#Aux Taxi

[auxtaxi]

Aux Taxi: America’s Favorite Taxi Booking App for Travelers and Locals Alike

In today’s fast-paced world, getting from Point A to Point B should be simple, fast, and stress-free. Whether you’re rushing to catch a flight, commuting to the office, or simply exploring a new city, the last thing you want is to worry about how to get there.

That’s exactly where Aux Taxi steps in—a modern, reliable, and easy-to-use taxi booking app USA, built for both travelers and locals who value convenience, transparency, and peace of mind.

🚖 Meet AuxTaxi: Your Ride, On Demand

Aux Taxi is not just another ride-hailing service. It’s a thoughtfully designed platform that redefines what it means to hail a taxi in the United States. With Aux Taxi, riders enjoy:

Instant bookings

Nationwide coverage

User-friendly interface

Safe, professional drivers

Whether you're in a bustling metro or a quiet suburb, Aux Taxi ensures that a ride is just a few taps away—anytime, anywhere in the USA.

🌎 Why Aux Taxi Stands Out in the USA

With so many apps out there, what makes Aux Taxi special? The difference lies in its commitment to full-country accessibility and rider satisfaction.

While many apps limit their services to specific regions or cities, Aux Taxi is built to serve the entire United States, from coast to coast. Whether you're in New York, Dallas, Miami, or a smaller town in between—Aux Taxi has you covered.

This makes it the ideal companion for frequent travelers, remote workers, students, and families looking for a reliable ride in familiar or unfamiliar locations.

📲 Seamless Experience with the Aux Taxi App

Using Aux Taxi is as easy as it gets. The app is designed for users of all ages and tech backgrounds. Here’s what makes the experience smooth and stress-free:

✅ Clean and Simple Interface

No clutter. Just the essentials. Quickly set your pickup location, choose your destination, and confirm your ride.

✅ Real-Time Tracking

See your driver’s location in real-time, get accurate ETAs, and follow your route as you ride.

✅ Multiple Payment Options

Pay how you like—credit/debit card, digital wallets, or in-app secure payment methods.

✅ Ride History and Receipts

Keep track of past rides and download receipts for personal records or business travel reimbursement.

💼 Built for Every Kind of Rider

Aux Taxi was designed with everyone in mind. Whether you're:

A busy professional heading to a meeting

A student going home after class

A tourist exploring local landmarks

A parent booking a safe ride for your child

A local commuting daily or running errands

Aux Taxi is your go-to solution for reliable transportation across the country.

🌟 Top Features that Riders Love

Let’s take a closer look at some of the standout features that make Aux Taxi a top-rated taxi booking app USA:

1. Nationwide Availability

Unlike competitors limited to big cities, Aux Taxi is available in all 50 states. No matter where you are, your next ride is just a tap away.

2. Instant Bookings Without the Wait

Need a ride right now? Aux Taxi connects you with nearby drivers in seconds—perfect for tight schedules or last-minute plans.

3. No Surge Pricing

Transparent, upfront pricing means no surprises. You’ll always know what you’re paying—day or night.

4. Trained & Vetted Drivers

Aux Taxi drivers are carefully screened, background-checked, and trained to provide the highest standard of service.

5. 24/7 Customer Support

Have a question or need assistance? Our support team is available around the clock to ensure a smooth experience.

🛡️ Ride Safe with Aux Taxi

Safety is at the core of Aux Taxi’s mission. Each ride is backed by safety-first features, including:

Driver verification and rating system

SOS/Panic button inside the app

Live ride sharing with friends or family

Driver and vehicle details provided pre-pickup

Whether it’s day or night, you're in safe hands with Aux Taxi.

💬 What Our Riders Are Saying

“Aux Taxi made my business trip so much easier. I used it in three different states and never had to switch apps!” – Kevin M., San Francisco

“Finally, a taxi booking app in the USA that doesn’t hike prices during rush hour!” – Nicole D., Houston

“The SOS feature helped me feel safer on my night commute. Super thoughtful and easy to use.” – Rachel T., Boston

�� Getting Started is Easy

Ready to upgrade the way you travel?

Download Aux Taxi from the App Store or Google Play

Sign up using your phone number or email

Book your ride with a few taps

Track, ride, and enjoy the journey!

It’s that simple.

🌐 Learn More at AuxTaxi.com

Want to dig deeper into what Aux Taxi offers? Visit https://auxtaxi.com to explore our services, features, and coverage areas. You can also contact us directly if you have any questions—we’re always here to help.

✈️ Final Thoughts

If you’re looking for a trustworthy, travel-friendly, and easy-to-use taxi booking app USA, look no further than Aux Taxi. Whether you’re exploring new cities or navigating your daily routine, Aux Taxi is built to deliver rides you can count on.

Join the movement. Download Aux Taxi today and experience the future of ride-hailing—fast, fair, and nationwide.

[fidjiefidjie]

Bonjour, bonne journée ☕️ ❄️

Aux Pierrots, place Pigalle🗼Paris 1948

Photo de René Jacques(Giton)

[caelivir]

for your event, can you add fwb!atsumu and sweet boy by malcolm todd to the aux please !!

thank uuuuuu

now playing: sweet boy by malcom todd

first tsumu req of the event hehe. this song was lowk hard to figure out i cannot lie ‘cause it’s lowk angsty but i took one of the verses and tried to weave something cute from it. i hope u enjoy 🤗.

content. miya atsumu x fem!reader, fwb (he’s lowk in love tho), hint of jealousy, insecurity, communication, little suggestive | wc. 880+

three whole days.

miya atsumu has had this gut feeling that something’s wrong for three days, and it has to do with you. you’re not missing or anything terrifying like that. you posted a selfie on your instagram story just a day ago.

you guys can go without contact for a few weeks at a time, but this silent is different. it nags at him like spidey-senses telling him something’s not the way it should be.

that’s why he’s here, outside your apartment, even though his flight landed just two hours ago. he forced his manager to take care of his luggage and got the first taxi he could find to take him straight to you.

when you swing open your door, you blink, staring at him perplexed before you nearly shut it in his face. atsumu is barely able to wedge his foot before it completely shuts.

“oh come on.” atsumu huffs as he overpowers the strength you’re putting into trying to shut the door. he allows himself into your home when you give up.

you scowl, an expression he loves seeing you make when it’s not directed at him. “what are you doing here?”

“what? can’t see my favorite girl, now?” atsumu winks, trying to play things off as if his nerves are knotting into a tight coil in his gut. it results from a scoff out of your mouth as you shut the door.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “sure, miya.”

that makes him stop dead in his tracks. atsumu whips his head towards you. the surprise is etched across his face, expressed through his raised eyebrows and dropped jaw. “miya?”

sure, atsumu’s annoyed you before, and to that you’ve called him a jerk. a dickhead, but not once has he ever been called miya. he doesn’t give a shit if others call him that. however, it’s different when it comes to you. a lot of things are. being called miya by you is wrong, illegal. it goes against every law of nature. atsumu can be anything to you, anything but miya.

he must’ve fucked up. severely.

he stalks closer, which in turn forces you to take steps back. this shuffle continues until your back presses into the back of the door. his face is dangerously close to yours, and he can tell it makes you nervous. it’s not obvious, but he sees it. your eyes waver every so slightly.

“back up.”

“not until ya tell me what i did.”

“who says you did anything?” you narrow your eyes, challenging him. always so stubborn.

“‘cause yer callin’ me miya. ya never call me that.” atsumu shoots back. that shuts you straight down. your eyes wander, looking at anything but him. “tell me what’s wrong.”

you scrunch your nose, feeling guilty. “sorry, tsumu. it’s- it’s stupid.” you mutter.

atsumu hates how dejected you look. he hates the frown on your pretty features. he hooks his index finger under your chin, forcing you to bring your eye up to his face. “hey. nothin’ ya say to me is stupid.”

“it’ll fuck everything up.” you whisper, genuine fear coating your voice.

“tell me anyway.” he assures you, lightly stroking your chin with his thumb. the silence overtakes. he waits, waits until you’re ready.

“i saw the pictures.” you admit quietly. “and the article.”

the ones from paris, atsumu realizes. so that’s what this is about. he gets it now.

“i just-” you pause, pursing your lips, weighing your next words. “i know we’re not together. we’re not anything really. i know. but i- seeing those pictures, reading that article… i hated it.

“but again, what right do i have? i mean you’ve got everything ahead of you, y’know? we don’t even see each other often. you’re all over the world. you’re bound to get all this attention, especially from girls that look like her. you deserve that. so i- i was just thinking that maybe-”

“no.” atsumu shuts that idea down before you can even get it out. he knows. he knows what you’re trying to do, and he won’t have it. he won’t even dare to entertain it.

“just listen to me.”

“not gonna.” he reaffirms with a hint of tease.

“(y/n), i don’t care about ‘em. i don’t care which model tries to throw herself at my feet. i like what we have. i’m not throwin’ that away for anyone. it’s you. it’ll only be you, ‘kay?”

however, you still don’t look convinced. he sees it in the way your frown dips slightly deeper. atsumu doesn’t like when people doubt him, but doubt is fuel. it tells him that there’s more he can do. that means there’s more he can do for you.

atsumu brings his face closer to yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek, another one to the tip of your nose, one on your jaw, before crawling up to peck the corner of your lips. he drops his hand from your face, navigating them to your waist where he slips them under your baggy shirt to feel the heat of your skin.

atsumu presses his forehead to yours, his lips hovering over yours. “i can prove it to ya. let me prove it to ya. let me show how much ya mean to me.”

[purehypnotic]

🪩 💿 look at what the light did now 💿 🪩

din djarin x reader

the origin of mando saying “wizard”, aka, what happens when din gives you the aux cord.

sfw, gender neutral

☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚

He’s not a taxi service.

He insists on this, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing straight between your eyes, while dragging you from your hiding spot. His grip on your forearm isn’t harsh enough to hurt, but you know you can’t wiggle your way out.

“How did you get in?” the Mandalorian drills and you release a full body sigh. You’d found yourself in a little situation back at the space port. A little predicament, you might say. A little tussle that needed a quick getaway, so you darted through the Coruscant spaceport and threw yourself into the belly of the first ship you saw. You planned to lay low and sneak out on the next stop, but apparently not much can get past this Mandalorian.

“I uh came in through there,” you lamely pointed at the hatch. His helmet followed your finger to the door and swiveled back, unimpressed. You’d successfully avoided his attention for two days before he’d glanced at the cargo container you tucked yourself behind. Now here you were, awkwardly trapped between the container and the tin man, ready to convince him to let you couch surf.

“It’s honestly a miracle that I hid for this long, thought I would’ve sneezed or something to give me away,” you attempted at a conversation.

Silence.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Silence.

“Okay, alright, that’s fine. I really am sorry about sneaking in. I’ll stay out of the way or organize to make up for it,” you offered. His silence was starting to creep you out, but he squeezed your arm tighter and dragged you to the latter in the center of the hold.

“I’m not a taxi. You’re getting off in Nevarro. Stay in the cockpit where I can see you,” his clipped tone left no room to argue.

That was fine with you. Just dandy, actually, a real chair sounds pretty nice right now. The steel walls of the hold were hell on your back. As the Mandalorian stalks through the sliding doors and settles in the pilot’s chair, you stop in your tracks. You’d seen space only a couple times in your life, but hyperspace? The watercolor of starlight streaked past the windshield like neon rain, taking the breath right from your ribs. The dull thrum of lightspeed resonated through the cockpit, buzzing through your bones like an amplified bass. Glancing at the Mandalorian, you gasped. Soft blues and lilacs streaked across his reflective armor, haloing him, strangely beautiful, like an iridescent statue.

“Sit and buckle in; the Crest likes to stall,” he gestured to the seat at his right, not caring for your slack jaw. Was he not aware of the universe revealing all it had to offer in front of your faces? You took the copilot’s chair, but leaned your elbows on your knees to shift closer to the glass.

“Wizard,” you mumbled, stunned by the beauty of hyperspace.

“Wizard?” The Mandalorian deadpanned. What a killjoy.

“Space. It’s wizard,” you rolled your eyes. His wet blanket aura got in the way of your whimsy.

The Mandalorian puffed out an exhale that was a little stronger than the rest. Was that how he laughed? Is he serious? Is this what you were working with?

Giving up on entertainment from the buckethead, you reached into your pack for your earplugs and music player. A little archaic, but that was part of the charm. Fixing the little cushion into your left ear, you clicked at your vintage player and leaned back into the co-pilot’s chair as the intro to your favorite song started up. Sure, you were half-captive to a metal man with no name, but as you melted into the music with the gorgeous view of hyperspace, your situation didn’t seem so bad. It was almost peaceful.

“What is that?” The Mandalorian pressed.

Nevermind.

“Music, good music. You want some?” you offered the other earbud to the bounty hunter. He tilted his helmet in a way you were starting to suspect was how he showed emotion. He lifted one finger to point at the edge of his helm as if to say the earbud won’t fit. Awkward silence fell upon the two of you as you figured out a way to share your music with him.

“It’s alright. I’m sure you hear plenty of it while flying this thing,” you gestured to the control panel, happy that he’s at least communicating with you.

“I don’t,” Mando flatly confessed and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Music isn’t big in my culture. Unless it’s a war chant or a song for the kids, we don’t sing,” he continued. Briefly, you felt some sort of understanding for him. Robotic and sterile as he seemed, there was a person with a culture and an upbringing beneath the beskar.

“Plug it into here,” the Mandalorian pointed to an audio jack with an auxiliary cord cleanly coiled underneath, as if never used.

“I’d like to hear some,” he said softly. You caught something secret in his tone, as if he was asking for something he shouldn’t be having. Was his culture so strict that he never learned to enjoy music? You had a hard time imagining the Mandalorian dancing or humming under his breath. Your time as an accidental stowaway would’ve been less tense if you caught him tapping his fingers to a tune he can’t get out of his head. Only, he’s never been granted the mundane freedom of music. Fidgeting with the aux cord, a little nervous to show him your tastes, you were giddy to share this with him. Here is a warrior, who was absolutely ready to manhandle you off his ship minutes ago, gently asking you to share your favorite songs with him. His curiosity was endearing, no matter how nonchalant he tried to seem.

As the melody of the first track twanged through the cockpit, the Mandalorian leaned forward in his seat, as if chasing the song for more. His helmet tilted to face the glow of hyperspace, and you guessed he was feeling the wonder you experienced in seeing the stars up close. You slouched in your seat once more, half doubtful of how the hell you upgraded from stowaway to personal DJ, but also entranced by the mystery of the bounty hunter before you. How was he so intimidating when he found you, but so careful, almost bashful, when asking to share your music? Why were you so willing to give him more?

Snapping out of your stupor as the song crescendoed, you realized the Mandalorian’s visor was already pinned on you. A shiver ran through you under his intense gaze, and your wide eyes blinked at your reflection in his shimmering Beskar.

“This is a beautiful song. It suits you,” he murmured lowly. You felt a triumphant smile spread across your face, oddly proud that you were putting him onto good music.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, shiny. Track six is gonna blow your mind,” you leaned an elbow on the console as he puffed out another breathy laugh.

-

True to his word, the Mandalorian dropped you off at the first spaceport he docked in. Without complaining or looking back (except maybe a couple glances), you hightailed it from the bounty hunter’s ship. While you ended up with a soft spot for the tin can, you didn’t want to push his patience and overstay your welcome. Admittedly, you wished you had spoken with him more, asked about his culture, or asked him for stories about the galaxy. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten a name.

As you perched under the veranda of a small restaurant, you fished through your pack to ensure all your belongings stayed inside. Digging between a thin blanket and an extra pair of socks, your fingers brushed by a cool, metallic object you didn’t recognize. Pulling out the pocket-sized cylinder, you turned it over in your hands as you unraveled a note coiled around it. The silver trinket was a commlink, you figured, and the note read:

“Let me know when I can hear that song again. It was wizard.” - Din Djarin.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚

theyre listening to champagne coast btw

with love, katie 💌

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

La collection du designer Duran Lantink lors de la Fashion week 2025 est devenue virale en raison d’un modèle masculin homme aux seins énormes défilant fièrement et sans complexe.

Duran Lantink Spring/Summer 2025

Dress is quite literally a CAR MASSAGER seat - bringing taxi drivers from childhood memories back

Miu Miu x Nike Air Max designed by Duran Lantink

Doja Cat wearing duran lantink fw24 for the cover of scarlet II

[ernestinee]

5h45 et ça fait 1h que je suis réveillée pcq Nougat s'est réveillé dans la pièce d'à côté, il en a marre d'être seul. Alors pour lui c'est suffisant de dire "chuuuttt nougat encore dodo" mais ça réveille les deux autres qui voient ça comme un "go la journée peut commencer", qui commencent à courir partout, se battre etc. et moi je ne sais pas me rendormir bien sûr. Et c'est comme ça que toutes les journées commencent depuis qu'il fait clair un peu plus tôt, j'en suis à espérer la fin de la saison.

Lundi il y a eu le briefing pour la semaine de stage de cirque en camping. Je me disais "une semaine sans chat whouhou" bah on se lève à 6h, un peu plus tôt si on veut une douche tranquille, et le feed back de la journée est à 23h. Alors moi je ne vais pas faire de cirque cette semaine là, j'y vais dans l'équipe d'intendance, qui est en fait l'équipe de profs dans l'école de cirque où je jongle. On va faire les courses et les repas pour les 130 jeunes et animateurs du camp. Ça va être une semaine de dingue et c'est assez bien payé. L'ado participe au stage chez les jongleurs mais on ne se croisera pas beaucoup en journée, et les nuits, il a une tente avec ses potes.

Les examens continuent, il en reste trois. Pour l'instant ça va mais on sent la fatigue et les erreurs d'inattention qui arrivent. Je continue de trouver cette période de l'année totalement inutile. Les remplir comme des seaux et les faire vomir le tout en fin d'année au lieu de fonctionner avec des bilans. Mon amie, qui est prof en supérieur, trouve que c'est important de pouvoir ingurgiter des grosses quantités comme ça. Ça les prépare aux études supérieures. Je trouve qu'il n'y a pas de rapport entre faire son boulot convenablement dans sa vie professionnelle et utiliser sa mémoire de manière aussi intensive et endurante, jusqu'à la nausée. Les études supérieures aussi pourraient segmenter la matière et leur éviter cette période de stress. Elle a utilisé comme argument "si je devais me faire opérer, j'aimerais que le chirurgien soit assez endurant au cas où" et je n'ai quand même pas vu le rapport avec la gestion d'une session d'examens du coup je trouve cet argument complètement claqué.

Il y a une psy de l'un des centres pluridisciplinaires où je bosse qui est partie récemment, il y a aussi l'animateur des ateliers BD et là c'est une logopède qui quitte bientôt l'équipe. A chaque fois c'est parce qu'iels ont trouvé une place comme salarié.e.s. Ce centre était déjà en questionnement, par rapport au fait que beaucoup d'indépendants partent (ça coûte très cher d'être indépendant en Belgique) et donc il n'y a pas suffisamment de loyers qui rentrent pour les bureaux et ça se pourrait que le centre ferme bientôt. Pour moi ça ne représente qu'une petite aprèm mais l'amie qui a ouvert ce centre et qui y met énormément d'énergie depuis des années est dévastée. On est en juin, les nouveaux professionnels sont diplômés et vont chercher une patientèle, j'essaie de la rassurer comme je peux mais on verra. Ce soir on a une réunion-barbec justement avec toute cette équipe, l'ambiance va être bizarre.

Je suis moi aussi dans une remise en question, une impression de ne pas être bonne dans mon job en ce moment. Les examens de l'ado me stressent et me font faire le taxi et j'ai l'impression que mon cerveau est totalement absorbé par ça , je n'ai pas de longue période "pour moi" dans la journée du coup mes factures ne sont pas envoyées, mes bilans ne sont pas faits, je n'ai pas harcelé les médecins pour avoir mes prescriptions signées. J'ai été absente 3 semaines en mai, j'ai l'impression d'avoir abandonné mes patients à un moment où ils avaient besoin de moi. Et il y a ce petit bonhomme dont le bégaiement revient alors que d'autres choses se règlent.

Et mon alarme sonne dans 2 minutes.

[trentknd]

"What's their name again?" Kylian's question came with a raised brow, his hand adjusting the costly watch sitting on his left wrist. You were both in the backseat of a taxi heading to the venue, your beau in Jordan's and a tan cargo, unsuspecting of the event you were attending.

"Deftones." You had finally convinced your boyfriend to come with you to a concert and the moment you saw your favorite band playing in Paris, you couldn't have passed the occasion. Aware of his status and busy schedule, you knew you had to make the most out of all the hours you could spend with him during the week, and surprising him with a new experience seemed fitting.

"And remind me what kind of music do they play?" You cozy up next to him on the seat, linking your arm with his and dropping your head on his upper arm.

"Oh, just R&B. You'll love them I promise." You tilt your head with the most innocent smile you could muster up and squeeze his hand on your lap, leading him on. With the hand holding yours, his thumb sticks out to trace meaningless patterns on your skin.

"I trust your taste." If it wasn't for the absurdity of the situation, you could've melted at his words and the preciosity of his naivety. Despite everything, you knew telling him you were going to see a metal band would've sprung an immediate reluctance and you had to use a bit of ingenuity to make him get rid of his bias.

For now, the aux you had politely asked the driver to plug was playing a Brent Faiyaz song, Kylian's light foot-tapping to the rhythm almost as melodious as his voice. You spent the entire ride bickering over who got to pick the next song, ultimately letting him win the fight each time, scared that he'll hate the music later anyways.

"We've arrived." At the driver's announcement, Kylian whips out a beanie and some sunglasses he had stolen from you, his usual attire to hide away from the public. What made you smile at the whole ordeal each time was that he didn't know that those two accessories did not conceal his identity but made him all the more attractive to your eyes.

As soon as you step out of the taxi, a man you assume to be a tour manager greets you both and leads you to the back entrance of the relatively big concert venue. Kylian puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the lengthy alleyways and your cheeks redden, not at the gesture, but in anticipation of what was he was about to discover.

The manager's small talk abruptly ends as soon as he opens the door to a secretive area of the arena and lets you both in. You take a few seconds to take in the grandeur of the place, your eyes sparkling with pure exhilaration and joy. Kylian uncharacteristically ignores the man's request to take a picture with him and his ramble about the world cup final. He was too enthralled in the way your eyes were flicking from one spot to the other, taking in the energy that reverberated throughout the room and your beam making his heart swell at the sole look at it.

The young footballer was snapped out of his trance when you turned to look at him over your shoulder and mouthed to take the picture with the poor man, which he did in a hurry to get back to your date. "Excited?" He asked when he came back to you and finally removed his beanie and shades in the secluded area. He was still oblivious to who was about to perform in a few minutes, despite his attire so obviously clashing with hundreds of fans clad in black jeans and black eyeliners.

In that sense, you were glad you had taken him to a Deftones concert, almost certain that their audience was probably not one to freak out upon seeing him. You selfishly gloated at the fact that it'd humble him just the slightest. "Beyond." Your nod came with yet another squeeze of his hand and the brightest grin adorning your features.

As soon as the lights turned off, your heart dropped and Kylian laughed upon seeing you excitingly tapping your feet up and down on the floor like a child. When the band members started coming out, he started suspecting you had not brought him to an R&B concert but he'd have even attended a country music concert if it meant seeing you as happy as you were in that moment.

Once the band had started playing their first song, 'Change' which coincidentally was your favorite, you turned around in the confined space that was your private spot on the balcony to look at him. To your surprise and much to your despair, his eyes were fixated on your frame rather than the stage.

"Look at them, not me!" You scowl at him, to which he only slowly shook his head, a smile slowly creeping on his face.

"Why? It's a better view." His arms were crossed across your chest, his head laying on top of yours while he swayed you both lightly at the music. You rolled your eyes at his corny retort, content nonetheless that he seemed to appreciate the music.

"It's like you never had wings." Your mutter of the song's lyrics came in a slow breath before whipping your head back up to your date "Now, you feel so alive." In the same cadence as the main singer, you dramatically resume your theatrics and hold his cheek in your palm "I've watched you change."

"Media says it a lot but I wouldn't say I've changed that much." Kylian says matter-of-factly, earning a slap on his chest from you and a dirty look. His apology could not even be heard when the crowd started screaming the chorus and banging their heads in what looked like perfect unison. This was definitely not his crowd nor his typical Sunday night but oddly enough, he felt a deep sense of gratitude that you had put up a plan to bring him to your favorite band's concert. You were aware that he would have rented out an entire arena for them to only perform for you if you had told him the truth initially.

"And when he smashed his guitar, that was so cool, right?" Your face was painted with elation, your lips slightly parted and your eyes wild. Kylian mindlessly nodded, too absorbed by your frantic rant to be able to answer with a coherent thought. You were both now walking around Paris, experiencing a dreadful post-concert high and gushing back and forth about your favorite parts of the show.

Your lover's impression of the concert was only amplified by how happy just two hours of music had made you. His heart swelled more and more, each minute you both passed strutting down the streets of the city, now in a comfortable silence. His infliction had come to an end upon arriving on your apartment's doorstep in Montmartre, the sun just now rising and leaving a pink hue on your face in the process.

"I'm glad you chose me to come with you tonight. " His clamor of adoration for you would come in upcoming sunrises. The farewell words put on his lips to mutter already heavy with a meaning you both didn't know the full amplitude of just yet.

[petit-atelier-de-poesie]

Quelques trucs bien. Octobre 2024

Ces “Quelques trucs bien” s'inspirent directement des “3 trucs bien” de Fabienne Yvert, ou des "Notes de chevet" de Seï Shonagon. 

Pas 3 par jour pour ma part, mais une volonté régulière de gratitude et d'optimisme.

Aller au musée des femmes artistes avec mon amie Béa. Profiter du soleil d’automne en terrasse et prendre soin de notre amitié

Avoir la visite d’une bergeronnette printanière 

Jouer à cache-cache avec mon petit Mateo. Rire ensemble 

M’inscrire sur un groupe de rencontres 

Être honorée d’être sélectionnée sur la liste des jurés titulaires pour l’année prochaine 

Jouer aux cartes avec mon fils. Gagner à être perdante 

Prévoir un week-end d’escapade chez mon amie Monique 

Me rappeler que ma sœur et moi avions souhaité élever et faire grandir nos enfants ensemble. Suppléer son absence quand elle est en vacances, c’est à dire faire le taxi pour mes nièces 

Me faire draguer par un charmant sportif de plus de 10 ans de moins que moi lors du rdv pour test d’effort en cardiologie. Remercier en moi-même ma fille de m’avoir prêté un legging. Épreuve réussie à 100%

M’essayer au caviardage en poésie. Tenter de relancer la créativité 

Chanter l’hymne à l’amour dans ma voiture... et pleurer

Faire la sieste pour récupérer le manque de sommeil 

Partager une pizza duo avec mon collègue de travail

Réfléchir encore et en équipe à une bonne pratique professionnelle. Entre intuition et philosophie 

Avaler des kilomètres pour essayer de laisser derrière moi le quotidien. Faire une halte chez mon amie Lauriane 

Recevoir un cadeau de ma nièce de retour de son voyage scolaire à Venise 

Profiter de l’alerte météo pour laisser libre cours à la créativité 

Avoir une pensée émue pour mon ami Vincent qui manque toujours, même après de 14 ans de deuil 

Féliciter Mateo qui s’enhardit à se lâcher pour avancer debout vers un autre appui 

Tenir la petite main de Mateo pour l’accompagner dans ses premiers pas debout. Verbaliser pour lui que son regard sur le monde est désormais différent 

Porter du jaune quand j’ai besoin de soleil 

Participer à une réunion d’équipe de scolarisation. Sentir que je suis un vrai soutien pour ma collègue, la maîtresse et la maman 

Avoir la surprise d’un arc en ciel après l’alerte météo pour pluies et inondations

Aller au cinéma pour voir un film érotique. Regretter l’absence de désir 

Saluer le retour du berger et de son troupeau sur le terrain. L’automne est lui aussi de retour 

Sentir venir le fou rire en entendant maman évoquer l’idée d’héberger tatie Lulu, 88 ans pour ne pas qu’elle soit seule

Aller au Festival du livre où ma nièce tient le stand de l’atelier d’écriture de son lycée. Me faire dédicacer le bouquin par une troupe d’ados. Savoir que la relève est assurée 

Lire Mona Chollet et me sentir « sorcière » moi aussi 

Rencontrer un jeune adulte venu donner de ses nouvelles à l’équipe qui l’a accompagné. L’entendre raconter son parcours avec gratitude et maturité puis dire que son handicap (TDAH) est aujourd’hui une force. Comprendre ce ressenti et avoir de l’espoir pour les enfants que j’accompagne aujourd’hui 

[harveybwabbit92]

[Dustine is in the older part of the KARAS base working late cleaning and fixing one of that building mess hall's older TV's. while Aux's projected form curiously watches her.]

Aux: So do you always work this late?

Dustine: Sometimes.

Aux: Isn't that bad? what if the trains stop?

Dustine: Then I'll call a Taxi, though the driver likes to ask me questions thinking I'm on the combat or rescue crew and then it gets awkward when I tell them I'm a janitor...

Aux: Why do you keep the other TV on while working?

Dustine: Background noise, this place becomes like a ghost town after 9...with barely any guard patrols it gets unnerving after a while. So I turn on a radio or TV to give me some sense of security.

{Aux hums as he gets up from the counter he's sitting on and curiously wanders around the old base's empty halls, after a few minutes he started to get what Dustine was talking about.

the old base was like a much different place without all the lights on and without the recruits and staff walking around talking... it felt chilly and isolating but at the same it felt like something was out there. Watching....and it could jump out at him at any time.

Needles to say the ultra courier went back to the mess hall; Aux couldn't describe the warm feeling of relief he got from seeing the lights were still on and faint sounds of the other working TV coming from inside, he walked in and saw Dustine was setting up the now repaired TV back onto the shelf it was originally on and testing it. She noticed him sitting back on counter again.]

Dustine: Enjoy your walk?

Aux: Not in the slightest.

Dustine: Want a cherry coke?

Aux: Yes, I do.

[Dustine got him a can from the vending machine on their way out, Aux drank it on their walk to the Base's metro station, that weird chilly feeling came when he noted how dark the path to the station was and wondered how Dustine wasn't worried about it, when h heard talking and saw a two guards approaching Dustine quickly grabbed the can out of Aux's hands and nodded at the two guards they passed by.]

Dustine: Night Joel, night Yuka.

Joel & Yuka: G'Night Dusty.

Aux:

Dustine, hands Aux his drink back: Sorry, I didn't want them freaking out over a floating coke can...

[photographe-a-roulettes]

Chaton - En 1961 dans un contexte de guerre froide, l'opération "Acoustic Kitty" avait pour objectif d'utiliser un chat domestique afin de collecter des informations au Kremlin de Moscou ainsi que dans diverses ambassades soviétiques à l'époque de la Guerre froide. À cette fin, les employés de la CIA ont implanté une pile et un microphone et une antenne de transmission dans le corps d'un chat. Ainsi équipé, le chat devait être relâché dans des endroits stratégiques où il allait participer à l'enregistrement de conversations secrètes. Selon Victor Marchetti, ancien cadre de la CIA, le coût de l'opération aurait été d'environ 20 millions de dollars. La première mission du chat était d'écouter deux hommes dans un parc proche de l'ambassade soviétique aux Etats-Unis, à Washington. Il fut relâché à proximité du lieu, mais mourut immédiatement écrasé par un taxi. Les essais suivants ne furent pas plus concluants, et le projet fut considéré comme un échec et abandonné en 1967.

Lieu : Ferme de Noisette au Beau Thym, Sin-le-Noble

[auxtaxi]

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[sgiandubh]

Do you have any secret tips for restaurants or cafés for a trip to Paris?

Dear Paris Anon,

I am happy and amused you ask me this question. Happy, because I have been calling Paris home for six years: that means there are places where I was madly kissing a beautiful (and cruel) boy from Bastia, places where I walked at night drunk as a boiled owl with people who are still in my life, places where I regularly went shopping or having an endless coffee with friends and places I was entrusted with, like precious jewels. Amused, because to be honest, Paris is probably the last French destination I could think of for an enjoyable week-end en amoureux (I suppose you want to go as a couple?), right now: it is overpriced as hell (the Olympics are round the corner), dirty and seedy (I was shocked, last time I visited and Manu Macron, my old acquaintance of yore, spoke about parking all the homeless outside of town during the Games 'for aesthetic reasons' - the boy never had a sense of humor, trust me on this one).

I shall give you 5 restaurants and 5 cafés (oh God, why didn't you ask me about Bangkok, instead?). Many of them are on the Left Bank (all of my addresses were there, simply because the closer to the university, the better).

Five restaurants: as it happens in Rome (where the gap is truly tragic), I will try and recommend places where locals go. You will find a menu in English everywhere, but at least try the holy trinity of bonjour, l'addition (the check) et merci. All the Parisian waiters are sourer than the Politburo and insolent as highway robbers, but do not be deterred by their manners. Order away.

Le Relais de Venise - son entrecôte (271 Bd Pereire, 75017). It is not in the center. They do not take reservations. You will be met with a long line of people patiently waiting (Seinfeld style) to get in. They have a minimal set menu (which is always a very good sign: https://relaisdevenise.com/menus/set-menu.php). The waitresses are kind and dressed like 1920's maids. It will be the damn best entrecôte-frites you've ever had (their sauce is a secret). Nothing changed there since 1959. Double check opening times and plan accordingly: you will need a taxi and plenty of time ahead. Almost a bargain for its stellar performance. The London one is a sad spin off.

Le Soufflé (36 rue du Mont Thabor, 75001). An original choice, but oh so good! They only cook soufflés (not exactly a pudding, but a pudding angels must have on a daily basis). Very reasonably priced for Paris (set menus at 40 and 55 euros - https://www.lesouffle.fr/bienvenue/home/menu/). If you want to eat à la carte, I recommend le soufflé Henri IV (cheese soufflé with chicken & mushrooms sauce) : it is heaven.

La Jacobine (59-61 Rue Saint-André des Arts, 75006). You will find tourists in this one, it is always full. Service is impeccable. Do not bother with Le Procope round the corner: it used to be one of my haunts, but this is over. The best soupe à l'oignon (onion soup, notoriously hard to cook) I ever had (yes, they still add white wine!). I would also recommend the magret de canard sauce aux cèpes (duck breast with a porcini mushrooms sauce). I could not find a decent menu, but that should give you an idea - they don't have a website (https://eater.space/la-jacobine). Very reasonably priced, too - and very, very good.

Chez Julien (1, rue du Pont Louis-Philippe, 75004 Paris). This is one of my mum's favorites. It is open only in the evenings, but it is an excellent choice if you want to call it a night, because it has service continu (all night long, wow!). It is more expensive - this is, after all, the Right Bank, so expect prices to go drastically up. This is the only option serving wonderful breakfasts, so I beg you: have breakfast in town at least once, Paris hotels tend to do it on the sad and sorry side (https://www.chezjulien.paris/en/home#menu-en). Pair anything you pick with a glass of Pouilly fumé white wine (it goes with anything, it is that magically good).

Money is no object? Entice the guy to take you at (I am torn, here, to be honest) La Tour d'Argent (19 Quai de la Tournelle, 75005). It is very expensive (like VERY), but it is worth every penny (https://tourdargent.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/LTDA-SEPTEMBRE-EN.pdf). You must (it's an order!) order the canard au sang (you will find it on the menu under the entry Duckling Frédéric Delair and it is outrageously priced). But you will never have a chance to see the table show anywhere else (it is served in two times: first the fillet and then the legs and it uses a sort of Medieval contraption, to get the blood out for the sauce) - just a specialty from Normandy, you will not find in Rouen anymore. It is divine. They have been there since 1583. What are you waiting for? (for a less break the bank option, try Le Grand Véfour, near the Louvre - google it, it will take forever to explain why).

Four cafés and a salon de thé (tea parlor) : all are haunts of mine. In every single one of them something very personal happened to me. Consider yourself lucky. On a more practical side, all of them double as excellent lunch options, for a fraction of what you would spend in a restaurant. :)

Chez Carette (4 Pl. du Trocadéro, 75016, but also Place des Vosges, with a nod to C). You will have an exceptional choice of anything you could think of and the same Roaring Twenties atmosphere as in the Relais de Venise restaurant. The chocolat chaud (hot chocolate) is almost perfection (do NOT go to Angelina, on the rue de Rivoli, that is another favorite which went south and not in a good way). The best macarons you will find North of Saint Jean de Luz's Maison Adam (where the story of macarons began in earnest). This is Someone's favorite, but then he always was a Right Bank purist. Service is old school, which means supremely kind, if only a bit on the slow side: you are in France, soak it in!

Les Deux Magots (6 Pl. Saint-Germain des Prés, 75006). On the Left Bank in the publishing houses district. This is my second favorite (there is a first favorite) and you will likely find me on the heated terrace with a cigarette and a newspaper, if I were there. Service is appalling, but you should not mind, I have warned you. Reasonably priced for what and where it is. Breakfasts are mediocre, but still enjoyable and lunch/dinner menus are typical brasserie fare - you are not there for the food, you are there to cosplay Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir and act intellectual and sophisticated and have endless talks about the world's destiny (https://lesdeuxmagots.fr/en/breakfast-menu/). If nature calls, head downstairs with an air of intrinsic superiority and don't forget to pay the grumpy dame pipi (toilet lady), who will give you what you need and look at you like you are the scum of the Earth. Always makes me laugh.

Le Café de l'Epoque (2 Rue du Bouloi, 75001). On the Right Bank, at the end of one of the most beautiful passages couverts (glass-roofed passageways) of Paris. Again, you are there for the supremely dreamy atmosphere, I can only fail to describe. Look on the map for all of these passageways and then get lost in the maze of stamp shops, bookstores, taxidermists and God only knows what else you could think of (or at least add to this passageway the Galerie Vivienne). Usual brasserie/bistro fare, reasonable prices (https://cafedelepoque.fr/en/services). The lemon meringue pies are to die for.

Café Le Rostand (6 Pl. Edmond Rostand, 75006). Steps away from the Luxembourg Gardens, which I crossed every single day to go to the uni. Steps away also from the secret and sublime Medici fountain in above park (oh, the things I did there!). Surprisingly good French fare, the beef tartare is excellent (a rare thing!) and well priced (https://lerostand.fr/carte/ - use Google translate, they don't care for tourists). Service is cheeky. Round the corner, one of the most charming shops in Paris, Parapluies Simon (56 Boulevard Saint-Michel, 75006) - only umbrellas and dandy walking sticks (you can hide a whisky mini flask in one of them, I am told by Someone on the phone, but I think he is trolling us - we love that shop).

The Tea Caddy (14 Rue Saint-Julien le Pauvre, 75005). It's been there since 1928, when a certain Miss Klinklin opened it and introduced the Devon scones to France. It is my favorite favorite (https://the-tea-caddy.com/en/tea-room/) and it is perfect on a rainy day. Steps away from the Medieval church of Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre, one of the most authentic and moving experiences of its kind in a very secular town. The Shakespeare & Co. bookstore is just round the corner. A rare gem of a place.

I could go on and on and on. Three more short tips and you will thank me for it, as alternatives to deceiving mainstream options:

The Musée de l'Orangerie instead of The Louvre. Blasphemy? Intense perfumes come in small bottles. It is breathtaking (https://www.musee-orangerie.fr/en).

Château de Rambouillet instead of Versailles (you will not be able to enjoy it AT ALL). Where else could you find Marie Antoinette's private 'milk bar' (La Laiterie de la Reine/ The Queen's Dairy), a supremely elegant affair, with milk-spouting fountains, built to encourage hygienic milk consumption as an alternative to breast-feeding (she was unable to). Trust me and plan a full day for it (https://www.chateau-rambouillet.fr/en/discover).

La Sainte-Chapelle instead of Notre Dame. I always preferred it to anything else, except perhaps Vézelay (far, far away from Paris). It will shock you, but in such a perfect way (https://www.sainte-chapelle.fr/en). Enough said: I will let you discover. Across the Seine, couple this visit with the Musée de Cluny and tell The Lady and the Unicorn I miss them (https://www.musee-moyenage.fr/en/).

I am not sorry for the length of this post. At all. I hope you will enjoy this modest, but very personal selection and perhaps you will come back and tell me if it was worth something. Bon voyage!

Notre Dame on a snowy evening, Paris 1953

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Driving Habits -Octavinelle Edition

Can they drive? If so, what kind of drivers are they? What are their car habits?

Characters; Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech & Floyd Leech

Content; mentions of road rage & whatever Floyd has going on

Word Count; 500+

Find the Rest of the Series; Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Author’s Note; As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Azul Ashengrotto

Can’t drive. He has read all the books, and has had Jade try to teach him, but it’s all like flying class all over again. He hates it and he hates that Jade and Floyd tease him about it.

He even tried the driving simulation games with Idia, but those didn’t help any either. All it did was get him pissy about getting blue-shelled in Mario Kart.

Whenever he wants to go places he either has Jade pick him up or calls a taxi. There is no chance he is getting a ride with Floyd. Actually makes Floyd sign a contract to never drive him.

Will go over paperwork while sitting in the passenger seat (Jade) or back (taxi), or look out the window deep in thought going over a new promotional item for the Lounge. He refuses to take public transit, since last time he had to sit next to a screaming toddler.

At least he won’t need a license or car back in the Coral Sea, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t grumble in private and question why he can’t master it.

Jade Leech

Great driver, goes by the book. He has a dash cam set up in case the time comes should he really need it not for an alibi. This has gotten Floyd into trouble on more than one occasion.

Drives in dead silence or listens to a mycology podcast or audiobook. May occasionally hum a little tune to himself when he’s in a good mood. No one is allowed to touch the aux, if they try they may lose a finger or two; Floyd can attest to this fact.

Keeps his phone on silent. He does wear a bluetooth headset so he can take calls while still driving but only picks up if it’s from his parents, Azul (75% of the time), or Floyd (50% of the time).

Doesn’t have any bumper stickers, but does have several mushroom decorations hidden throughout his vehicle. If he could, he would have everything mushroom themed, but he needs to keep up his appearance. Keeps his keys on a mushroom lanyard. Keeps everything spotless.

Silently rages in his head at people who really shouldn’t be on the road. He just clutches tightly onto the steering wheel with a cold smile. 

Floyd Leech

He can either be an okay driver or driving like he’s in GTA and making a getaway, there is no in-between. It depends on his mood, time of day, moon cycle, and weather.

Has the music to full blast and singing along. And his playlist is the most chaotic thing, it can be 80’s one minute, dubstep the next, and then musicals. If it’s loud and chaotic, he’ll play it.

Has called Jade and Azul on speaker while he’s driving. Jade is used to this behaviour. Azul is livid, especially if he’s in class or at the Lounge. Don’t be like Floyd.

His bumper is covered in the greatest assortment of cursed bumper stickers. You can’t really make anything out. The inside is just as chaotic as the outside, but it all reflects what is going on inside his head.

Has road rage, and will act on it. Is the type of person to race people who pass him. Honestly, no one really knows how he still has a license or if he even got a license in the first place… wait, he has a license, right? RIGHT? FLOYD?!

[emiesphere]

Back by popular demand (juste Marmeuh en fait, qui m'a mis un couteau sous la gorge), voici un nouvel article sur ma vie de vagabonde. Bon en même temps je suis à la bourre dans mon écriture donc fallait que je me secoue un peu.

Après Singapour j'ai pris la direction de la Thailande qui sera mon dernier pays visité durant ce voyage. L'absence de fromage, la fatigue de l'itinéraire et le manque de câlins maternels auront eu raison de moi.

Après 4 jours en hostel où le sommeil d'autrui est loin d'être respecté j'ai effectué 36h de voyage pour arriver à Koh Samui. Au programme : réveil à 3h45, taxi, 2h30 d'avion, attente de 7h à l'aéroport (pendant lesquels j'ai réussi à faire une super sieste comme un clocharde au milieu du hall d'arrivés et ceci n'est pas ironique), puis 1h30 de taxi dans le trafic fluide de Bangkok (ceci est ironique), 10h de bus avec siège complètement inclinable, clim et couverture (meilleure partie du voyage), 1h30 de van, 2h de ferry et pour terminer 1h de pickup à être bien secouée. Quand je vous dis que c'est fatiguant l'itinérance! Et le plus difficile c'est quand tu arrives à l'hôtel après tout ça et qu'il faut encore attendre 4h pour le checkin. Petit tip : toujours prévoir d'arriver dans les heures de check in, au moins pour pouvoir enlever l'odeur de clochard qui a voyagé pendant 2 jours sans se changer.

Là où j'avais bien calculé c'est que j'avais 5 nuits à Koh Samui dans une chambre seule! J'ai donc pu enfin rattraper mon retard de sommeil et prendre encore plus d'avance sur mon bronzage car à part aller à la plage il n'y a pas grand chose d'autre à faire. Le point culminant a été ma journée au spa de luxe ambiance White Lotus (la saison 3 a d'ailleurs été tournée à Koh Samui). Une journée de relaxation complète au milieu de la nature entourée d'oiseaux de papillons avec l'interdiction d'avoir un téléphone portable.

J'ai ensuite pris la direction de Koh Tao, île très TRÈS connue pour la plongée. Il y a au moins une centaines de clubs de plongée pour cette toute petite île. J'ai donc bien sûr sauté sur l'occasion. La première sortie était à Sail Rock, apparement le plus beau site du golf de Thaïlande grâce aux énorme bancs de carangues à travers lesquels on peut nager. Personnellement ce n'était pas le meilleur spot tout d'abord parce que je préfère les petits poissons très colorés mais surtout parce que Sail Rock est à 2h de bateau de Koh Tao. Ce jour là il y avait des vagues, beaucoup de vagues. Le tiers du bateau a vomi, je fais partie du tiers. Et franchement s'immerger juste après avoir posé une petite galette c'est pas la meilleure expérience. Le lendemain on a fait deux plongées plus proche, à Red Rock et proche d'une épave. Moins de mal de mer, plus de visibilité, des tonnes de nudibranches et de coraux, une énorme tortue et des croissants pour la pause. Donc plus facile d'apprécier cette sortie vous imaginez!

Koh Tao m'a d'abord moyennement plu car très dense et peuplé ce qui contrastait avec Samui. La moyenne d'âge est plus jeune donc l'île est plus festive mais ça m'a aussi permis de faire du superbe rencontre. À la fin de mon séjour nous avions constitué un petit groupe avec tous mes voisins de chambre (anglais, américain, mexicain, français, suédois) avec qui nous avons testé pas mal de restos et de bars.

[stephaneparede]

Une femme, une histoire :

Ouardia Hamitouche (1930-1991)

Mariée à l'âge de 15 ans, elle avait travaillé comme femme de ménage à l’hôpital Mustapha Pacha à Alger, tout en faisant des études !

Sa carrière d'artiste commence quand elle participe aux émissions radiophoniques, tout en continuant son travail de femme de ménage à l’hôpital durant la nuit. Quelques années après, elle participe à des comédies en interprétant divers rôles pour la télévision, le théâtre et des œuvres cinématographiques, telles que :

- Le Mariage des dupes, de Hadj Rahim, aux côtés de Mustapha El-Anka,

- El taxi el makhfi ou Sombrero de R. Bouberas...

Devenue très vite populaire, Ouardia a su conquérir le public Algérien par son apparence simple et naturelle de "mamma" typiquement Algéroise qui la rendait si proche de la réalité, et par sa satire Algérienne plus proche d'un Rachid Ksentini, d'un Mohamed Touri !

Ouardia Hamitouche est la grand-mère maternelle du rappeur Karim Zenoud !

Elle décède le 1er janvier 1991 à l'âge de 61 ans, victime d'une crise cardiaque dans un train, alors qu'elle allait rendre visite à sa fille à Metz (France) !

Paix à son âme.

[kelthoumrambles]

Ptn... il m'est arrivé un de ces bails hier soir. Je viens de me réveiller, je suis tjs méga choquée. Hier, vers 19h, j'ai été prendre l'apéro dans un de mes bars préférés. J'ai pas énormément bu mais sur estomac vide, comme d'hab. Puis, j'ai un "pote" qui m'a demandé ce que je faisais. Je lui ai dit où j'étais et il a décidé de me rejoindre aux alentours de 23h00. Ce type, faut savoir, plusieurs personnes m'ont dit de m'en méfier mais comme une conne j'ai pas vu les signes... enfin, si, il est un peu spécial parfois mais c'est un artiste et je me suis tjs dit que les artistes sont un peu zarb. Bref. Je lui fait savoir que je suis fatiguée et que j'allais rentrer. Il propose de me ramener chez moi. Super, j'accepte. On est en voiture et je me rends compte au bout d'un moment qu'il ne prend pas dutout le chemin de ma maison. Je lui demande "euh.. tu vas où là ?" Et il me répond "chez moi". Lorsque je vous dit que mon instinct de survie s'est déclenché en deux temps trois mouvements. On a commencé à se disputer. Ça m'a fait péter un plomb car j'étais totalement prisonnière.... il s'est arrêté au milieu d'une grande route, je me débatais et il est sorti de sa voiture, a ouvert ma portière, il a pris mon sac et il a tout vidé par terre comme un gros dingue, ensuite, il m'a ultra violemment sorti de sa voiture, il m'a traîné sur plusieurs mètres (mon genou droit peut en témoigner) en me gueulant dessus comme un possédé. Je ne sais même plus ce qu'il me disait.. et il est parti en trombe. Je me suis retrouvée au milieu de nul part, le soir, avec mon écran de tel totalement pété suite à cette altercation et, sur une grande route sur laquelle les piétons n'ont rien à faire. J'ai marché pendant une demie heure pour rejoindre la ville et prendre un taxi.... plein de voitures me klaxonnaient. Et après tout ça, le mec m'a envoyé un message totalement lunaire en mode "désolée de t'avoir mis dehors. Je me suis senti humilié" humilié de quoi fdp t'étais sur le point de me v*****??!?? Sérieusement je suis O.O .... Vis ma vie pfff je m'en veux à fond de m'être retrouvé dans une telle situation. Marre. Mais marre.