#(usually a lush cave or surface-level cave) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

Hitoshi tests a more creative application of his quirk on you, his willing submissive.

characters: dom!pro hero!hitoshi shinsou/sub!f!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: smut (18+), aged-up characters, pro hero Shinsou (who is kind of a softie), hard BDSM and control dynamics, edging, consensual mind control, sex toys, praise kink, blowjob, unprotected sex, some loooong and tender aftercare/yearning

notes: the dynamic in this fic was partially inspired by We Wear Chains on the Weekend [ao3] and a conversation with @shadowworks about some fun applications of Hitoshi's quirk 👀 I hope you enjoy this horny little bit of fun! I enjoyed thinking about this dynamic with 'Toshi. He talks big, but we know deep down he's just as soft and squishy as us 💖

One more note: The dynamics and safety measures in this fic are the result of a little bit of research that I conducted. It is not meant to encompass EVERY BDSM experience, nor was my research exhaustive. This was just my little take on some kinky business with Hitoshi, so please let me know if there are any elements I've overlooked or misstepped!

(MASTERLIST)

Hitoshi will never forget the first night he spent in this house.

The little semi-detached in a quiet, trendy neighbourhood was one of the first things his pro salary earned him. Having the place to himself is still one of the biggest perks that salary ever provided.

Privacy, as he’s learned since, is paramount to the life he’s crafting for himself.

It’s Friday evening, and the early spring rain’s showing no sign of letting up when you ring his doorbell. The sound echoes through the house like the bells of Notre Dame- terrifyingly gothic, considering it was like that when he moved in, but not entirely out of character for him.

And his heart swells quietly every time he knows it’s you behind that door.

He pads easily down the polished steps, already showered and changed out of his work clothes. He likes to dress up for you a little, sporting a pair of dark slacks and a black button-down with the top four buttons undone. His hair, still damp from the shower, sits a little tamer and darker than usual.

No matter how good he looks, you manage to knock him on his ass with a single glance.

“Hey,” he greets with a quiet, familiar sort of warmth as he pulls open the right half of the double front doors. His smile slips a little at the sight of you, shaking the water out of your umbrella and soaked to the bone. You catch his gaze out your peripherals and start a little, shooting him a sheepish smile.

Something claws tight and possessive at the pit of his chest. You’re so cute, even water-logged like this.

“Getting worse out there, huh?” He quips, stepping aside to let you in.

“It’s not exactly prime umbrella weather,” you giggle, setting the dripping, half-broken monstrosity in the umbrella tray that he keeps by the door. “But I made it, didn’t I?”

He can’t help but reach for you, letting his fingers brush attentively at your clothes as he helps you out of your drenched coat. The dress you’re wearing looks devastatingly easy to remove, and his chest lurches a little with the urge to have you bare for him.

He resists. For now.

“Right on time,” he replies, taking your coat neatly by the collar and hanging it over the bannister. “Do you want to dry off a little before we go upstairs, or…?”

“No.” You answer suddenly enough to prompt his inquisitive gaze, and Hitoshi turns to look at you with a purple brow quirked perfectly.

“I’m just feeling a little antsy today,” you continue, and he watches the way your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip. “So, I’d like to get started right away, if that’s okay with you.”

You meet his eye again. Hitoshi’s starting to wonder if he’s the one who should be getting on his knees in front of you upstairs.

“That’s okay with me.”

He smiles thinly, making his best attempt at hiding the affection that’s bubbling shallow and steady in his chest. He reaches for you, uncurling his fingers to offer an eager palm.

You take it. The contact is breathtaking.

He climbs the stairs with your fingers grasped firmly in his. The suspense never fades.

Hitoshi keeps his bedroom a few degrees warmer than the rest of the house, and as he twists the knob and pushes the door inward, he can feel your palm relaxing in his. You’ve always liked it in here- warm and humid, from the house plants that line the windows and add lush splashes of colour to every corner.

It means more to him than you’ll ever know, that you find such comfort in a space so full of him.

He lets you slip in ahead, closing the door behind him and reaching for the colourful remote nearby. He dims the lights overhead, stroking his thumb thoughtfully over the rainbow buttons. He peeks at you through his peripherals, watching the way you glide your fingertips over the broad leaf of a money plant that blooms atop his dresser.

“What colour should we use today?” He pushes a button, and hidden strips of lighting illuminate in a deep shade of blue-green. The bed and walls are cast into a cool, oceanlike glow, reflecting blue off the room’s vegetation and creating a floating, almost aquatic sense of serenity.

“I like this one,” you confirm. “Keep it.”

“Whatever you like,” he promises, setting down the remote. “Today’s all about keeping you relaxed.”

He approaches you at last, cupping either side of your face in delicate palms. He tilts your gaze to his.

“You’re still up for it?” He asks, low and sincere as he searches your eyes. “What we had planned for today?”

“I am,” you confirm. He’s nervous that the rain may have upset things, but you’re clearly as ready as ever. “Been thinking about this all week.”

His shoulders drop a little, relief trickling into the fluttering cavity of his chest. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He bends, pressing a quiet little kiss to your forehead and smoothing his palms over the wet surface of your hair. He holds you there for a moment, staying close. He forces power into his shoulders and steps back from you, unbuttoning his cuffs. He breathes a deep sigh- focus, Hitoshi- and settles into the power dynamic you both can’t seem to stay away from.

He unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, depositing it neatly over the back of the nearby armchair. He nods toward you, slow and discerning.

“Strip.”

That dress is precisely as easy to remove as he hoped it would be, and he gets to watch as you slide each strap slowly down your arm, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His jaw gives an interested little tick as he gorges himself on the sight of you.

You’ve developed a nasty little habit of leaving your bra at home for sessions like this, as if he wouldn’t notice the way your tits sat beneath that loose silk, your nipples tight and hard from the wet chill outside.

You are delectable. Hitoshi feels infatuation crawling up the column of his spine every time he has you like this. But he’s about to take you even deeper, and while you’re more than ready, he’s not sure his heart can take it.

You’re wiggling out of your underwears now, exposing that perfect little patch of hair between your legs. What makes his cock throb even worse, though, is the way that you already know how he likes you. And so, kicking your underwear away and smoothing your hands down your sides, you don’t wait long at all before dropping to your knees and settling your palms on your thighs.

You lower your chin and go still.

For a minute, he lets himself admire you. He’s aching to touch you, but today will be all about patience. For both of you.

But he can’t take you, sitting so still for him like this. He caves to the warming in his chest and steps forward, tucking two fingers beneath the point of your chin and pulling your eyes to his.

“You sure about this?” He asks you. You lick your lips again, slow and thoughtful and torturous, now that he’s already so captivated by you. You’re giving it the honest thought it deserves. But when you purse your lips and nod into his palm, your eyes are certain.

“I’m sure.”

He’s been working you up to this for weeks. Exploring the unique possibilities of a relationship with him has always been in your contract, but it’s not something Hitoshi ever planned on rushing into. Only now, after months of playtime and weeks of careful preparation, does he feel ready to practice this with you.

“We left you your signals,” he reminds you, tenderly stroking the backs of his fingers from your chin up to your cheek. You’re staring up at him with such trust and admiration it’s hard to imagine anyone ever thought him a monster, for possessing such power. “You can come out of it whenever you want to.”

“Hitoshi,” you prompt, and the fall of his first name from your lips is enough to quell all his rising nerves. Despite the way you’re looking at him, memories of those poison words he’s been hearing all his life are flooding him. They’ve always served as a grim reminder of the damage he’s capable of.

But you wanted this. You’re ready for it. And he’s taken every precaution to ensure that you’re going to be safe.

So much reassurance, wrapped up in the three tiny syllables of his name.

It’s his turn to nod. He takes your jaw into his hand and drops to one knee in front of you, stooping to press his lips to the shell of your ear. Your sweet scent washes over him as he leans close, enhanced by the fresh rain on your skin and the rapid swell of your chest as you breathe.

“So you’re ready to drop, then?” He keeps his voice as low as possible, delighting in the way that you shiver in response. Your breath hitches against his chest, puffing quietly across his cheek.

“Yes.”

The word barely edges from your lips before the influence of his quirk fills every hollow in your ready bones. It’s a presence like nothing you’ve ever felt before, like the rising tide filling your lungs and weighing down your limbs. You take a deep, shaky breath to remind yourself it’s still possible.

Hitoshi’s used his quirk on you before. Preparing for this level of control, he tells you, takes practice. The more time he has to inhabit your mind, the better control he’ll have over what you experience and what you miss. The first time he ever used it on you is still a blank slate. But he only kept you under for a couple of seconds, building slowly over the course of many sessions toward the layered control he has now.

The sensation is thrilling. And yet, simultaneously, you feel completely safe. He will not misuse this power that you’ve so blithely handed over.

The sounds around you are muffled as Hitoshi gets to his feet, but when he speaks, his voice echoes in your mind like a bell.

“Can you understand me?”

Your body feels heavy and warm and semi-solid, but you manage a slow, clear nod.

“Good girl. Give me your hands.”

When he gives you an instruction, your muscles move without your consultation. You stretch your hands out toward him eagerly, and he takes both of them between his. He gives your fingers a sharp little squeeze.

“Can you give me your signals now?”

You cycle through them like clockwork. This is the part you had to work hard to develop, working through the specific layers of his quirk that might have been able to prevent such advanced thought.

With practice, though, here you are.

The system is one you’ve always used in parts of your arrangement where your ability to speak freely has been repressed. Hitoshi’s always been good at checking in with you no matter what, but thankfully he doesn’t push your boundaries too often.

You squeeze his hands in a slow progression, leaving long, deliberate spaces between each signal so that their distinction is clear.

One squeeze: keep going, all is well.

Two squeezes: slow down, I’m getting frustrated/uncomfortable

Three: STOP NOW

When you finish your stop signal and let your hands go still, Hitoshi’s fingers go slack in yours.

“Good girl, good,” he coos. “God, you’re so pretty like this. Look at you.”

He drops your hands, carefully letting them fall back to their neutral position on your thighs. There’s a pleasant tingle filling your dulled senses. In this state of mind, you can feel his gaze on you like a careful touch.

“I can do whatever I want with you,” he grunts. “Fuck, I can feel how much you want this.”

He’s moved away from you for a couple of seconds, but when he comes back he’s bare. Your vision is blurred about the edges, but you feel a wet little push he presses the tip of his cock, already hard and weeping, to the swell of your cheek.

“Don’t be difficult,” he purrs in your mind. “Open up.”

Your mouth drops eagerly open as you let your eyes fall shut. As he eases his hips forward, you let the flat pad of your tongue slip forward to cradle the tender head of his cock. Hitoshi groans low and soft, but the sound echoes through every nerve in your body, reverberating from within.

“That’s it,” he prompts softly. “So pliant for me, beautiful. Take it.”

He rocks slowly into your throat, letting sloppy drool slough from your tongue and coat his thick shaft as his fingers spread across the back of your head. He grips you tightly, keeping your neck in place as his tense thighs work to keep himself steady.

He eases himself onto your tongue and stops there for a moment. His pulse thrums in your ears, syncopating steadily with yours. He lets his head lull back as he lets out a deep, shaky sigh.

“Suck,” he commands, and you comply.

You bob your head eagerly back and forth, settling into a numbingly precise rhythm. Sucking Hitoshi’s cock has never been a chore for you, but in this state you’re conditioned to like it.

He grips you tighter as his hips begin to stutter a little. Every sound that leaves his mouth passes into your mind well before it reaches your muffled ears. You’re beginning to realize, in the deep, sunken place where your consciousness still rests, that allowing him into your mind has connected you more intimately than ever before.

You can feel his pleasure in the same way that he can sense your desire.

“So good,” he gasps, and the sound rappels down your spine. “Fuck, you’ve always been so good at this. I know how much you love it.”

He’s losing his cool now, thrusting against the barrier of your throat with more reckless abandon. But you’re numb to the feelings that might have stopped you before, swallowing him eagerly down to double his pleasure.

It shows. His fingers twitch against the back of your head as he grits his teeth and grunts, a breathy, feral sound with every rock of his heavy balls against your chin. Your eyes have slipped open again, but you don’t see him. Not really. All you can sense is his ecstasy, building to a rapid peak as he humps and pants and shivers into your needy mouth.

“God,” he rasps, “not gonna… t-that’s it… f-fuck!”

He rips away from you in one fluid stroke, that ecstasy boiling right to the surface before it’s halted in its tracks. He’s got one hand wrapped tightly around the base of his flushed cock and his pleasure’s dwindling.

He’s saving himself, to fill you properly later. While controlling your pleasure has always been a part of your games, Hitoshi’s taken to controlling his own as well. Lately, he doesn’t even let himself cum until you’ve seen your climax.

You’ve been trying not to let yourself read into it.

“Good girl,” he pants inside your head. “Come here.”

You’re a little shaky as you climb to your feet, but the numbness that you might normally get in your toes by now persists through your entire body. You close the distance to him in a handful of deliberate, steady steps, and he settles a hand on your hip to stop you when you’ve come close enough.

“Look at you,” he growls. “You’re still under, aren’t you? Incredible.” He takes one of your hands between both of his, dropping a kiss to your knuckles before giving your fingers a meaningful squeeze.

“Check in for me, sweetheart.”

In the receded depths of your on consciousness, you’re nothing but eager to continue. Hitoshi’s weighty cock in your throat sent spirals of aggressive arousal through your entire body. Your pussy is swollen and tingling, smearing the insides of your thighs with thick desire.

You give his palm one long, deliberate squeeze.

You need more.

“That’s what I like to see,” he purrs. He leads you to the bed and takes the liberty of lifting you into his arms. Your body collapses eagerly into his hold, and you let him deposit you gently onto the neatly made sheets. You stretch into the pillows, but your blank stare is always fixed on him.

“Okay, pretty girl,” he croons, and you’re still and stiff before he even finishes his thought. “Lie still for me, okay?”

He lifts one knee onto the bed and casts a gentle hand down the column of your belly, taking a gentle tilt to the left and sliding his fingertips along the column of your thigh.

“I’ve got your favourite toy here,” he croons, but you can’t respond. Instead, the buzz of nerves builds in the back of your skull, where your meager ability to feel has been preserved. Hitoshi wraps his graceful fingers around the toy in question- a sizeable wand vibrator in a deceptively pleasant shade of pale lilac silicone- and waves it in front of your eyes.

“Let’s see how much you can take, hmm?”

He leans closer, pressing a kiss to the point of your collarbone before tilting his chin forward to find the shell of your ear.

“Don’t cum,” he croons, sending a fresh thrill of terrified arousal into your veins, “until I say you can, alright?”

He slips the vibe between your legs and you feel it rumble to life. He knows your favourite settings easily by now, setting the toy to buzz low and hard between your legs in a series of long, rhythmic pulses.

Your body starts to pitch and tremble, but it cannot disobey his strict instructions to stay still. Your pleasure spikes the instant the vibrator’s soft, flexible head makes contact with your swollen clit. You want to press your legs together, whine with overstimulation and bat away the offending toy. But the influence of Hitoshi’s power is stronger than any physical restraint. Even as your muscles strain, you are powerless to move.

He holds you there, amusement lighting his features. You can feel the satisfaction thrumming in the back of his mind, building slowly. You know he can feel the unbearable sensations racing through your entire body. But he refuses to let up, even as desperate tears break from the corners of your eyes.

This vibrator has always been your favourite of his, thanks to its unshakeable ability to bring you to orgasm within the space of a minute. There’s something about the depth of the vibrations (and Hitoshi’s expert handling) that never seems to fail.

Tonight, that fact isn’t working in your favour.

Your pleasure reaches its peak devastatingly quickly. But every part of your body is under Hitoshi’s complete control. And he’s given you strict instructions not to reach that climax.

Your nerves are struck dumb as the pleasure bleeds into a desperate ache. You can feel the edge of your climax, dangling just out of reach. And the longer he keeps you on the edge, the more torturous the sensation.

The tears are coming faster now, streaming down your temples and soaking into your hair as you whimper and pitch, trying to shrug his control and force the vibrator away from your overstimulated pussy. He lets you thrash and struggle for a dozen heartbeats, picking up on your discomfort and pulling the vibrator away from your body as you gasp for shaky breath.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” He coos, switching the vibrator off and laying a hand on the flat of your stomach. Your body’s gone slack, but the muscles in your lower belly are still twitching and fluttering, trying to make sense of your waning pleasure.

“I can feel you fighting me,” he continues, voice dropping into his chest. He rubs soothing circles into your tender skin, letting you catch your breath. “You know you don’t have to struggle, sweetness.” He leans in, dipping his forehead against yours and giving your mouth a soft little taste.

“Are you ready for my cock now?”

Yes, your mind screams, and he starts, pulling back to look at you in mild surprise.

He actually heard that. After the surprise fades from his expression, he lets the barest hint of a smile touch his mouth.

“Good.”

When he touches your thighs they fall limp into his palms. Any commands he’s given your paralyzed nerves are overridden by the force of his touch. So, as he kneels between your thighs and pushes them apart, you relent easily.

Your senses are still a hazy blur, but you feel it like a bolt of lightning when he swipes the tip of his cock over your sloppy folds. You give a sharp little yip and Hitoshi chuckles, with the breathy edge of pleasure slipping into his voice. He rocks his hips forward, grinding against your needy hole and grunting through his chest.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Can’t hold on any longer.” He edges forward, prodding his thick tip against your entrance. As soon as he’s lined up he slides home in one smooth stroke, burying himself to the base with a shaky groan.

The pleasure is enough to prompt a quiet whimper from your absent mind as your body eagerly takes his stretch. Hitoshi’s cock has always seemed perfect for you in size and form. And he’s proven many times over that he knows exactly how to use it.

He fucks you with devastating precision, slipping one hand under your thigh to brace you against the mattress while he anchors himself by the knees and ruts against your body. He lets his hips slap ruthlessly over your skin, his weighty, spit-soaked balls swinging heavy against the curve of your ass with every thrust.

You’ve been well prepared for this moment, messy-wet and smearing his shaft with your slick. Every time he drives his cock into you, his groans are punctuated by the soft little whimpers that break from his control to escape your clenched jaw.

The pleasure is already unbearable for you. That peak you weren’t allowed to reach before is approaching quickly, and all you can hope is that Hitoshi will have the sense to let you release before he’s tumbling over the edge himself.

You have no choice at this point but to trust him completely.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he gasps above you. Your pleasure is doubled by his sensations racing through your neurons, and you can tell before he speaks that he’s not going to last long at all.

“Don’t know how long I can hold out,” he warns anyway, and his hips are already beginning to stutter inside you. You could have easily cum two times over by now, but your body is held back once again, forced to linger on the edge of bliss until he decides to let you fall.

He shoves his hips against yours one, two, three more rough times before stilling abruptly inside you. His body’s stiff, straining against the threshold of his pleasure. But he catches his breath, and his next words ring clear as day among a sea of troubled sensations.

“Are you ready to cum for me?”

You let out a low, desperate whine, focusing every ounce of concentration you have left into amplifying those desperate emotions.

Please, your mind screams. I’ll do anything, please.

Hitoshi nods slowly, your body going slack when you’re sure you’ve been heard. He slips both hands under your thighs, stroking his thumbs lovingly along your flesh. He bends over your torso, dropping a kiss to your mouth and steeling himself as his lips trail to your ear one last time.

“Cum,” he orders, and you do.

All the pent-up tension and pleasure spirals from your body in the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt. What would normally send dull flutters into the pit of your stomach has deep, earth-shattering tremors wracking your entire body. You thrash into the pillows, crying out your pleasure in eager, greedy gulps, and your pussy seizes around his cock as tight as a fist.

Hitoshi curses against your skin, rutting his hips into your convulsing depths and matching your peak with a climax of his own. His balls draw up against your ass as he pumps hot spurts of cum into your needing cunt, fucking the fluid back into your body as your thighs clamp over his hips and the last tremors of your orgasm recede into dull trembles.

“That’s my girl,” he gasps. In the pleasure that overtook him, he’s de-activated his quirk. He lets you surface as he stays inside you for a couple long breaths, tasting the crook of your neck and rubbing sensation back into your limbs.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he croons. “Come here. Give me your hand. Show me,” he prompts, and you’re far from surfaced but you know what he wants when he slots his fingers between yours.

You give him another long, deliberate squeeze. You can’t form words yet, but you’re okay.

“That’s okay,” Hitoshi prompts. He pulls slowly back from you, sliding out of your body and easing onto the pillows beside you. He keeps his movements slow and gentle, handling you with extra care while you’re still feeling delicate.

“You were so good,” he growls, reaching for you. “So good for me. My perfect girl.”

His touch is the first sensation that clears the fog in your mind. He pulls you tightly against his bare chest, and the sweet touch of his skin to yours is like a soothing tonic for your frayed senses. Skin-to-skin contact has always been a big part of aftercare for you, but tonight it hits so hard that it sends relieved tears to your eyes.

Hitoshi’s patient as a lamb with you, stroking slow circles into your shoulders, belly and hips as you cycle through the complex progression of emotions that stand between you and the surface of your consciousness. He keeps his lips nuzzled tight to the shell of your ear, speaking low and soft and constant, grounding you in him.

After a long few minutes, you blink a little faster and stir a little heavier in his arms. You’ve fought your way to the surface, like breaking out of a deep sleep, and the weight of all he’s put you through settles into your chest. Hard.

You shiver. “Cold.”

“Okay,” he promises, shifting both of you a little more upright. “I’ve got clothes for you right here. Let me just-” He lets go of you to reach for the drawers of his nightstand, and anxiety rushes hard and fast to the back of your throat.

You whine. Loudly. You reach for him without thinking about it, and he comes back to you in the span of a heartbeat.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes. “I won’t let go.”

You’re always clingy after a scene. But today you can’t bear to be parted from him. While he’s the one that sent you spiralling, he’s also the one who brought you down to earth again.

With you looped carefully in one arm, he scoots the pair of you toward his side of the bed until he can reach the nightstand with one hand still carefully draped over your middle. He dumps a pile of soft cotton fleece onto the sheets in front of you, then presses himself up tightly behind you to reach forward with both hands and unfold the garments.

“There,” he hums, showing you the sleeves of one, the cuffs of another. “Warm clothes. Can I help you put them on?”

You give a pouty little nod, so he slips you into the pants one leg at a time and pushes your arms gently into the hoodie, staying as close as possible and letting you keep the black hood pulled over your head. He finds his discarded undershorts and slips into those, too, prompting another defeated whimper from you when he has to pull away to find some clothes of his own.

Once he’s dressed (and you’ve cuddled him long enough to quell some of the pouting) he pushes the edge of your hood back and presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Do you want to visit the fish?” he asks. Your mood spikes and you cling tighter, but nod nevertheless.

The most prominent feature of Hitoshi’s lavish house is mounted into the wall in the upstairs hallway. During the day it’s surprisingly easy to miss, but now that the light has waned and the house is dark, it glows an ethereal blue that casts a liquid pool of light across the dark hardwood and ornate rug.

Lining the entire wall stands a massive tropical fish tank, maintained professionally and kept in impeccable order. It’s filled by a multitude of different species of tropical fish, darting in and out of live coral in warm splashes of vibrant colour. The pump in one corner sends a steady stream of bubbles toward the surface, and in the quiet, the bubbles make soft little gurgles as they break the surface.

Hitoshi brings you into the hallway cradled tightly in his arms. The moment your face is bathed in that pretty blue light, the last dredges of anxiety bleed from your chest. There’s something immensely calming about the gentle, rhythmic way the fish move. Some of the more curious ones even see you peering in at them, emerging from their little hideaways to swim up to the glass and investigate.

“Hi,” you croon softly, touching one fingertip gently to the glass where a bright yellow tang noses eagerly at its smooth surface from the other side. Hitoshi chuckles deeply into your neck, always charmed by how soft and quiet and vulnerable you get after a particularly tough scene.

This part, the tender healing that comes afterward, is half the appeal for both of you. But with every passing session you can feel yourself growing more deeply attached to him. You’re falling for him, despite everything you put into words- on paper for him- that said you wouldn’t.

Love was not what either of you wanted to get out of this arrangement. But when he handles your trust so delicately where so many others have failed, it’s hard not to fall.

It’s hard not to wish, watching over such a tiny, peaceful little underwater world, that you could belong in there, too. Maybe, if you’d been born a little blue surgeonfish, you wouldn’t have to deal with such complex feelings.

But then you wouldn’t have all the pain and all the joy of falling for someone like Hitoshi Shinsou.

After you’re satisfied with the state of the fish tank, Hitoshi brings you downstairs to the kitchen. He’s not letting you go home tonight, but you were prepared for that possibility. You have pills and a toothbrush in your purse, and he’s had extra clothes lying around for you from the moment you signed that contract.

He bundles you into the couch. Puts on your favourite sitcom without needing to ask. He brews your favourite kind of tea- liquid heat that warms you to the very core- and stretches out next to you for the rest of the evening.

You wake hours later, sleeping next to him in the wee hours of the morning. He is stretched out on his side next to you, spooning you lovingly with one heavy arm draped over your side. He’s always reaching for you, ready to catch.

In moments like this, it’s easy to believe he might love you. And in the deepest hours of doubt and vulnerability, you let that feeling lull you back to sleep, just as he might if he could soothe your restlessness.

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #bnha #tw dom/sub #tw mind control #my hero academia #gnomewrites

863 notes · View notes

gallickingun · 4 years

Text

last chance || b.k.

SUMMARY: After All Might’s demise at the hands of an unlikely hero-turned-villain, the world unfurls into chaos. Villains run rampant, heroes are dying in the streets, and you are left with a rowdy group of renegades to seek out the legendary Ground Zero, a vigilante that you’ve only encountered through ghost stories. After narrowing down his sightings to one central location, you are sent out to beseech him for help, if he even truly exists in the first place.

PAIRING: Apocalyptic Pro Hero!Bakugou x Renegade!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, violence, smut, etc. WORD COUNT: 7.3k+

FOREWORD: For all intents and purposes, we’re going to pretend that All Might hasn’t lost his power, even after handing it off to Deku!

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is my submission for the bnharem nsfw collab, apocalypse edition! I was shocked that I was able to snag Bakugou on my first round of collaboration, and I’m so stoked to read all of the other fics! The masterlist can be found HERE. This might feel a little OOC, but hopefully it makes sense by the end. It is an AU after all.

“The Symbol of Peace is dead.”

You pull the bandana further up around your mouth and nose, the ash in the air seeping into your lungs, clouding your vision as the debris strains your breathing. Your ankles ache, mile after mile threatening to grind your bones to dust.

“It would seem we never knew the true power of All Might’s quirk, now known as One for All.”

A thickness swells up in your throat, your eyes blurring with tears, and yet you keep walking. You push through the thickets of overgrown foliage, slashing away with the machete you usually keep tucked against your hip. Crying will do nothing to help you, not now. Tears are for the weak.

“He had passed on his power to a successor, a young student named Midoriya Izuku.”

The darkness of night helps to hide you from those who want you slain where you stand. Your black clothing keeps you but a shadow amongst the trees, concealing your identity to anyone who might gaze upon the horizon. Even though you are alone, your mission keeps you company.

“The young boy became an amazing Pro Hero, climbing the charts quite fast once graduating from Yuuei High. And then, something happened.”

You grit your teeth when you see your destination ahead – a large cliff, covered in moss and dense, lush kudzu. There is a cave carved into the side of it, hardly able to be seen from the distance with which you are currently separated from it. And yet, you’ve been dreaming about this place for years, ever since the overture.

“It would seem that young Midoriya Izuku, also known as Deku, has killed the Symbol of Peace.

All Might is dead.”

The weight of the world settles on your shoulders at the memory of the news broadcast. It is like this new path you’ve gone down has formed you into some sort of Atlas, a woman in charge of holding the world together from the shadows, as if it may fall apart if you falter for even the slightest of moments. Your knees ache and your back is slick with sweat, but somehow you manage to shoulder the burden and keep walking, galaxies treading in your wake.

After all, finding Ground Zero is your responsibility.

“We need him.”

You brush your hair from your eyes, looking down at the map strewn out in tatters on the tabletop, “No one has seen him, not really. He’s practically a myth, a legend. Even if he’s real, what makes you think he’ll help us?”

The redhead beside you slams his fists together, the echoing sound of stone impacting stone reverberating in the room. You wince at the sharpness of it, but combined with the determined expression rooted within his features, you feel a renewed sense of purpose settled into your spine. You straighten up, curling your hands to fists, and match his manifestation of conviction with a grit of your teeth and tilt of your head.

“You’re right, Kirishima,” you point to the central location on the map, the one you’ve been investigating for what feels like years, “Ground Zero will be there. And I’m going to convince him to help us.”

The stone bites into your blunt nails, drawing blood that makes it even more difficult to scale the side of the structure. You knew this would come, so the makeshift climbing gear strapped to your waist keeps you secure as you continue to lower yourself down.

At the mouth of the cave, you see a small overhang, just far enough past the opening for you to land. Once you’ve gotten close enough that you know you won’t fall to your death into whatever disastrous demise may greet you thousands of feet below, you drop onto the ledge. Your knees wobble, ankles turned at just the right angle that they absorb most of your fall.

The opening of the cavern is dark; ominous smoke leaking from the front of it, furling around in midair. Your body shudders, a chill sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over your skin, and for a moment you wonder if you should retreat.

Kirishima’s crimson eyes, hard set and piercing, are all you can see when you close your eyes. His voice rings in your ears, reminding you that this is what you must do, you have to find Ground Zero. He is the only one capable of taking down Deku.

You swallow, bracing your spine and curling your fists, forcing yourself to take the first step forward. There is a curtain of vines separating the inside of the cave from you. You reach forward, curling your fingers around the thick, verdant tendrils, and push them to the sides so you may walk through.

Every single nerve within your body vibrates with the knowledge that you may die here in this cave, alone and forgotten. Your lower lip wobbles, but you stamp down the negative emotions and rather channel them into something akin to confidence. Once you’ve passed through to the other side, you release the vines and find yourself shrouded in darkness.

It takes a moment, but your eyes adjust eventually. You can make out the walls of the cave, glistening and jagged, and you use the reach of your arms to press against the rocky surface, guiding yourself further down the winding path. It is strange when you feel a substance much more powdery beneath your touch, and when you pull your hand away to smell it, the scent reminds you of soot.

Sweat rolls down your spine, tickling your skin, but you do not have the patience nor the ability to redirect your attention to it, for fear of what might happen when you refocus to something less important. You hold your breath, trying to listen as best you can for any and all sounds echoing within the walls of the cave, but all you hear is quiet.

Your imagination begins to wander as you take each step, furthering the horrific ends you’ve conjured up for yourself within the confines of your mind. The chill of the cave in tandem with your sweat creates steam from your body, rising high and bringing forth a bout of humidity that gives your lungs more difficulty.

Turning a corner, you feel the air begin to get warmer. You force yourself to take short breaths, bringing oxygen to flow back through your blood as it rushes through you, thundering in your ears. The sound does little to quell the panic rising in your throat, like a billow of smoke suffocating you as it rolls through your body.

Fear grips your heart when you hear the first sound.

You stop, turning your feet in case you need to bolt in the opposite direction. Your eyes are widened, pupils dilated in the dark to try and accommodate. It does not repeat itself, but rather alters, when you hear it again.

“Tch.”

The human-like nature of the sound brings about a whole new level of anxiety, lightning strikes underneath your skin as reality settles in. You lick at your lips, the dryness of your mouth ever present when you prepare yourself for a speech. You continue down the cave pathway, the faint glow of orange beginning to color the walls, giving you more light to see your feet in front of you.

Eventually you are able to stumble through the cavern on your own now, without the guide of your hands on the rock on either side of you. Shallow breaths fill your lungs, erratic breathing making your shoulders shake in anticipation. You lick at the seams of your gums, begging your mind to call forth a beautiful string of words that will convince this legendary vigilante to once again rise up, with the backing of your renegade fighters, to take down the villainous once-hero Deku.

You come up on the furthermost part of the cave, the base of it opening up and rounding out to provide the hideaway with a spacious enough cavity to serve as a living space.

Your eyes are drawn to every inch of the room, starting with the wall where weapons are strung up like trophies. Chiseled into the stone are hollows in the shape of guns and knives and grenades, acting like shelving for the tools of destruction. Beneath it is the fire pit, burning high with flames, licking up at the air and peeling away what little oxygen remains. You find it harder to breathe here, mostly in part to the depth of the cave and the ongoing fire, stealing the breath from your very lungs.

Then your eyes find him, his back to you, settled on a log that will most likely be used for firewood at a later date. Your tongue feels like a sandbag in your mouth and you can’t force yourself to produce enough saliva to make up for the smoke in your throat.

And then he rises.

He is every bit as beautiful as they said he would be in all of the stories. Tales of bulging muscle and tall stature, hands that save the world with each flex of his knuckles, scars littering his body like a map, or like veins of pain running through slabs of chiseled marble.

He turns, and his eyes seem familiar.

You take a hesitant step forward, captivate by his serious stare. The rivulets of crimson and amber swirling in his irises make you want to drown in a lake of fire, burned at the stake for the sake of his cause. Your body cannot resist him, so you draw closer, further into the heat, begging yourself to become a slave to it so long as it means you can continue to find him in the flames.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You are fumbling for words when he speaks again, “You’re wasting my time, baka. I’m not sure what about the sight of a secluded, secret cave gave you the idea to waltz in here like you own the damned place, but I’m kind of busy. So leave.”

The way your eyes roam around his abode, settling on each small space and dissecting it for everything that it is worth, unsettles him. He steps closer to you, blocking your vision with his wide shoulders.

“It doesn’t look like you’re very busy.”

The words are blurted from your mouth with little forethought, but they have you both reeling, your hands slapped over your lips as if you could take them back with simple action. The man stood in front of you shifts into some sort of attack position, hands curled into fists and the air begins to smell sickly sweet.

“Fucking bitch,” he bites the words as they exit his teeth, narrowing his eyes to you until they are but slits, “Get the hell out!”

“No, no!” You are flailing now, the impending doom of your failure to bring him back with you turning your stomach into knots. You shake your head, reaching out to press your hands to his chest, “Listen, please, you are Ground Zero, are you not?”

The sound of his own name echoing in the cave gives him pause. He tilts his head, ashen locks falling over his line of sight. You notice his head is buzzed at the base, nothing but blonde stubble left behind, however the top of his head is covered with pale locks of spike hair, as if he himself is a bomb ready to be blown at all times.

“I don’t know who the hell told you where to find me, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for.” He smacks your hands away with the back of his wrist, turning to stalk back to the fire. Once he settles on his stump again, he pulls another skewer of meat from a pack off to the side, rotating it over the fire to begin roasting it.

All you can think is how much of a let down this entire trip has been. You have walked for miles, for days, in order to hunt him down. You have hidden in jungles and abandoned buildings, and almost been caught by several villains with quirks you almost could not overpower on your own.

“Kirishima spoke so highly of you,” your voice is faraway, like you are on another plane of existence, looking down on him from above, “I thought you’d be more heroic than this.”

At the sound of your friend’s name, the man’s head tilts, eyes shifting as he looks over his shoulder at you, “Kirishima? Eijirou?”

“Y-You know Kiri?”

You take a cautious step forward, unsure of whether he believes Kirishima to be a friend or a foe. His eyes are lost, somewhere between here and there, unable to focus on any one thing as he rolls the name around on his tongue, tasting the distant memories there while they play out against the cavern walls for only his eyes to see.

“Kirishima was my-” he pauses, gritting his teeth together as his knuckles turn white around the skewer, “…he was my friend.”

The man stands to his feet, discarding the half-cooked slab of meat into the fire, “If Kirishima sent you, then things must be bad.”

You nod, striding forward until you are just close enough that his body heat is intoxicating, and the scent from earlier, the one that makes your head spin with saccharine promises, fills your nostrils until you cannot make out anything else.

“We need your help,” you say, voice wavering in the middle, “Deku has started to search for every hero, every renegade, and he’s murdering them. I came to bring you back to the rest of those who are still fighting. You are a legend, if we have your help, there’s no way we’ll lose.”

A wry smirk adorns his mouth, quirking his lips upward, “Kid, I don’t know who told you I was a legend, or that I’d be of any help, but I’m out here for a reason.”

“Just come back with me,” you plead, resisting the desire to wrap your fists around his tank and pull, “we need you.”

There is a hesitant look in his vermilion irises, something that tells you he is still hiding something. But, he straightens his spine anyway, a deep breath puffing out his chest, “I always did like to kick Deku’s ass.”

You cannot contain the beaming smile on your face, even when you turn on your heels to begin walking out of the cave and back to the light.

Which keeps you from seeing the dejected look in his eyes.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Weeks of planning the perfect attack have brought you and Ground Zero closer.

Although now you know him as Bakugou Katsuki.

When he first reunited with Kirishima, and his presence was made known to your rag-tag team, you were shaken at the realization that legends are people too. Even in his vigilante times, Bakugou still held that same spark that lit his flame throughout the duration of his time at Yuuei, much of which he spent with Kirishima by his side.

“Holy shit, man!” Kirishima reaches around his shoulders for a hug, which Bakugou hardly reciprocates, “I can’t believe Ground Zero is you!”

There are moments where you catch his gaze lingering on you – when you are cooking dinner, when you chop firewood – and of course your eyes find him too. He trains shirtless most of the time, body on display as the sweat rolls down his body. His knuckles are bruised and his body is battered, and yet he continues to get up every day and start all over again.

You do note that you have not seen him use his quirk, not since he arrived at your renegade hideaway. It seems to be in reverie of everything going on, but from what you remember, Bakugou Katsuki was not a shy man, never one to keep himself from the spotlight. It is why he is the only one who pushed himself hard enough to compete with Deku, and to stay as his rival.

When you ask Kirishima, he just shrugs it off, “He probably doesn’t want any attention. Would you, if you felt like you had run away when the world needed another hero?”

So you co-exist. He near you, and you near him. Always orbiting, but never colliding.

There are times where you allow your affections to slip. When you’re passing him by, a gentle palm on his hip to alert him of your presence. When he reaches above you to pull a weapon off the shelf, his hand finds purchase at the base of your spine, as if steadying himself even though he is one of the sturdiest men you have ever seen.

There is a moment, a drunken haze, that leads you to believe he might even kiss you, however it is gone before it has the ability to flower into anything more.

Time passes, months that feel like years, of tracking and sleuthing and killing. There is murder on both sides, and you have both suffered losses.

One night he finds you, sitting on the beach, your tears glittering like starlight on your cheeks.

“This is war,” he says, squatting in the sand, “none of us is innocent.”

You sniffle, rubbing your arm against your face to rid it of your transgressions, “And what about those who want to be?”

Bakugou reaches forward, a careful palm gliding over your cheek as a new bout of tears springs forth like a leak. You can’t see the sad smile on his face through your tears, your vision glassy and clouded, and he is thankful that you cannot spot his weakness. He brushes the tears away and turns your head with the gentle flick of his wrist, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

You want to crumble, to falter and fall into a million shards of glass, and he knows this. He must, because there’s no way that the pressure of the lives of the rest of the world does not eat away at one’s soul until there is nothing but barren earth left. You circle your hand around his wrist, leaning your cheek into his palm so you can feel the heat of him and find comfort in his touch.

“What if we never get there?”

You can’t look at him, not when your scars are on display. Your heart wrenches in your chest and the pain is like a thousand cuts littered across your body until you are nothing but bleeding wounds. In your mind, you’ve succumbed to the sea of red, drowning in it, choking on it.

Bakugou does a strange thing then. He presses his other palm to your waist, drawing you forward so he can kiss the smooth skin of your forehead, “Don’t be an idiot.”

And then he turns to leave.

Your forehead burns like a blister with the echo of his affections.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The time finally comes.

After months of research and loss, there is a plan.

“We know where he’s hiding,” Kirishima points to a central location on the map, releasing a breath as he looks up to Bakugou, “the guards will change shift at midnight, and that’s when you’ll attack. We’ll be on the ground to distract any other, smaller threats, but we’re counting on you to take him down in the end.”

Bakugou shoves Kirishima, but he falters himself, eyes unable to focus on any one thing, “I know, idiot. You didn’t bring me all the way out here to take my victory from me.”

You smile at the scene, catching his gaze as he turns to look back at the rest of the room. There is a crack in his armor when he sees you, confidence melting into something else, another emotion you can’t quite pin down. And you’re not sure if you really want to.

The rest of the meeting is all logistics, something you have already heard a dozen times, so you find yourself wandering along the coastline, the night air washing like a balm over you, sea salt in your lungs when you breathe. Your feet are barely in the water, but enough for it to lap up around your ankles with foam when the waves crest to shore. You hold yourself around the middle, as if you might be able to keep your broken pieces from shattering if you squeeze tightly enough.

Tears of salt match that of the ocean as the droplets roll down your cheeks, hanging on your jaw until they are too weighty, and then they fall into the seawater, melded together as if they belong. Your fingers ache, digging into your biceps to give yourself some sort of anchor while you watch the moon and stars shift in the night sky.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The words are reminiscent of the first time you met, all those months ago. They make you smile, a gentle huff of a laugh escaping your lips, even if the gesture does not quite reach your eyes. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, arms still wrapped around your torso, the jagged edges of your soul sinking in deeper the more you try to hide your faltering pieces.

“Thinking,” you answer quietly, soft voice almost overwhelmed by the waves.

Bakugou is drawn in closer, as if you are the sea, a siren calling to him from the beyond, and he strides forward until he is parallel with you. His eyes watch the waves, but the pull is to you, and he can only resist for so long.

“It’s just Deku,” he is trying to reassure you, reaching out to rest his palm on your neck, sifting fingers through the hair at the nape of it. “I won’t lose to him, not again.”

This brings your attention to his eyes, your body turning so you can approach him head-on, fear wracking your body like a storm. You gaze up at him, jaw quivering under the stress of your teeth grinding against one another, “Why did he do it?”

His hand glides from your neck to your jaw, tilting your eyes upward so you cannot look away from him, in spite of how difficult this conversation might be to have. He has not spoken of his childhood rival for what feels like an eternity; airing out his burdened confessions is but a foreign concept. He would rather keep them bottled away within the cage of his ribs, until the poison slowly dredges through his veins and he can fall away into some deep sleep brought on by death.

“No one could have expected it,” Bakugou starts, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks, like the ministrations may give him the groundwork to have the conversation, “but One for All had too many wielders, had grown too powerful. Deku’s body couldn’t contain it and still stay sane.”

Bakugou looks frustrated, his brow tugged so his forehead wrinkles. You reach up to brush your thumb over the creased skin, “I’ve heard the stories. That the call to power was too strong, and he never told anyone because he was afraid of being weak.”

“Izuku has never been weak.”

His voice is ragged, as if glass has been lodged into his throat to inhibit his speech. Bakugou turns his head so you cannot see the emotion welling up in his eyes, “All Might should have seen it, but by the time he caught it, Deku had already gone mad. He snapped All Might’s neck on live television, the fucking bastard.”

The heaviness of the situation sits on your shoulders and you wonder if Bakugou has ever felt the burden of Atlas; you recall the significant burden weighing you down when you were first sent to retrieve him. Your mortal body wanted to crumble beneath the importance of your mission, you can’t even begin to fathom the overwhelming guilt he must be riddled with every day from the moment he wakes until he falls asleep.

“Then he came after the rest of us, one-by-one. Todoroki was next, then Uraraka.” Bakugou swallows the thick, pent-up emotion settled in his throat like barbed wire. He steels his gaze, even though it is only focused on the moon. “Kirishima was able to take a group of heroes and hide out when Deku came for me.”

You recall the fight like a movie playing on the backs of your eyelids. Bakugou and Deku fighting head to head, lightning and explosions igniting the swirling storm the unfurled around them. Pouring rain and debris flying, small tornados brought on by the use of Deku’s quirk, destroying the nearby buildings until there was nothing left.

Bakugou’s voice is heady, hands fallen from your face as if he no longer deserves to touch you. He takes a step backward, the roaring of the ocean giving him a pause, as if he were listening to the water for some sort of encouragement to continue his tale, to keep fighting.

You can’t help but wonder if losing the proverbial fight against Deku has tarnished his soul much deeper than he would ever admit, if his body has been at war with itself for years, unable to choose a side, unable to relent.

“I fought him for what felt like hours. Whatever One for All had done to him, corrupted his mind, broken his spirit,” Bakugou shakes his head, a snarl on his lips, “that wasn’t Deku that I was fighting. That was someone else.”

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

Bakugou’s throat bobs and his eyes flit from you to the water, unable to look at you in the face as he gnaws on his lower lip. The words must be too harsh, a pain running much further than skin deep. You know that his soul must be bruised, the very core of him broken beyond recognition.

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou’s breathing is labored, quick, a mixture of frustration and anguish pressing down on his throat like a pair of hands, encasing his esophagus in a tight grip. He shakes his head, “He, uh- he let me go.”

It sounds disingenuous coming from his mouth, as if he’s forcing a lie through his teeth, his voice grating against his gums like metal. You reach out to touch his arm, but he sloughs you off with a quick movement, taking a step and pushing you further. Tears glisten in his eyes, but he does not let them fall; he cannot lose the battle with his body too. He looks up to the moon and lets loose a feral growl, crumbling to his knees and digging his hands into the wet sand, like tearing into it might provide him some sort of release.

“And then I tucked my fucking tail and I ran. Like a goddamn coward.” Bakugou’s jaw is rippling when he snaps his attention to you, eyes ablaze with red fire, “And that’s the hero you all claim to have needed. I wasn’t a hero, I was a fucking pussy. I was weak.”

Bakugou rises from the water, a murderous glare in his eyes, “And now I’m done being weak. I’m going to finish what I couldn’t before, I’m going to kill the bastard.”

You have let him vent his personal failures into the air, but now it is your turn to speak. Circling your fingers around his wrists, you pull yourself closer to him, as if the two of you are bound by an invisible thread.

“You’re not going alone,” you tell him, voice sure. You stand rooted in the ground, feet dug deep in the sand, “I won’t let you.”

He rolls his eyes, blowing a breath out of his nose, “And you think I’ll let you? No fucking way.”

The words sit on your tongue, burning like embers, syllables you’ve been stoking for months as you’ve grown closer to him. Your body rises up on your toes on instinct alone, eyelashes fluttering shut as you take him in one last time. You grit your teeth and a breath shudders from your lungs, shattering your heart like glass.

Your fingers traipse up his torso, climbing over the mounds of muscle that he has worked so hard to perfect. You feel the heat of tears well up in the back of your eyes, your vision blurred as you try to memorize everything about him in the short time you have left. When your palms reach his cheeks, fingertips dancing against warm, tanned skin, you can’t help but to tug yourself closer.

He can barely protest before you have melded your mouth to his, arching your back so your chest is flush with the broad plane of muscle in front of you. Bakugou hesitates, but just as you are about to pull away and profusely apologize, his arms snake around your waist to yank you closer. Your hips roll into his reflexively, finding the hardened length of his cock almost instantly.

Bakugou’s kiss is bruising, a heated ferocity driving him forward to part your lips at the seams, delving his tongue between your teeth at the first chance he receives. You moan at his affections, your hands threading through his hair, pinkies finding the stubble of his undercut while the others sift between blonde locks.

Tears are pushed from your eyelids, and he feels them against his cheeks as he kisses you. Bakugou slips his hands under the thin fabric of your tattered shirt, warmth spreading from the base of your spine outward to every extremity.

“I won’t lose you,” you manage between breaths, forcing the words out despite the possibility of his rejection.

Bakugou does not stop loitering affection over you like it were his job just because you show a moment of vulnerability. Rather, he’s spurred on by the admission, his hands digging deeper into your muscles now, most likely leaving bruises in their wake, and his teeth and tongue are merciless on your mouth.

The palms of his hands slowly drift down until he has cupped your thighs, his body folded just enough to give him a better angle to pull you up into the air. You hold in a squeal, unwilling to alert the rest of the camp, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist.

He breaks the kiss as oxygen begs his airways to open up once more, heaving breaths making his chest expand with sharp inhales. Through gasping breaths, he shakes his head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re not sure how best to beg him to take you for all you’re worth here on the beach, but somehow you must silently communicate it, because he finds a secluded place and lays you down there, your back dug into the ground, but you are rather uncaring to it all. Your hands can’t find enough of him, insatiable in your efforts to map him out to memory, burning the impression of him into your mind so you may never lose him, even if something tragic were to part the two of you forever.

Bakugou’s fingers make quick work of the button of your shorts, delving his hand inside to brush at the bare folds of your core, already slick with arousal. He chuckles, nudging his nose over your neck, “Prepared for this, were you?”

A laugh is cut short by a whine, his teeth sinking into your jugular, sucking harshly on the skin there. Your hands find his shoulders, blunt nails bludgeoning the skin of his shoulders so he is seething into your body, curses flying from his lips as if they might brand your flesh if he whispers them hotly enough.

You whimper his name as he sheathes his fingers within you, two knuckles stretching your inner walls, scissored fingers making you throw your head back. Your body does not feel like your own, every wanton moan and twitch of your muscles in response to his salacious ministrations, reactions that you cannot fight, even if you wanted to.

Giving in, you reach down desperately, clawing your nails at the waistband of his cargo pants, uncaring as to how you get your palm underneath his underwear. Bakugou uses the hand not buried in your pussy to grab you by the wrist, pinning your hand over your head.

“You’re a needy little slut, hah?” Bakugou tightens his grip and speeds up his pace, earning him a wriggle from your body as you try to fight back. He smirks, teeth and gums on full display as he glowers down at you, “Don’t you worry, baby, I’m gonna give you my cock. Be patient.”

You whine in response, tilting your head to try and capture his lips again. Bakugou finds you halfway, his mouth parted so you can begin mapping out the curves of his teeth with your tongue. You kiss him as if your life may depend on it, like the time you are sharing may end at any moment.

You kiss him like he may die tomorrow.

There is fervor and passion and admiration conveyed with each smacking of your lips, your noses brushing when you try to angle yourselves to become closer. All the while, his middle and fourth fingers are working you forward into the throws of pleasure, lightning striking your core whenever his fingers brush up against your glutinous walls in just the right manner.

“Katsuki, please,” you beg of him, dragging your nails over the corded muscle of his shoulders. You can feel yourself slipping already, the impending doom of what is to come giving your body more urgency.

Bakugou growls when he feels your cunt clamp around his fingers, the thought of his cock within your tight hole making him dick twitch. You buck up when the head of his length brushes your thigh in his arousal, seeking him out despite the fullness you already feel from his digits pumping up into your heat.

Your whole body is shaking with the threat of your impending orgasm on the horizon, brought on by his disastrous fingers urging you forward. You cry out for him, wanton and begging as you pant his name repeatedly, rocking your hips with the rhythm of his fingers. Bakugou’s eyes roam your body as he leans back from you, gaze immediately drawn to the bounce of your plush chest. With each thrust of his fingers, your body quivers, and he knows he won’t be able to last apart from you for much longer, regardless.

As his fingers slowly peel from you, a whine tears your chest wide open. Tears drip down over your cheeks, a mixture of emotion and erotica giving the sound much more conviction. Bakugou feels the reverberations of your voice in his chest, stirring him to brush your silken slick along the length of his cock, pumping his shaft a few times before repositioning himself above you.

Bakugou rolls his wrist so the tip of his dick butterflies your pussy lips. You pant at the exhilaration of it all, your cunt fluttering as he pulls himself away from you only to bring it all back. His teasing strokes make your head spin, eyes barely able to peel open to look up at him. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and Bakugou leans forward to tug the muscle between his teeth, earning him an animalistic howl from the back of your throat.

The plea from you gives him the last push he needs to rut forward and claim you in one fatal stroke.

Your hands sink into him like hooks, eyes screwed shut as he starts to suck on your tongue. Bakugou’s breath spills over you like a wash of heat, sending a shudder down your spine. He uses his hands to grip you by the thighs, yanking you closer so your hips are flush as he sinks all the way into you all over again.

“Ka-” you can barely make a sound with the way his mouth has destroyed yours, suffocating you until you are lightheaded with the thought of him. As you struggle beneath him, Bakugou releases you in favor of leaning back to watch as his cock separates your walls and fills your cunt until it stretches to fit his thick girth.

You are a blubbering mess the moment he allows you space to breathe. Your hands can’t find enough of him to paint with your touch, nails dragging thin, angry red lines into his thighs, and your throat only knows how to say his name.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, watching you come undone beneath him, “I can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

His dick is rutting into you at an impeccable pace, the tip of his cock brushing against your walls as he twitches from your tight pussy. Bakugou digs his fingers into the skin of your thighs, likely bruising them with the intensity of his grip, pushing your knees back until they are pressed against your chest so he can fuck into you from above.

You lick your lips, thin rivulets of drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth, “Please, Bakugou, I-I wanna come.”

The desire to rip your arousal from you until you cannot speak in full sentences gives him a fiery drive, his hips slamming into your ass as filthy words fall from his lips. You can feel his cock bottoming out within your cunt, thickening with each stroke of his hips as he grows closer to the end himself. You beg for his spend, for him to coat you until you are dripping with his seed, the mixture of your arousal and his pre seeping from your lips and furthering the wet sounds that echo whenever his balls slap against your ass.

“You wanna come on my cock, yeah?” he asks, voice dithering the longer he’s within you. You are begging him now, your back arched forward so you can seek him out with wide eyes and pleading palms. He soaks in the affections, your hands on his face and in his hair, your lips finding purchase on whatever part of his body you can reach.

A snarl makes his throat shake and, if possible, he rips into your even further, growling voice speaking into your ear as you fall back against the ground at the sheer force of his hips, “Then fucking come, slut.”

His words are all you need to push you into the next plane of existence, where a shattering orgasm racks your body. You convulse around his cock, the newfound tightness as you milk your own release pushing him over the crest as well. He drives his cock as deep into you as he can, your hips flush at the juxtaposition of your sex as he spurts up into your core. You feel the heat of his release, the twitch of his cock, and your limbs grow numb from effort.

Bakugou leans forward so he is balancing himself on his forearms, nosing over the swell of your chest and the column of your neck, small, chaste kisses littered over your skin like stars. He sighs, nudging your collarbone, “You’re not coming with me tomorrow. I won’t lose you too.”

Your heart sings at his admission, and your spirit wants to argue, but when he kisses you again, you can’t find it within yourself to tell him otherwise.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“All right, man,” Kirishima claps him on the back, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway.

You can tell that there is much more he wants to say, but Bakugou has never had much patience for any sort of sappy confession, so all that passes between them is a nod of understanding. You, on the other hand, are careless in your affection, launching yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth, uncaring for the onlookers unbeknownst to your time together.

When you pull away, there are tears in your eyes, but you force the words between your teeth regardless, “Don’t die on me.”

Bakugou’s eyes are sad, holding such a dark color in his usually bright irises, “A real hero always comes out on top, no matter what.”

Usually it is said with much conviction, but this time, it sounds like he is trying to convince himself more so than anyone else. Your hands palm over his face, committing him to memory one last time before he turns his back to you, headed towards the end of the line, unknowing as to which side he may end up on this time.

As soon as he steps out onto the pavement, he’s greeted with the familiar laughter of an old friend.

“Oi, Kacchan. It’s been too long.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and Kirishima has to hold you back, hidden away in the shadows. You look at him over your shoulder, eyes blown wide as your pupils swallow your irises, “H-He was supposed to be alone.”

The look in Kirishima’s eyes is haunting, a desolate gaze turned on his best friend. He tightens his jaw and breathes heavily through his nostrils, an answer never given as he watches on in horror at the scene in front of him unfolding.

“I thought I told you to get lost,” Deku speaks, voice confusingly innocent despite the feral look in his eyes. A cackle parts his lips and you’ve never seen Bakugou this quiet during a fight, “But, then again, wouldn’t a fight between the All Mighty Deku and a Quirkless Kacchan be entertaining?”

Your whole world turns sideways.

Bakugou’s words from the very beginning replay on loop in your mind as your breathing corrupts your own lungs, shattered and shaking as your body coats itself in sweat.

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou Katsuki is quirkless.

Now more than ever you want to dart out into the street, to throw yourself down like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. Whatever it takes to keep Katsuki safe. Tears blur your vision and anger scars your heart, marring up the organ until you cannot feel it beating within your own chest.

Bakugou turns his head, vermilion eyes seeking you out in the darkness of the alleyway. He smiles, for the first time in full, and offers you one final look at his body completely intact before he returns his gaze to his childhood rival, hands turning to fists at his sides as he gets into his fighting position.

“So pathetic, Kacchan.” Deku looks Bakugou in the eyes as he ignites his quirk, green lightning dancing around as a storm begins to brew.

He holds up his hands, palms open-faced as his skin crackles, the sweet smell of saccharine turning to ash in the air. Colors of orange and yellow cast frightening shadows along the length of the street, a familiar power exploding on the cusp of Deku’s fingers.

“And now you die.”

a/n: i don’t think that went how anyone thought it would! it’s a lot different from anything i’ve ever done, and i’m not fully happy with it. but thank you for reading, if you got this far!!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #morgan writes bnha #my writing #bnharem #server collab #bnharem server collab

765 notes · View notes

x69y69z69 · 3 years

Text

On the New Mob Spawning Mechanics

If you haven't heard yet, the next big release (1.18) will have a very big change to the hostile mob spawning mechanics - mobs will only spawn in light level zero. In other words, the presence of any light, no matter how faint will mob-proof.

First off, why?

The area in which mobs can spawn around the player is kind of a hollow sphere. They can't spawn too close and they can't spawn too far away. If you're on a flat surface with no spawnable areas above or below, you can think of it like a giant doughnut around the player.

Imagine moving through a long, straight cave, maybe 3 or 4 blocks wide. You're moving through the dark and not dropping torches. As seen from above, the doughnut is around you but since only the open cave is spawnable, there's only a small slice of the doughnut in front and one in back where mobs might appear. This is the current Minecraft.

In the coming update, we'll be seeing MUCH larger caves. The kind of places where you might be standing in the center of a giant cave and the entire doughnut will be within the cave. This will mean a TON of mobs coming from every direction. Too many. And since many of these caves will be more difficult to traverse, with underground lakes and steeper terrain, the slower movement will only provide more opportunities for mobs to spawn.

So we get the light level change to balance things out. Previously mobs would spawn in light level 7 or below, meaning dropping a torch (light level 14) on he ground would protect 6 blocks in any straight direction. New rules means that same torch will protect 13 blocks in any straight direction. In a one wide strip mine, you could mob-proof it by dropping a torch on he ground every 26 blocks.

Also balancing things out will be the natural light sources. Existing things like lava and torches in mineshafts will keep away mobs more than before AND the new light sources such as glow lichen and glowberries will also keep you safe. The Lush Cave biomes with glowberries hanging should be a nice peaceful spot. The Deep Dark biomes will not be a peaceful spot.

All in all, I'm guessing these things will balance out nicely to give us the usual amount of monsters in caves with pockets of more and less by design.

But what I'm really looking forward to is the way we can subtly light a build with light and dark areas, without worrying about creepers wrecking everything.

#minecraft #mineblr #minecraft 1.18 #caves and cliffs #minecraft update #minecraft lighting #minecraft mobs #creeper

39 notes · View notes

xcao7-blog · 5 years

Text

Landscape challenge: Landscaping Slopes and Hills

Background:

The job of hillside landscaping is a problem with more homes built on sites which have major changes in elevation and steep slopes.

Landscaping a hill as gardening trend is likely to continue in cities and suburban areas across the nation as most of the “level sites” are in short supply.

Homeowners have a growing awareness of the dramatic value or curb appeal of landscaped hillside locations in their garden or backyard.

Many homeowners have found that gravity and water acting on an improperly planned hillside or slope can require endless maintenance with little resulting reward.

In some cases, the necessary remedy is regrading or installing a retaining wall, in others, merely the proper selection of plants or trees in the garden. Whichever the case, there is no need for discouragement.

Challenge:

Slopes and hills almost always pose a challenge to homeowners trying to design landscaping that is both attractive and functional. A landscape designer can certainly help in this situation and may be necessary if erosion, runoff or drainage is an issues.

Solutions:

1. Because erosion is such an issue in sloped yards, soil stability should be at the root of your landscape design. Particularly steep slopes can be stabilized with a retaining wall, which can also serve as a sitting wall and be incorporated into a paving stone patio or other outdoor living area.

There are some specific ways to prevent How to Prevent Seed and Soil Erosion on Slopes and Hills:

a. Prepare and plant your slope or hill.

b. Use mats to stabilize and protect seed.

c. Water the matted area regularly.

d. Mow and maintain your slopes and hills.

Example:

Tiering —Creating tiers down your slope make it less likely to erode. By digging into the hill at certain points, you can also create tiers for planting. Retain the walls of the tiers with stone pavers and layer different plants and landscaping elements to create contrast between tiers. If you use rock walls as tiers, try filling them in with plants, small trees, or even river rock for a natural look.

Other examples:

Paths and Stairs —If your slope isn’t dangerously steep, enhance its incline with paths or staircases made of stone. If you do have a very steep bank, consider a winding path made of pavers, or bricks that traverses your slope to create less of an incline. Stepping-stone paths are pretty, too, and add form and function to your backyard.

Rock Landscaping —Using rocks for landscaping adds some “nature charm,” while also holding plants and soil in place.Make indentations where rocks can sit without rolling and place different-sized rocks of varying texture and color together in groups. To avoid an all-rock look, leave spaces between groupings and spaces between some of the spaces to add medium-height plants or flowers to break up the landscape.

2. You can also stabilize the soil by planting the slope with a sturdy, fast-growing ground cover or native plants.

Some specific steps and recommendations:

a – Although the cost of moving a cubic yard of soil by mechanical means is low, it is none the less sensible to retain as much of the existing grade as possible, rather than to work completely at cross purposes to site conditions.

b – It is much more economical to push soil from one place on a property to another rather than have an excess of excavated soil hauled away or to bring more soil to the site. It is best, therefore, to try to strike a balance between cut and fill.

c – Topsoil, which is valuable, should always be pushed to one side before progressing further so that it may be re-spread when the job is done. Besides the consideration of cost, conservation is a factor here.

d – The ultimate cost of a slope treatment depends not only on immediate grading outlay, but also on future maintenance expenditures. Continual annoyance and replacement of topsoil and plant materials in the future are likely to follow an effort to get by with insufficient grading in the initial establishment of slopes.

Good Plants for a Slope

California lilac

Creeping juniper

Purple coneflower

Rattlesnake master

Russian sage

Snowberry

Star jasmine

Common periwinkle

Siberian carpet cypress

Once a slope has been structurally fashioned in a basically sound manner, it may be maintained that way indefinitely by the use of plant materials.

The only utilitarian value of vegetation is to prevent slopes which already have interior stability from being bullied by water. Plant materials are not effective against the forces involved in the sliding or caving-in of large volumes of material.

Grass is a common ground cover for erosion control. Once established, the grass affords excellent protection, but also requires constant maintenance.

Woody plants offer permanent protection with the advantage of low maintenance effort. Because slopes should be and usually are well drained, trees or plants which withstand dry soil conditions are, for most banks, the safest to use.

Since it is the surface that needs protection certain types of plants are better than others. Evergreen and bushy, dense growing plants have the greatest ability to soften the impact of raindrops and prevent soil grains from being splashed down hill.

Perhaps of even greater effectiveness are thicket or mat-forming plants. Plants of this type spread by suckers or root shoots or take root from trailing branches and in this manner bind a sizable area of soil. It is obvious, of course, that rapid-growing species give maximum protection faster than slow growing ones.

3. Alternatively, if you prefer a low-maintenance option that requires no watering and never having to climb the hillside to pull weeds, you might want to consider installing artificial turf.

Can Artificial Turf Be Installed on a Slope?

Synthetic turf is a popular choice for a wide variety of landscape designs. This is largely due to the fact that it provides the visual and tactile appeal of natural grass without the high level of maintenance. This makes it a particularly good choice for slopes, since the less time you spend maintaining your hillside landscaping, the better.

Here are six reasons you should consider fake grass for slopes:

1. Manufactured grass limits weed growth, which results in less time climbing hills to pull weeds.

2. It is a low-water option that does not require installing an irrigation system on your hillside.

3. Artificial turf can help control erosion and ensure proper drainage.

4. Synthetic grass is a durable, long-lasting option that will provide many years of hillside enhancement.

5. This incredibly low-maintenance landscaping option can save you lots of time and effort by consistently looking its best with very little care.

6. It can completely transform the look of your hill and give the slope a lush, green look all year long.

Now, even if these reasons appeal to your practical side, you may still have some concerns about installing artificial grass on slopes. The first concern for many folks if whether or not their synthetic lawn will look like natural grass. To learn more about this topic, we recommend reading Find Out What Makes Artificial Grass Look Real.

The second concern for some folks is whether or not manufactured grass can be laid on a slope, and some have even heard stories about synthetic turf slipping or shifting on hillsides. There are two important points to make here. The first is that, yes, improperly installed fake grass may shift, slip or otherwise not stay in place on a slope. The second important point is that professional installation can help you avoid this.

4. If you have a long slope, you might consider bringing in a contractor who can transform it into terraced levels that can be fortified with paving stone retaining walls and used for planting a vegetable garden, creating separate outdoor entertaining areas, installing a multi-level patio, growing fruit trees or simply planting with drought-tolerant plants.

Keep in mind that you may need to also include stairs or an automatic irrigation system into the design to allow you to maintain what you plant on the hillside.

Backyard slopes can be made into things of beauty, but before landscaping, it’s always a good idea to check with a landscape architect to ensure you’re not creating potential erosion problems.

Overall, if you’re still stumped, go with a mixture of deep-rooted California native shrubs, and trees, mixed with shallow-rooted shrubs that are mulched.

https://www.installitdirect.com/learn/landscaping-ideas-for-hillside/

1 note · View note

eviafoxhouse · 4 years

Text

Best places to visit in Evia in Municipality of Dirfion - Messapia

New Post has been published on https://www.eviafoxhouse.com/best-places-to-visit-in-evia-in-municipality-of-dirfion-messapia/

Best places to visit in Evia in Municipality of Dirfion - Messapia

The Municipality of Dirfion-Messapia is full of sights . Our travel guide has collected the main ones and presents them to you in the full article that follows.

TRIADA

Agia Kalliopi / Mausoleum of the Kriezotis Family

Northeast of the village of Triada, a short distance from the Byzantine church of Agia Triada (located here ) and under the shade of a centuries-old holly, is the naidrio of Agia Kalliopi .

It was erected by Spyridon Kriezotis, at the end of the 19th century, on the ruins of an existing Byzantine cruciform church, in the type of the inscribed cruciform.

It was dedicated by Spyridon Kriezotis, grandson of the chief Nikolaos, to Agia Kalliopi to honor the memory of his mother, Kalliopi. Over the years, the chapel, located near the mansion of the Kriezotis family, was used as a mausoleum.

Inside are kept the relics of all members of the family, except the ossuary of the chief Nikolaos Kriezotis, whose bones were deposited in 1863 in the chapel of Agios Ioannis Prodromos in Mytika.

Kriezotis Family Mansion

The mansion building, known as the ” Tower or Palace of Kriezotis “, was built in 1898 and is located here .

It is a stone-built two-storey building with wooden roof compositions. The building was the residence of the family of the grandson of the chief, Spyros Kriezotis.

The main building had two levels, the ground floor and the first floor. On the ground floor, in the central large area of the dining room, there were paintings, luxurious decorative objects and unique candlesticks, while the walls were decorated with carnations of the chief.

Characteristic of the interior of the palace was the rich decoration of the spaces with wood.

ATTALI

Byzantine Church of Panagia Theotokou

The church of the Entrances of the Virgin in Attali (see its location here ) has the same floor plan and almost identical dimensions (14.5 meters X 11.8 meters) with the nearby church of Agios Nikolaos.

It was built in the type of the cruciform inscribed with a dome and the church of Agios Nikolaos belongs to the same architectural type. The two monuments in the east end in three pentagonal arches, while in the west in a narthex, at the northern end of which there is an arcosol (burial monument).

They are the earliest of the few Evian cruciform inscribed temples. In particular, the temple of the Entrances is built of large and small, rough stones with the insertion of bricks and the use of rich plaster.

The floor of the temple was covered with marble slabs. In fact, on the floor of the central aisle there was the decorative theme of the pentacle. Many construction phases are located in the church and its original form has been altered by occasional interventions.

It is considered possible that the destruction of the iconostasis and its superstructure during the late Byzantine period is due to an earthquake. In the post-Byzantine times, the central aisle was formed into a one-room church with a gabled roof, a form that the church maintains to this day. The narthex and the side aisles are almost in ruins.

The area of the deacon on the south side was formed in linen (press) without knowing when. As for the sculptural members of the two temples, they are decorated mainly with plant and geometric themes, but also with symbols, such as the cross. They are an excellent example of sculpture of the late 10th – early 11th century.

LOUTSA

Byzantine Church of Agia Paraskevi

The church of Agia Paraskevi is located near the village of Loutsa at an altitude of 270 meters (ie right here ). It is a cross-roofed single-aisled church with external dimensions of 10.5 x 5.5 meters, which to the east ends in a three-sided arch.

It is built of roughly worked stones and fragments of tiles, placed randomly. Later are the four pillars, one on the west and three on the south side of the temple, as well as the supporting arch, inside.

The outer surfaces of the walls are coated. The founding inscription on the north wall of the church is remarkable.

He states that the fresco of the church became “the archpriest of the Most Venerable Kiros Lavrentios and the abbot of the Hieromonk Gerasimos, Hierodeacon Dometius and Savvas …”, but does not provide data for the dating of his painted decoration.

The murals, unfortunately, are not kept in good condition and some forms or even entire representations are difficult to identify. The space of the sanctuary is decorated with usual representations for the specific part of the temple, such as the Virgin Mary with Christ in a medal, with two angels framing it and the iconographic theme of Melismos with the collaborating hierarchs (it is an artistic rendering of the sacrament of Holy Communion ).

What impresses is the representation of the Second Coming, which extends throughout the western wall of the temple. The painter, whose name we do not know, has compiled a solid iconographic program, which adorns the entire interior of the temple.

He is a skilled artist, who, knowing well the use of color, created a quality ensemble, which can be dated to the first half of the 16th century.

Until 1833 the church was a catholic of the Monastery of Agia Paraskevi Loutsa, which was dissolved by decree of the Bavarian regent Von Maurer. In recent decades, the Archaeological Service has carried out limited rescue works at the monument.

STENI

Doctor’s Fountain / Mountaineering route

The beautiful Steni is not only famous for its taverns and cafes. 500 meters away from the center of Steni – next to the ravine – is the “doctor’s fountain” and is covered with a small tiled roof.

It is one of the most frequently visited fountains in Steni. Visitors are thirsty and often take their quality water with them.

After all, it is worth making the trip to the mountain shelter. You will walk in pines and plane trees, you will pass through the chestnut forest and the view of the shelter will compensate you even more! See the geographical location here .C

KAMPIA

Church of Agia Kyriaki (area of natural beauty)

In the traditional old settlement in Kato Kambia (altitude 270 meters), in a verdant ravine full of plane trees and running water, stands the peculiar church of Agia Kyriaki that is celebrated on July 7 (see the map here ).

This is a rare architectural type of temple, as part of it is part of the rock cave and the rest of the temple is built after cutting the rock.

The sanctuary and the east wall of the temple are part of the cave, while the south side of the rock was demolished and in its place a wall section was built for easier access to the public.

It is clear that due to the architectural peculiarity and the cavernous configuration, the temple does not follow the usual orientation (West to East). Its dating is not clear, but its naming is due to tradition.

According to her, in the caves of the cave, the inhabitants of the area discovered the icon of Agia Kyriaki looking for the lost goat of a young lady and so they gave her name to the church.

In recent years, a paved floor and a bridge have been built near the cave to cross the ravine, where one can take a walk and see the unique natural beauty.

It is also worth noting that inside the temple one can see the stalactites of the cave.

AGIOS ATHANASIOS

Agalis Gorge – Hiking trail

A few meters above the village of Agios Athanasios, on the outskirts of the mountain range of Dirfi, is the rare beauty gorge of Agali (see the location on the map here ).

Its riverbeds are overgrown with plane trees and lush vegetation. The trail leads to the refuge of Agali (altitude 930 meters), which is an ideal place for rest and recovery before reaching the summit.

Access to the refuge of Agali is possible by car (from Agios Athanasios to Glyfada – Vythouri Beach – Petali) through a beautiful route with pine and fir forests in a wild and alpine landscape.

In 2007 the small Finnish wooden house was built in order to inform visitors about the geographical and historical elements of the area.

Unfortunately, however, it remained closed from the moment of the completion of its construction and the configuration of the gorge of Agali until 2018, when it started operating as a cafeteria.

Hiking is organized on the paths of the wider area and there is the possibility for overnight (after consultation) with tents in the surrounding area of the shelter. E

KATHENOI

Church of Panagia Monomeritissa – Eria (area of natural beauty)

Two kilometers west of the village of Kathenon (on the border with Triada) and on the banks of the Messapi River are Eria . This is an area of exceptional natural beauty with waterfalls and age-old plane trees.

The existence of a section -probably an ancient aqueduct- and the location of tombstones in the nearby location “Alafokampos” indicate habitation in the area since antiquity.

Also, in the area of Eria there is the Byzantine monastery dedicated to the Nine Days of the Virgin, also known as Panagia Monomeritissa (Ypapanti).

The foundation of the monastery dates back to the 11th century or the end of the 12th – beginning of the 13th century, while it was in use until about the middle of the 19th century. Later, it passed into the ownership of Makrimalli Monastery.

Of the monastery complex, only the katholikon is preserved today . It is a temple with a cruciform cruciform with a dome measuring 4.8 x 6.5 meters.

It has a cylindrical dome, which rests on marble half-columns. The monument is built of irregular stones, between which bricks are inserted.

He underwent various interventions from time to time during the period of Latin and Ottoman rule. In contact with its south side, there was a building known as a cell, which was demolished in 1970.

On the same side, there used to be an attached chapel, which communicated with the katholikon through an arched door.

Two layers of frescoes are preserved in the temple. The original can be dated to the Paleolithic period, while the second, according to an inscription, was made in 1637 by Zacharias Drakoulis. The interior of the temple is dark and the frescoes are covered with a thick layer of soot.

However, the figures of Platytera, the Evangelists of the Pantocrator, etc. are recognized, which convince us that the painting decoration of the second phase of the illustration of the church (probably done in the context of the renovation of the church) is a sample of quality post-Byzantine painting.

The monastery is rumored to have been founded by Empress Theodora. Another tradition states that the church is “one-sided”, ie it was built in one day. The Turks gave so much time to the Christians to build their temples.

When the construction was completed, a Turk climbed the dome to demolish it. Reaching the top, however, and before she could touch him, she fell down and was killed.

Another legend states that every year on the day of Ypapantis, a deer appeared in the area, which after drinking water from the river, was sacrificed. They sacrificed it for a year without letting it drink water and since then it has never reappeared.

Also, for the name of the monastery there are various versions, such as that its name is due to the word “areos or aria”, which means rural and wooded area, or that it comes from the hair (“eria”) of sheep grazing in the area .

ΚΑΤΟΥΝΙΑ

Church of Saint- Giannis Katouniotis

It is a modern one-room church built in the 20th century and houses the miraculous icon of Agios Ioannis the Forerunner of Katouniotis (located here ).

In recent years, cells have been built in the surrounding area to accommodate the faithful who come with their vows and offerings to the saint.

Pilgrims regularly visit the church throughout the year to worship the icon and receive its blessing. The church celebrates the 29th of August, a date that is reverently honored by the Sharpening of the Holy Head of John the Baptist.

Agios Ioannis Prodromos Katouniotis has always been and is the support of the inhabitants of the area and in every difficulty they invoke him even today.

MAKRYMALLI

Monastery of Panagia Makrymallis

The monastery is located in the village of Makrymalli , 7 km north of Psachna and at an altitude of 290 meters in a pine-covered area (ie right here ).

It is an extensive and spacious monastery complex, which consists of a large courtyard, the monastery’s katholikon, reception areas, areas for the sale of small items, hostels and private living rooms of the monks.

The access to the monastery is through an asphalt road. The katholikon of the monastery is single-aisled (single-aisled) and has a tiled roof, consists of a small pronaos and a sanctuary and is a newer construction on the foundations of a Byzantine church, as indicated by fragments of surviving Byzantine frescoes in the sanctuary.

Inside the church there are hagiographies and a wood-carved throne. In the church are kept the reliquaries of Saints Tryphon, Charalambous, Ignatius, Nikita, the chariot of Saint Martyr Friday and the chariot of Saint Parthenios.

Although it is unknown when the monastery was founded and flourished, there is evidence that provides chronological data on its history, such as inscriptions and written references to sacred objects dating to 1754 and 1796.

It is probably a post-Byzantine building, which underwent several reconstructions, mainly after the Revolution of 1821 and the destruction from the German occupation in 1944.

During the 17th c. A.D. the monastery acquired large tracts of land from Christian donations. It is worth noting that Thanasis Androutsos, nephew of Odysseus Androutsos, grew up and was nurtured in the monastery, who after his studies was ordained a priest in Kastella.

During the revolution of 1821, the monastery played an active role in the Struggle, with the result that the Ottomans looted it. It was renovated, but dismantled in 1881, when it joined the monastery of Agios Nikolaos Galatakis in Lake Evia.

In 1908 it was radically renovated and reopened. From 1950 it was transformed into a nunnery, while in recent years it became a male nunnery again.

The name “Makrymalli” has been associated with the first abbot of the monastery, the icon of the Virgin, but also with shepherds of the area. The most prevalent version is that of the two brothers shepherds, who found the image of the Virgin Mary with Christ on a rocky hill, where they are said to have seen a flickering light.

This is where a large marble cross is placed today. According to tradition, the two brothers had long hair, from which the monastery was named.

POLITIKA

Medieval tower

In the center of Politikon, next to the Church of the Transfiguration of the Savior, rises a well-preserved and recently preserved medieval tower , which is a landmark for the area.

The monument has a square floor plan (6×6 meters) and is structured on four floors. The pre-eminent residence of the feudal lord is formed on the third floor with large windows, a fireplace and a kettle, which in times of peace was used as a toilet.

The main entrance of the tower, which was reached by an external retractable wooden staircase, was on the second floor, while the ground floor was used as storage space.

The current entrance, on the ground floor, was opened in 1973. The aim of the recent restoration work carried out by the Ephorate of Antiquities was to make the monument functional and accessible.

The tower is open to the public and is open to the public in collaboration with the Municipality of Dirfion-Messapia with the assistance of a local cultural association.

Hero Trail / Hiking Trail

Overlooking the northern Evian gulf, near the gorge of Ladas, there is a path, which today is known as ” The Path of Hero ” (located here ).

In the past it was used by lumberjacks, quarries, resin collectors and shepherds to move to their work areas, while at the same time connecting the village with a quarry.

The “Path of Hero” is special not only for its natural beauty. It is dedicated to the memory of the young Hero who passed away after a relentless fight for her health. Thus, the path was directly linked to human strength and the fight against death.

It is a path full of feelings of courage, strength and hope for the ascension of the human soul. Starting from the small theater north of Perivleptos Monastery, circular ascents-hiking can be done in two routes.

The most demanding is circular, 10 kilometers long and lasting about four hours with a maximum altitude of 460 meters. The second is suitable for families and young children, because it is easier. It reaches Ai-Giorgis by returning from the same road in about three hours.

Every year, on the first Sunday of November, climbers from all over Greece in collaboration with the Iro family and the Mountaineering Association of Chalkida organize a “Ascent of the Soul” honoring her memory.

PSACHNA

Preserved Buildings of Central Square (Municipal Library, Folklore Museum, Cultural Center)

The three preserved mansions in the central square of Psachna are clear examples of the socio-economic position of the families to which they belonged (their exact location here ).

They reflect the cultural production of the region while projecting important elements from the bourgeois organization of society, which experienced significant economic prosperity in the early 20th century.

Let’s get to know them better …

Cultural Center – Mansion of the family of Athanasios Georgios Doudalis (Boudoura)

The family of Athanasios Georgios Doudalis, known by the nickname “Boudouras”, lived in this separate mansion, and today it functions as a cultural center of Psachna .

Built in 1885, it was imposing, stood out for its volume and copied urban architectural elements. The purity of the geometry was adapted to the data of the surrounding area, without however altering its organizational structure.

It is a two-storey, stone building with many auxiliary spaces. It is characteristic that the loggia was absent, which was an architectural element of the time. On the ground floor there were many spaces, mainly storage.

In the “upstairs” were the main areas of the family, with the living room, rooms, etc. On the north and south side, there was a balcony supported by “forks” (supports). The staircase that is currently on the south side is additional, built for functional reasons, after restoration and restoration works.

Mansion of Georgios Keramidas – Municipal Library of Psachna

George Keramidas was a doctor. The mansion where the family lived is made of stone, built in 1892 and is a two-storey spacious building with a loggia and ondades.

It is not characterized by its size or large spaces. The ground floor was small, where the main storage spaces of the family were located, and in the “upstairs” was the “loggia” (covered plateau) and the “ondades” with the rooms, the “mesantres” (bed linen storage) and the ” daily ”.

Characteristic is the diagonal frontal wooden staircase that led to the “upstairs” and the balcony on its north side. The building was bequeathed to the Municipality of Messapia and since 2006 the Municipal Library of Psachna is housed there .

Mansion of the family of Georgios Fafoutis – Folklore Museum of Psachna

The mansion belonged to the Katsos family, a large landowner of Kastella, and was bought by the Leon family to donate as a dowry to the groom Georgios Fafoutis, who came from Sykamino Oropou.

George Fafoutis was an active and hardworking man. He maintained a tavern in the square and later became active in the trade and production of carbonated beverages. “Fafoutis gas” was very famous at the beginning of the 20th century.

The large family lived in the two-storey stone mansion, built around 1905. It is a large mansion, a great example of local architecture of the time.

The “bottom” was the storage space for the family. The ground floor in “C” layout was large to serve the many needs of the family. In the center there was an “everyday” space with a fireplace and a utility room for secondary uses.

Outside this room, in the courtyard, there were cisterns, where they gathered the grapes from the presses of the area and made tsipouro. The cauldron and the various utensils were oriented towards the side of the building of the mansion Keramidas.

The “anoi” was the official space of the family. It had the “ondades”, the formal living room with the characteristic luxury of its construction, which is evident in the decorated and colorful ceilings of its two spaces, but also of its corridors.

The spaces were adorned with “western” furniture, such as sideboards, shop windows, living room and dining room, characteristic of the economic prosperity and social order of the family.

Today, the mansion of the Fafoutis family houses the Folklore Museum of Psachna , which was inaugurated in 2004.

Monastery of Agios Ioannis of Kalivitis

The construction of the monastery of Agios Ioannis of Kalyvitis (exact location here ) dates back to the early Byzantine years (probably 5th century AD) and must have been built on the ruins of an ancient temple.

There are many architectural sculptures, which are preserved in the area and many others have been used as building materials in second use.

In 1245 a construction phase took place, which was connected with the hagiography of the church of the monastery. It is not known when the monastery was abandoned and the reasons for its demolition.

The katholikon suffered many destructions, as a result of which not even the marble floor with the colorful marbles in geometric shapes and combinations was saved.

Scattered are preserved entablatures, parts of the shield of the original iconostasis, capitals, decorated with birds and plant compositions.

There are many walled sculptures of the early Byzantine and post-Byzantine period that are preserved in the katholikon of the monastery . From the frescoes of the 13th century, in the present church are preserved only in the part of the eastern part and specifically in the two violations and in the part of the central arch.

In the north alcove, on the north wall, two frontal deacons are identified by their saintly inscriptions. The light-crowned male figure belongs to the deacon Prochoros and next to it is depicted the light-crowned deacon Stefanos the First Martyr with a strict and melancholic style.

Above the figures of the two deacons, in the lower right corner, a small part of a scene that fits the scene of the Transfiguration was revealed during the works.

The iconographic program of the niche of the sanctuary is divided into two zones. In the upper part of the niche is depicted a light-crowned, strict, imposing and majestic, in a position of blessing, the Old Man of Days and in the lower zone the Vision of Peter of Alexandria is represented with two full-length figures facing the center.

Jesus is depicted with teenage features, wearing a short tunic, and Peter, an old man in priestly clothes, both symmetrically rendered. The decoration of the deacon is organized in the quarter of the niche and lower on either side of the window.

In the quarter sphere of the niche, only the lower part of a figure is depicted, which is identified with the angel of the Great Parliament. Lower – to the right and left of the window – are two full-length frontal hierarchs.

On the right, the figure of the light-crowned Saint Sylvester with his hands raised in blessing and on the left a hierarchical figure (unidentified until recently).

The south wall depicts two more fathers whose only trunk survives. The high artistic quality and the special iconography are elements of the monumental painting that are found in the decoration of Agios Ioannis Kalyvitis.

Characteristics of the compositions are the clarity, the austerity, the archaic mood, the frontal postures of the figures and the originality in their organization and formulation. Of particular interest is the composition of the iconographic program which is original both in its conception and in its organization.

According to tradition, it was repaired by Russian monks during the Turkish occupation in the 18th century. The last major restoration effort took place in the 1920s, as the church of the Monastery in previous years had been ruined and severely damaged and part of it had fallen.

From the old temple part of the sanctuary was preserved and a small part of the temple and the rest was restored. Today the monument takes the form of a small three-aisled basilica.

Church of the Transfiguration of the Savior

The church of the Transfiguration of the Savior is a brilliant architectural jewel of church construction of the early 20th century. With its imposing size and its special location in the central square of Psachna, it dominates among the buildings (it is right here ).

It was built at the beginning of the 20th century by Sami craftsmen, who had settled in Psachna after the exchanges of populations in 1862 between Turkey and the Greek State.

According to residents, its construction began around 1890 and was completed in 1901. The temple was inaugurated on October 15 of the same year.

In the year 1912 it officially became the second parish of Psachna, as the church of Agios Nikolaos was no longer enough for the number of believers. The architecture of the church faithfully copies the Byzantine rhythm of the inscribed cruciform with a dome and its dimensions are around 9×18 meters.

The external form of the temple is characteristic, as the shape of the cross that bears the dome is more clearly deleted on the roof and the antennas of the cross are also expressed on the side faces.

Externally, the masonry is decorative and becomes visible through the ceramic decoration, as the two zones with the serrated decoration can be distinguished, which surround the temple. Also, the overlapping triple glazed windows of the antennas on the west, north and south sides have been rendered with intricate decoration. The east side is adorned with a three-sided arch with skylights along each side.

Characteristic of the exterior are the carved cornerstones, which were built crosswise, in each corner of the temple, enhancing its static. The symbolism of this rhythm is that the square, in which the cross (cross sacrifice – Resurrection) is inscribed, symbolizes the earth and the dome the sky. These two figures symbolize the created and the uncreated, the human and divine nature of Christ.

Photographic Team: Nikos Papathanasiou – Anna Retsa Source of texts: Karatzas N., Mantzorou I., Tsiris A., Karagouni N., Tourist – Historical – Informative Guide of the Municipality of Dirfion Messapia.

#Kampia #politika #Psachna #steni

0 notes

lifeoftravelers · 4 years

Text

Activities to thrill you in Malaysia

Some people are thrill seekers, and are always looking for that adrenaline rush, no matter where it leads them!

Speed, excitement, bumps and bruises, even a scar or two is worth it, body aches and all the rest!

If that's what you're looking for, and thrilling spills are your game, this list is for you!

ATV Ride, KL

ATVs, or all-terrain vehicles, allow you to ride rough terrain and lush vegetation, while continuing this adventure in the heart of the Malaysian forests and beyond. As with any outdoor activity, be sure to bring water and change of clothes. The rain is almost always expected, even if it is not planned!

Bungee Jumping

Bungee jumping is certainly NOT for sensitive souls. However, if you are looking for thrills, this is the ultimate activity for you! For the adrenaline junkies just waiting to jump in the air, one of the places you can do is the Sunway Lagoon Extreme Park.

Flyboarding in Putrajaya

The Flyboard, another exciting extreme water sport, will literally take you to greater heights!

This unique sporting experience is achieved by attaching a watercraft, which propels the Flyboard into the air, using air and water. For the moment, this sport is only available at Marina Putrajaya.

Paragliding

Tandem paragliding is available not too far from Kuala Lumpur, and is available year-round, depending on weather conditions. Currently, two main sites for this activity are in Selangor and Sabah.

Hiking and Trekking

While some might discuss the "extreme nature" of these activities, try a 3-day trekking trip in 2 nights to the Mulu Pinnacles!

For some laid-back, family-friendly activities, this basic nature-based activity is suitable for almost all age groups, with different levels of strength and endurance. Most of the hiking trails here will lead you to a waterfall or river, and you will certainly be rewarded with a fresh dip after all your efforts.

White Water Rafting

From beginner to hardcore, white water rafting is available in many parts of Malaysia; at Sg Gopeng, Slim River at Perak and Sungai Singor, which is on the border of Perak and Kelantan.

Diving

Perhaps the most "soft" extreme sports, diving will transport you to a whole new colorful and exciting world!

This activity is offered almost everywhere in Malaysia, from Kedah to Johor; from Perak to Sabah. The islands of Langkawi, Pangkor, Sibu, Perhentian, Tioman, to Sipadan, famous all over the world, are waiting to hypnotize you with all that they have to offer.

Wreck Diving

The difference between wreck diving and open water diving is that wreck diving is the exploration of the wreckage of ships, aircraft and other artificial structures. However, most wreck diving sites are on wrecks. One of them must be at least 18 years of age, hold an Advanced Open Water certification and prove that they have at least 50 registered dives. Additional certification requirements may include wreck bases, caverns or the like.

Ziplining

The zip line, or more commonly known as the flying fox, is an activity consisting of a pulley suspended from a cable, usually made of stainless steel, mounted on a slope. It allows travel by natural gravity, from the highest point to the bottom of the inclined cable, while being attached to a free-motion pulley.

Many places offer such activities, including extreme parks and nature-oriented business parks, including Sabah and Langkawi.

Parasailing

Parasailing is a recreational kite activity in which a person is towed behind a vehicle while attached to a specially designed wing that looks like a parachute, also called a sail. The mobile anchor of the kite can be a car, a truck or a boat.

Via Ferrata, Mount Kinabalu

A via ferrata (or "iron route" in Italian, via ferrate plural) is a protected mountain trail consisting of a series of bars, rails, cables and bridges surrounding the rock wall. It provides access to panoramic parts of the mountain that are generally only accessible to climbers and mountaineers.

There are some minimum requirements for those wishing to participate in this activity, but rest assured that you are using modest equipment, a good head for heights and a basic technique, walking on the Via Ferrata is very safe, led by an experienced guide .

Mountain Torq is the highest via ferrata in the world and Asia's first via ferrata is located on the rock face of Mount Kinabalu, Panalaban. Beginning at 3,200 meters and ending at 3,776 meters above sea level at Mount Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysian Borneo.

The minimum requirements for the first time via ferrate climber are:

Average fitness level (able to walk up to 3,200 meters in 6 hours)

10 years and older for Walk the Torq

17 years old and up for Low's Peak Circuit

A minimum height of 1.3 meters

Free to restrict physical disabilities, be fit, healthy and without fear of emptiness to fully participate in the activity safely

No previous mountaineering experience required

A maximum of 6 mountaineers per group is allowed to perform Via Ferrata at a time.

Microlight

Microlight is a one or two seater aircraft that is mainly simulated by the movement of hang-gliding. It is relatively new in Malaysia. We will have the unique chance to enjoy an aerial view of the destination,

BASE Jumping

BASE Jumping is the sport of jumping structures, hills or unmoved mountains. YOU MUST be a qualified parachutist before attempting BASE jumping. Every year, the KL Tower organizes the KL Tower International BASE Jump (www.menarakl.com.my), which brings together the BASE Jumpers for a series of international jumps organized in Malaysia.

Skydiving

Parachuting, undeniably, will give you an adrenaline rush like the others! Getting out of a moving plane and feeling the wind blowing over your face is not a thrill easy to forget, and certainly NOT everyone!

If you do not like getting out of planes, maybe you can start with the sport by trying it inside? Yes, inside! Head to the 1-Utama Mall in Petaling Jaya, where Airrider is located.

Shark Diving

Fancy a swim among the hammerheads?

Diving offers a unique experience of discovering underwater life. The colors and variety of marine life are incomparable on earth. If you love lush tropical forests, then you will be fascinated by the unrestrained micro-life and the gentle giants of the ocean.

Shark diving gives you unique sensations, and if you're feeling a bit worried, beginners can try out the indoor and controlled environment offered by Aquaria KLCC.

Caving

There are hundreds of caves in Malaysia and cave enthusiasts will be spoiled for choice, from the huge caves far away from Mulu National Park to the busy tourist sites within the city limits, such as the Batu Caves.

Some caves, like the Gua Tempurung cave in Perak, are quite accessible because the entrance is close to the main roads, similar to the Batu caves, while others are only accessible by trekking or even by boat.

Wakeboarding

Wakeboarding, very simply, is skateboarding on the water. You simply surf on the surface of the water behind a motorboat at high speed.

The sport is rather new in Malaysia, but it attracts more and more fans among thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies!

Currently, there are two places where you can indulge in this sport of wet and wild water sports: mines (Philea Mines Beach Resort) and Marina Putrajaya.

Kayaking within the Langkawi Geopark

Kayaking is pretty easy, and most people would have tried it at least once in their life. Kayaking in the Langkawi Geopark is an experience that is not available elsewhere!

Maneuvering in Langkawi mangroves offers a taste of adventure and exercise while enjoying nature. The trip will also offer the chance to become acquainted with the ecology of mangroves, especially with wildlife, such as monkeys, vipers, eagles, otters, some endemic birds and the common mustache lizard.

Waterfall Abseiling

Get off the edge of the rocks in a fast waterfall. It sounds exciting and the most difficult!

Abseiling is the sport of repelling a series of lines along waterfalls that can reach the height you dare to try, depending on your level of expertise. Like any other extreme sport, safety first!

Rock Climbing

Climbing requires a certain set of skills and strength, and certainly not for the faint hearted!

The most popular site will be the Batu Caves in Selangor and offers around 170 routes. With so many routes, the site offers a challenge for all levels of climbing.

Malaysia being a tropical country, the weather can be quite unpredictable, but do not worry! We have the largest Indoor Climbing Center in Asia, Camp 5, located on the 5th floor of the 1 Utama Shopping Center. It is the largest climbing gym, 24 m high and fully air conditioned. The gym also offers a 270-degree panoramic view of the city, a café and a climbing workshop. 400 rocks, main roads and upper ropes, suitable for all, from beginner to advanced, are available here. The itineraries are modified and changed every 3 to 6 months to keep things fresh and stimulating.

Best Travel agency in Lahore

Record-Breaking, 1,111-Meter-Long Waterslide Opens In Malaysia

8 Best Beaches In Koh Samui For The Perfect Thai Breakout!

Here’s the Top 5 Honeymoon Destinations For Couples In Malaysia

According To Experts, Giving Children A Vacation Instead Of Toys Can Lead To Advanced Brain Development

#Travel #Tour #Travel agency

0 notes

ratherhavetheblues · 5 years

Text

CLAIRE DENIS’ HIGH LIFE “It’s called a taboo…”

Although this film, from 2018, proceeds with an English lexicon, it is most important to comprehend the French title. Une Vie en Hauteur, translates as, “a haughty, superior, arrogant approach toward others.” What sort of intransigence could be in play within our film today? There is, as we all know at some level, a distemper underway between amateurs of reality and those professionals regarding the former as having failed to digest the ultimacies already in full flower, namely, religion, humanitarianism and science. (All of which, seemingly, despite little tiffs, well embarking unconditionally all three of them at once.) With her film, High Life, filmmaker, Claire Denis, has squarely ventured into that latter buttress, science, whereby she stands (in many eyes) to be embarrassed by the “hauteur” of her betters. Moreover, let’s not kid ourselves that such “ladies” pastimes will be merely met with droll tolerance.

Our helmswoman here does have up her sleeve the resources of a guy who posthumously maintains a filmic action as far from “ladies concerns” as you can get, namely, Ingmar Bergman, an avatar of very high problematic. She has deployed for our considerations a film which, on the surface, has nothing to do with science, namely, The Seventh Seal (1957)—a biblical concomitant which leaves room for heresy during 12th century Sweden, bristling with witch-burning, flagellation and a far-reaching plague. A couple, Jof and Marie, itinerant circus entertainers, choose to be not fans of the regional leadership (just back from a crusade), who obsesses about living forever, by somewhat odd but actually usual means. The couple—but Jof definitely in the lead—see in their infant son a budding acrobatic genius and juggler the likes of which the world has never seen. Those latter gifts will reappear in our matter before us, in a scenario millennials’ into the future, whereby the march of (bored?) science has dreamed up travel far beyond the Solar System to transport death-row killers into the range of the nearest black hole, and others’ beyond, in hopes of some miracle. During this time-bending amazement, one protagonist, Monte, the highest flyer, another Jof, but very different, what with the bloody Jacobean melodrama blazing, encounters another such craft from that site of inspiration, but this time with a crew of dogs.

The first scenes appear to be far remote from a saga reeling from “hauteur,” let alone outer space. We begin with a lush and sunny vegetable garden sparked with reverberant musical undergrowth. Gentle mist brings about an ambience of decidedly earthy locale. Then a rather jarring note—a muddy pit and a ladder looking down. A baby cries, and we’re soon taken to an office where the child stands up in an improvised playpen, watching two screens featuring American Indians. The baby babbles happily, and, as if a cue, we cut to an astronaut, repairing something on the surface of the gray craft, while being connected by radio to the office. He smiles on hearing the happy child. “Da-da,” she calls. “Dada,” it is.

Then down to business. The show that day on the screens is short on baby talk. On the monitor at the left, there is, in silhouette, an aboriginal warrior on his horse (filmed in black and white). The peculiar headpiece resembles a bird of prey, or also a wolf’s head. (The world of wolves being germane in Bergman’s eyes, particularly in the film, Hour of the Wolf [1968].) On the monitor at right, we have a dying brave with, if not an atomic bomb, a lot of smoke pouring upward. The baby smiles. When the screen becomes a sunburst void, the young viewer begins to cry. The dad tries, “Shhh,” as a fix. She screams, and the enhanced communication factor causes a fright which results in the tool he was using to fly into the primal darkness. On his way in, we see a close-up of Monte’s mouth along with two cold spotlights in the surround. (Inherent cold?) Also, we see him wearing a set of underclothes which might have been used in the 12th century. Just before that entry, the repairman repairs to a reverie of circular stones and hardened mud in semi-darkness. Amidst that apparition was a small tooth-like, white object. Then the imagery attends to sharpened focus, and an arm with a bloody hand holding a bloody rock, which promptly relinquishes its burden into the void, to be followed by the arm lifting upward and quickly disappearing (perhaps elicited by the baby’s howl startling him to drop his wrench into infinity). Hour of the Wolf includes its protagonist fracturing the skull of a bothersome child by a similar action. And Monte, as later seen in flashback within that first flashback, had been on death row due to crushing the head of a young girl with the rock seen in that vision. Her annoyance to Monte involved noticing the mutilated and drowned dog of his he’d savaged, where we were able to see our-dad-of-the-hour displaying the full jacket from the avant-garde glimpse of sleeve.

When finally stifling for the time being that horror, the reformed travelling killer proves to be not so shabby a single parent. By way of the ladder, he accesses the garden, chooses a legume and promptly and gently provides a healthy pablum. After that, seated on the kitchen floor, he bathes the girl with skill, affection and patience. They play awhile with a red devil sort of doll. (Later, he withstands the girl’s loud and long crying jag.) But his loving solicitude does have a veer. With attention to emotive care, he delivers a sort of eccentric Ted Talk. “Don’t eat your own shit… Don’t drink your own piss… Don’t swallow horseshit… It’s called a taboo, tooo…booo… If my old man could see me now… Brake the laws of nature… You’ll pay for it, you son of a bitch!” After hours of deafening screaming, Monte complains to his only listener. “So many tears from such a tiny little body…Please, it’s gonna kill me…” It stops. The baby pulls at the skin on his arm. “Look at that,” he says. Monte sits by the bed, beholding a miracle. After she falls asleep, he says, “You don’t drown them like a dog… It’d be so easy… That’d be a first, and then me.” This sequence ends with him and her at the garden. She feeds him a strawberry, and he’s all smiles. At the ladder, he holds her and encourages her to climb up. “Up, up…”

“Don’t eat your own shit,” would be a strange but potent gambit as to disinterestedness. The avatars of advantage—and they number by the billions—can’t get enough of dubious golden oldies. Denis pivots at this point, whereby the action up till now constitutes the newest stage while flashback to the preboarding and then subsequent earlier vignettes march apace. Why? We need to see, by way of the history of this flight, how bad and how good things go under the aegis of a hard and dominant sell. Though the film finds Monte trying not to eat shit by challenging a lead pipe punk, namely, Boyse, for carving with a hard and sharp weapon a graffiti into a wall at the medical zone, we encounter her first a bit out of order (very appropriate for her) as an insert showing particulars before she’s arrested. Boyse, we’ll tell you now, is the baby’s mom, induced by the medic, Doctor Dibs, the Pedant of Pregnancy, who has recruited, all the guys but Monte, to a daily regime of masturbation for the sake of in vitro fertilization—the payoff being a mild drug. Her one and only success being with stand-off, Monte, as we’ll describe in the order of the flashback.

Whereas Boyse, as you’ll see, is almost totally feral and destructive during her stint in the sky, there is a brief but searing episode involving her on land, which leaves you enchanted. Like a great acrobat, she gracefully and powerfully uses the instances of the boxcar to reach the roof—in this rooftop position being kin to Monte. Moreover, the travellin’ kids resemble, somewhat, Jof and Marie, in their caravan. (A third rider, at another place on the train, puts up his middle finger and smiles in a rather shy manner to no one in particular; but to everyone in fact.) As night takes over, she leans back in a shallow container and relishes the currents from the plunge of the iron horse, and the darkness. She and her cohort sleep closely and on cardboard. Almost as gritty as old-time coal miners, it is the grottiness on their exposed calves that both repels and endears them to us. One more noteworthy, earlier moment on terra firma, consists of her stretching out here hand, to feel the ripple of prevailing wind as the train races on. In doing so, she’s surprisingly at work on her education, an education you won’t find in college because the jailers there have a very big gun (named, classical rational thought) trained on students and faculty alike. We saw that same laconic gesture with the protagonist of Denis,’ White Material (2009), wherein she was having too much adventurous—actually, suicidal—fun to heed the classical rational chopper screaming at her to get the hell up and out of a nasty civil war.

Back to the dust-up at the hospital/ lab, Boyse rips a long wound along Monte’s arm, for his interfering in her showing how little she respects the doctor. (Bergman had a long history of portraying medics as not up to the intimacies of sensibility.) While being patched up by Dr. Dibs (that term denoting Straight A’s as far as it goes), the patient, rather surprisingly, sees fit to explicitly mention that he sees value in her range of interests. (Though he comes across as an inflected born-again Aquarian, he does have a whack of pedantry. Will it cripple, over [bloated] time here, his scatological commitment to disinterestedness? [Back to the time of the baby, we see him earnestly posting reports—for instance, how he removed and replaced the defective piece of surface—while such messaging had been defeated by the light-years’ gap. On the other hand, he brags, “I never caved in” [to the sleep-killing noise]. And then the baby’s strawberry gift to Monte; and Boyce’s strawberry hair and complexion, once scrubbed up. Bergman’s, Wild Strawberries [1957] being a parable of pristine recovery. The numeral “7,” placed on the craft and on all the uniforms, perhaps refers to the release date, 1957, of both The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. The signage, “9,” on the dog craft, might refer to Bergman’s, The Passion of Anna, 1959, where the protagonist is a killer of farm animals. Denis often joins Jim Jarmusch’s umbrage [not to mention’s that of Kelly Reichardt] toward those abusing entities far more consistently and effectively balanced than humans. Monte’s history of killing his dog, not to mention killing his neighbor, would be perhaps a factor not completely resolved.)

We already have a lot of cards on the table, here; but a direction to thrill us is nowhere to be seen. Or, rather, I’ve found it advisable until now, that the soundtrack and playlist be stilled, the better to orient the viscosity and traction struggling to make headway. Denis’ musical force, “Tindersticks” (having already almost stolen the show in her film, 35 Shots of Rum [2009]), endeavor, by reverberant and seductive aural thrust, to further illuminate the mastery of eschewing one’s own shit. Much startling pain and confusion are right around the corner. But it is the measure of thrust (acrobatics) we must especially ponder.

We could describe the crisis woven for us to be the limits of control. As it happens, Jim Jarmusch put out, in 2009, a film, called, The Limits of Control, including actress, Tilda Swinton, tall, thin and blonde, who comes to an unpleasant end. Another of the killers onboard here, rather alike Tilda (but with a prominent scar the length of her right cheek), confronts Dibs, “Why do you keep taking this sperm?” Her stressed response is, “The odds are not in our favor. But when my work of perfection is achieved…” That unwelcome question drives the perfectionist to another dimension of bounty, situated by the stairs close to the earthy garden, namely, that presiding lunge of emotive delight, known as the fuckbox, a small but powerful rollercoaster to help survive the stupid fuckers who stuck them there. Joining Dibs nearer to what really matters to her, when freed of taboos, and with the band of the day attending to reverb and real invention, she, along with means of intervention, joins those dance rebels (writhing acrobats) like Loie Fuller, Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker and Martha Graham. (The Bergman film—and right here I’d like to declare how many viewers were wrong about it being a flop, namely, The Serpent’s Egg [1977], features such a dance innovation.) On ending her gig, she immediately bumps into Monte headed to the garden. “I know I look like a witch,” she says. Her handsome outreach (juggling) is met by Monte’s pedantry, “That doesn’t seem to do you much good.” Her retort, “Better than you think,” does, at least leave room for imperfection. Monte, overly proud to tell himself and her, “I kept my fluids to myself,” continues, “So humiliating… You need to wipe your nose.” He rubs her upper lip. An odd register between a boss and an underling, however the miasma may run. But not an odd register between spouses. (Boyse will, later on, have the nerve to pull from her that Dibs had wiped out her whole family. But her credentials gave her a measure of gravitas.) The one sworn to saves lives argues, “You all come to look at me at night.” He counters, “You’re foxy and you know it. I just can’t understand your mission… I still believe in the mission. However, he can conclude, “It’s just a new religion for you.” And she can swing back to, “Because I’m totally devoted to reproduction.” She leaves him with, “Happy Monk, going to sew your fields.”

The slipping and sliding of that twosome on the go, close to the speed of sound, have, going forward, neither the luxury nor the talent to polish their genius. On their voyage to short love and long death, they become immersed with disease and murderous hate. But their far from insignificant efforts lift this crash to something sublime. Boyce, swamped by her refusal to recognize limits of control involving a paradoxical agency, peels away from the center of the action, to be briefly superseded by the leukemia of a man beset by the lurking of radiation. Having a glimpse of her at her level best, we’re not astonished that Dibs has a heart. Her empathy strikingly conveys cinematically by the superimposing over her face of the cancer cells from a scan. So engaged is she by soothing the pain in gently touching him, the dying man kisses Dibs and she responds in kind. In contrast, there is Monte, with light years away from wisdom, crudely insisting, “I have good genes.” He adds, “Stink, the usual stench. It gets me hard…” Dismissing such trash, she assures the victim she’ll dull his pain. “There is nothing to fear, I promise…” He responds, “Everything’s gonna’ be fine…” On the heels of that real confluence, she unfortunately declares, “No one to help me, as I’m helping you… No one to put me out of my misery… I’m alone with my guilt…” The man closest to death tries to say something. She puts her ear to his mouth. She inserts the poison, and she mourns the disappearance, more profound than a black hole.

Also getting him hard in this moment is a frail young Brit with a triangular tattoo on his neck and another one on his arm. He’s no Stephen Hawking (that celebrated black-hole-mathematically-sharp-gazer); but there is something about his irreverence and appetite for the flashy—following up Dibs at the earthquake room, and addressing her as, “Fucking cock block” –which is bound to be spectacular, if not tremendously substantive. In the wake of the long death throes, he wakes up in the middle of the night and discovers that he craves more dark stories. He comes to a three-woman bedroom and decides to rape Boyse. The ensuant disarray involves the tall skeptic wedded to the limits of control trying to help a figure who knows another field of dynamics. The former gets dragged out to the corridor and beaten senseless. Monte arrives and subdues the rapist; and while his attention is elsewhere in the chaos another woman with a knife stabs the troublemaker many fatal times, including ripping out his eyes.

Earlier on, there is a dip to our planet where a celebrity pundit conducts an interview with a Millennial journalist, around Boyse’s age. They’re sitting in First Class, and the subject is the flight and what a shame the physicists are on the wrong track to rehabilitate criminals. He’s particularly miffed that the space riders on the rapid move, with a vehicle resembling a ghetto Walmart, will never return to Earth. Dibs, though sleeping through the little war, is on the hook to elevate the tone she actually knows quite a bit about. (If she felt like it, she’d have pondered the syntheses flashing on the two triangular tattoos, and the triad of lights at the craft’s rear end.) Beyond lockdowns she knows she needs some magic, being a witch, a bit more stable than the witch in The Seventh Seal, who, nevertheless, does better than the pundit. Sometime, perhaps prodigious speed-of-light later, she tip-toes to Monte’s bed and sort of rapes him. While he sleeps through the invasion, she pledges her love to him. She kisses his hand; she sucks his finger; she opens her blouse. “Will you hold me?” she whispers. “Why don’t you take me in your arms? I close my eyes. I hold you… Hold me…” She mounts him. “Feel me, Monte.” Astride, and a moment of far-sighted love, she kisses him. “Monte, thank you!” She carries the semen to the lab, places it in a vial, comes to Boyse’s bed, kisses her belly and introduces the semen. This singularity elicits a blaze of a galaxy tinted with pink hues.

Soon after the violent targeting of Boyse, and quite a while before she’s pregnant, she’s with Dibs at the clinic. The witch remarks, “Not so easy to get inside you as you think…” Boyse, rather surprisingly, laments, “I’ll never have kids. I’m sure of it.” (That happens to be the same remark by Eve, a flakey and promiscuous wife, in Bergman’s film, Shame [1968].) The hardened cynic asks for confirmation that the controller killed her youngster. “With a knife!” is the answer. Countering her dismay, she moisturizes her hands and braids her remarkably long hair. Soon after Boyse, with a baby in an incubator and pouring out milk, there comes to her a storm of resentment concerning a looming loss of wildness. (Not so easy to get inside the you.) Dibs’ delight in this coup (Monte not yet up to speed) coincides with a close encounter of the first of many planned and completely daft “experiments” –perhaps a Trump-like administration in play—with a neighborhood of comic-based thrills. The skeptical blonde had been tagged to take one for the team, but Boyse, thinking that her best move would be a comic book finale, kills the intended and goes on to kill herself with a black entity demanding grown-up reflection.

There is a cordial black (perhaps a one-time traitor of “intelligence”) who shares the work of gardening, and who misses his gospel-based wife. His quirky will to die coincides with the outset of Monte’s tenure of parenting. Dibs, our protagonist’s not-quite-to-roll-on as a Marie to Monte’s Jof, due to her being assassinated by one of her many enemies, and according by him a dignified funeral in slow-motion upon the heavens, may have lost a new outlook on life. But Monte, that lucky stiff, shows us a possibility and a failed possibility of some measure. (As seen before the long, long flashback, there was now visibility about his visit to the multiplex’s morgue [with a complement awaiting a miracle], suiting them out and flushing them out to graces of dynamics they hardly knew. One other thing, he descends to a tantrum concerning the phenomenon of death there. Looks like overcoming eating your own shit is still a work in progress.)

As we begin to put an end to that early odd story, the witch’s singularity has overshot that noisy baby girl. (One moment back there, shows Monte opening the incubator door. He holds the baby and he smiles.) She’s an adolescent now, and the delight with the baby has been overrun by bothersome questions—a bothersome girl about that age having once been murdered by him. Monte’s first annoyance onscreen is that she insists upon sleeping with him. “Get outta here…Too heavy now…Go back to your own bunk… Crazy girl!” In her bunk she calls out, “Too far…”

Facing the day, we are struck by the shabbiness of their clothes and the craft’s interior. Will to live is on the line. The baby’s name is Willow. Their dilemma is extraordinary, but not unprecedented. How to go forward in what certainly appears to be a dead-end. (Boyse and her friends on the freight were about that.) Monte has become subdued; but he does now instinctively describe an acrobatic move with his hands. The ship is an eyesore, but in addition to its long history of essential emptiness, it continues to maintain three lights in triangular form. The Hawking departure went nowhere. But the magic of true dialectic was there for the asking. Willow is of a mind to say, “Looks like out.” The visit from “9” (perhaps, as mentioned, regarding Bergman’s film, The Passion of Anna [1969], where the title figure comes to light as a maniacal killer of farm animals) is probably unhelpful regarding their being between a rock and a hard place. (Moreover, there is the virtual date of 1959 for the Bergman film, The Magician, where a wizard is not.) But, then, beasts are not to be overlooked. Then there is the notice, on a dysfunctional apparatus, announcing, “Communication Error.” This barrier somehow drives Willow to realize, “We don’t need help.”

In the brush with the dogs, Monte covers her eyes, guessing more slaughter to come. Its turning out to be merely sad sends her reverting to childishness. “I want a dog so bad!” She calls him cruel for worrying about an epidemic, a plague. “What do you know about cruelty?” he snaps. (The plague being probably everywhere.) He retreats to the garden and washes up. She tells him, “You’re right, dad. I’m sorry. I have everything I need here…” (That couldn’t be right, could it?) The soundtrack rings out a far-reaching possibility. The undirected screen comes back to life, and delivers a Half-Time American Football marching band (perhaps not so far-reaching). He notices her in the disposition of praying. “What God are you praying to?” She explains, “I saw them on the random images from Earth. I just wanted to know how it feels. An event onscreen shoes the ancient blue and white Swedish flag, from the era of Jof and Marie. They have a view of another black hole.” “It’s like a mouth that just swallows up,” he says. “Too big.” she agrees. But she comes back with, “We should try it. To feel it” [Boyse felt it]. Monte’s hair is now pepper and salt. He quietly chides, “Thought we were supposed to be drifters.” (That couldn’t be right, could it?) She persists, “But it’s so big… I think the density is very low.” He shakes his head. “I believe it,” she concludes. Now they’re at the entry zone, setting up a two-seater, like the one Boyse commandeered. Something possesses her to add, “I’m sad you’d leave your data, even your prisoner list” [pedantry being a hard disease to beat]. In quite a mood swing, resembling her mother, she declares, “I’ll be destroyed by the fire wall of the black hole, anyway!” Now en route, she over activating the ways of acrobatics, she reports, “Here’s the fire wall. I know it. We’ll make it through.” From here to there, she turns to the super-quixotic: “Do I look like my mother?” [quite a question]. Since she clearly looks more like Monte [or Dibs] than Boyse, his answers, as to her mother’s features, are all no’s. He tells her she has rodent teeth… a little rat… But he grants her, “You’re special. You’re like no one else. I love that.” Their little ship has only two lights. The magic did not prevail. But there was some golden to love.

We then see a rapid re-spooling of scenes of defeat: the aboriginals; the garden; #7… With an oxygen level of appalment, the drama takes over, asking why did they shut down? True, there were mountains (as per Monte) to manage. But the second necessity, juggling, was hardly considered in this rocketing blaze of being a soloist, first and foremost.

This film’s underwhelming optics plays into that aberration. But its aural life brims with reverberance, a ripple of energy, wherein juggling comes to life, and that careless term, “the heavens,” comes onboard. Denis’ association with the British band, Tindersticks, has carried us to new frontiers of mood; and mood, whether acknowledged or not is pretty much everything. Sonic acrobatic initiatives and their juggling responsiveness-in-appreciation installs a work and play space to challenge the suicidal outcome in High Life. Were the last two standing fully aware of that dance of life, the radical confinement could have sustained duets and solos-not-so-definitively-solo.

Willow

Willow, where are you hiding now?

In the dappled light, deep in the trees

The spiders and the centipedes

Crawl across your hands, across your knees.

Willow, do you walk across the sand?

Willow, do the waves crash and fall?

And their fingers tickle at your feet

And pull a little as they retreat.

Do you feel the rushing forward?

Though you’re standing still?

Willow, are we rushing forward, are we standing still?

Willow, do you crouch among the rooftops?

Willow, do you listen to the city wheezing?

And your dreams, they stretch beyond the clouds

And past…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOHFktF5E1o

#claire denis

0 notes

laraehrlich-blog · 5 years

Photo

Original content owned & copyrighted by Green Global Travel.

When you travel the world as much as we do, you begin to realize that most hotels are actually pretty boring and conventional.

From plush pillows and flat screen TVs to mini bars and continental breakfasts, most decent hotel brands basically offer the same amenities. The only thing that really changes is the view. But every once in a while you’ll visit a unique hotel that truly stands out.

From Maasai Mara, we’ve been fortunate to stay in quite a few unusual hotels.

We’ve found that amazing hotels and eco lodges can help to make a good trip great, and turn a great trip into a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

While we’ve traveled a good bit in the 9 years since we READ MORE: The World’s Best Eco Lodges, Eco Resorts & Eco Hotels

Unique Hotels in Africa

Cool Hotels in Asia

Amazing Hotels in Europe

Unusual Hotels in Central America

Unique Accomodations in North America

Adventure Hotels in South America

HOTELS IN AFRICA

Photo courtesy Hippo Point Wildlife Sanctuary

1. Hippo Point Wildlife Sanctuary (Naivasha, Kenya)

Despite its name, this sanctuary is better known for its screensaver-worthy views of Read Reviews and Check Rates. –DeMarco Williams

READ MORE: Animals in Kenya: A Guide to 40 Species of Kenyan Wildlife

Pelican Point Lodge

2. Pelican Point Lodge (Walvis Bay, Namibia)

Sometimes a hotel is made unique by virtue of its design, and other times it’s more about an unusual location. In the case of Pelican Point Lodge, it’s both!

In terms of design, the luxury hotel was built inside an old harbor control building situated right beside a classic lighthouse. All of the rooms were renovated and modernized to include amenities such as en suite bathrooms, free Wifi, and private balconies. There’s also a gourmet restaurant on site.

But the real showstopper is the ultra-luxurious Presidential/honeymoon suite on the top floor, which offers spectacular 360º views of the entire Pelican Point peninsula.

Which brings us back to location. Pelican Point Lodge is as remote a romantic hotel as you can imagine, surrounded by nothing but sand and surf. But it’s a great place for wildlife lovers, with huge Dolphins, Read Reviews and Check Rates. –Bret Love

READ MORE: How to Grade Captive Dolphin Facilities

Hotel Kagga Kamma, South Africa

3. Hotel Kagga Kamma (Lochlynne, South Africa)

Located in the Cederberg Mountains in Read Reviews and Check Rates. –Bret Love

READ MORE: My Life-Changing Experience in South Africa

HOTELS IN ASIA

Treehouse Hideaway by Maria Haase

4. Treehouse Hideaway (Bandhavgarh National Park, India)

This eco-lodge is unique not only because it’s a luxury treehouse, but also because it’s located inside Bandhavgarh National Park in Indian animals right from your treehouse balcony, or at one of the observation towers throughout the property. I only saw Tigers during my safari in Bandhavgarh’s Core Zone, but was told that they’ve had Tiger and Leopard sightings right there on the lodge’s property. Amazing, right?

The Pugdundee Treehouse Hideaway only has 5 private treehouse suites. While the decor is rustic, they offer all the amenities of a luxury accommodation. Guests enjoy rain-head showers, air conditioned rooms with a tea & coffee station, and extremely comfortable beds.

Rooms usually come with full board and 1 daily safari. While they do not have a pool or spa on the property, you can use those facilities at their nearby sister property, King’s Lodge.

Another point I loved about my stay at the Treehouse Hideaway was that the Pugdundee company takes sustainability very seriously. They eliminated single use plastic, source their food locally, hire mostly local staff, and offer education about the local environment and Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Maria Haase of India Up Close

READ MORE: Tiger Safari in Ranthambore National Park, India

Nine Hours Capsule Hotel by Jonathan Look, Jr.

5. Nine Hours Capsule Hotel (Tokyo Airport, Japan)

Capsule hotels are high-density accommodations, mostly in Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Jonathan Look Jr. of Life Part 2

READ MORE: Japan Photos: 15 Pictures From a Dream Come True

Seaventures Dive Rig by Rachel Heller

6. Seaventures Dive Rig (Borneo, Malaysia)

Seaventures Dive Rig is an extremely unusual hotel because it’s located in a converted oil rig. It was moved from another site, where it served as housing for oil rig personnel, and placed near Mabul Island, off Malaysian Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Rachel Heller of Rachels Ruminations

READ MORE: Top 25 Things to Do in Malaysia for Nature Lovers

Crazy House by Christine Rogador

7. Crazy House or Hang Nga Guest House (Da Lat, Vietnam)

Crazy House or Hang Nga Guest House is a popular, but quirky accommodation in Da Lat, Vietnam. It was designed by Vietnamese architect Đặng Việt Nga, who admitted it was inspired by Antoni Gaudi, the architect who designed the famous Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

The building looks like a mix of expressionist influence with a hint of a fairytale coming to life. The main design resembles a giant tree with caves, branches, spider webs, plants, narrow pathways, and stairs surrounding the building. It was built by Đặng Việt Nga in 1990 as a way to remind people how Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Christine Rogador of Ireland Travel Guides

READ MORE: Saving Asian Animals (10 Wildlife Conservation Programs)

HOTELS IN EUROPE

La Balade Des Gnomes, photo by Michelle Barrett

8. La Balade Des Gnomes (Durbuy, Belgium)

The world-renowned La Balade Des Gnomes is located in Durbuy, Belgium, about a 90-minute drive south of Brussels. You can really only reach this unusual hotel by car, but it’s worth the drive, which allows you to take in the lush forests and winding rivers of the Ardennes region.

If you’re a fan of unique places to stay, you won’t find many more interesting than this quirky accommodation. Upon entering the hotel grounds, you’re immediately drawn into a somewhat bizarre fantasy world.

Each of the 11 rooms has a different theme, which has been carefully designed by the owner. Themes include:

● Macquarie Island, which is in two levels of the main building and includes a “cliff” and the chance to sleep in a sailboat. ● The Latcho Dom Trailer, which is a traditional gypsy trailer with a double bed, toilet, tub, and cooking facilities. ● The Trojan Horse, which is the accomodation this hotel is most famous for. The horse is situated outside the main property, and the entrance is through its back ende! The room includes a bubble bath, shower, one double bed, and two children’s beds. ● The Luna Room, which is decorated like the surface of the moon, including the stars in the sky and a bathroom that looks like a spaceship.

Prices range from 125 to 260 euros for two guests. -Michelle Barrett 0f Minimize and Travel

READ MORE: The Least Visited National Parks in Europe

Kakslauttanen by Laurence Norah

9. Kakslauttanen Arctic Resort (Lapland, Finland)

If you’re looking for unique accommodations, you can’t go wrong with a glass igloo hotel! Kakslauttanen Arctic resort is located well inside the arctic circle, and they were the pioneers of the glass igloo. There are certainly many imitators around the world, but we think the original remains the best!

The resort is spread across two main locations, with the older, cozier part located in the east village. There are around 30 igloos spaced out among the trees here, and this was where I spent a wonderful night.

A glass igloo is the perfect place from which to watch the night sky. And if you visit Finland in winter, it’s also where you can get stunning views of the Northern Lights.

It’s worth noting that, while the igloos are relatively expensive, they are not what most peoiple would consider luxury. They’re certainly comfortable though, with WiFi, a small toilet (no shower), and electronically powered beds that can be tilted up for optimal northern lights viewing.

There’s also a sauna, restaurant, and bar on site, plus you can do a wide variety of winter activities from the resort itself. This makes it an excellent location for visiting Finland in winter. Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Laurence Norah of Finding the Universe

READ MORE: Winter Adventures in Finnish Lapland

Coup 2 Foudres by Luxe Adventure Traveler

10. Coup 2 Foudre (Saint-Émilion, France)

Have you ever dreamed of waking up surrounded by French vineyards? If so, one of the best places to stay in Saint-Emilion is in one of two giant wine vats that were converted into amazing accommodations in the famed Bordeaux wine region.

These two vats were never actually used to make the region’s world-renowned wine. But they are real wine vats crafted by the prestigious wine barrel and vat maker, Seguin Moreau. Both of them are big enough to hold the equivalent of 160,000 bottles of wine.

Each of the two wine vats is uniquely decorated, with a queen size bed, ensuite bathroom facilities, and all the creature comforts one could desire (including air conditioning, Wifi, and cable television).

Guests are given a basket filled with artisan products for breakfast, and are welcome to visit the estate for a tour and tasting of Château de Bonhoste. It’s a memorable stay in a gorgeous location any vinophile will absolutely love. Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Jennifer & Tim of Luxe Adventure Traveler

READ MORE: Weird Foods the French Consider Delicacies

Malmaison, former Oxford Prison by Fiona Maclean

11. Malmaison (Oxford, England)

Located in Oxford, Porridge. Standard rooms in the prison’s former A-Wing were created from two cells combined into one, with bathrooms located in a third cell.

With the original iron doors, vaulted ceilings, and exposed brick walls, these posh rooms are now a far cry from the prison days. Each boasts a king sized bed, flat screen TV, iPod dock, and Wifi. All of the bathrooms have walk-in showers and rolltop baths, with plenty of fluffy white towels and toiletries marked “Steal Me” as a cheeky nod to the building’s former residents.

The interior design vibe is dark and intimate, with “cells” decorated in deep reds, greys and browns. If you prefer a lighter mood, the adjoining “House of Correction” offers warehouse-style suites and duplexes.

Malmaison (“bad house”) is located in the Castle Quarter, about 5 minutes from the train station and an easy walk to the City Centre. Apart from the Read Reviews and Check Rates. -Fiona Maclean of London-Unattached

Further Reading

Franz Josef Travel Guide

Do an Extreme Sport

New Zealand is the adventure capital of the world, where most people blow their budget on a wide range of exciting activities, from bungy jumping to skydiving to white-water rafting. There are a million activities to choose from: you can skydive basically anywhere; Queenstown is home to Shotover jets (rocket like boats that zip on shallow rivers), ziplines, and bungy jumps; and there’s caving, zorbing, transalpine hiking, paragliding, and so much more. If it can be done outdoors, it can be done in New Zealand.

Further Reading

The Nevis Bungy Jump (Video)

Hike the Tongariro Crossing

Considered the best day hike in all of New Zealand, the track takes you to where they filmed Mordor in The Lord of the Rings. The 19.4 km walk is easy in parts (the beginning and end) and steep in others (especially the portion after “Mount Doom”) so you’ll get a good mix of difficulty levels. However, even if you aren’t a strong hiker (and I am not), the Tongariro Crossing is easily completed in a day. Trekking through this otherworldly, red-colored environment of volcanoes and sulfur was the highlight of my whole time in New Zealand.

Further Reading

Hiking the Tongariro (Video)

Learn about Maori culture

Maoris were the original inhabitants of New Zealand and I’ve loved learning about their history and culture (especially after seeing the movie Whale Rider. It’s incredible. Watch it!) They are a friendly and proud people, and there wasn’t one Maori person I met who I didn’t love. Rotorua is usually the best city to see Maori cultural shows, though there are other noteworthy sites around the country, including the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, Tane Mahuta, and the Te Papa museum in Wellington.

Further Reading

A Maori Culture Dinner (Video)

Rotorua Travel Guide

Don’t miss Wellington

Wellington has character. Everyone talks about Auckland (which, contrary to popular belief, is not the capital), but the real magic takes place in Wellington (which is the capital). The architecture and eclectic vibe give this city a funky personality. The city has a popping nightlife, tons of art galleries and cafés, a beautiful harbor (that is best seen from Mount Victoria, which overlooks the entire city), and is easily walkable. Be sure to hit some of the museums like the Museum of Wellington, Te Papa, and the Great War Exhibition.

Further Reading

Wellington Travel Guide

Check out the glow worms

Definitely one of the coolest things I did while in New Zealand, the Waitomo glow worm cave is hyped and touristy but still amazing. You walk or abseil down into darkness and float down the (very cold) river while staring up at caverns covered in “lights.” It’s like looking at the stars —but (spoiler) they are actually fungus gnats that glow due to a chemical reaction as they attract food. Still, stunning though. Absolutely stunning and cool. I found the three-hour trip long enough, but if you like to abseil, you should consider the five-hour version. This experience is one of my most lasting memories from my trip.

Further Reading

Blackater Rafting in Waitomo

Hang out in Queenstown

Everyone hypes Queenstown. Everyone. But Queenstown is everything they say it is—and more. It has such a feisty and outdoorsy energy to it. Even though it has become hugely popular and filled with people, I cannot express my love of Queenstown enough. It’s surrounded by beautiful peaks, has narrow streets and pedestrian lanes filled with shops and restaurants, a spectacular, crystal like lake, tons of trails and parks, with Queenstown Hill watching over it like a benevolent overlord. This is one of the best spots in the country to do an extreme sport (bungy, skydive, shotover jet, etc), take a wine tour, or just chill out on a nearby beach.

Further Reading

Queenstown Travel Guide

Visit Hobbiton

If you’re a The Lord of the Rings junkie, New Zealand is perfect for you. This is where they did all the filming, and throughout the country, you can take Lord of the Rings tours and visit Fangorn Forest, Gondor, and where Frodo destroys the one ring. Most of the sets were taken down, but a bit of the Shire and some of the hobbit houses still remain on the North Island.

Explore Fiordland

Located in the southwesternmost part of New Zealand (and also home to numerous Lord of the Rings film locations), the region is considered one of the country’s most scenic and remote. Filled with gigantic mountains, deep lakes, swelling rivers, untamed forests, and resplendent fjords, most of it has never been set upon by man. Save a few places where boats and planes can go, the government has made the land off-limits, ensuring that that will be the case for a long time to come. This region is home to the majestic Milford and Doubtful Sounds, the Milford and Keppler Tracks, and lots of camping and hiking opportunities. If you want to experience New Zealand’s nature away from the crowds, come here.

Further Reading

Flying Through the Fiordland

Discover Stewart Island

Tiny, out-of-the-way Stewart Island lies off the South Island at the very, very bottom of New Zealand. It’s a place where Kiwis have their summer homes and go to escape the hustle and bustle of, well, I guess Auckland. (There’s not too much hustle and bustle in New Zealand.) The town has maybe a dozen buildings; the coastline dotted with private homes and boats. Come here to see dolphins and do some single-day or multiday treks. If you aren’t into hiking, you don’t need more than a day or two here, unless you really want some peace and quiet, then stay forever.

Chill out in Christchurch

Though severely damaged by earthquakes in the last few years, it’s becoming a brand-new city. The old Christchurch felt really stale to me but this new one is really on the up. While there’s still a lot of open space from demolished buildings, you’ll also find a lot of new construction, a sense of hope and vibrancy, funky bars, more markets, new restaurants, shops, and exhibits. Locals are really using this chance to make a better Christchurch. I loved my visit. If you’ll be there for a few days, be sure to check out Canterbury Museum and Quake City, and be sure to ride the gondola, as well!

Further Reading

Christchurch Travel Guide

Drink copious amounts of wine

New Zealand is famous for wine, producing some of the best whites the world has to offer. If you like wine, be sure to take a tour in Otago (known for its pinot), Hawkes Bay, or Marlborough (known for sauvignon blancs). There are lots of biking trails here, so you can drink and bike around (better than drinking and driving!) if you don’t want to pay for an expensive tour. The Gibbston Valley bike trail runs from Queenstown to Cromwell and crosses through a number of vineyards. Be sure to stop at Wet Jacket, a converted sheep shed-cum-winery with a cheese room.

***This list only scratches the surface of what there is to see and do in New Zealand. There’s also the Bay of Islands, Raglan for surfing, the Coromandel, Dunedin for beer, Wanaka and Mt. Cook for hiking, Hammer Springs for hot springs, and, well, you get the idea. Everyone will find something to enjoy in this country filled with adventure and wildlife. Travelers rarely have anything bad to say about New Zealand, and, as you can see, you’ll find plenty of activities to see and do in the country.

Go visit. It awaits!

Photo credit: 8, 12

For more information on traveling this country, costs, and things to do, visit my guide to New Zealand travel.

The post 13 Great Reasons to Visit New Zealand appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

13 Great Reasons to Visit New Zealand https://ift.tt/2GSBoDA

#Nomadic Matt's Travel Site digital nomad

0 notes

topmixtrends · 6 years

Link

LAURA LIPPMAN’S Sunburn is a noir love story. An unlikely genre blend, but this is a noir that strays from type from the very first page; it’s a summertime noir, trench coats swapped out for sundresses, staging its crimes and misdemeanors not in the anonymous shadows of a big city’s indifference, but in the full glare of small-town nosiness, as though confirming one character’s assertion that “there’s no better way to be found than to try to hide.”

Belleville, Delaware, is the tourism equivalent of a flyover state; with fewer than 2,000 people, it is a town “put together from some other town’s leftovers” through which people pass on their way to more promising destinations. It is here, during the long hot summer of 1995, that Polly and Adam, two strangers with no baggage apart from the emotional kind, will meet and surrender to a passionate romance against their best interests and better judgment. Which all sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship, except that it’s clear from the start that Polly and Adam are keeping a number of dangerous secrets, and by the end of the summer, their affair will have a body count.

The novel is divided into two segments, “Smoke” and “Fire.” The story unfolds through the perspectives of several third-person narrators, most frequently Adam and Polly. Neither of them is particularly sympathetic at first, but as the story develops and histories are revealed, the reader’s sympathies will adjust, and while clumsy distinctions like “good” and “bad” remain muddled, the psychological cause and effect of events is wholly satisfying.

But in the beginning, it’s nothing but shadows and questionable behavior. As befits the femme fatale character, Polly has left many men in her past with cause for complaint or grudges, most recently her husband Gregg, whom she has just abandoned along with their three-year-old daughter Jani while vacationing on a Delaware beach in what was not an impulsive decision. Adam’s shade is more straightforward, predatory. A man who prefers his women “thin and a little skittish” like the deer he hunts, he is nonetheless targeting the slim-but-curvaceous Polly; initiating contact, keeping tabs on her movements for reasons as yet undisclosed. It’s clear he knows much more about her than he’s letting on.

They came to this nothing of a town with their own agendas, but both had intended it to be a temporary layover, sharing as little of themselves as possible while planning their next moves. They’re careful people, calculating, skilled in manipulation and self-protection; Polly is deliberate about the name she uses, Adam has a reliable methodology in place: “Tell as few lies as possible, that’s his rule.” And yet there’s something inexorably drawing them to each other; something more than just two restless strangers meeting by chance in a town with nothing to do, where the only entertainment or diversion is each other.

Even Cath the barmaid, who has her own amorous designs on Adam, remarks upon their oddly similar demeanors:

“…you’re like her.” “How so?”

“Mysterious. Not offering up much of anything. Not sure if you’re staying or passing through.”

In part because of this compatibility, and despite their best-laid plans, Polly and Adam decide to stay in Belleville, taking jobs at the same bar as Cath, putting their plans on hold and enjoying a passionate fling during a languid summer in a suspended-animation town. Theirs is a complicated entanglement — a standoff of a love affair between two people whose lives don’t need any additional complications. For them, lust is easy, trust is hard. Polly has been serially disappointed by men, while Adam is suspicious of Polly because he knows certain details of her past. Their liaison is a pause for them both, but it’s a tightly coiled pause, with the two braced for the inevitable breaking-off point of a relationship that can have no happy ending, indulging themselves in what is less a game of cat-and-mouse than a game of chicken, anxiously anticipating the moment when they will have to spring apart or risk mutual destruction.

Sunburn is Lippman’s homage to the legacy of James M. Cain, a fellow Baltimore native and a contemporary of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. Cain’s three most celebrated works, Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice, and Mildred Pierce, were instrumental in expanding the literary purview of noir beyond the realm of the hardboiled detective and into the secret lives of everyday people, laying the groundwork for what would become “domestic noir.” In Sunburn, Cain’s novels make a cameo appearance, inspiring a character to make a life-altering decision, and Cain’s thematic influence is felt throughout in what have become the tropes of the genre: outsider characters who are charismatic but flawed and self-destructive, loveless marriages, the dark side of human nature, women deploying their sexuality against weak or brutish men, secret pasts, nosy investigators, disenchantment, insurance fraud, get-rich-quick schemes and other alternative paths to the American Dream, as well as the occasional trail of dead bodies. In short: Greed, lust, murder, money, all of which Sunburn delivers.

And oh, that noir patter:

He says, “How long you staying over?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Every man in town, I’m guessing […] I’m Adam Bosk,” he says. “Like the pear, only with a ‘k’ instead of a ‘c.’”

“I’m the Pink Lady,” she says. “Like the apple.”

“Think we can still be friends, me a pear, you an apple?”

“I thought it was apples and oranges that can’t be compared.”

That’s some vintage black-and-white dialogue in what is otherwise a full-color noir, opening as it does on a sunburned redhead in a pink-and-yellow sundress before blazing through a wide spectrum of literal and figurative colors: the green of money and envy; the red of blood, flames, and rage; and Polly’s determination to surround herself with pretty, colorful objects all lending Cain’s gloomy themes a defiant optimism.

Sunburn requires a reviewer to be as cautious as its central characters. There are a lot of secrets within, and they start unfolding early in the book; details slipping out as brief as a thought (“When you’ve been in jail even a short time, you don’t like being confined”), facts materializing before their significance can be grasped, clues gradually accumulating until all of a sudden you’re in the thick of it. This process is mirrored in the development of Polly and Adam’s relationship. Falling in love was never the plan for either of them, and what began as something closer to target practice than courtship, with each testing the other, establishing boundaries, going through the motions of a happy relationship while working their own angles, becomes an emotional investment before they realize it.

Or does it? After all, when it comes to noir, things are rarely as they appear; all those unseen mechanisms at work beneath the artificial surface. The reader here has the luxury of knowing more than the participants when it comes to feelings and intentions, but again — trust is hard. It’s tempting to consider this a noir spin on “The Gift of the Magi,” where both characters are making sacrifices out of love — secretly risking their own goals/plans/responsibilities in order to be with the other in Nowhere, U.S.A. But is their love the result of two cynics putting aside cynicism? Or the strategic moves of opponents pretending that they don’t know they’ve been made? Is this love or is it a hunt?

Lippman draws out the suspense on that matter in a wonderfully provocative way. She presents two characters whose every move is an exercise in calculated, fabricated spontaneity, both playing the long game with their own set of rules, both with an immense capacity for stillness, for waiting the other out. Adam has the patience of a bow-hunter who appreciates that waiting is time well spent: “Waiting can be beautiful, lush, full of possibility.” And Polly makes for unusual prey, a woman skilled in silence and immobility: “If there is one thing Polly knows how to do, it’s waiting. It’s her talent, her art.” It has all the makings of a deadlock, and there’s an undeniable appeal to the oppositional romance; resisting intimacy, refusing to cave, Polly’s withholding (“Don’t say too much and people will fill in the gaps, usually to your advantage”), Adam’s aloof scrutiny (“She’s ignoring him, he’s ignoring her ignoring him”). It’s all fun and games, and also some felonies.

Polly is the cherry-red bull’s-eye at the heart of the story; she’s the target and the prize and the thing around which everything else revolves and without her, there’s no game. The femme fatale is invariably the most interesting character, but Lippman has taken her to the next level while staying true to the genre conventions. Polly typifies the coquettish qualities expected of her role, but she’s not enthusiastic about being worshipped, and she’s earned her air of weary realism:

[I]t’s not the first time someone has gone out of the way to pay her tribute. Men have always done things for her. People. And she never asks. That is, she never seems to ask […] It’s a special art, asking people to do things, yet making it seem as if you never asked at all. There are talents she would prefer to this one, because favors often carry a heavy penalty when it’s time to return them, but it’s the skill she was given, the hand she has to play.

She is well aware of her own power, but she also knows how transitory a power it is, and how not to waste it while it’s hers:

Her looks are only slightly above average, her body didn’t come into its own until she had all those long empty days to exercise. Besides, she would never invest so heavily in a commodity that won’t last forever. It’s how she is on the inside that makes her different from other women. She fixes her gaze on the goal and never loses sight of it.

The goal is never a man. Never. Men are the stones she jumps to, one after another, toward the goal.

Polly is layered and adaptable, enigmatic, her motives shadowy, showing only what she wants seen. This chameleon quality allows her to become many things to many people, cast in lights positive and negative and roles often contradictory, but ultimately irrelevant. Appearance, reputation — these are other people’s values and qualities assigned to her, which say nothing about the real Polly nursing her secrets beneath the bait of window dressing and deflection. One character observes wryly that “[s]ome people are like rabbit holes and you can fall a long, long way down if you go too far,” and Polly is shrewd enough to allow the expectations and misinterpretations of others to construct her “rabbit holes” for her. These decoys protect her from exposure while she pursues her own schemes, unruffled by the labels of people who haven’t even begun to scratch her surface. She is called “unnatural” for leaving her daughter, but is she a monster? Or is she just playing a longer game than anyone else can perceive?

“[N]o one knows her whole story. She plans to keep it that way.” And to all but the reader, she achieves her goal.

Karen Brissette is a voracious reader and the most popular reviewer on Goodreads.

The post A Love Affair with a Body Count appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://ift.tt/2oLnCM9

#Los Angeles Review of Books #topmixtrends

0 notes