I hang in clusters from a vine, Small and round, purple or green. Squish me and I make wine, What am I that you’ve seen?

I go all over the world, but stay in a simple quiet corner...

I can be planted or plugged in, either way, I bring something to life.

I am a subterranean chamber that swallows cold rain and spits boiling fury, tearing through the skin of the earth. Unlike a volcano that bleeds liquid fire, I only erupt with superheated water and blinding steam. Some of my kind scream every few minutes, while others sleep for centuries. What am I?

I have only one entrance, yet I am hollow all the way to my closed end. I am trapped in a dark leather prison, crushed by a giant all day. Yet my biggest fear is the spinning drowning machine, where I will surely lose my twin. What am I?