#internally he's a volcano that finally erupted

[ahogedetective]

which rage language are you?

men, raise the drawbridge

when you're angry, all your defenses go up. the unfortunate person or thing that managed to piss you off is suddenly talking to a wall. On the inside, you're screaming and crying and cussing them out, but somehow you can't express it. you're blank. emotionless. to anyone's knowledge, you could be zoning out of a lecture. because of this, it's hard to express how you're feeling when the person asks for your thoughts. you've choked your feelings down, and they won't come back up.

Tagged by: @ultlie and @belovedblossoms THANK YOU LOVELIES!!! 💖💖💖

Tagging: @somemindsatwork @shackld @oopsiliedagain @eternalbxtterfly @rosanimemuses @hxpelessnurse @not-bcring @from-across-the-stars and everyone else who would like to do this!

[magic-hcs]

Could I get horrortale papyrus, horrorfell papyrus, underfell papyrus, and undertale papyrus with a SO who has adhd and autism. There love Language is also like a crow (bonks for affection, small gifts, etc.)

Of course you can. I loved writing this! Thank you for sending it my way, I hope you enjoy it!

I definitely didn't go a bit self-indulgent with Charon’s bit, nope not at all, I don't know what you talking about.

Charon: UF Papyrus

Bean: HT Papyrus

Thatch: HF Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

Papyrus: Oh, this sweetheart adores you and your bonks. Papyrus is quite the affectionate fellow, so while his way to show affection are hugs and skelekisses he is more than open to accept your own ways of affection with open arms. He is also more than happy to return your preferred method of showing affection if that gives you the most comfort.

Papyrus finds it so precious that your love language is like that of a crow. When he first learns about it he is like “WOWIE! THAT IS SO FASCINATING.” Which 100% means that the first thing he’s gonna to do when he gets home is researching all about crow’s social behavior and their habits and behavior towards family and mates. He’s just so fascinated and curious! The next time you bonk him he has found a whole new layer adoration for you.

Papyrus keeps every single gift inside his closet, the place where he keeps his knick knacks and just everything that he has emotional attachments to or have meanings behind it - at least the ones that fit in there. The closet is a sort comfort space for Papyrus, so whenever he feels lost or stressed or feels like he has an existential crisis, he feels the need to be surrounded by comforting objects, hence the closet. Your gifts have a special section dedicated to them. It’s at eye level so he can easily find and look at them again.

✨✨

Charon: This man is a not so secret secret simp. I’m telling you, believe me. Like you may be sayin the most randomest shit ever out of nowhere with no context provided whatsoever leaving everyone going like “what?” Because they don’t see the train of thought you are going through. And Charon is standing there at the side absolutely loving. He finds it very endearing how at one point you could be talking about the weather and suddenly you bring up that “sometimes, dogs eat each other's poo”. It’s so out of nowhere it makes Charon burst out laughing or makes him at least chuckle sometimes. He finds your mind endearing he cant help it.

At first, Charon was quite confused with the bonks. He didn’t know what they meant or why you did them, but he appreciated it either way. Because it was you, his lovely mate who did them. But oh boy, were his cheekbones filled with a scarlet flush when he finally found out it was your way of showing affection. Now he just gets internally excited whenever you come up to him to give him one of your bonks. He may think he got himself together but it’s so obvious - to those who know him - that his face perks up slightly whenever a bonk is about to happen. Charon - mostly in private - returns your affection by placing a skelekiss on the top of your head or upon your hand. (A skelekiss is kinda like a bonk since he doesn’t have any lips.)

Gifts mean a lot to Charon in general. You have no idea how big of a thing it is to Charon, the first time you came bearing a gift for him, Charon was left speechless. Silently, gingerly accepting your gift while his gaze keeps flickering over towards you and the gift for a good while before he finally manages to utter so uncharacteristically quiet: “T-This is for me..?”

Someone save this poor boy’s soul, he can handle flirting and territorial behavior between mates. But this? This is something else entirely and someone, anyone, spare his poor soul from the warm flutterings that are erupting from within him like a volcano. You have no clue what you just did, or you did and you had planned this, planned to leave this man without a single breath left to gasp with. It’s quite the beautiful sight I must say.

Charon doesn’t know what to do or say, for you see; back in the underground, gifting a mate a gift is something big and something special because it is such a rare thing to happen. Monsters used to pick mates yes, but that’s more a fling than something serious. Leaving yourself vulnerable to another was a high risk to take, monsters used to trust no one. So when a mate gifts a gift it’s a display to everyone else to let them know that they and their mate are taken, and anyone that dares to mess with either of them there will be consequences. It’s only done when one’s sure they can protect the both of them from potential enemies that try to target either of them. But it is also a vow, an indication of their love and affection. Gifting a gift is practically a declaration: ‘you are the one that I want and the one I’ll keep wanting, I’m prepared to fight for us.’

Charon treasures every. Single. Gift you give him. Every. Single. One. You gave him a bracelet? He wears it every day with pride, it's the first one he puts on before putting on the other bracelets he has. You made him something? He has placed it proudly in his room or throughout the house. Charon doesn’t really make gifts, and he doesn’t call stuff he buys for you gifts. To him it's just something he bought for you. (Funny that actually, because if you buy him something he does consider it a gift.) Charon is more a person who cooks for his loved ones. So he definitely shows his affection by providing you delicious meals.

✨ ✨

Bean: His soul warms up with fluff whenever you decide to give him a loving bonk. Purrs rumble through him as your head makes contact with his bones. Bean finds great comfort in your crow like love language, it soothes him whenever he feels a bit stressed or had a bad day.

You two often share gifts together. Bean makes little music playlists for you or crochet articles of clothes like scarfs, hats and mittens, maybe even socks if you don’t mind. He really appreciates gifts you give him, although every now and again, especially in the beginning or on bad days, he's hesitant to accept them because he feels as if he isn’t worthy of them. Give him some time, he’ll come around once his inner demons have left him alone. Or you could also on the bad days leave your gifts in front or inside Bean’s room, somehow that makes accepting said gifts without hesitance much easier.

✨✨

Thatch: Oh stars, spare his poor soul. You are too precious, how do you exist? What has Thatch done to deserve you? Thatch loves you so wholly and deeply, it sometimes scares himself a bit. You could just be doing your own thing, something very uniquely you, and he notices, and he stills. He’s reminded by the soft warmth flooding his soul how much you mean to him.

This sweetheart practically melts into a goopy Lovestruck puddle whenever you give him a bonk.

No, really, believe me, I’ll tell you why.

Whenever you wanna give Thatch that affectionate bonk of yours you have to ask him to lean down or climb upon something to become taller. (There’s no other way to reach his face, Thatch is a tall boy, and when I say tall I mean tall.)

And whenever you do, Thatch already knows what’s going to happen and his poor soul can’t handle it. He can’t handle it, his cheeks are already getting hot, his soul is skipping around as if it’s dancing in the clouds, and all Thatch can do is accept his fate. The first time you gave him an affectionate bonk, you had K.Oed him. Frozen stiff he stood there, the only sign of life was that high whistle that slipped past Thatch’s teeth and his face that gradually erupted in a mahogany flush. But how could he not become a mess like that?

It’s just an affectionate bonk, but to Thatch it feels so intimate, as he stares with wide sockets into your eyes. It’s a priceless thing, the soft touch upon his forehead. The proximity of you renders his mind blank, he can practically feel your warmth and breath flutter against him like a loving whisper between lovers and it’s you, so completely you, and oh stars, he’s so doomed.

(And a purring mess.)

Thatch returns your affection (if he isn’t rendered stunned by the love that floods him) by tracing his knuckles oh so gently across your cheek.

Thatch has a hard time accepting gifts. Not that he doesn’t love them, he does, he just finds it hard to grasp that he deserves them. It’s harder than accepting affection because he can just stand there and let it wash over him, and be lured to lean into it. With gifts, he has to actually reach out and take it. Sounds easy, but to Thatch it isn’t.

Just walk up to him and get his attention, and then shove your gift in his hands. Thatch will automatically hold it on reflex. Immediately let go afterwards and tell him you don’t do ‘take backs’/thank him for accepting it, he won’t be able to try to refuse it for reasons like he ‘doesn’t deserve it’ or any of that nonsense. It’s rude to return an already gifted gift after all, and Thatch is a gentlemonster true and through.😉

But really, give him all the gifts! Shower him in them! He deserves it and he treasures your gifts dearly, yes even if it’s a shiny rock. Especially if it is a shiny rock.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[jaybirdss]

How it feels to fall for Morro

alr so ik Morro is kinda dead but we’re rolling with it. In my right ending, Morro escapes the clutches of the preeminent and is given a second chance at life(aka doing the same ritual as cole to get his physical form back). and yeah.

Mentions of yelling, pic from pinterest, comment to be added to the tag list

Now Playing…Dancer in the Dark, by Chase Atlantic

Falling for Morro is something that hurts so bad but feels so so good

Something tender and joyful that could tense up and become something so less than it’s led on to be. But overall, Love hurts but it’s an addiction you’ll always crave.

Morro holds in so much internal damage he’s taken over the years. The betrayal he felt by being abandoned so young, every worthless lie told by Wu, every broken promise he’d been told bottled up inside of him until he was a volcano filled with rage and was ready to erupt with his revenge in mind.

But then you were there. His level ground. His angel. His saving grace.

A nonbeliever at heart, but he thanks every deity there may be out there that you’ve come to him.

And for a second, he can’t help but think God doesn’t hate me too much, huh.

What he craves is time and attention from you, to touch and be close to you. Anything you have to offer, he wants, and by golly he’s gonna fuckin get it.

When he’s with you, he loves holding you close, comfortably tight with barely enough space for free movement. He’ll inhale the scent of your new shampoo, making a mental note to snatch it when he’s feeling lonely. He’ll stroke your hair softly and kiss the top of your head so sweetly you’ll almost forget he tried to unleash the cursed realm upon Ninjago. But hey, people make mistakes all the time.

His love language surprisingly is touch. Simple and gentle touches can mean a lot to him.

When he was a ghost, all he longed for was touch. he hadn’t felt anything in so long and now he can finally feel again. everything feels so real and he’s so glad he gets to hold you.

When he’s near, his hand is tucked into your back pocket, enveloped around your hand, wrapped around your waist, etc. He loves holding you whenever he can, any moment of the day. And he seems to ache greatly when he’s away from you.

A precious ecstasy is all he’s felt with you. Like a perfect drug trip you never want to come down from.

But with all these great moments, the eye of the storm still rages within him.

Morro has a tendency to raise his voice often, without even realizing it. He feels terrible if he’s yelled at you, even more if it’s upset you.

When he’s yelling, the moment he sees you his voice tends to break and he fumbled as he gets quieter. there are nights where he’s done nothing but wept overseeing you frightened by his angry outbursts. and he holds you and promises you that he’s trying his best to get it under control.

He whispers do you softly and kisses you all over.

“I’m so sorry my love, please forgive me.”

Deep down you know he’ll never be able to control it, and it hurts. but it hurts so good

It feels nice to be on edge on the occasion, to have a bit of danger in your average life

(you’re fucking crazy.)

But it’s good to see Morro drive to get better for someone he truly cares about.

The others(ninja) never will truly understand why you fell for a man like him. they often question you about it. asking you if he’s forcing you to be in this relationship. if he’s manipulated you into thinking you love him.

When you laugh and say “Of course he hasn’t.”, they’ll always think of you as a lost cause. like him.

But they’ll come around.

The only person who won’t? Sensei Wu himself.

He’ll forever be in denial that Morro has managed to keep an actual relationship. He’s so far in denial, he’s gotten to where he just pretends you don’t exist.

(which you’re okay with, fuck him)

None of that matters to the both of you when all you need is each other.

You’re Morro’s soulmate, his twin flame.

He praises you like a godsend every time you breathe and would drop everything and everyone just to make you happy.

In his eyes. You need to be spoiled with love, gifts, soft and rough touches alike. It’s something you deserve and something he longs for.

Falling for Morro is loving as long as the sun burns in the sky, and the moon is shining bright in the sky.

Loving on the bad days where you sleep in separate rooms and the good where he gets you flowers and kisses you softly in the morning.

Don’t give up on him, he’s trying so hard for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tag List: @holycrimin

[skymaiden32]

Too Close

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 4: Escape

A close encounter with the forces of nature goes about as well as you’d expect.

Continuity: TOS

------

“John!” He yelled into his comms over the cacophony of rumbling. “Get your butt over here right now!” Virgil frowned when his brother didn’t answer him right away. “Come on…” He muttered, shakily. They didn’t have time to dawdle. He glanced up anxiously at the volcano a few miles ahead of him. Just a few short hours ago, International Rescue had been called in to rescue a group of tourists, trapped on an active volcano that was due to erupt any moment.

The tourists, a family of four that reminded Virgil and his brothers of their own all too well, had just been evacuated successfully by John, who now had to make the journey back to Thunderbird 2 from the other side of the exclusion zone. A relatively short one, but one that made Virgil’s spine shiver all the same. The authorities, already having to work with such a small safe space outside the vicinity of the volcanic caldera, had outright refused any of the Thunderbirds to land where the evacuees would be waiting for the crisis to resolve itself. Of course, Scott and Virgil had understood their reasoning, but it made their job ever so slightly more difficult. And that’s how Virgil and Thunderbird 2 ended up in the possible path of a pyroclastic flow. 

Above, Thunderbird 1 circled, keeping a close eye out for the signs of an imminent eruption. Virgil could practically sense Scott’s tension from down on the ground, in his own pilot’s seat. Waiting for John was becoming excruciating. It wasn’t just the danger their brother might be in if that volcano blew. It was also the threat the eruption posed to their ships. No matter how hard he tried, even the brilliant mind of  Brains could not quite eliminate the risk volcanic ash posed to an aircraft’s engines, although Virgil knew he was still working on it. Wait too long to take off, and they wouldn’t be able to take off at all…

“Virgil!” His older brother’s voice snapped him out of his catastrophising. “I see him!”

Sure enough, when Virgil looked up, there was John, sprinting at full speed across the open field that would soon turn to an expanse of grey. Thunderbird 2’s pod door swung open, the astronaut wasting no time in dashing into the safety of the green carrier. The rumbling got louder. Almost as soon as John had gotten aboard, Virgil quickly completed pre-flight checks, lowering the main body over the pod.

Scott’s voice was frantic. “It’s erupting, Virg! It’s now or never!”

“FAB!” He pulled on the lever next to him, and the great ship’s VTOL rockets lifted her off the ground at the exact moment John made it into the cockpit. Thunderbird 2 turned in the air, a bit too slowly for Virgil’s liking, in the general direction of home. Her horizontal rockets finally engaged, propelling her up and, far, far away from the danger zone at top speed. Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil saw a streak of red and silver doing the same. Within seconds, both Thunderbirds 1 and 2 were safe from the cloud of pumice and ash behind them, and were heading for home. 

John breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close…”

“Too close.” Scott agreed over the radio. He sighed. “You gave us quite the scare there, John.”

“Try to answer your comm next time.” Virgil nodded, still coming down from his adrenaline rush. “We had no clue how far out you were.”

John rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, fellas. I couldn’t find it when I got back on board Thunderbird. I must of dropped it.”

“Well,” Scott reasoned. “You’re still here, and we’ll be home soon. That’s all that really matters.” His brothers hummed in agreement, suddenly very tired. A beeping noise interrupted the blessed peace. “That’ll be Dad checking in. I better let him know we’re on our way back. See you fellas at home. Thunderbird 1 out!”

“See you back home, Scott! Fly safe!” The radio clicked off, leaving Virgil and John alone with their thoughts. A few minutes later, Virgil filled the silence. “Let’s not make  this a habit, huh? We’ve had way too many close calls lately. And try not to lose your comm! Dad’s gonna rip you a new one for dropping it.”

“I’ll try, Virgil. I’ll try…” John chuckled. Deep down, Virgil knew as well as he did, that the first request was unrealistic. Disasters around the world, whether natural or man’s own faults, certainly did not care about waiting around for rescue teams to regroup. However, he could certainly do something about the second request. “That sure was a lucky escape.”

“Yeah.” His brother agreed, although his smile was soon spreading across his face at the thought that John was safe with him up in the skies. “It sure was...”

[jangmo-othewarrior]

That Which Burns and Warms

Patty couldn't bare to see it, but she could feel it clearly.

It was like a volcano, or an uncontrollable wildfire. Demonic energy was scorching everything, turning lesser demons' corpses into stains on the ground. The only reason she was even spared was because of the Behemoth corpse on top of her, and she could smell it cooking and burning away. The devil erupting out this energy was still roaring, and it hurt her eardrums to listen to. How the other demons had pissed it off this bad, Patty didn't know.

All that she did know, was that as soon as it was done with the demons, it would be coming for her.

---

"Hey Pattycakes." Dante started talking as soon as she opened up Devil May Cry's front door. "You wanna come with?"

Patty was less than impressed with Dante's attempt to avoid the topic of their previous arguments, but at this point she expected it. So, she decided to play along, for his sake.

"Come with you where? To the grocery store? Bout time you ate something other than pizza." She didn't miss a beat, waltzing over to the jukebox. She could hear Vergil snort from over on the couch, nose deep in some old-ass poetry book.

"Hey!" Dante smacked the magazine he was reading onto his desk. "I eat sundaes too! And you would know, Brat." He mumbled. Patty laughed as she fiddled with the jukebox.

"Dante." Vergil doesn't even look up from his book.

Dante flinches like he's been burned and growls under his breath. Patty cocked her head as she looked over at the brothers. Were they fighting again? It wouldn't be the first time in the six months they've been back. "I was wondering if you would want to come with me on a job, Pats."

Her mental heelturn was instantaneous. "Really?" She gasps. "I swear, if you are lying to me Dante-"

She had started 'interning' for Devil May Cry before Dante had even returned from Hell, and he had been weird about it when he had gotten back. He was super cagey about it, but refused to tell her why. He had also 'forgotten' to tell her about some really big jobs, which had pissed everyone off (a hellbird roosting in Redgrave was kinda an all-hands-on-deck situation). Needless to say, she was finally called in after Lady shot him in the head a couple of times, and he was still upset about it! He had only put her back on the actual rotation after she had promised him to let him teach her how to use a sword - which was stupid because he knew she has watched him use Rebellion for years.

"I'm not, I'm not! Take your finger off of the trigger Pattycake!" Dante ran around his desk like a chicken with its head cut off. "Verge is being boring and refusing to go."

Vergil immediately glared at his brother with the force of a rolling thunderstorm. It would of bothered Patty a long time ago, but it didn't now. It shouldn't of bothered Dante either, but he grabs her hand and rushes out the door before anyone could get a word out.

Yeah, they definitely had a fight about something.

---

The job had been going well, almost to well.

An old park had just been bought by a private buyer who wished to put in a bowling alley. Cool, no problem there. The park was previously used in demonic ritual summoning. Not cool. Thus, a call to Devil May Cry.

There were a lot of the basics: Hell Cainas, Pyrobats, Riots, the whole works. There were more interesting threats as well, like Behemoths, Blitzes, Hellbats, and Baphomets, but nothing the two of them couldn't handle together. In fact, Patty was sure Dante could have handled them by himself. He was certainly acting like it.

It felt like Dante was all over the place, flying from enemy to enemy. There was a slight lack of his usual playfulness, but his quips with her didn't slow down in the slightest.

"You slowin' down, Pats?" He leaned his elbow on the Baphomet corpse he had just punched straight into the ground. Balrog lit up in what had to have been amusement.

"Not in a million years!" She yelled back at him as she aimed one of her custom twin pistols down a Hell Cainas' eye socket. Patty had given Nico very specfic specifications when she crafted these guns, and boy, she had delivered. Half of the Hell Cainas' skull was blown into nothingness.

"Now your even stealing my lines!" His voice rumbled weirdly as he spoke, and his eyes had an odd shine to them. "Brat."

The demons close to Dante suddenly started hissing under their breathes and one of them - a Riot - scurried away before Dante could shove King Cerberus down its throat. "Shit." He muttered.

"You think they're getting their boss?" Patty ran over, putting a spray of bullets into a Blitz as she did so. The other lesser demons were beginning to back off, which meant something bad was probably about to happen. Dante suddenly leaned his back onto her shoulder with his full weight, the asshole. The small bit of demonic power in her veins sparked at his touch.

"Hopefully. Then we can finally get paid." He laughed and softly knocked the side of his head into hers. For a second, Patty swore his entire body was vibrating as he bounced off of her and shot Ivory into an approaching Pyrobat. The air surrounding her felt like was vibrating too, if only for a moment.

Huh. She thought as Dante finished off the flying fire hazard. Must be demonic adrenaline. Dante landed on the ground with a stylish flourish, but his taunting suddenly stopped. Patty then felt more vibrations again, but this time from...

...the ground.

Instinctually, Patty pitched forward, using what little demonic energy her blood had to shove herself forward as much as possible. Seconds after she launched herself, a massive fire-covered claw ripped through the ground where she had been standing. Her landing wasn't graceful, but she was alive. Dante immediately grabbed her arm and heaved her up onto her feet. As they looked at their attacker, the devil hunters suddenly realized something crucial.

They were surrounded.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The hole in the ground from where the claw sprouted through the dirt was ripped open, and a Fury-sized demon crawled out, spewing magma as it did so. It was a disgusting thing, reptilian in body structure but covered in obsidian and magma. There were obsidian spikes and horns in what had to have been uncomfortable places, and its teeth jutted out of its skull like daggers. One of its clawed hands was lathering magma over its body like it was sunscreen, but it just looked like it was causing itself pain. To put it bluntly, the demon looked utterly nasty.

Dante immediately shot Ebony and Ivory into its volcanic hide, but the bullets got caught in it like a glue trap. The demon tried to laugh, but it just sounded like a clogged volcano about to explode. Dante let out a hiss underneath his breath, and Patty could practically feel his energy begin to wind up like a spring. She wasn't any better; her fingers never let go of the triggers.

"The blood of Sparda, truly a waste with a being like you. It could of seen its true potential elsewhere." It tutted like it was a disappointed school teacher.

"Oh really? Got any applications to turn in?" Dante's words sounded playful but there was an edge to his eyes.

The demon ignored him. "Your... successor even more so, sullying the Sparda clan with something like that."

Dante stilled at its words. His grip on her arm tightened, and he began to lean forward towards the demon. The edge in his eyes had turned as sharp as the blade that shared his name, and she could faintly hear a growl on the air.

Patty has heard enough; she whips her left handed pistol up in line with the demon's chest. "Enough chit-chat." The shot went off.

And chaos erupted onto the battlefield.

The shot had connected, but the bullet got caught in the obsidian on its chest. The demon, however, clearly felt offended by Patty's potshot. It charged, but Dante met it halfway. One half of Cavaliere slammed into the right side of its face, but it catches Dante in claws. Both of them fly off to the side, propelled by the force of Dante's demonic motorcycle buzz saws.

The lsser demons wanted in on the action too. Patty turns to shoot a pouncing Riot in the face. Sidestepping its flying corpse, she angles one of her pistols into the magma latherer's side. The rounds connected, but it only grunted as it vomited magma in Dante's direction.

"Darn." She muttered as she shoved the other pistol into a Baphomet's mouth and fired.

Dante launched himself forward in the blink of an eye, slicing upward with the DSD. The blade repeatedly spins along along the middle of its chest and neck, and the cut squirts out blood and fire. The demon, hissing angrily, lunged forward and blocked Dante's exit off with its arms, blocking him from view.

Logically, Patty knew he would be able to handle himself. He had saved the world, what, four times? Five? A single demon being a son of a bitch couldn't hurt him that badly. But, in the heat of the moment, all she could think about was that Dante was in danger. Shit!

Patty immediately unloaded one of her pistol's entire clip into the Ugly SOB's face. It turned to her with fire in its eyes, and her spine shivered. It gripped down onto Dante, and chucked him into a group of approaching lesser demons. "Dante!"

He was gone from view before he could even get a word out.

Stay calm, Lowell! He'll be okay, he's Dante! Just breathe. Her bleeding heart gladly accepted the reassurance, even as it picked up in speed when the SOB looked down at her.

"Human. How you managed to gain his favor, I will never know." The demon hissed. Patty vaulted over a Behemoth that had charged at her back. It ran straight into the SOB, but it just grabbed onto the giant, chained demon.

"Hate to break it to ya, you son of a bitch," Patty shakily yelled as she shot through an approaching Hellbat's wing, "but I have no idea what the hell you are talking about!" The SOB deviously laughed at her words.

"Fine. Lie to me all you want. It doesn't matter..." In one quick motion, it grabbed the Hellbat she just shot out of the air and pushed the Behemoth so hard it's chains broke. The Hellbat's head was then bitten off, and the demon held its back out in front of its chest. "...Because you're not getting out of here alive."

A lot happened in those few seconds.

Patty tried to back up, only for a Blitz to slam into her back. A large group of lesser demons suddenly started to scatter, as if afraid of something. The SOB shoved the dying Hellbat into the bullets and magma on its chest.

And the Hellbat, and all of the magma and bullets with it, exploded.

She doesn't remember much else other than pain, heat, and a crushing force after that. But there was a sizzle in the air, and the last thing she was able to hear before the world went dark was a voice.

"PATTY!!!"

---

She only woke up when the air shook.

But there was too much pressure to think. Too much, too much too much too much-

She gasped for air. It hurt to fill her lungs, hurt to breathe, but she did it anyway. She felt her lungs stutter, and a horrible sound filled the air. For a second, Patty panicked.

Oh, please no more demons please not right now. She kept breathing, because that was all she could do, as she waited for the demons to come after her again. Lord, she was tired of decade long chase.

But nothing came. Her lungs hitched again, and she heard the ragged, wheezing cough. Oh. That was her. Not more demons. Not Dante. Just her. No one else. Only her. And that hurt so much.

God, she needed to breathe.

She laid there - breathe in, ignore the stabbing in your lungs, breathe out, ignore the pressure - until she finally had the courage to open her eyes. The light burned for a second, but when she finally manged to look around, all she could see was a mass of rotten scales. There was a Behemoth corpse on top of her.

She immediately went to push it off of her, only for her entire body light up in pain. Everything burned, but all she could think was Get it off get it off get it off-

Her arms felt the least damaged, so she slowly pushed against the rotten scales to free her lungs. She couldn't even get it fully off of her, but her arms were holding something. It didn't help much, but at least some of the pressure was gone. A few inches of gracious space for her to inhale.

Patty took in a couple of deep breaths, the first in what felt like hours, and tried to assess her physical condition. Nero had said once on a job that it was really important to do that.

Everything hurt, which was good, because that meant she wasn't paralyzed. It was also bad, because everything hurt. Multiple things were broken, like her leg and definitely some of her ribs, but she was just glad her back was functional. She could barely keep track of the number of cuts she had, and the bruises that would surely form would only make that harder. The only one she definitely knew was there was the one on her forehead; she could taste the blood running down her face. Or maybe there was just blood in her mouth. No doubt the ground was stained with her blood. Fear only truly set in as her skin ran along a sharp, metal point on her stomach. There was a jagged piece of the Behemoth's chains the size of her hand sitting against her stomach. One wrong move, and it goes into her gut.

Wow. Great. Thanks Nero, but NOW WHAT DO I DO???

The only part of her that wasn't in pain was the tiny piece of demonic energy she inherited; it was just fine. In fact, it was sparking, helping her senses come back to her.

Wait, what? Why... And then she felt it. In the air, on her skin, everywhere. It thrummed in the air, against her strained arms, and it made everything she could see wobble with its mere existence. It was hot, sizzling even. A huge outpouring of this demonic energy was coming from... her left?

She turned her head, but her view was partially obscured by the Behemoth's half burned skull. She could see other demon corpses, and the ground was razed down to black ash. Suddenly, something flew into view. No, it was thrown into her view.

It was the SOB demon from before. That is, if it was still alive.

It was missing an arm, and it's lower half was charred so badly that one of the legs disintegrated as it fell down onto the ground. Almost none of the obsidian remained, and what little did was hanging on by small pieces of ripped skin. It's upper jaw was partially caved in, but the eyes moved. It was somehow still alive, and it was looking at something. It's eyes were wide with fear, and it's remaining arm tried to pull it away from whatever it was looking at.

For a second, Patty felt vindicated. Yeah, asshole, you should feel afraid. You should die for the countless people who have probably died because of you. You should suffer for throwing my-

Its terror partially came into view. And Patty's brain stopped.

Being the descendent of a summoner had a lot of perks. A small bit of demonic energy reserved for just for her, the ability to summon demonic energy recreations of some demons (eventually, she didn't have that down yet), and being able to gauge the general level of power of any demon she could see, just to name a few. The third one never really had many applications;in fact, she often forgot she could do it. She couldn't escape it now.

She couldn't even see all of it, but, God, she did not need to. Its back was turned to her, and she was glad about it. The SOB looked like a child next to it, it was so large. The body is covered in dark ridges and spikes that looked straight out of Hell. Firey, demonic energy is leaking out of it at any crack in its obsidian carapace. Four wings adorned its back, and swirls of demonic energy radiated off of them. She couldn't see its face, but the back of its head showed off two pairs of horns, one on the sides and the other on top.

Everything about its presence screamed power; the amount of demonic energy was overwhelming. Abigail had been bad to her, and this thing felt like it could eat Abigail for breakfast. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if this demon could pick up the Yamato and snap it in half like a twig. All of the burning energy filling the air came from that thing, and seeing it made it all hit her at once.

ragekillbloodlustangerkillrageHOWDAREYOU-

Her head hurt, but she couldn't look away as the devil (that's what it was, a high devil, a king) shoved one of its claws into the SOB's eye sockets. Garbled screeching soundsfilled the energized air as the devil lifted it up with one claw. It pulled it up to what Patty had to assume was eye level, and stopped. The devil held it there as it hovered for a few seconds, and it opened its mouth. All Patty could see was sharp, black teeth and a lava colored tongue before it roared and slammed its prey into the ground.

Patty had to look away then. She had nearly lost her hold on the corpse, and she could feel the point of the Behemoth's chains poking into her lower ribs. It was hard to ignore the horrifying sounds of her previous attacker being squelched, but she couldn't look. She couldn't lose focus, not when the energy was already making everything more difficult; the air burned in a frenzy with the devil.

Patty couldn't bare to see it, but she could feel it clearly.

It was like a volcano, or an uncontrollable wildfire. Demonic energy was scorching everything, turning lesser demons' corpses into stains on the ground. The only reason she was even spared was because of the Behemoth corpse on top of her, and she could smell it cooking and burning away. The devil erupting out this energy was still roaring, and it hurt her eardrums. How the other demons had pissed it off this bad, Patty didn't know.

All that she did know, was that as soon as it was done with the demons, it would be coming for her.

The ground shook each time the demon pounded its prey into the ground. With each shockwave, she could feel her hold on the Behemoth slipping. Just breathe, Patty. Breathe.

It had felt like hours had passed when the devil's rage finally subsided. Its demonic energy began to die out in the air. The smell of burned flesh started to overpower her senses. Patty could taste the dried blood sticking to her face.

Breathe.

Her arms were shaking more now than ever, but she couldn't focus on the pain. She had to breathe. The devil was staring down at its kill, levitating a few feet above it like it was its superior. It probably was. Ragged, animalistic breaths escaped its maw.

Breathe.

The air was still burning, but the defensive, angry part of the air had finally began to fade away. The devil sensed no more enemies; anything that could threaten it was gone. All that was left was corpses.

Brea- Dante.

The devil would consider him a threat; Mundus did years before she had even met him. There was no way the devil would feel calm if Dante was around. If Dante was alive. Tears pricked her eyes. Her arms shook even more.

She hadn't even gotten to tell him how much he meant to her. They had been fighting so much over whether she should be a hunter, if she could take care of herself, and if she was ready for the world. This job had felt like a step forward, that Dante was finally pulling his head out of his ass. That maybe Dante was finally ready to acknowledge the fact that he was the closest thing she had to a father. And now he might be... gone.

Her arms finally gave out.

The Behemoth had lost a lot of its weight to the burning, demonic air, but the chains had remained unbothered by the burning air. The body had been moved just a bit, either by her arms, gravity, or the shaking ground. The corpse fell what few inches it could.

The sound that escaped her as the knife-like chain piece lodged itself in her stomach wasn't a scream, or even a true cry of pain. It was a weak, strangled noise. The sound of something rendered helpless through no fault of their own. The noise of something that desperately wants to live but sees no way out of their situation. The choked cry of someone that thinks they lost someone they love.

Her arms laid limp at her sides, and, for a second, she stared up at the sky. Pressure choked out any breath she had, and her blood was staining the ground again. Patty Lowell fought to keep her eyes open, but her exhausted and battered body forced them shut. She could barely think, and the world began to fall away.

I don't want...to die...please...Mom.....Da...

...

...warmth. It was so warm. It spread everywhere, into each exhausted limb and bleeding wound. Her small, demonic core pulsed like fire, accepting the warmth greedily. It held her up, keeping her mind aloft.

pleasedon'tgo It said. Why was it so nice? pleasestayipromisesafewarm

The ever-present pressure suddenly lifted, and she instinctively took in a breath. So many places suddenly hurt all at once, especially her stomach, but the warmth buzzed almost angrily over her wounds. Pressure returned suddenly to her stomach, and, in a moment of rage, she tried to sit up and throw the pressure off. The pain stopped her before she could even prop her elbows up. Falling back unceremoniously, a strained whine ripped out of her throat. For a split second, she braced herself for the pain of her skull knocking back onto the ground, but the impact never came. Instead, a gentle hand caught her before she could smack into the dirt.

...Who?... Patty managed to think, cracking open her left eye.

A demon looked back at her. Kneeling next to her, its wings blocked out the light, but its demonic core glowed faintly orange. Its head looked more like a skull, with no skin to speak of. There was no readable expression, and its eyes looked like yellow pits. Four vaguely recognizable horns wrapped around its head like a crown.

...The devil from earlier?!?

Why in Hell was it holding her like this? Her guns were laying on her chest too; had it gotten them for her? One of its clawed hands had caught her head, and the other was... Patty caught a glance at the sight of the claws gingerly applying pressure on the stab wound on her stomach. She had no energy to move, but she did have enough energy to squeak.

Out of all the ways Patty thought it would react, leaning down and making soft clicking noises was not one of them. She couldn't tell where its eyes were looking, but it didn't feel like it was looking down on her. The devil lifted her head with far too much care, and sniffed her forehead cut. Her entire body instinctually tensed up, fully prepared for the devil to brutally cave her head in.

To her udder shock, instead of immediately biting down after catching the scent of her human blood, the devil leaned back slightly and hissed under its breath. What is going on?? Patty's bewilderment must of shown on her face, because the demon made more soft clicking noises. Her breath hitched when it leaned back in again. She shut her eyes instinctively.

The open cut on her forehead was suddenly covered with a warm, wet substance. She immediately opened her eyes back up in alarm, only to see a tongue the color of fire rasp over her cut again. And again.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Her core sparked again as the warmth responded in tandem. safemustbesafemustbehealthy

To say Patty was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Every muscle in her body felt like it should be tense and in pain, but instead they were slowly relaxing into the warmth. Her tiny demonic core certainly didn't mind the devil's actions; it pulsed even more.

Apparently, while she was trying to process what was happening, the devil had decided its job was done. The cut slowly stopped buzzing with demonic energy, and it weirdly felt sealed. All of her cuts felt sealed, Patty realized, even the big one in her gut. The devil looked down into her wide eyes and chuffed affectionately. Its clawed hands suddenly shifted, moving underneath her to slowly lift her off of the ground.

Without warning it pressed her body on its chest, her left ear landing right on top of one of the many spikes surrounding the core. A small bit of energy cushioned her from the spikes and jagged edges. The wings folded in as well, practically covering her like a shield. For a second, all Patty could do was breathe and question why?

A rumble answered her.

It started in the devil's core, and expanded until its entire body vibrated with the noise. It was so loud, right next to her head, but it didn't hurt. The devil set its chin on the top of her head, and never stopped purring. That's what it was, purring. A grounding showcase of care that felt real.

And familiar.

It had only came up occasionally, but it had been happening for years. Every once in a while, there would be a rumble in his voice. They could be arguing over sundaes or she could be shooting a Hell Caina in the face, but it would appear out of the blue. Only to disappear as fast as it came, covered up by grins and snarky quips.

She brought a hand up to his demonic core and let the energy run through her fingers. It burned the air around it, small embers glowing and fading in the wind. As it hit her hand, it gave her the same sense of warmth she had felt when he had pulled the Behemoth corpse off of her. The same sense of warmth buzzing along her skin. The same warmth she had barely felt when she had first met him a decade ago.

"D-Dan-" Her voice broke off into a mangled cough. She shut her eyes as she fell limp from the force of it all on her still-battered body. The purring tapered off and Dante let out a worried warble as he gently caught her. Clearly Dante's human brain was taking a snooze, since he would normally say some silly quip to lighten the mood and cover up his nerves.

She would of reassured him if she hadn't see movement out of the corner of her eye.

Snatching one of her guns out of her lap, Patty leaned out of Dante's grip. Everything hurt, but that small bit of demonic energy pulled through as she aimed at the crawling, half-dead son of a bitch. The recoil hurt like a bitch too, but her reward was instantaneous. The SOB moaned out a pained gurgle as its remaining eye angrily searched for her. And then widened as she fell back and tucked her head underneath the unhinged jaw of one very pissed off devil.

The screech Dante released should of burst her eardrums, but the energy hovering around her thankfully muffled it. His wings wrapped around them both as he lifted into the air, and fireballs started shooting out like they were being fired from a minigun. When Dante's wings opened back up, the only thing left of the SOB was a chunk of his obsidian hide surrounded by charred flesh.

And then, like a switch was flipped, Dante was back to fussing over her. He gently lowered them both onto a relatively uncharred and less bloody patch, although he refused to let go of her. The purring was back as well, and Dante let out a croon as soon as she set down her pistols. Carefully, he set her down on his incredibly spiky lap, and gently knocked his head into hers, wary of the sharp points cutting her. Despite everything, Patty just felt relief and exhaustion, and she sagged into Dante's affection. As he set his head on top of her's again, Patty noticed something new. Words.

"Slipping out of safety and attacking your enemy. Heh, course my nestling takes after me too much..." They were low, and hard to separate from the rumbling purr constantly underneath it, but they were there.

Nestling. The term made her suck in a breath. Vergil once called Nero that after a really intense misson, and Trish had explained that it was a term of endearment parent demons used with their children. If Dante is refering to her as his nestling, then that means that he sees her as...

Patty burst into tears.

Dante immediately stopped everything: the purring, the words, the demonic energy, everything. The warble that left his mouth just made her cry even harder. She held her head in her hands.

Is this real? Their relationship had been so rocky lately with his overprotective actions, because of course he was being overprotective. God, Vergil totally knew and was hammering him about it. Patty's thoughts were moving a mile and minute.

She had always held out hope for a father to enter her life when she was little, but that had stopped after meeting Dante. It only after he disappeared into Hell again did it finally hit her why. And now he was telling her that all of him, human and demon, wanted her as his kid? It was almost too much to bare. But she needed confirmation. She needed to know for sure.

Her tiny demonic core responded immediately, reaching out with what little energy it had to connect with Dante's for a split second.

worrysorrypleasebeokayimsorrydontgoiloveyou-

That was all Patty needed to know.

She launched herself at Dante, wrapping her arms around his giant, spiky torso and shoving her face into the most comfortable place she can, directly above his core. Dante instinctually wraps his arms around her in return, and his wings join in a second later. Questioning clicks sound out from above her head, but her answering tears just fall past the jagged edges near his core.

"..Patty?"

His voice is rough, deep, and has a weird echo, but it was his. It was tentative, worried, and almost sounded scared. His energy hangs in the air, disconnected but still nervous. Her throat burns, her head is throbbing, and she feels like walking corpse, but she just needs him to know.

"I love you too, Dad."

It barely gets out in one piece, but those words hang in the air. For a split second, Patty is terrified that Dante didn't hear her, or that she was completely off base somehow. But then, the energy comes rushing in as Dante curls himself around her even more. It's as if a dam had been released, the warmth wrapping itself around her like a blanket. Dante's purring was almost too loud; she could barely hear anything else. He nuzzled the top of her head, almost as if he was terrified she'd disappear. She laughed into his chest, a battered but happy mess.

There would be time for arguments, explanations, and personal conversations later. Right now, Patty couldn't give a damn about anything, not when there were tears mixing with her own in her lap. They should be burning her, the fiery, demonic things that they were, but all she felt was warmth.

[anlian-aishang]

Hello. I don’t know who else to turn to but I was wondering I could get a priority request? I broke down today. I don’t know why. I think maybe ive been strong too long? During the day I’m fine and wear that mask of happiness but when I’m home? It’s a different story.

I just sat on the couch and didn’t realise I was crying. I just felt blank. And if someone were to ask me, my answer would be ‘I’m just tired.’ And it’s genuinely the truth. My soul is tired. I’m not the Suic*** word but… I don’t know…

Having Levi sit down and hug you seemed like a comforting idea. Especially if he’s the type to not make a big deal out of it and knows this is life.

You don’t have to. I know you’re busy with finals, Christmas etc. but I thought I would ask.

Thank you for the request, anon! I am sorry to hear that you are experiencing tough times, but I hope this fic can help just a little <3 Here are a few more fics with similar comfort vibes: 1 // 2 // 3. Please enjoy ~

Word Count: 700 Tags: levi x reader, sfw, angst, hurt-comfort, modern AU

The tears had been falling for who knows how long. Blurry vision made the clock invisible, but with your sleeves damp and your eyes sore, you knew it had been some hours. Enough time that the sun had traveled from behind the clouds to beneath the horizon. A million tiny thoughts parsed over so many times, they melded together into one unfathomable weight.

Day to day, others asked how you were. Day by day, your responses grew more real. At first, you were always fine. Then, you had seen better days. Most recently, you were just tired. It was a half truth. You were tired, but not just tired. 

You knew it was something more, but were almost too scared to find out. Instead of uncovering the answers, you buried them deeper down inside. It worked most of the time, but like a volcano long dormant, there was worry about its inevitable eruption. Tonight was the crack of the mantle: hot tears spilling past the brim, the flood would surely come soon.

But Levi had one friend in timing.

A rattle in your chest, a frown that began to twitch - your symptoms were slowed by the familiar sound: his key jammed swiftly into the lock. The speed with which he opened the door made your heart flutter, just that eager to come home to you. Leather briefcase met the hardwood floor, his hands free to hold you. The complicated mix of anticipation and anxiety resulted in a whimper - one that raised his brows and added adrenaline to his arrival.

By a palm pressed to the wall, Levi flung himself around the corner. Bangs whisped in whiplash as he hurried a glance towards you. Instinctively, you attempted a smile - but that fragile attempt concerned him even more. His ability to read a situation was innate, and already, he saw that look as a sign of a greater phenomenon: how you had been hiding your feelings. It hurt his heart to think that you could not be your true self, even in front of him.

Levi toed off his shoes, shouldered off his jacket, loosened his tie on a slow walk to you. It was almost as if you had planned it - how perfectly he squeezed in beside you - it was almost as if it was meant to be. Fittingly, that was how it felt the moment he embraced you, everything right where it was supposed to be. Your head on his shoulder, his arm around your waist. One hand on your thigh, the other thumbing the tears from your cheek. It was then that finally you felt you could exhale. 

He could have told you about the long day he had, about the horrendous traffic on his commute, about all the little intern brats who could not send a fax to save their life. Before he laid eyes on you, those thoughts had been simmering, but when you were in this state - there was nothing else on his mind. In your presence, everything vanished.

This silent hug, his still presence - it was a little moment, one that meant the world to you.

And maybe you didn’t know it, but you had done the same for him.

After every long day, you had been its dessert. When he had run his throat dry with under-the-breath frustrations, you were the honey that soothed him still. In the nameless hours of sleepless nights, you were the warm milk that lulled the insomniac back to bed. The cherry on top of his good days, the refreshing mint after his bad ones.

There were times for words, times for touch. With Levi, though, he could do both. Brushing your stray locks aside, he would always clean up your messes. Breathing in rhythm with you, he was your perfect match. Kiss on your forehead, he loved you even and especially when your mind played its games. Fingers interlaced, you were in this together, in it for the long haul, and he would never let you go.

// masterlist //

[ahalal-uralma]

What did you think I was referring to when I said liked your pomegranates?

If you’re looking for an opportunity to gaslight and assume the role of the victim now, you are about to be extremely disappointed.

Considering I’ve posted nothing about the fruit outside mentioning their use in tea, and even then you wouldn’t have a visual opinion on any such thing to comment, it sounds like you’re playing on an innuendo and it’s not uncommon for women to hear their physical anatomy to be compared to food or other non-human objects.

I don’t appreciate people talking to me in that manner. It’s rude and tacky. I could, of course, ignore it but then there wouldn’t be a chance to tell you that behavior is unacceptable and you will likely repeat it. Granted you could anyway, but there is a surprising amount of men who only act malicious, because they are not aware they are doing so in the first place.

You need to comprehend that not every woman is going to tolerate or overlook being spoken to the way you did with me. You might upset the wrong person with it.

Some women are violent. Some will seek out revenge. You don’t want to cross them, because they’re relentless and nothing like men when they feel hurt or angry—men are used to being validated when they express wraith—that kind of validation brings satisfaction and they will stop more swiftly; but, women don’t give up on their anger easily and that has a lot to do with how we are raised and conditioned as children. We are always told we aren’t permitted to be anything but kind or pretty even when the way we are being treated is lacking empathy or holds no intrinsic aesthetic value.

When a woman finally decides to throw her foot down, and let go of her wraith, she is mentally and physically thinking about every man who has ever wronged her. It’s not just about you. It’s going to be the wraith of 100 men or more. However many she didn’t enforce boundaries with, when she should have. You’re going to get hurt badly. All those men she didn’t say “no” to, all those men who abused her, and touched her inappropriately, you’re going to feel that “no” in every hit, scream or severance of internal peace she can muster the strength to destroy.

I am not saying to assume that every woman will be this way, but there will be a woman who is that way and will not feel remorse regarding it, deserved or not; there will arrive a woman in your life that is a volcano waiting to erupt on a fool who assumes they can’t and won’t explode, and I’m telling you that you always have the option to not become that fool.

I am a total stranger that you went up to like that. It makes me wonder if you do this in real life the moment you can find a woman seeming vulnerable or if you are still given to doing this under the security of your keyboard. I am giving you a metaphorical door to which you can walk through and learn to introspect, because no one defaults to deserving this rudeness.

It’s in your favor to not make statements with no regard to personal consent. You will only risk making enemies with the alternative.

I don’t care what you think of my body. I do not care what any person thinks for that matter. My body is not food or anything else for you. At no point did you ever get to know me and find out if I like that kind of conduct (I don’t). I did not ask for unsolicited commentary.

There is simply one person who has liberty to talk to me sexually (bluntly or vaguely) and he doesn’t treat me the way you did. If my own lover isn’t being opportunistic to demoralize me and leave me feeling violated then what on earth is inspiring you, a stranger, to think you have some kind of excuse and advantage?

[chaletnz]

Nicaragua: Masaya Volcano

Finally, Walter returned with Wout and Boukje to our awaiting bus. Wout was on crutches and had great difficulty getting himself up the step to get inside and seated. Boukje passed his xrays to our group nurses Emily and Savannah who promptly put them up to the window to examine. The hospital's diagnosis was that he had fractured his hip and could not bear weight on it for at least 4 weeks. I think everyone knew it then but no one wanted to say it out loud - their trip, or Wout's at least, was over. But nonetheless they joined us all, still covered in black sand, as we drove the four hours from Leon to Granada. We stopped for a photo at Lake Xolotlan at about the halfway point. Traffic was backing up as we approached the Nicaraguan capital city of Managua so our driver pulled us in to a gas station for a toilet and snack/drink break. As soon as we entered, we discovered the toilets were out of order as there was no water at the gas station, however that didn't stop Charlie and Max ordering hot dogs and fried chicken and keeping us all waiting for 15 minutes in the bus. Cameron was fuming. We inched back onto the motorway in the gridlocked traffic, presumably the post-work rush hour of workers heading home from the city for the day. Managua was chosen as Nicaragua's capital because it was halfway between Leon and Granada the two main contenders and I suppose it has helped to shift business to a third city having them all in relatively close proximity. As we got down the road it became apparent that Managua was the place that international businesses (and casinos) came to set up shop. There was a Walmart, Bershka, Zara, TGI Fridays, and all of our other famous chain shops and restaurants. Once we had finally cleared the city and the sun was setting, we approached the entrance of Masaya volcano and collected our tour guide Byron. We'd all opted for paying $25 to get a private bus and make the drive from Leon to Granada via Masaya volcano otherwise we'd have been on a public bus - which looked very crowded and uncomfortable. Walter loved to tell Max that he'd have a hard time on public transport with his suitcase (we all had backpacks except him). At the entrance there was also a dark toilet without functioning lights but Wout was desperate and had us light the way for him to crutch in there. Byron told us some basics about Nicaragua as we drove the windy road up to the volcano crater viewpoint, including that minimum wage is about $200 a month and 55% of Nicaraguans are unemployed which surprised me as it seemed to be more expensive and better-off than El Salvador from a tourist perspective. The volcano itself was an incredible sight, particularly as I hadn't expected much. I'd paid the $25 not really fussed but not wanting to let the group down as some of them really wanted to do this activity. But it was amazing! It was dark once we reached the top and we could see a bright red glowing crater of fiery magma bubbling away and sending off a smoke plume into the distance. I took some photos of a Nicaraguan family and got chatting with them a bit, they told me that previously you could walk or drive right up to the crater with no barriers but since then there have been eruptions and tourists falling so security has been tightened, thank God! We arrived in Granada and were given 15 minutes to drop our bags and change before we were driven out to the Garden Cafe for a group dinner. I went for the chipotle chicken wrap and was certainly convinced their coffee would be good here for the morning...

[weeping-gospels]

Oh. Right. Because that’s socially acceptable. That’s COMPLETELY normal. COMPLETELY ACCEPTABLE to call the most HIDEOUS looking creature BEAUTIFUL.

There was no possibility that she’d be able to hold back utter RAGE. For a fleeting second, it was as if all of the pent up agony and fury the Dhampir had been keeping locked away dissipated and she could finally feel genuine positivity — only for the internal cauldron to ERUPT like an eon old volcano and singe her entire face for believing such insignificant, unreachable fairytales.

HER? EXPERIENCING TRUE HAPPINESS? JOY? LOVE? INFATUATION? SINLESS YEARNING OF ACCEPTANCE? A JOKE. SUCH A JEST. CREATURES OF THE NIGHT FEAST UPON THE NEGATIVITY OF OTHERS AND THRIVE AMONGST THE TEARS AND BLOOD OF OTHER NEGLIGIBLE WASTES. THERE IS NO TIME TO FAWN OVER PETTY COMPLIMENTS.

Artificial flesh began to stretch and creak, threads of pale skin pulling apart as her body morphed into something far more greater. The illusion the shaman had casted wore off only by the forceful nature of her turmoil alone, pointed ears emerging from a decayed body that had been rotting and rebirthing for far too long. Fangs painfully shot downwards, teeth became jagged and uneven, lips curling into a vampiric snarl. Well kept hair became a mane of crimson, flooding down the baggy shoulders of a skinny creature spawned just to CREATE M I S E R Y AND REIGN WITH C H A O S .

IT’S A LIE. HE’S L Y I N G . HOW CAN WE BE B E A U T I F U L ? DOES HE KNOW OF OUR SLAUGHTERS? HOW MANY WE HAVE SLAIN? COUNTLESS INNOCENT LIVES? SPLITTING THE FACES OF THE PLEADING? PRYING AWAY THE BEATING HEARTS OF THOSE WHO BEGGED MERCY? IS THAT BEAUTY? IS BEAUTY THE THICK BLOOD COOLING OFF OUR FACE? IS BEAUTY THE BLOODSHOT EYES OF A FORMER HEROINE? IS BEAUTY LOOKING YOUR FORMER COMRADES STRAIGHT IN THE EYES AS THEY WEEP AND MOURN OVER THE NAIVE LITTLE GIRL WHO THOUGHT SHE COULD PROTECT EVERYONE?

WE ARE PAIN. WE ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF SUFFERING. THE CATACLYSM OF GUILT AND DESPAIR. WE ARE FUELED BY OUR PAST NIGHTMARES AND USE THE SEPULCHER AS THE DOOR TO RESURRECTION INTO SOMETHING MORE POWERFUL. MORE FEARFUL. WE ARE NO LONGER FEEBLE. WE WILL RAISE THE ARMY OF THE VERMIN AS OUR OWN KIN. THE KINSHIP OF DOMINANCE AND STRENGTH. NO LONGER WILL THEY LOOK OVER OUR GREATNESS AND INTELLIGENCE.

Claws dug into the wallpaper of the Keep she had tended to so attentively, shredding apart the wooden boards and splintering fragile layers of flesh. Her own blood splattered amongst the fixture like dirtied rainwater, the vessel of the Dhampir easily jumping from a feasible 5’7 to a lanky, snake-like 6’8, sharply pivoting and turning as if she bore no bones. As a contortionist would, the berserk anomaly twisted her entire person around to hiss-scream at the cowering skaven in the corner, cackling madly at the potency of the musk of fear.

GOOD. FEAR US. FEAR OUR POWER. FEAR OUR SELF. COWER AND BEG. GET ON YOUR KNEES AND GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON I SHOULDN’T SKEWER YOU ALL LIKE FUCKING FISH JUST TO PROVE A POINT.

Slamming ghostly hands into the floor and creating sunken in holes with such impressive pressure, Bethanne drew near, vessel-burst eyes widening with giddy delirium. The poor skaven squealed in terror and huddled closer against the corner, trembling with bruxing teeth. The beast halted just shy of one’s twitching nose, dark ruby drool salivating from a jaw filled with way too much teeth that could hardly be contained. Instead of pouncing on the frozen prey however, Bethanne only let out a croaked cackle, the saliva coating each shriveled up face. Their trauma was DELICIOUS. A MEAL FIT FOR A QUEEN.

Spindling in the opposite direction, the force of her turn caused an uproar of shattering glass. Shards of the objects punctured her haphazardly and caused the absentminded undead to bleed out farther — though the frenzied madness encouraged her to lap up her own blood, an elongated tongue lolling about gleefully.

IF ONLY THEY COULD SEE US NOW. IF ONLY THE PATHETIC GUARDIAN OF ERATHAL COULD WITNESS OUR MIGHT. IF ONLY THE STUPID ORC OF LEONDARR COULD BEHOLD SUCH GRACE. IF ONLY THE GUARDIANS OF EVERHALLOW COULD EXPERIENCE OUR TRUE SIGHT. I’D HAVE THEM ALL SCREAMING FOR ME TO SPARE THEM. I’D HAVE THOSE WHO CALLED US TOO W E A K AND P O W E R L E S S HUNG BY THEIR ASPHYXIATED NECKS. WE ARE NO LONGER THAT MEWLING BARD. WE HAVE GIVEN UP OUR GOOD MORALS AND MELODIOUS VOICE FOR SHAMANIC PESTILENCE AND WAR. WE ARE AN EXPERIMENT GONE AWRY, TRANSFORMED INTO A HYBRID OF ESSENCE AND DEATH, FORCED TO WALK AMONGST THE MORTAL REALMS. BUT JOYED TO SPREAD OUR GIFT OF ABOMINATION.

The Keep was near destroyed. Hobbling over to the shamrock necklace that had been left miraculously untouched, Betty softly cupped the tiny thing in giant hands, staring down at it. Tears bubbled in her eyes, oozing into soiled palms.

ARE YOU PROUD OF ME, SHAMROCK? ARE YOU PROUD OF ME NOW? ARE YOU? IF YOU COULD SEE ME NOW, WOULD YOU BE PROUD? WOULD YOU BE FRIGHTENED TOO? WOULD YOU MOURN LIKE THEY DID? WOULD YOU STAND WITH OR AGAINST ME? WOULD YOU SOB OVER THE DEMISE OF THE BARD WHO SANG YOU TAVERN SONGS? WOULD YOU GRIEVE THE SHAMAN WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO LISTEN TO NATURE? WOULD YOU STILL LAUGH AT MY JESTS? WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME EVEN IF I WAS DESTINED TO SUFFER FOR ETERNITY AS THIS?

Coiling up in a fetal position, the Dhampir’s body shook with each sob of regret.

I WAS TOO WEAK. YOU HAVE SAVED ME TOO MANY TIMES. YOUR KIND HAS BEEN SLAUGHTERED TOO MANY TIMES. THE CITIZENS OF EVERHALLOW ARE TOO QUICK TO KILL. PEOPLE ARE HORRENDOUSLY JUDGMENTAL. THEY NEVER UNDERSTOOD US. THEY COULD LEARN HOW TO THRIVE ON THE SURFACE TOO IF THEY WERE GIVEN PATIENCE. IF PEOPLE WEREN’T SO QUICK TO JUDGE. YOU LEARNED HOW TO BE CIVIL. HOW TO LIVE. YOU BECAME A SORCERER, A HEALER, A FIGURE OF HIGH POWER. YOU WERE THE MAGE GUILD’S EMPEROR. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO HARNESS MY MAGIC.

IF I WASN’T SO WEAK COULD I HAVE SAVED YOU? WOULD YOU HAVE LIVED? WOULD I STILL HAVE TO SCREAM OVER YOUR DEAD BODY? WOULD I STILL BE PLAGUED WITH GUILT TO THIS DAY? CAN I SAVE THEIR LIVES INSTEAD? CAN I MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME? CAN I SAVE THEM INSTEAD? CAN I SAVE THEM FROM DEATH? I AM POWERFUL ENOUGH NOW, SKRINN. I CAN SAVE THEM. I CAN OPEN A PLACE OF SANCTUARY AND SHELTER THEM FROM THE HORRID THINGS OF THE WORLD. FROM THE MISTREATMENT. THE DENIAL. THE JUDGEMENT. THEY ARE JUST TRYING TO SURVIVE. LIKE HOW I DID ANYTHING TO SURVIVE. PEOPLE ARE CRUEL. HEARTLESS. HUMANS ARE DISGUSTING. ELVES ARE DISGUSTING. DWARVES ARE DISGUSTING. WE’LL SHOW THEM. WE’LL SHOW THEM ALL HOW GREAT WE ARE!

The howls of a mourning beast echoed for no one to hear.

I WILL PROVE TO YOU I CAN SAVE THE DAMNED.

I WILL BE THE KEEPER OF THE DAMNED.

[almaqead]

"The Months." From Surah At Tawbah, The Repentance.

You know it don't go easy...Donald Trump still lives, as do his Republican Party and his faith, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and their criminal cohorts, the anti-human Family Research Council and Heritage Foundation.

Ukraine still does not have the aid it needs, and the Russians are advancing. The floods are flooding, the volcanoes are erupting, the clamshells are clamping but still Joe Biden will not obey federal and international laws and defend life on this planet. He has God on his side and the wind at his back but as of today evil is still winning.

So, no repentance today.

But Allah, the Magnificent, the Most Wise and the Most High told Muhammad His Prophet:

9:35-40:

The Day ˹will come˺ when their treasure will be heated up in the Fire of Hell, and their foreheads, sides, and backs branded with it. ˹It will be said to them,˺ “This is the treasure you hoarded for yourselves. Now taste what you hoarded!”

Indeed, the number of months ordained by Allah is twelve—in Allah’s Record1 since the day He created the heavens and the earth—of which four are sacred. That is the Right Way. So do not wrong one another during these months. And fight the polytheists together as they fight together against you. And know that Allah is with those mindful ˹of Him˺.

Reallocating the sanctity of ˹these˺ months1 is an increase in disbelief, by which the disbelievers are led ˹far˺ astray. They adjust the sanctity one year and uphold it in another, only to maintain the number of months sanctified by Allah, violating the very months Allah has made sacred. Their evil deeds have been made appealing to them. And Allah does not guide the disbelieving people.

O believers! What is the matter with you that when you are asked to march forth in the cause of Allah, you cling firmly to ˹your˺ land?1 Do you prefer the life of this world over the Hereafter? The enjoyment of this worldly life is insignificant compared to that of the Hereafter.

If you do not march forth, He will afflict you with a painful torment and replace you with other people. You are not harming Him in the least. And Allah is Most Capable of everything.

˹It does not matter˺ if you ˹believers˺ do not support him, for Allah did in fact support him when the disbelievers drove him out ˹of Mecca˺ and he was only one of two. While they both were in the cave, he reassured his companion,1 “Do not worry; Allah is certainly with us.” So Allah sent down His serenity upon the Prophet, supported him with forces you ˹believers˺ did not see, and made the word of the disbelievers lowest, while the Word of Allah is supreme. And Allah is Almighty, All-Wise.

Commentary:

The life to come happens after the end of the Quran and God hears the final prayer of Muhammad for what is called Masjid, a global messianic phenomenon.

The Prophet said this is preceded by Four Sacred Months:

The four sacred months of the Hijri calendar are Rajab, Dhu al-Qadah, Dhu al-Hijjah, and Muharram. These months are considered to be of great importance in Islamic tradition and culture, and have a special importance in comparison to the other months. The Four Saced months are always taking place in preparation for the onset of Masjid, global law, order, and peace:

Rajab= ajab (Arabic: رَجَب) is the seventh month of the Islamic calendar. The lexical definition of the classical Arabic verb rajaba is "to respect".

Dhu al-Qadah= Dhu al-Qa'dah, also spelled Dhu al-Qi'dah or Zu al-Qa'dah, is the eleventh month in the Islamic calendar. It could possibly mean "possessor or owner of the sitting and seating place" - the space occupied while sitting or the manner of the sitting, pose or posture. 

Dhu al-Hijjah=Dhu al-Hijjah is the twelfth and final month in the Islamic calendar. Being one of the four sacred months during which war is forbidden, it is the month in which the Ḥajj takes place as well as Eid al-Adha, the “Festival of the Sacrifice.”

Muharram=According to traditional customs, Muharram is the first month of the Islamic calendar and considered to be highly religious, only coming next to Ramadan. Muharram, in itself, means "forbidden" and since it is considered to be holy, many Muslims use it as a period of prayer and reflection.

The objective of the observation of the Four Months is to heighten the practices of the Pillars and the noble virtues of the religion and to be more adverse than usual to transgression in order to avoid being punished.

As the verses above say we the righteous are being called to treat this very day as if one were practicing the Four Months all at once and proceed on Jihad against the polytheists, the men of America who think they are gods and give and partake of the bounty of this world at a whim without paying heed to the Laws of God or man.

The world is spiralling out of control because believers are not in control. Allah told Muhammad the kind of control that is needed, the right kind through practice and belief is learned through the Four Months.

When the world's faith in the Verses is greater than the freed of the American polytheists, then as the Quran says, "serenity shall descend, and the Words of Allah shall be placed above the rest."

The Republicans and all they stand for and the dog president have to go. Joe Biden has to dispose of them and he has to do so at once. They have attacked American soil and the saced soil of Israel and their power is unmatched and unchecked. This is not correct or proper. Those who believe must insist the White House do what has to be done, otherwise peace on earth will remain the subject of prayers and fantasy and this is not enough.

Masjid must be established all around the world and like the Four Months, its victory must be happen this very day.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 3.1 (after 1930)

1932 – Aviator Charles Lindbergh's 20-month-old son Charles Jr is kidnapped from his home in East Amwell, New Jersey. His body would not be found until May 12. 1939 – An Imperial Japanese Army ammunition dump explodes at Hirakata, Osaka, Japan, killing 94. 1941 – World War II: Bulgaria signs the Tripartite Pact, allying itself with the Axis powers. 1942 – World War II: Japanese forces land on Java, the main island of the Dutch East Indies, at Merak and Banten Bay (Banten), Eretan Wetan (Indramayu) and Kragan (Rembang). 1946 – The Bank of England is nationalised. 1947 – The International Monetary Fund begins financial operations. 1950 – Cold War: Klaus Fuchs is convicted of spying for the Soviet Union by disclosing top secret atomic bomb data. 1953 – Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin suffers a stroke and collapses; he dies four days later. 1954 – Nuclear weapons testing: The Castle Bravo, a 15-megaton hydrogen bomb, is detonated on Bikini Atoll in the Pacific Ocean, resulting in the worst radioactive contamination ever caused by the United States. 1954 – Armed Puerto Rican nationalists attack the United States Capitol building, injuring five Representatives. 1956 – The International Air Transport Association finalizes a draft of the Radiotelephony spelling alphabet for the International Civil Aviation Organization. 1956 – Formation of the East German Nationale Volksarmee. 1958 – Samuel Alphonsus Stritch is appointed Pro-Prefect of the Propagation of Faith and thus becomes the first U.S. member of the Roman Curia. 1961 – Uganda becomes self-governing and holds its first elections. 1962 – American Airlines Flight 1 crashes into Jamaica Bay in New York, killing 95. 1964 – Villarrica Volcano begins a strombolian eruption causing lahars that destroy half of the town of Coñaripe. 1964 – Paradise Airlines Flight 901A crashes near Lake Tahoe, Nevada, killing 85. 1966 – Venera 3 Soviet space probe crashes on Venus becoming the first spacecraft to land on another planet's surface. 1966 – The Ba'ath Party takes power in Syria. 1971 – President of Pakistan Yahya Khan indefinitely postpones the pending national assembly session, precipitating massive civil disobedience in East Pakistan. 1973 – Black September storms the Saudi embassy in Khartoum, Sudan, resulting in the assassination of three Western hostages. 1974 – Watergate scandal: Seven are indicted for their role in the Watergate break-in and charged with conspiracy to obstruct justice. 1981 – Provisional Irish Republican Army member Bobby Sands begins his hunger strike in HM Prison Maze. 1990 – Steve Jackson Games is raided by the United States Secret Service, prompting the later formation of the Electronic Frontier Foundation. 1991 – Uprisings against Saddam Hussein begin in Iraq, leading to the deaths of more than 25,000 people, mostly civilians. 1992 – Bosnia and Herzegovina declares its independence from Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. 1998 – Titanic became the first film to gross over $1 billion worldwide. 2002 – U.S. invasion of Afghanistan: Operation Anaconda begins in eastern Afghanistan. 2002 – The Envisat environmental satellite successfully launches aboard an Ariane 5 rocket to reach an orbit of 800 km (500 mi) above the Earth, which was the then-largest payload at 10.5 m long and with a diameter of 4.57 m. 2003 – Management of the United States Customs Service and the United States Secret Service move to the United States Department of Homeland Security. 2005 – In Roper v. Simmons, the U.S. Supreme Court rules that the execution of juveniles found guilty of any crime is unconstitutional. 2006 – English-language Wikipedia reaches its one millionth article, Jordanhill railway station. 2007 – Tornadoes break out across the southern United States, killing at least 20 people, including eight at Enterprise High School.

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics:

1 & 2. Photos of Jules Verne, himself.

3 & 4. Covers to various editions of the story under investigation. #3 includes Mysterious Island as well. And #4 has a great painting of the battling sea leviathans!

1906: The Earth (is) Not Hollow.

In 1864, polymath, dreamer & sci-fi writer Jules Verne published his huge hit "Journey to the Center of the Earth."

Plot: This journey starts with a German geologist examining a runic manuscript with a backwards coded Latin inscription.

An alchemist secreted instructions to reach the center of the world! And the way in is thru Mt. Snaefell, a dormant volcano...

Once finding the entrance, our heroes get lost in the roots of the mountain. Following an underground river, they reach a vast shoreline. Which is all covered in giant mushrooms - growing from mastodon bones!

They make a raft out of petrified wood & sail for the far shore...

They barely survive a battle between giant sea dinosaurs & a long lasting electrical storm.

Reaching the shore, they explore the beach, finding a human skull &, a fossilized human body!

Suddenly, they see a giant - who's busy shepherding a herd of living mastodons!!

Fleeing, they follow a marked path to a blocked way. This they blow aside with gunpowder.

Back on their craft, they're carried away in a torrent. Hours later, they're suddenly pushed upwards...

Two months after they entered this underworld, they're disgorged - via a volcanic eruption (!!) - on the surface of Stromboli Island, Italy!

Pics:

1. The explorers in a Cave of Giant Diamonds - much too large to carry off!!

2. Our heroes find the Fields of Giant Mushrooms!

3. The rocky shore from where the wide sea will be crossed.

4. I love the attention that the artist spent on the underground ecology.

Author: Jules Verne was a French writer that helped (H.G. Wells) to lay the foundations of modern sci-fi.

His father wanted Jules to become a lawyer. But, Verne fell in love with literature.

Jules worked as a secretary - while writing plays & short stories. Verne dreamt of a genre where he could mix scientific facts with adventure tales.

In 1862, Jules published his 1st novel "Five Weeks in a Balloon" - an international bestseller!

For this, Verne was offered a long term contract, to write more scientific adventures...

This would lead to a 40+ year career & 60+ successful works.

But, after 1886, Jules became more pessimistic. With stories exploring the dangers of "high tech" made by hubris filled scientists...

Personal problems with Verne's own son & financial difficulties forced him to sell off his priced yacht.

Then, the deaths of his mother & mentor left Jules emotionally bereft...

Verne even got shot (in the leg!) - by his own nephew!! This left him partly crippled.

Jules fell sick weeks after his 78th birthday. Burdened by diabetes & a stroke, Verne died quietly - with his family around him.

Pic: The beautiful headstone/monument for another dreamer gone on to the Underworld...

Criticism: This classic adventure novel is not a long book. But, it holds an amazing amount of fast paced action & a well constructed plot.

Its main theme is the quite common 1 of perseverance in the face of any hardship - even to ignoring all reason!

Though it takes it's time setting every thing up, once it gets going, 1 can't put it down.

Legacy:

1. When Jules Verne died, he left behind a drawerful of almost finished manuscripts. When finally published, it was found out that his son had rewritten them!

He had changed the stories' style & added characters to make these last tales more melodramatic.

Most critics condemned these works - for being 'contaminated'...

2. "Journey to the Center of the Earth" has been adapted into film several times: 1910, 1959, 1988 & 2008.

3. It's also been turned into a late 1960s Filmation/20th Century Fox cartoon & a TV series in 1977.

4. At the Tokyo/Disney theme park, there's a "Journey" slot car 'dark' ride based on Jules' story - visit today...

[shesey]

Excerpts from Mona by Pola Oloixarac

Bad things sometimes stay trapped inside the mind, which cannot expel them until they're finally expressed.

Our memories look down at us from their precipice, letting us live our normal lives - or almost normal. But there's a volcano underneath, just waiting to erupt. I feel them watching us - I feel my memories watching me.

In international waters, without a compass: at times like these, with no other task than simply to be, even if being was nothing more than being a cocotte, a being fundamentally without any ties, and therefore without limitations, but nevertheless (and more than ever) a woman, Mona embraced her liberty the way the blind embrace the darkness. It was merely her element, impossible to avoid.

My writing is inversely proportional to my speech.

We can't write except in drag.

The majority of people went their whole lives without ever understanding the sources of their own pleasure...

She;d had her phone back in airplaine mode to avoid interuuptions and to ensure she remained the sole guardian of her solitude.

My advice to you is: chill out. That's all. It's not easy to be a young woman with talent. What you're seeking will only come with time, but it'll come.

And the only one sure thing - is that nothing's a sure thing.

My subject is shamelessness and the pain of being, and of contemplating, and of hearing this voice and not being able to do anything to stop it. I write, dreaming that someday I'll be able to silence it. I write and I dream, and everything falls into a deafening silence that can't be escaped or altered, and there's no other vhoice but to write.

Perdida, me ha llamado la gente Sin saber que he sufrido con desesperacion.

[lauridsenstafford51]

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[doingthedirtydishes]

Iceland, I know it is cold there, but please stop pulling the wool over the eyes of unsuspecting visitors.

Iceland, the land of fire and ice, mountains and glaciers, ageless sagas, fables, mythology and unpronounceable names, uniquely positioned on an active volcanic island in the middle of the cold and blustery Atlantic Ocean. A rocky and craggy, wet and windy place, known for its wild seas and unpredictable weather, with all its historical Viking allure and endless amazing wonders of nature, had finally enticed me to visit. After countless years and efforts to attract visitors to Iceland, a tiny secluded island nation, some say overdue for a volcano eruption, population 350,000, through their very popular international ad slogan: “A Transatlantic Journey with a Stopover in Iceland,” I finally acquiesced and booked my trip. Since it was a stopover, ultimately my final destination would be Stockholm, Sweden.

Iceland reminded me of other “I” countries: Israel, India, Ireland, Iraq, Iran and Indonesia. They always seemed to fall into the loved it, cannot wait to return, or hated it, will never return, when speaking with other seasoned world travelers on do not miss, must visit countries of the globe. There is no better way to find out about a new place than to visit and discover what hidden treasures await there on your own. My immediate concern turned to my injury and travel needs. How would they treat me there, how would accessibility be for city streets, public transport, restaurants and hotels and, most importantly, would I be able to access the timeless peculiar beauty and infinite splendor of the island whilst in a wheelchair?  Well, it did not take long after I arrived to find out just what made so very extraordinary Iceland and its people.

Most times before I visit a country, especially since in need of some occasional physical assistance, everything would be incredibly and meticulously planned beforehand.  But sometimes the world and its daily stresses do not allow such taken-for-granted securities into consideration of schedule, instead requiring you to be a voyager, on a self-discovery, wild pilgrimage of sorts: Doing the Dirty Dishes of life – living with your heart and eyes open again. The reservation process, as far as an injured person goes, was more than difficult with the biggest and best travel websites offered. It would be new and unknown exploration, wrapped in intrigue, encased within an adventure. The magic of the trail was sure to be upon me. What scary and unknown situations could I throw at the universe to see what awesome memories would result. I was ready.

After arriving at Keflavik airport, located about a forty-five minute drive from the city of Reykjavik, it was not long before luggage and immigration were sorted and I was in need of local transport. I queued for a bus company that went to my hotel and had a fair price. Iceland is a bit way expensive of a country to visit. Normally I would pay for the convenience of a taxi because of my injury and wheelchair but at $250 USD one way, I decided to take my chances with a tour bus company. After paying $60 return, they directed me over to a bus waiting close by with a line already in place.  After about ten minutes or so a smaller slender man appeared and asked me if I was ready.  Before I could tell him where to grab me, he had me in the air as he attempted to lift me onto the bus. Safely up the stairs, onto the bus, he plopped me down into the first seat. I knew I was in a special place, with exceptional people.  Chair safely secured below in the cargo hold, we were on our way – let the adventure begin.

The ride was unlike any other bus-to-city ride I have ever taken.  The foreign terra was filled with so many new shades of greens and browns, mountain landscape and hot spring vistas as far as the eye could see, with snow, ice and water mixed throughout. There was no doubt – I was in a supernatural place. Soon I would arrive at my hotel, the Hotel Cabin.  As the bus parked curbside in front of the hotel, the scrawny driver grabbed me once again, placed me over his shoulder, and as his small frame shakily carried me off the bus, pointing out along the way my luggage sitting safely to my left, softly dropping me in my chair, he said “welcome to Iceland,” and then off he went.  He had other injured to carry up and down bus stairs.

I would find the same level of willingness to help strangers at the hotel as well.  In fact, I found this to be the case with the whole country, whether native or newly emigrated; those I met were always on the ready to lend a helping hand.  The three gentleman shuffling hours at the front desk of my hotel were out of this world helpful:  Aiwa, Arkadiusz and The Conductor. The Icelandic manager at the front desk was so incredibly helpful. She took one hour from her day, telling me every local hot spot to visit and eat – the best gems not found on any tourist maps.  Claus-in-Iceland was the best photographer-disguised-as-a-museum-guide one could find. The Portuguese lady and others at the front desk, as well as all the Polish staff at the hotel, were absolutely the best. I later found out the driver of the airport transport bus was also Polish.

Seven days of my three weeks visiting Iceland were spent with an old friend, Sunita. We had met over twenty years previous while I was living in Tokyo.  She was in Japan on a work visa, from Nepal, patiently waiting and trying to find a way to America. Presently married, with a gifted and beautiful teenage daughter, Hazel, she is a RN manager, currently living in Boston – just a short hop, skip and jump to Reykjavik.  We spent our one week together in a rental car traversing every part of the island reachable via day trip. She was a godsend in more ways than can be written here, but especially as she was my rescue after arriving in Iceland from Sweden with a wallet emptied of cash and all cards. They had been stolen after being drugged and robbed in Stockholm three days prior. I will forever remember her experiencing her first Northern Lights far down a dirt country road, nestled in between dark rural farm fields, under a pitch black sky. I am sure she will not forget either – they are a cosmic atmospheric orgasmic cornucopia of lights and colors that everyone should witness at least once in their lifetime.

Reykjavik, a city of 120,000 people, charming and inviting, settled in 871 when Ingolfur Arnarson arrived on its shores, is a must see. When he landed, steam from the various hot springs caused him to refer to the settlement as “Smokey Bay” or modern day Reykjavik. The city is filled with distinctive landscapes, brightly colored Skandinavian homes and endless unique architecture, including Harpa, Hallgrimskirkja Church, The House of Parliament, City Hall, Austurvollur, Hljomskalinn and Hofdi House, among the endless amount of world renowned art galleries and historical museums.  It was very easy to get around the city in a car, and there was ample parking for those in need. I highly recommend the waffle stand by the big church – or any other Icelandic tasty eats or delicious snacks you can find in the streets. The city also offers whale, volcano and glacier tours, hiking and camping, scenic city and flight tours, buggy and snowmobiling, as well as tons of seasonal events and festivities for every type to see and experience.

It is only but a short drive to get out of the city and into the heartland of Iceland, where one can find the true beauty of the island.  Springs can be seen often on the side of the road, warm and steamy, tempting one to their warmth and earth-bubbling healing properties.  Sunita and I especially loved the Blue Lagoon spa. One does not have to look too far to see natural landscapes that take your breath away – until the next turn on the highway causes your breath to go away again – and then again. Endless mountain peaks filled with snow, mixed in with green and brown grassy cratered hilly meadows and waterfalls, await your every turn – causing one to be very careful while driving – the island and its optical treats are that overly luscious. They will fill your eyes in awe, with pause of the natural world, of God’s cathedral. The list of must see places would not suffice in this blog. I visited in October, the start of Northern Lights season. The glaciers, hot springs, beaches, mountains, continental divide, waterfalls, and countless hills with farms and sheep all await your own personal page.

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. — Saint Augustine

Iceland was surprisingly much more injured and wheelchair friendly than expected.  Leave it up to Viking ingenuity and Skandinavian pragmatic living in order to make it all make sense for those in need of public assistance. All public buildings I visited, such as Reykjavik Public Library, where a copy of my book can be found, were all easily accessible. It was definitely possible to have your own little wheelchair adventure obstacle course once you left a public building, in order to reach another but wherever possible, it was noticeable they took time mitigating any possible stumbling blocks in the way. Although, it would have been much nicer if Icelandair would have allowed me the use of my own wheelchair while in transit, rather than the confusing mess that occurred, resulting in damages to my chair. Of course, once you went off the beaten path, very easily accomplished, you were on your own; all nearby public areas were accessible however, albeit rough gravel.  I would certainly challenge you to put on your creativity cap, strap up your boots, Buttercup – and, as I so aptly state in my book, Unbreakable Mind, go forth into the world to live and experience life again: Teeth to the Wind!

One cannot speak of Iceland without speaking of the magic of the land and its people, but also its amazing food and drink. Whale, liquorices, lamb, horse and various cold water fish (Arctic char and Halibut) are all local specialties, found with their own unique recipe from village to village. Reykjavik has a great nightlife scene, replete with trendy bars and restaurants, with no lack of tasty community craft beers or ancient cocktails. One cannot forget to mention the amazing baked goods and other tasty treats on the island as well. Pylsa (Icelandic hot dog), Flatkaka (Unleavened flat bread, recipe from 9th Century), Humar (Icelandic lobster) and Kleina (Icelandic twisted donuts) will make your mouth water for more; all which has also caused some people in recent times to refer to Iceland as a foodie’s heaven.  I would agree.

Which brings me to my beef with Iceland: Stop pulling the wool over unsuspecting travellers’ eyes by baiting them to your island with a stopover which is not a true stopover – it is actually two separate flights, resulting in additional travel leg(s) and unnecessary exorbitant costs to the traveler.  On your Icelandair website you state: “Travel across the Atlantic via Icelandair and add a stopover in Iceland to your journey, at no additional airfare.” It is not correct – and, in fact, is ripping off naïve travelers who know none the better. Your island is beautiful enough; surely there is no need to lower your country to trickery, smoke and mirrors, to increase tourism. With your real estate industry in another bubble, an economy slowing, tourism numbers decreasing, while rapid development on a large scale continues unabated, with banks continuing lending freely, one national airline already bankrupt and the other teetering on the brink, considering the lessons of 2008 financial crisis, and the fact that your GDP is heavily dependent on tourism: Hættu þessu kjaftæði, Iceland (Stop the bullshit)!

Let me take a minute to explain how a true stopover works.  With a true stop-over, or extended layover, a traveler would only need to pay the taxes to exit the airport (for however many days they want to stopover on the island to visit (most countries have a limit on # of days)); whereas Icelandair does not do that – you end up being charged for two separate flights – a victim of a well orchestrated international bait-n-switch scheme – basically, absolute bullshit. So, instead of a round-trip flight to Stockholm, with a true stopover in Reykjavik, costing me $704 + local airport taxes to exit Keflavik (most countries are $36-90) into Iceland, it now cost me $1108 return flight to Sweden.  I would think that is a wee bit more airfare, save any additional taxes. Number Forty-three would call that fuzzy math. Nu er nog komid, Icelandair (Enough is enough)!

It was eventually time to get back ‘on the road again,’ the journey of life was calling out my name – she was singing me home – as Willie Nelson’s melody softly played in the back of my head, slowly I packed my bags – Iceland and its people securely in my heart. It was also not long before the tour bus would come by to scoop me up, literally, again. Another skinny Polish driver would play Hercules. It should be duly noted that there are innumerable tour companies that will pick you up at your hotel for everything from northern lights to local island and harbor boat tours. My time in Iceland was memorable to say the least.  Iceland is an astonishingly beautiful country – truly a supernatural land – an island of intrigue and mystery all its own – with a friendly people and interesting history – and with untold delectable treats and potent potables to boot – a place I will visit friends again, just hopefully next time it truly will not cost me any additional airfare. I need to save it for the taxi rides and horse carpaccio.

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[burigi-chato-safaris]

4 days Mount meru Climbing Operator

4 Overview of 4 days Climbing Mount Meru Operator The Mount meru Climbing Operator come up with the 4 (four) Days product. Mount Meru Climb & Hike is the best for acclimatization prior to Mount Kilimanjaro climbing; The Mountain is the third highest peak in Africa and is the second highest mountain in Tanzania at 4,568m. The mountain is located within Arusha National Park, Tanzania’s gem. This prime location gives trekkers the chance to spot some of the wildlife that inhabits the area.

Because Mount Meru is located in Arusha National Park, hikers must climb with an armed ranger due to the wide range of wildlife living on the mountain. On the lower slopes of the mountain, hikers are more likely to see elephants, giraffes, and buffalo! As hikers continue their ascents, the trail follows the north rim of the volcano’s crater along a dramatic ridge line. Throughout the climb, hikers sleep in designated huts along the trail. Hikers reach the summit as the sun is rising and they will have spectacular views of Mt. Kilimanjaro and of the Mt. Meru Crater. 4 Days Mount Meru

An easy 40-minute drive from Arusha. Approximately 60 km (35 miles) from Kilimanjaro International Airport. The lakes, forest and Ngurdoto Crater can all be visited in the course of a half-day outing at the beginning or end of an extended northern safari. NOTE: Mountain Climbing Permits duration time is 12 HOURS. At 4566m, Mount Meru is the fifth highest mountain on the African continent and the second highest in Tanzania. About 250 000 years ago, a massive volcanic blast blew away the entire eastern flank of the mountain and left it with the characteristic and distinctive appearance it has today. Last eruption: 1910 The Mt Meru ascent passes through many different vegetation zones. The dry forest of the lower region gives way to a dense mountain rainforest, which then turns into a scrubland. Towards the top of the mountain, the vegetation consists of heath and moorland and is then finally replaced by the stunning baron alpine deserts. As the flora changes the wildlife does so too, which is diverse and equally impressive. During the ascent, you will regularly come across large game such as elephants and buffalos but you may also come across leopards. Due to this it is obligatory to be accompanied by an armed park ranger on your tour. 4 Days Mount Meru Day 1: Arusha - Momella Gate - Miriakamba Hut Elevation (m): (1,387 m to (1,500 m)

 • Elevation (ft): 4,921 ft) to 3,000 ft )

 • Distance: 10 km

 • Hiking Time: 4-6 hours

 • Habitat: Montane Forest

In the morning, you will be collected from your hotel and after a 45-minute drive, you will arrive at the Arusha National Park Gate. At the national park gate, your guide will complete the obligatory entry forms and whilst he does so, you can peruse the information boards of the national park. Once the formalities have been completed and the hiking team consisting of porters from the surrounding villages is formed, you will then be driven a little further to Momella Gate. An armed park ranger will accompany you while you start your hike and get a first glimpse of the wonderful giraffes and buffalos. Once you have left the buffalo herds and giraffes behind, you will enter the acacia forest in which you will follow the Southern Route. After a steady 2-hour climb, you will reach Maio Falls and some picturesque meadows that are a perfect place for a picnic. After a rest, you will again be on your way and soon reach the well-known ‘Arched Fig Tree’. Here your park ranger will tell you about the formation of this tree and how it gained its shape forming an arch over the path. After another 1½ - 2 hours, you will reach the Miriakamba Hut. Evening meal and overnight stay at the Miriakamba Hut. Breakfast; Lunch; Dinner Day 2: Miriakamba Hut - Saddle Hut Elevation (m): 2,514m to 3,570m

 • Elevation (ft): 8,250ft to 11,712ft

 • Distance: 8 km

 • Hiking Time: 3-5 hours

 • Habitat: Forest and Moorland

In the morning, you will leave the Miriakamba Hut behind and follow a steep track with wooden steps upwards. Due to the gain in height, it will be noticeably cooler than the previous day and due to this, the hike will seem to get easier. The clouds also often hang in the rainforest and dip the lush vegetation in a moody atmosphere. After approximately 2 hours, you will reach the vantage point ‘Mgongo wa Tembo’ (Elephant back) at an elevation of 3200m, where you will enjoy a well-earned break. After another hike in which the vegetation changes from rainforest into an airy bush land, you will reach Saddle Hut (3550m) at midday for a relaxing lunch break. During the afternoon, you have the option of a side trip to Little Meru (3820m) which takes approx. 1 - 1 ½ hours and from where you can have wonderful views of Arusha National Park and of the Kilimanjaro (approx. 80 km away). Back at the hut, a warm dinner is waiting for you before you will have the final preliminary talk in preparation for the following day’s climb to the summit. Breakfast; Lunch; Dinner Day 3: Saddle Hut - Miriakamba Hut Elevation (m): 3,570 m to 4,565m to 2,514m

 • Elevation (ft): 14,977ft to 11,712 ft to 8,250ft

 • Distance: 5 km up 13 km down

 • Hiking Time: 10 – 12 hours

 • Habitat: Alpine Desert Moorland and Montane forest

After an early start with tea and biscuits, you will leave for the summit at 02:00 hrs. By torchlight, you will follow the trail through bush land to the so-called Rhino Point (3821m) in which the path turns into a little more challenging trek with occasional light climbs. You will follow the north ridge to the summit on which you walk on ground alternating between lava ash and rock. After approx. 4 - 5 hours, you will have the summit and the Tanzanian flag in your sights. From the summit, you will be able to enjoy the sun rising above Kilimanjaro and the fantastic view of Mount Meru’s crater with its steep sides and the “Ash Cone” in the middle. The descent follows the same route back to Saddle Hut (3550m) where you will take a well-deserved long break and recuperate with hot soup and tea. Once refreshed, you will continue with the descent. During the early afternoon, you will reach Miriakamba Hut (2500m) - tired but happy. At this hut, you can relax and think about the last stage that you have completed. Evening meal and ernight stay at Miriakamba Hut (2500m). Breakfast; Lunch; Dinner Day 4: Miriakamba Hut - Momella Gate Elevation (m): 2,514m to 1,500m to 1,387m

 • Elevation (ft): 4,921ft to 8,250ft to 4,921ft

 • Distance: 10 km

 • Hiking time: 2-4 hours

 • Habitat: Montane Forest

After breakfast, you will follow a 2 - 3 hour trek over the so-called Northern Route back to Momella Gate. The descent is shorter than the ascent but there is still the chance to see elephants, buffalos, giraffes as well as the black and white columbus monkeys. At the gate, you will say farewell to your hiking crew and your driver will take you back to Arusha.

Included General Guide Park Fees Tax Gate transfer Crew wages Ranger 3 Breakfasts 4 Lunches 3 Dinners Guide Cook Porters Not-Included Flights Tipping the crew Visas Additional Park fees Non-climbing accommodation