite,” he mumbles to himself with a small nod, shaking the tin as if to accentuate his point. 

“Four sugars, please!” You say, leaning back in your chair with a broad smile. Primo glances at you with a raised brow, placing the kettle on the hot plate. “Or maybe five, I’ll have to taste it first,” you continue.

“How about we make it two,” Primo chuckles, approaching your chair. He makes a gesture with both of his hands to rise, and you stand. Primo takes your seat and then slowly pulls you down onto his lap, adjusting you here and there so you’re both comfortable. “Don’t give me that pout.” His finger taps your bottom lip. “I won’t have you diluting the flavor.” 

You sigh, and in favor of replying, you nuzzle your nose into his cheek. You drape an arm loosely over his shoulders while your other hand becomes occupied greebling his ear. You press little kisses on his face, and Primo practically coos. His hands can’t decide where they want to touch, his fingers traveling up your spine, over your thighs, across your stomach. They eventually settle on cradling your face. Primo looks at you with unfettered adoration, his eyelids hooded and mouth drawn into a lovesick smile. 

“I do not know what I did,” he whispers. “To deserve you. But I will pray to Lucifer every day to keep you.”

You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of his gnarled hands on your cheeks. Your fingertips explore the wrinkled and rough skin of his face, the wiry white hairs which are barely hanging on atop his head, the divots across his forehead, and the sagging skin of his neck. Alyssum. Worth beyond beauty. Primo earned every line of his face from hard work, dedication, and a life as well-lived as any of us could wish for. And a love like his? Completely worth it.

[nando161mando]

📆 25 APRILE A ROMA 🔴⚫️

🇮🇹 Anche quest’anno dopo la manifestazione antifascista che partirà alle 10.30 da Largo delle Terme Gordiane restiamo insieme per una lunga giornata di festa al Parco Modesto di Veglia a Quarticciolo.

Tante artiste e tanti artisti, porteranno le loro parole e la loro musica a sostegno di una giornata di memoria e lotta.

L’ingresso è gratuito, c’è un parco a vostra disposizione, cibo cucinato e distribuito dalle attività del quartiere e un palco per i più piccoli con letture e teatro di cui vi daremo dettagli più avanti.

🇨🇵 Cette année aussi, après la manifestation antifa qui débutera à 10h30 du Largo delle Terme Gordiane, nous resterons ensemble pour une journée de fête au Parco Modesto di Veglia à Quarticciolo.

Entrée gratuite, parc à disposition, plats cuisinés et distribués par les commerces du quartier et scène pour les plus petits avec lectures et théâtre.

LIBERARSI ORA, LIBERARSI ANCORA.

25 aprile sempre.

📆 APRIL 25 IN ROME 🔴⚫️

🇬🇧 This year too, after the anti-fascist demonstration which will start at 10.30 from Largo delle Terme Gordiane, we will stay together for a long day of celebration at Parco Modesto di Veglia in Quarticciolo.

Many artists will bring their words and their music to support a day of memory and struggle.

Entrance is free, there is a park at your disposal, food cooked and distributed by neighborhood businesses and a stage for the little ones with readings and theater which we will give you details of later.

FREE YOURSELF NOW, FREE YOURSELF AGAIN.

April 25th always,

Via AFA Roma Est

@antifainternational @anarchistmemecollective @radicalgraff @kropotkindersurprise

[mishimamiravenecia]

PALAZZO DUCALE, PUERTA DE LA CARTA

DUCAL PALACE, PAPER DOOR

PALAZZO DUCALE, PORTA DELLA CARTA

(Español / English / Italiano)

La entrada principal del Palacio Ducal recibe el nombre de Porta della Carta ('Puerta del Papel') porque en ella se exponían los decretos oficiales; es de estilo gótico flamígero y presenta en el tímpano un león de San Marcos( simbolo de la Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia) ante el que se arrodilla el dux Foscari

La Porta della Carta, proyecto de los arquitectos Giovanni Bon y Bartolomeo Bon (también autores de la Ca' d'Oro) fue terminado en 1442.

******

The main entrance to the Doge's Palace is called Porta della Carta ('Paper Door') because it is where the official decrees were displayed; it is in the flamboyant Gothic style and has a lion of St Mark (symbol of the Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia) in the tympanum, before which the Doge Foscari kneels.

The Porta della Carta, designed by the architects Giovanni Bon and Bartolomeo Bon (also the authors of the Ca' d'Oro) was completed in 1442.

*****

L'ingresso principale di Palazzo Ducale è chiamato Porta della Carta perché vi si esponevano i decreti ufficiali; è in stile gotico fiorito e presenta nel timpano il leone di San Marco (simbolo della Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia), davanti al quale si inginocchia il Doge Foscari.

La Porta della Carta, progettata dagli architetti Giovanni Bon e Bartolomeo Bon (autori anche della Ca' d'Oro), fu completata nel 1442.

[lunamagicablu]

Il grande castello sonnecchia, nessuna voce o movimento, sento il silenzio ma è indicibile a parole. Vorrei solamente restare in ascolto insieme con le statue all’ingresso, perdere gli occhi sui pendii di alberi secolari e sui prati che sanno di antiche feste, e poi vedere all’improvviso un cavaliere che avanza scortato dai valletti. Chissà se da qualche parte c’è anche la regina. (Fabrizio Caramagna) ************************* The great castle sleeps, no voices or movements, I hear the silence but it is unspeakable in words. I would just like to listen together with the statues at the entrance, lose my eyes on the slopes of centuries-old trees and the meadows that smell of ancient festivals, and then suddenly see a knight advancing escorted by footmen. Who knows if the queen is there somewhere too. (Fabrizio Caramagna) 

[sparviero44]

Nassiriya 12 nov 2003

Quella mattina di 19 anni fa alle 10,40 (ora di Bagdad) le 8,40 italiane, (ricordo come se fosse oggi ) la sede dei carabinieri MSU (Multinational Specialized Unit) un camion cisterna forzò l'entrata del l’edificio, che una volta ospitava la camera di commercio della città, per poi saltare in aria. Sul veicolo c’era un kamikaze e bordo aveva tra i 350 ed i 500 chili di esplosivo , provocando successivamente l'esplosione del deposito munizioni della base e portanto la morte di diverse persone tra Carabinieri, militari e civili.

I Carabinieri deceduti

Massimiliano Bruno, maresciallo aiutante

Giovanni Cavallaro, sottotenente

Giuseppe Coletta, brigadiere

Andrea Filippa, appuntato

Enzo Fregosi, maresciallo luogotenente

Daniele Ghione, maresciallo capo

Horacio Majorana, appuntato

Ivan Ghitti, brigadiere

Domenico Intravaia, vicebrigadiere

Filippo Merlino, sottotenente

Alfio Ragazzi, maresciallo aiutante

Alfonso Trincone, Maresciallo aiutante

I militari dell’Esercito italiano deceduti

Massimo Ficuciello, capitano

Silvio Olla, maresciallo capo

Alessandro Carrisi, primo caporal maggiore

Emanuele Ferraro, caporal maggiore capo scelto

Pietro Petrucci, caporal maggiore

I civili deceduti

Marco Beci, cooperatore internazionale

Stefano Rolla, regista

Nell’azione rimasero feriti anche 19 carabinieri e Aureliano Amadei, aiuto regista di Stefano Rolla.

Nassiriya

That morning 19 years ago at 10.40 am (Baghdad time) 8.40 am Italian, (I remember as if it were today) the headquarters of the MSU (Multinational Specialized Unit) carabinieri, a tank truck forced the entrance to the building, which once housed the city's chamber of commerce, only to be blown up. On the vehicle there was a kamikaze and on board it had between 350 and 500 kilos of explosives, subsequently causing the explosion of the ammunition depot of the base and leading to the death of several people including Carabinieri, military and civilians.

I Carabinieri dead

Massimiliano Bruno, maresciallo aiutante

Giovanni Cavallaro, sottotenente

Giuseppe Coletta, brigadiere

Andrea Filippa, appuntato

Enzo Fregosi, maresciallo luogotenente

Daniele Ghione, maresciallo capo

Horacio Majorana, appuntato

Ivan Ghitti, brigadiere

Domenico Intravaia, vicebrigadiere

Filippo Merlino, sottotenente

Alfio Ragazzi, maresciallo aiutante

Alfonso Trincone, Maresciallo aiutante

Soldiers of the Italian army dead

Massimo Ficuciello, capitan

Silvio Olla, maresciallo capo

Alessandro Carrisi, primo caporal maggiore

Emanuele Ferraro, caporal maggiore capo scelto

Pietro Petrucci, caporal maggiore

Deceased civilians

Marco Beci, international cooperator

Stefano Rolla, director

19 carabinieri and Aureliano Amadei, assistant director of Stefano Rolla were also injured in the action

[riccardofranchinilucca]

🍝 RISTORANTE ERASMO. LUCCA. STORIA Il Ristorante Erasmo ha origini che risalgono al 1760, quando fungeva da locanda per i viaggiatori diretti a Modena e i mercanti provenienti dalla Garfagnana in visita a Lucca. All’epoca, Erasmo Marcucci accoglieva gli ospiti con spuntini e pesce fritto appena pescato nel fiume Serchio. Offriva anche servizi di alloggio e cambio cavalli, come documentato nel Registro degli albergatori del Ducato di Lucca, che è esposto insieme ad altri antichi documenti nella bacheca dell’ingresso, a testimonianza della lunga tradizione familiare. Nel corso dei secoli, la famiglia Marcucci ha mantenuto la gestione del ristorante, passando il testimone di generazione in generazione fino ad oggi. Attualmente, il locale offre ai clienti salette accoglienti dotate di caratteristici caminetti e un fresco giardino ombreggiato da platani secolari, dove è possibile gustare i piatti tipici della cucina lucchese, e così è stato per noi. Nel bellissimo e fresco giardino con l’armonia del fiume che scorre accanto, abbiamo degustato una cucina che sorprende per la qualità della sua semplicità, per me Tordelli e Rovelline alla Lucchese fra le più buone mai assaggiate. Ottimo vino della casa e servizio gentile e sorridente. Non manca niente per stare bene. Primo Secondo e dessert 37 € a persona. 🇬🇧 Ristorante Erasmo traces its origins back to 1760 when it served as an inn for travelers heading to Modena and merchants from the Garfagnana visiting Lucca. At that time, Erasmo Marcucci welcomed guests with snacks and freshly fried fish from the Serchio River. He also offered lodging and horse exchange services, as documented in the Register of Innkeepers of the Duchy of Lucca, which is displayed along with other ancient documents in the entrance showcase, testifying to the family’s long tradition. Over the centuries, the Marcucci family has continuously managed the restaurant, passing it down from generation to generation up to the present day. Currently, the establishment offers customers cozy rooms with characteristic fireplaces and a cool garden shaded by ancient plane trees, where one can enjoy typical dishes of Lucchese cuisine, as we did. In the beautiful and refreshing garden, with the harmonious sound of the river flowing nearby, we enjoyed a cuisine that surprises with its quality and simplicity. For me, the Tordelli and Rovelline alla Lucchese were among the best I’ve ever tasted. The house wine was excellent, and the service was friendly and smiling. Everything you need to feel good. First course, second course, and dessert for €37 per person. 👉 Erasmo 📍 Via Nazionale 1782 Ponte a Moriano Lucca 💶 37 € a Persona ☎ 0583 406362 🍾

www.facebook.com/share/p/UqqBDWyraXVq127n/

[aitan]

Ognuno indossa la sua propria maschera, anche mo e mo.

Un post venuto fuori da un'illustrazione.

"All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts"

[il-giardino-del-castello]

Questa tier list l’ho fatta un po’ di tempo fa, e mi pare di averla montata io, non di averla trovata su TierMaker. 

Dato che le light novel, in Italia, scarseggiano, è bellissimo vivere in un periodo dove puoi comprarle dall’estero in qualche lingua intellegibile. ☆

Purtroppo, per ristrettezze economiche, non ho ancora preso 55 Minutes - Quando ho avuto un po’ di denaro spendibile, ho dato la priorità a Fifteen e Storm Bringer. CONTO DI AVERLA, PRIMA O POI! 

The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency, Fifteen e Storm Bringer le ho lette e apprezzate, e devo farci il commento da ormai un po’, ma la procrastinazione è il mio pappagallo da spalla. 

Per le altre:

[Commento a Osamu Dazai’s Entrance Exam]

[Commento a Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era]

[Commento a Beast]

Una precisazione sulla Dark Era: pur essendo bellissima e levissima, è purtroppo un po’ scesa non per sua colpa ma per tutta la lore che si è aggiunta in seguito e che, salvo approfondimenti, fa un po’ a botte con alcune parti. Tipo, un conto è che Dazai fosse solo, perseguitato dal concetto di esistenza e dal fatto che tutti lo temessero e nessuno lo vedesse come un ragazzino umano tranne Oda; un conto è che Dazai è tutto questo ma ha passato tot anni insieme ad un suo coetaneo, con cui ha condiviso tormenti esistenziali sull’umanità e battibecchi (?) adolescenziali (?), coetaneo che di certo non lo temeva e non lo lasciava “solo”. Allo stesso modo, un conto è sentire sulla pelle la disperazione di Dazai che, pur avendo il Port Mafia in mano, non può nulla contro Mori ed è impotente di fronte all’ovvia morte imminente di Oda; un conto è tutto questo sapendo che si è passati in mezzo a Rimbaud, VERLAINE e il Dragon Head, e che Dazai pianifica l’universo mettendoci in mezzo il coetaneo di cui sopra che è letteralmente una divinità, e viene da chiedersi perché diamine Dazai non vi ricorra e il Port Mafia tutto si faccia spaventare dai Mimic. Non è, appunto, “colpa” della novel, è solo che, dopo la sua pubblicazione, la lore di BSD si è espansa - E Kafka e Sango si sono incasinati da soli, ma vabbè, magari poi spiegheranno tutto-

Dead Apple non sento il bisogno spasmodico di averla, né di leggerla. Magari recupero il manga, ma giusto se capita. (Tra l’altro, perché non ha come copertina un’illustrazione di Sango? In mezzo alle altre è un pugno nell’occhio.)

Storm Bringer non credo abbia bisogno di spiegazioni. Se chi l’ha letta poi inizia a correre in giro a spammarla al prossimo c’è un motivo. L’unicissima cosa, ho capito la brutale ispirazione a A Certain Scientific Railgun (C’è persino una scena in cui Paolino fa letteralmente una railgun con un bottone, la prendo come un’esplicita dichiarazione d'ispirazione), ma forse in alcuni punti ci scivola un po’ troppo. E il fatto che nella battagliona finale Paolino si scordi convenientemente di poter ammazzare tutti in un colpo in modo che il piano di Dazai possa andare avanti è abbastanza scemo. Lo perdono solo perché il resto della novel è bellissimo e levissimo. 

Infine, The Day I Picked Up Dazai. Se segue le orme di Beast e Fifteen, dovrebbe avere prima o poi una versione rimpolpata e ufficiale, ed è per questo che non l’ho pianificata per un commento effettivo... Anche se è passato un bel po’ da quando è uscita e non se n’è saputo niente, quindi boh. (!)

The Day I Picked Up Dazai è un’unica vicenda in due versioni: Side A, ambientata nel canon, e Side B, ambientata nell’universo narrativo di Beast. 

Side A è adorabile. Voglio vederla animata. 

Side B è una delle cose più aberranti che abbia mai letto. Mi dispiace molto per le persone a cui è piaciuta, ma questo è uno dei quei casi in cui uso l’espressione “mi ha fatto schifo”. È stupida. Semplicemente. La trama non esiste: Dazai si fa raccattare da Oda e passa tutto il tempo in uno stato di serrato mutismo. Oda alza le spalle e, giustamente, lo lascia stare. Entusiasmante. Il resto è angst self-indulgent, che è una cosa che odio. Ma non è l’angst self-indulgent solito, è proprio sguazzarci per il puro gusto di farlo, è lo scrivere seriamente frasi del tenore di “Era oscuro come l’oscurità più oscura”, è creare problemi dove non ce ne sono solo per fare angst. E questo porta ad intaccare Beast stessa: ma il dramma di Beast!Dazai non era proprio il non potersi avvicinare ad Oda? La stretta al cuore della scena in cui, finalmente, riesce a farlo e se lo ritrova invece contro, non è caricata proprio da questo punto fermo? Se Beast!Dazai ha già incontrato Oda, dove va tutta questa tensione, questo dramma? “Ma serve per far vedere che è stato Dazai ad indirizzare Oda!”, indovinate un po’? Si poteva fare in qualsiasi altro modo, compreso il fatto che Dazai ce lo facesse andare indirettamente, rimanendo dietro le quinte (Ben più IC e, in tutta onestà, molto più malinconico). L’unica parte che si salva di questa roba è il flashback sul quadro, che tuttavia è stato palesemente ritagliato da Side A (Dove per nessun motivo non viene mostrato) e ficcato qui giusto per far succedere qualcosa di nuovo e dare un senso all’esistenza di Side B. Comunque vi ricordo che c’è Oda che saluta Dazai davanti ad un edificio, torna a casa con i mezzi di trasporto e, davanti casa sua, ci trova Dazai che si è preparato una scena molto angst. Le cose sono tre: o Oda ha preso Trenitalia, o Dazai si teletrasporta, o Dazai ha i razzi sotto la giacca. L’ultima mi diverte di più, ma anche la prima merita, quindi ho deciso che sono successe entrambe. 

Vediamo se un’eventuale versione intera possa rendermela più gradevole, ma per me Side B è il secondo punto più basso mai toccato da BSD (Il primo è, naturalmente, la persecuzione di Fuckyouchi). Ringrazio sia uscita insieme a Side A. 

Non faccio una wishlist delle novel che vorrei perché non so quali storie potrebbero andare nel manga (Tipo, Yosano poteva anche avere una novel, ma ha avuto spazio nel manga). Ovviamente mi incuriosisce sapere di più su quel confetto malefico di Q, sul passato da oiran tormentata di Koyou, sul da dove sia uscita Higuchi, su cosa ha reso così “bizzarri” i fratelli Tanizaki, ma in primo luogo vorrei approfondimenti sul trio della DOA - Che, però, credo sia più una cosa da mostrare nel manga, soprattutto Sigma. E poi, ovviamente, ad un sequel di Storm Bringer sulle magiche avventure di Chuuya e Adam non si direbbe di no. 

[furlantravelfashionblogger]

Entrate nel minuscolo borgo di Alpe Devero, che dà il nome a tutta l’area. Siamo nella Provincia del Verbano-Cusio-Ossola. Il paese, composto da poche abitazioni e una chiesetta, vi farà subito innamorare dell’autentica atmosfera di montagna che vi si respira. Alte vette alpine incorniciano le bellissime case in stile Walser, in pietra e legno con i tetti in piode e i balconi decorati da coloratissimi gerani.

Usciti dal bosco, vi ritroverete all’imbocco di una lunga e stretta vallata, al centro della quale si trova Crampiolo, un paesino di cui è impossibile non innamorarsi. Un’oasi di pace circondata da verdi piati e grigie montagne, sempre con le immancabili e curatissime case in stile Walser. A Crampiolo, ogni dettaglio contribuisce a creare un’atmosfera da fiaba; panche in legno intagliato, ordinate cataste di legna, vasi traboccanti di fiori, davanzali decorati e il placido gorgogliare del vicino ruscello.

Crampiolo si trova a 1767 metri di altitudine e per raggiungere il Lago delle Streghe devi scendere leggermente in una conca a 1650 metri. Ci sono anche diversi ristoranti e botteghe di prodotti locali. 🇮🇹❤👏👋

You enter the tiny village of Alpe Devero, which gives its name to the whole area. We are in the Province of Verbano-Cusio-Ossola. The town, made up of a few houses and a small church, will immediately make you fall in love with the authentic mountain atmosphere that you breathe. High Alpine peaks frame the beautiful Walser-style houses, in stone and wood with stone roofs and balconies decorated with colored geraniums.

Leaving the woods you will find yourself at the entrance to a long and narrow valley, in the center of which lies Crampiolo, a small village with which it is impossible not to fall in love. An oasis of peace surrounded by green meadows and gray mountains, always with the inevitable well-kept Walser-style houses. In Crampiolo every detail helps to create a fairy-tale atmosphere; carved wooden benches, neat piles of wood, pots overflowing with flowers, ornate windowsills and the quiet bubbling of the nearby stream.

Crampiolo is located at an altitude of 1767 meters and to reach the Lago delle Streghe you have to descend slightly into a basin at 1650 meters. There are also several restaurants and shops selling local products. 🇮🇹❤👏👋

Grazie: Complimenti a📷@instagram.com/maxboggian 💚🤍❤️

[mossyu]

flyover 🌱

[kiiiiwwiii]

Entrance and seating area 🍄🍂

[sciatu]

LA CASA DEL FARO DI BRUCOLI

Le mostrai diverse case vicino a Brucoli, perché diceva che voleva stare in quella zona dalla costa alta e bianca e con il mare che mostrava nella sua trasparenza riflessi di smeraldo. Una donna di un’età indefinibile, con la “r” arrotolata come le donne di Parma o Bologna, capelli lunghi e ricci, e due occhiali da sole enormi dietro cui nascondeva la sua anima mentre il suo profumo di sandalo e miele dilagava ovunque. Nessuna delle case mostrate le piacevano perché o troppo nell’entroterra, o troppo “casa vacanza”, anonima e fredda. Mi disse di riportarla in albergo e che avrebbe provato con un'altra agenzia.  Le chiesi infine che tipo di casa cercasse e lei rispose “una casa che parlasse d’amore”. Allora decisi di portarla al Faro all’ingresso del fiordo di Brucoli. “Vede – le spiegai – questo è il castello Aragonese costruito affinché i pirati non si nascondessero nel lungo fiordo di Brucoli e da li depredassero Augusta e i suoi dintorni. Andando verso il mare e passati proprio sotto le mura del castello, si arriva al Faro, che la marina militare ha dato in affitto. Il Faro è stato ricostruito e adattato a villa. All’interno dalle finestre si scorge solo il mare e lontana, dall’altra parte del golfo, L’Etna maestosa e sovrana, anche se nascosta nell’azzurro tenue della foschia. Il terrazzo ha i colori del mare e quasi per tutto il giorno vi domina il sole. Sulla destra della casa si scende verso la battigia. Il mare qui, è quello vero, sempre caldo e profondo. Alla sinistra inizia il fiordo di Brucoli che per diverse centinaia di metri scava la roccia bianca dell’entroterra.” Lei guardò attentamente la villa, le finiture e salita sul terrazzo osservò il mare disteso ai piedi dell’Etna. “E perché questa villa dovrebbe parlarmi d’amore?” “Parchè l’amore è per chi ama un faro, una luce che guida nell’oscurità, che salva dai fondali bassi dell’egoismo, dagli scogli della solitudine. Indica dov’è la salvezza, il punto sicuro in cui trovare ristoro. Ognuno di noi è per chi lo ama un faro in cui riporre speranze e certezze” Lei continuò a guardare il mare nell’imbrunire quando improvvisamente il faro si illuminò. Lei l’osservò come se quella sua luce, ancora tenue nel sole morente, le dicesse qualcosa. Poi si sdraiò su una sedia “Per favore dica all’albergo di spedirmi qui le valigie” i sistemò gli occhiali da sole e il cappello di paglia, e resto li ad osservare l’azzurro colorarsi di rosa per il prossimo tramonto.

I showed her several houses near Brucoli, because she said she wanted to be in that area with a high, white coast and with the sea showing emerald reflections in its transparency. A woman of an indefinable age, when she talk she had the  “r” rolled up like the women of Parma or Bologna; long curly hair, and two huge sunglasses behind which she hid her soul while her scent of sandalwood and honey it was rampant everywhere. She liked none of the houses I showed because either too much inland, or too much “vacation home”, anonymous and cold. She told me to take her back to the hotel and that she would try with another agency. I finally asked her what kind of house she was looking for  and she answered “A house that speaks of love”. So I decided to take it to the Lighthouse at the entrance to the Brucoli fjord. “You see - I explained - this is the Aragonese castle built so that the pirates would not hide in the long fjord of Brucoli and from there they would plunder Augusta and its surroundings. Going towards the sea and passing just under the walls of the castle, you arrive at the lighthouse, which the navy has rented out. The Lighthouse was rebuilt and adapted to a villa. Inside the windows you can only see the sea and far away, on the other side of the gulf, the majestic and sovereign Etna, even if hidden in the pale blue of the mist. The terrace has the colors of the sea and the sun dominates it almost all day. On the right of the house you go down towards the shoreline. The sea here is the real one, always warm and deep. On the left begins the Brucoli fjord which for several hundred meters digs the white rock of the hinterland. “ She carefully looked at the villa, the finishes and climbed onto the terrace she observed the sea lying at the foot of Etna. "And why should this villa talk to me about love?” “Because love is for those who love a lighthouse, a light that guides in the darkness, that saves from the shallows of selfishness, from the rocks of solitude. It indicate where salvation is, the safe place to find refreshment. Each of us is for those who love us a beacon in which to place hopes and certainties ” She continued to look at the sea in the dusk when suddenly the lighthouse lit up. She looked at it as if that light of hers, still faint in the dying sun, was telling her something. She then lay down on a chair “Please tell the hotel to send my bags here” she adjusted her sunglasses and straw hat, and she stay there watching the blue turn pink for the next sunset.

[lunamagicablu]

Passeggio , le vie cittadine sono assolate e calde, fra qualche giorno l'equinozio d'Autunno dovrebbe fare il suo trionfale ingresso ,ma la temperatura alta resiste imperterrita ,non vuole proprio lasciare il posto a quella più fresca. Va bene comunque, in fondo noi siculi siamo abituati al calore ,sia umano che naturale ed io mi godo ogni passo del tragitto per tornare a casa dopo la spesa. In questo incedere incrocio degli occhi scuri ,color nocciola ,bellissimi ! Mi scrutano già da lontano e senza abbassare lo sguardo seguono il mio avvicinamento, occhi colmi d'amore ,di sorrisi e di voglia di vivere , a mia volta sorrido, non si può resistere. Mi passa accanto e si ferma costringendo la sua umana a fermarsi, saltella,scodinzola, avvicina la testolina per una carezza ,non si muove fino a quando non allungo la mano sul suo morbido pelo....siano benedetti gli animali,tutti, per il loro grande cuore e la grande capacità di amare che hanno, nonostante le brutture che ricevono ,siano benedetti questi fratelli pelosi ,pennuti o altro ...... se l'umanità ha ancora una speranza è anche e soprattutto grazie a loro perchè ci aiutano a mantenere aperto il nostro cuore . Aeffemoon © ************************ Walking, the city streets are sunny and warm, in a few days the Autumn equinox it should make its triumphal entrance, but the high temperature resists undaunted, it doesn't want to just give way to the cooler one. It's okay anyway, after all we Sicilians are used to heat, both human and natural and I I enjoy every step of the way home after shopping. In this walk I come across dark, hazel, beautiful eyes! They are already scrutinizing me from afar and without lowering their gaze they follow my approach, eyes full of love, smiles and the desire to live, I smile in turn, you can't resist. He passes by me and stops, forcing his human to stop, he jumps, wags his tail, she brings her little head closer for a caress, she doesn't move until I stretch out my hand on her soft fur....blessed are the animals, all of them, for their big hearts and great capacity to love that they have, despite the ugliness they receive, may these furry, feathered or other brothers be blessed...... if humanity still has hope it is also and above all thanks to them because they help us keep our hearts open. Aeffemoon ©