#iohan

[whumpspicelatte]

A Boy Named Juno: Terry in "King's Counsel"

Terry's POV to @echo-goes-mmm's Birthday Present

Juno belongs to @echo-goes-aaa / @echo-goes-mmm

Warnings: power imbalance, slavery, references to physical and sexual abuse, implied dubcon

This would be the third birthday to pass since the sudden assassination of Queen Catherine and King Ambrose, only a matter of months after the loss of their crown prince in the wake of the Gojuyeon civil war, when his wife, Princess Chaewon, was made to take the throne. A birthday Terrance had grown to dread.   

His head swam with the crowds of people filling the ballroom, corset drawn so tight he could barely get in a breath even with the frail mess of a body he hid beneath the silks dragging heavy down his shoulders. His skirts pooled around his feet where he sat on display in the ornate throne set up for him. 

Spectacle. Terrance had never been the Desrosiers son who did well with spectacle. 

The deceptively light crown resting upon his brow, sapphires dripping down his forehead, should have never touched his head. 

Fresh welts and bruising over the backs of his thighs and his ass ached with the weight of his own body pressing them into the cushioning of the throne. What was meant to be a reminder as to what was at stake should he screw up left his head spinning within the prison of his body. 

As he kept his gaze focused on General Adamantidis, long-time Oikophorean ambassador and vaunted retired military commander, as the older woman presented to him perfumes and foreign fruit trees and beautifully woven bolts of dyed linens of the highest quality for the summer months, just one of each gift worth enough to keep one of the servants who brought him his morning meal fed for a decade if sold to the right bidder, his thoughts strayed to the distinct, irrationally despairing anxiety that someone would be able to sense the ghost of his naval advisor’s seed curdling in his stomach from early this morning.

Nobody would be able to tell. Everyone had made sure of it, from his breakfast of fresh fruit afterwards to the meticulous morning cleansing to the light rose perfumes and the heavy silks hiding the truth from the world. Yet still his fingers curled in his lap in a subtle display of nerves. 

He played his role. Kept his composure. Said the right words. Didn’t let slip just how hollowed out he’d been left. 

General Adamantidis bowed, gifts taken aside with everything else, and left to join the crowds, replaced within moments by the current Timorsian representative. Beside him sat a covered crate, atop which laid rolls of fine lace and a jewelry set Terrance already knew he’d have to wear the next time he had any Timorsian nobility or royalty as guests. At least such visits would be rare indeed. 

At least the set should be on the understated side. Hopefully. 

“Your Majesty,” the representative announced himself. “I bring gifts from Timorsia, to celebrate your birth.” A loud, clear voice for such a wiry frame, soot-black curls over the scalp and around the jaw, silver-blue eyes glinting from narrowed eyes. Skin tanned copper-gold from the sun. 

Terrance was, fortunately or not, not expected expected to know this man’s name. Not with the frosty tensions lingering between his kingdom and their empire. 

The man opened the jewelry set to reveal a gleaming set of Timorsian jade pearls, each gleaming as if carved from the water of oceanside tropics. Ironic, considering their freezing cold origin, deep in watery depths near the capital of the empire. Simple. Understated. Even rather elegantly styled, rather than the grandiose overwrought monstrosity he’d been given on the year of his coronation. Hair ornaments, rings, earrings, brooches, strands to wrap around his wrists and neck. “A full set of seafoam green pearls, courtesy of His Grace, King Jason the Fifth. Collected from Timorsia Bay.”

It almost felt more appropriate for something to add to one of his nieces’ dowries than to accept for himself. 

From the half-appreciative murmur that ran through the crowd, he knew there would be rumours of the king sending over at least some of his daughters or younger female relatives with the next representative once Terrance eventually opened himself to marriage within the week. 

Just what he needed. 

Next, the extremely valuable rolls of lace where displayed, jewelry set handed off to the servants charged with the gifts. “Seven bolts of silk lace, from Lady Farthens.” She did have an uncommon habit of sending over beautiful gifts and actually sticking to the boundaries and limits of proper decorum. “Handmade.”

These were received better. Extremely valuable, but not presumptuous. Bolts of fabric were a favourite for a reason. 

Quietly, he wondered how much he’d be able to get away with regifting to his nieces and nephews. Some should be given to Jules, at the very least. She’d enjoy admiring and reverse-engineering the craftsmanship in her spare time. 

And then only the cloth-covered crate remained. The fabric flowed with air, slightly, revealing hints of bars about the bottom. Something live rested in there. Some kind of animal, perhaps. Some kind of beast. 

A quiet beast. Nothing so large as a steed. A well-trained hound or two, perhaps?

The representative whipped the cloth away, and the room went silent. Terrance’s own vocal cords withered in his throat. He binked at its contents. Focused on his icy composure. 

That was no beast in the crate. 

“A slave from Middle Timorsia, from Lord Aspen.”

A boy. 

Pale skin covered in jagged scars, dark hair cropped short. Clean-shaven beneath a brutish muzzle. Dressed only in a plain shift. Terrance couldn’t see the boy well from here, couldn’t even tell if the boy really were a boy or a young man, if not older. Not shadowed in the dark as he was, kneeling behind those bars. Looking down at his knees. 

“He responds to Juno,” the representative continued, “and is trained to utter obedience. He is mute, and guaranteed not to distract you from your work, Your Grace.”

As if distracting him from his work could ever be what might cross his mind right now.

The representative unlatched the door, and hissed something too quietly to hear; clearly at the boy- the man?- within that kennel. The boy being made- being made a gift. 

And it was a boy, Terrance could see in the light. Young. Achingly so; he could only be a bit older than Terrance’s own nieces and nephews at best.

The boy didn’t walk to Terrance. He crawled. 

The boy crawled on red and swollen knees and palms, dragged against the polished sheen of the marble floors. Terrance resisted the urge to leave his throne and go to the boy instead. He was shivering, the boy. No wonder; the castle marble was cold. Like ice. 

Juno- that was his name, Juno- came close. Closer than anyone but his guards and advisors had all night. Terrance watched those thighs and arms quiver. Watched one of those arms buckle beneath him. 

Watched the boy hide his little stumble by resting his cheek against the king’s thigh. 

Heat seeped through the layers of fine fabric, into Terrance’s skin. 

He hid his shiver at the quiet, unassuming warmth. 

His fingers ran through Juno’s hair. The boy’s hair was soft. Freshly washed. 

Only to still as the boy stiffened. Sniffled. Grimaced. 

Braced himself for a blow. 

Something in Terrance’s lungs ached. 

This wasn’t a gift that Terrance could refuse, not with how cold relations between Rhodantheia and Tismoria, even though, if he did, it would not be Terrance who would suffer. No, it would be the boy. 

The whip scars peeking out from under that shift…

“Timorsia has been as generous as ever,” he let his voice ring out, as cold and sharp and distant as ever. A slight edge to his tone that had the Timorsian representative wincing. “Please let our gratitude be known to His Grace and Her Ladyship.”

He said nothing of the lord who had sent a slave as a birthday present to a Rhodantheian king. He didn’t need to. 

The representative bowed and excused himself, but despite watching Pellinore, the Mirei diplomat, meekly present the gifts from Mire with a lingering anxiety that Terrance couldn’t help but sympathize with, all he could genuinely focus on was the warmth of the boy curling up against his legs, soft puffs of breath against his thigh. 

When the celebration moved on Terrance receiving his own piece of cake, the music was too loud for anyone but him to hear the empty gurgling of Juno’s stomach. He could barely stomach more the rich chocolate on his tongue. 

Nobody noticed anything amiss at Terrance proving unable to finish his slice. 

[...]

Terrance’s private study was too far from the great hall for him to feel comfortable taking Juno there just yet, especially as the boy remained on his knees. Instead he settled for a small, private room; one of the small parlours dotting the palace. Anais opened the door for them as they made their way inside, and he gave her a small nod as the door closed behind him and his new responsibility. 

She’d done well; a small, sparse tea service awaited them with crackers and cheese, the scent of honey ginger tea rising from the teapot. Beside the teapot and tray sat a small plate of cake. 

A good, rich slice, larger than the one Terrance had struggled to eat; hopefully Juno was not so starved as to make eating it uncomfortable, or worse. 

He sat down gingerly on one of the two plush seats, strangling a groan before it could escape his throat. His eyes fluttered shut. 

Much better than that throne he’d been perched on like a doll for hours on end, for all it made his tender backside sting. 

When he opened his eyes, Juno knelt on the floor, a few feet away from him. Hm. Yes, he should have expected this. His older brother had liked to torment him with horror stories of how the Tismorian aristocracy would treat their slaves back when they were young. Exaggerations, likely, but…

“Come here, Juno,” he murmured. If he let the cold edge to his voice melt completely, well, there was only him and this mute boy here to know. 

Juno crawled miserably up to him, lashes fluttering in a familiar way that had his stomach sinking. Terrance resisted the urge to pick the boy up off the floor, as if he were one of his nephews instead of- of- 

Whatever he was now, here with Terrance. 

Terrance reached forward, tapping the rough wire of the muzzle on the boy’s face. “If I take this off, will you promise not to bite?” He’d take it off either way; he just had to check his bases first. Figure out if he would need to hide injuries from his advisors. 

Juno’s head nodded vigorously. If he didn’t know any better, he might fear the boy’s skull would slip right off his head. He reached forward, unbuckled the leather straps and eased the metal wires off the boy’s face. Terrance’s stomach churned at the sight of friction burns framing Juno’s nose and jaw. 

The boy opened his mouth stretching his undoubtedly aching jaw, letting out a soft moan of relief. Then the boy looked up at him. 

Blue. 

Blue eyes, just a few shades darker than the cornflower shade that haunted Terrance’s nightmares. His own breath hitched. 

They were beautiful, of course. Large and vibrant with the same glow as expertly cut tanzanite. Especially framed by long, dark lashes. Altogether, if not for the scars cutting into the boy’s skin, he’d look almost like a doll. 

Iohannes’s eyes were beautiful too. 

So was the ocean that Terrance had drowned in, the summer before Iohannes had shoved him down a whole flight of stairs. 

He locked his expression down before he could let any hint of unease slip free. 

Juno’s stomach had grumbled, during the celebrations. He needed to eat. But Terrance never had much appetite after deeply stressful situations; would Juno? 

“Are you hungry?”

Apparently, Terrance just stuck his foot in his mouth, because that had Juno’s eyes swimming with tears. The look of desperation on his face- that whimper-

Terrance tore his gaze away to pour a cup of tea for the boy. He gripped the porcelain tight, to better steady his hands. The inside of his throat swelled.  

“Sit,” he murmured, waving his hand towards the opposing seat. Some comfort had to do the boy some good. 

Juno blinked up at him, radiating confusion. 

Only his own long years of conscious control over the minute muscles of his face kept his brows from furrowing. “Wouldn’t you like to sit on a chair rather than the floor?”

The boy shook his head. Terrance only recognized the helpless puff of air escaping his lungs at the sight of Juno’s expression dropping into dread. Of his face screwing up. 

Tears dribbled down those pale, hollow cheeks, clearly in spite of his best efforts, and a sickening sense of peering into a reflection flickered irrationally through the king’s mind. 

Damn it. Only a few hours into their…acquaintanceship, and Terrance was already making him cry. What should he-

He grabbed the plate of cake off the table and practically shoved it into the boy’s hands. 

“Eat.” Somehow, his panic didn’t leak into his voice. 

Distracting a toddler from tears with something they liked always worked when his nieces and nephews were little. Somehow, the same principle seemed to work here. 

Juno blinked down at the cake in his hands in disbelief. 

Terrance grabbed a fork, setting it on the boy’s plate. Would the boy like cake? He hoped so; he hadn’t prepared anything else. Maybe tea would work instead as a stopgap while sending out for something else for the boy if not.  “Go on.”

That was all that he seemed to have to do before Juno was gingerly picking up the fork and sliding a tiny piece of the cake into his mouth. For a moment, he froze. 

Tears dribbled down his cheeks. 

Were it not for the boy immediately beginning to work diligently on the slice of cake, taking his time to savour every bite, Terrance would have thought he’d just screwed up yet again. 

Terrance sat back in his chair, sipping at the cup of tea he’d just poured, and let himself relax. 

Juno liked chocolate cake. 

He’d have to remember that. 

[mbrainspaz]

Very sad to learn that a youtuber I followed closely from 2015 until he suddenly stopped posting a few years ago passed away in 2021. RIP Iohan.

His SEE THE WORLD videos were some of the most beautiful long form content on the internet and I often paused them to sketch the scenery while I was trapped working in offices. He commented on one of my sketches on insta to let me know he'd seen it. I knew I'd never be able to adventure as freely as he did, but he still inspired me to be more daring in challenging situations. He reminded me that there's a huge and beautiful world out there at a time when I really needed it.

[359midnightburgers]

I found out today that Iohan Gueorguiev, the Bike Wanderer who cycled from northern Canada to southern Argentina by himself over the span of 6 years, passed away from suicide back in 2021. He had apparently been dealing with depression, stemming from the inability to travel in the pandemic and issues with insomnia.

He made amazing video's about his travels that were super high quality. I also found out that his video's are disappearing off youtube due to copyright strikes about music (only 25 of the original 40 episodes of 'See The World' are currently still up).

It's a long shot, but did anyone download the episodes as they originally came out? Not only were they amazing to watch, I also genuinely think they are worth archiving, as they showed the culture, nature and his personal interactions across 2 continents and many more countries. He was such an amazing and inspiring person.

[icst]

Hyppomanteia by Cristian Iohan Ştefănescu Via Flickr: Calais, La Manche

[couragemuscle]

5.12.23 I have to thank Iohan for some good old tips how to support a form, when clay is still too wet and malleable 2HRS at EKA Ceramics

[tophits]

Roça Em Mim (Ana Castela, Luan Pereira e Zé Felipe)

Roça Em Mim Canção de Ana Castela, Luan Pereira e Zé Felipe Bem-vindos ao Canal TopHits, fique com mais uma música de sucesso. Roça em mim. Não esqueçam de curtir, e se inscrever no canal!!! #sertanejo #anacastela #luanpereira #zefelipe ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Coloca o capacete que lá vem pedrada E pra você não esquecer, é mais uma do LP Elas gostam da minha voz no ouvido De sentir o meu cheiro, do love bandido Elas gostam de sentar no perigo Se envolve sem medo, sem pensar no risco De se apaixonar no cowboy Vai com calma, bebê, depois do pré, tem o pós Sabe que nóis faz bem gostosin' Eu chamei ela pra roça e ela me pediu assim Roça, roça em mim, roça, roça em mim Tira o chapéu e a bota e me bota gostosin' Roça, roça em mim, roça, roça em mim Que hoje tu vira o olho galopando gostosin' Roça, roça em mim, roça, roça em mim Tiro o chapéu e a bota e te boto gostosin' Me bota, me bota, me bota gostosin' Me bota, me bota galopando gostosin' Juntou! É LP, a Boiadeira e Zé Felipe, bebê Chama na pressão! (Explodiu) Uhuul! Vai Elas gosta da minha voz no ouvido De sentir o meu cheiro, do love bandido Elas gosta de sentar no perigo Se envolve sem medo, sem pensar no risco De se apaixonar no cowboy Vai com calma, bebê, depois do pré, tem o pós Sabe que nóis faz bem gostosin' Eu chamei ela pra roça e ela me pediu assim Roça, roça em mim, roça, roça em mim Tira o chapéu e a bota e me bota gostosin' Roça, roça em mim, roça, roça em mim Que hoje tu vira o olho galopando gostosin' Roça, roça ni' mim, roça, roça ni' mim Tiro o chapéu e a bota e te boto gostosin' Me bota, me bota, me bota gostosin' Me bota, me bota galopando gostosin' A Boiadeira chegou, bebê Ihuul, chama! Uoh-oh, oh-uoh, oh Chama Fonte: Musixmatch Compositores: Suheldo Lima / Patrick Iohan Ferreira Rego / Luan Pereira / Mateus Felipe Felix Da Silva / Breno Sina Carvalho Letra de Roça Em Mim © Agroplay ( R B Alessi ) TAGS Tophits, hits, música, sertanejo, musica sertaneja, música sertaneja, roça em mim, Roça Em Mim Ana Castela Luan Pereira e Zé Felipe, Ana Castela Luan Pereira e Zé Felipe roça em mim, ana castela, ana castela roça em mim, roça em mim ana castela, zé felipe, zé felipe roça em mim, roça em mim zé felipe, luan pereira, luan pereira roça em mim, roça em mim luan pereira,

[freewalkers]

A Butterfly on a Bike

A Butterfly on a Bike

While browsing the New York Times’ website in August of 2021 I came across a link to an article that immediately caught my attention. The link read, “Iohan Gueorguiev, ‘Bike Wanderer’ of the Wilderness, Dies at 33.” It was probably the combination of his odd name, his given title and the fact that he lived a short life that drove me to find out more. In his short life, and in particular his last…

[ukdamo]

Today's Flickr photo with the most hits is this lovely 14th CE Iohan Chinese sculpture. It lives in Amsterdam, in the Rijksmuseum.

[yulaniagoyjina]

The Rise of the Gods

Ficha

💎 Nome 💎 Cho IoHan (赵韩木卫) - Nome Chinês  Pan Da Yang (팬 다양) - Nome Coreano

💎 Idade 💎 22  (23) anos

💎 Apelidos 💎 Panda - Por ela ser muito fofa, e também por seu nome coreano semelhante ao do animal. Pan é o sobrenome e Da o primeiro nome, sendo seguido por Yang, seu segundo nome. - Gosta Yang Mi - Por ela ter uma personalidade delicada e fofa, e seu segundo nome ser Yang, a chamam de rosa (flor) - Não gosta Karuta-chan/Roromyo-san - Dizem que ela tem uma personalidade semelhante a de Karuta-chan/Roromyo-san (personagem do anime Ino x Boku ss) - Gosta Bezerra - Por beber muito leite, até mesmo puro - Não gosta

💎 Aparência 💎 Representada por Park Hye Min

IoHan tem cabelos naturalmente castanhos, mas os pinta frequentemente. Lábios mais avantajados que a maioria, e olhos claros. Seu rosto, tem um formato mais fora do padrão, mas ainda assim belo e chamativo. Seu corpo possui curvas aceitáveis, mas não muito chamativas. 

💎 Personalidade 💎 IoHan é incrivelmente calma. Ela vive em seu próprio mundo, e muitas vezes acaba sendo mal-interpretada por isso. Mesmo que estaja sempre fora do padrão feminino de muitas, ela ainda tem muitas coisas e objetivos em mente, e não  se importa de passar vergonha para consegui-los. IoHan é uma garota com personalidade forte e chamativa. Ela gosta de comer e não esconde isso de ninguém, muitas vezes é vista agradecendo pela comida, não importando a situação. Sua personalidade é tão lunática, que todos estão acostumados e já não se importam com seus desaparecimentos momentâneos ou suas faltas injustificadas. Não é de demonstrar emoções, mas nem por isso é mal vista, seu único defeito é não tem expressão. Isso também é o principal motivo pela qual as pessoas ficam desconfortáveis perto dela. Amigos mais íntimos e próximos ainda conseguem definir seus sentimentos pelo seu olhar distante.

💎 Nacionalidade 💎 Chinesa

💎 Par 💎  D.O/KyungSoo (EXO)  

💎 Família 💎  Têmis - Mãe - Não a conheçe

Cho Xiao Mai - Pai - Idade desconhecida - Profissão desconhecida - Imagem Desconhecida - IoHan nunca conheceu o pai

IoHan nunca conheceu nenhum membro de sua familia. Se ela tem irmãos, ou tias, primos, parentes, todas essas informações são desconhecidas para ela (explicando isso na Historia)

💎 Historia 💎 IoHan nasceu e foi criado exilada e presa em sua própria casa. Sua única libertação era a escola, onde ia sob supervisão de diversos guardas. Seu conhecimento se resumia no que aprendia na escola. Desde criança, fora tratada como a reencarnação da Deus Têmis. Desde pequena, seu único prazer foi a comida, e por isso, é acostumada a comer tanto. Como não tinha muito o que fazer em seu quarto, ela simplesmente comia. Nunca pensou em fugir, mesmo que considerasse sua vida um verdadeiro cativeiro. Quando completou a marioridade, foi enviada para uma escola destinada a semi-deuses. Local onde ela começou a descobrir a verdadeira felicidade por trás da palavra viver.

💎 Qual deus é filha💎 Têmis - Deusa da Justiça

💎 Poderes 💎 Cura: O Filho de Têmis pode curar os inocentes, apenas.  Corrente Divina: Uma corrente de luz que queima criaturas diabólicas. Tal corrente é capaz de domar qualquer fera se usada como coleira ou rédea

💎 Arma que usa para combate 💎 Espada

💎 Roupas 💎

•Dia a dia•

•Formal•

•Festa•

•Casual•

•Bikini•

•Pijama•

💎 Relação com💎

Par: Os dois são como carne e unha. Nunca se desgrudam. Os dois se veem como um refugio, um porto seguro, por isso, são raramente vistos separados. Amam um ao outro mais do que podem suportar. Mesmo assim, estão sempre brincando de brigar, e o principal motivo é comida, pois KyungSoo vive roubando a comida da namorada para si. Mas no fim eles são bem carinhosos e carentes um com o outro.

Garotas: IoHan tem um jeito único de cuidar das garotas, e por isso, muitos acham estranho. Ela geralmente está atras de um fogão e só deixa elas sairem da mesa e terminar de comer quando ela (IoHan) tiver terminado de comer

Seus pais: Desconhece a existência dos dois. Não sabe quem é seu pai, e nunca se encontrou pessoalmente com sua mãe, a Deusa Têmis

Amigos: Cuidadosa e Carente, ela gosta de chamar a atenção e tê-la para si. Geralmente está recebendo comida deles e isso torna-os mais próximos.

💎 Você autoriza 💎  [X]beber [X]hot [X]dirigir [X]colorir o cabelo [  ]fazer tatuagem

Perguntas sobre a personagem

💎 Você é o que no grupo 💎 O estomago e a justiça!

💎 Gosta 💎

Comer

Dormir

Leite

Ler

Haver justiça

Proteger os indefesos

Comer (de novo)

Ficar com KyungSoo ❤

Cozinhar

💎 Desgosta 💎

Injustiça

Ficar sem Comer

Ficar longe do KyungSoo

Mentiras

Que a interrompam quando está lendo ou comendo

💎 Que simbolo te define 💎 Balança

💎 Cor e comida preferida 💎 Vermelho - Leite (ela bebe leite puro)

💎 Qual a sua habilidade 💎 Senso se Justiça

💎 Que cidade nasceu 💎 Xangai, China

💎Que palavra te define 💎 Lago

💎 Algo mais 💎 Explicação: Unnie, eu queria muito pedir desculpas, eu estou sem o not no momento, o que dificulta minha entrada no spirit, então o único jeito foi postar aqui no tumblr mesmo! Sinto muito pelo transtorno! E até entendo se não quiser me aceitar… Mas gostaria de saber: se realmente gostou da minha personagem e gostaria de tê-la em sua fanfic, mas está preocupada em ter deixando somente eu mandar a ficha por tumblr e por isso não quer aceitar. Eu posso postar a mesma ficha no spirit mais tarde, quando estiver com o not, assin teremos direitos iguais. Mas agora não tenho o not e realmente me arrependo muito pelo que aconteceu!

[greyslogo]

Iohan gueorguiev bike wanderer

#Iohan gueorguiev bike wanderer portable

€œI’ve lived vicariously through Iohan for years,” one reader commented below an article about Mr. €œHis curiosity just carried him over and over the next mountain,” said Joe Stiller, whose biking gear company, BarYak, sponsored Mr. He called the remote Dempster Highway in Canada’s far northwest “a world of blue ice and white sky.” “There is snow here nine months of the year, and I wanted to see the North as it truly was,” he said of his winter journey through the Arctic. Gueorguiev found wonder in the harshness of the wilderness. When he was running out of food on a particularly arduous journey, he nevertheless fed tortilla-and-peanut-butter sandwiches to stray dogs. When a tanker truck passing him on the road kicked up a storm of dust, he waved cheerfully in response. “Hey, beautiful!” he called out to a large bear staring at him. He would go as long as 30 days without seeing a fellow cyclist and, when biking was not feasible, could wait two days on the road to get picked up as a hitchhiker.Ī spirit of generosity helped him get by. Headwinds on desert plains required him to take long breaks sheltered behind rocks and make a campsite in a stray shipping container, which itself shook from powerful gusts. Gueorguiev tried to cast the obstacles he encountered as part of a grand adventure, his videos showed genuine hardships. He earned about $3,000 a month through the funding website Patreon and received bikepacking sponsorships, enabling him to exchange the basic touring bike he started with for one with fat tires designed for riding off-road. He would sometimes position the camera at a distance, making it appear as if he traveled with a cinematographer.

#Iohan gueorguiev bike wanderer portable

He shot his videos with a simple GoPro camera charged by a portable solar panel. While biking, he would get sidetracked by serendipitous encounters and eccentric trails. Gueorguiev occasionally flew back to Canada to earn money planting trees, he said. Gueorguiev’s exact movements could be hard to pin down, it seems clear he spent from April 2014 to March 2020 biking from the Canadian Arctic Circle to its South American antipode, the icy mountains and valleys of Patagonia. Calling himself the Bike Wanderer, he stood out for his Beatnik-like romanticism about the open road, in contrast to the competitiveness of many bike jocks and gear heads. He was a star in the world of “bikepacking,” long-distance bike travel conducted off main roads. Gueorguiev made his name overcoming challenges hurled at his body and spirit. His death was announced on biking websites late last month. The cause was suicide, said Matthew Bardeen, a friend who was helping to oversee Mr. 19 in Cranbrook, British Columbia, where he had been using the home of friends as a base for travel during the pandemic. Gueorguiev (generally pronounced gyor-ghee-ev) died on Aug.

[oldcurrencyexchange]

Irish Coin Daily: John (as King of Ireland) Silver Penny, Mint: Dublin, Moneyer: Johan

Irish Coin Daily: John (as King of Ireland) Silver Penny, Mint: Dublin, Moneyer: Johan

Date: c.1208/9-1216 John (as King, 1199-1216), Third coinage, Penny, Dublin, Johan, iohan on dive, pellet on tip of the third ray, 1.58g Description: John as King England & Ireland, Silver Penny. Slightly weak of strike and with some doubling on the reverse. Struck by an extremely rare moneyer (Johan). Mint: Dublin Moneyer: Johan of Dublin Weight: 1.58 g References: SCBI Ulster, pl. XVI, 19,…

[stiri-noi]

Prima reacție a ambasadorului Dan Mihalache, după ce a fost schimbat: „Mulțumesc președintelui Iohannis”

Dan Mihalache, ambasadorul României la Londra, a avut o reacție pe Facebook, după ce Klaus Iohannis a semnat decretul de rechemare a acestuia de la post.

„A venit momentul în care Președintele României Klaus Iohannis a semnat decretul rechemării mele din funcția de Ambasador al României în Regatul Unit al Marii Britanii și Irlandei de Nord, după un mandat de peste 4 ani.

Îi mulțumesc pentru încrederea acordată de-a lungul acestei perioade, mulțumesc echipei de la Ambasada României în Regatul Unit al Marii Britanii şi Irlandei de Nord , mulțumesc tuturor colegilor din MAE și comunității românești din UK, care au contribuit ca acest mandat să fie unul de succes, în interesul României și al românilor.

Este un proces firesc de schimbare a ambasadorilor într-o dinamică a serviciului diplomatic care impune o continua înnoire. Mă uit cu mândrie la cei 4 ani de mandat de Ambasador al României în Regatul Unit al Marii Britanii și Irlandei de Nord.

A fost o perioadă plină de evenimente, unele mai puțin fericite, altele mai complexe, o perioadă în care am avut de gestionat procesul Brexit, problemele comunității românești, exercitarea Președinției României la Consiliul UE, criza generată de pandemia Covid-19 ș.a.

O perioadă cu multe satisfacții legate de modernizarea sediilor Ambasadei și ICR Londra, de extinderea rețelei consulare la nivelul comunității românești din UK, prin deschiderea Consulatelor generale de la Manchester și Edinburgh, precum și relocarea Secției consulare Londra într-un sediu nou și înființarea unui birou Consular la Belfast, Irlanda de Nord (proiecte aflate în curs de finalizare).

Urmează noi provocări, legate de ce se va întâmpla după 1 ianuarie 2021, provocări care necesită abordări proaspete și energii noi.”, a scris Dan Mihalache.

A venit momentul în care Președintele României Klaus Iohannis a semnat decretul rechemării mele din funcția de Ambasador…

Posted by Dan Mihalache on Monday, September 14, 2020

Bombă: Președintele Klaus Iohannis l-a RECHEMAT de la post pe Dan Mihalache, ambasadorul de la Londra

L'articolo Prima reacție a ambasadorului Dan Mihalache, după ce a fost schimbat: „Mulțumesc președintelui Iohannis” sembra essere il primo su Ziarul Românesc UK - știri pentru românii din Marea Britanie.

[ltwilliammowett]

A Brass and Silver compass with sundial, made by Iohan Martin Willebrad / In Augspurg 48, Augsburg Germany, 1748

[inkary]

thank you tumblr user pencil brony for the draw and thank my qtπ @baronofcaring for the gift :333

A bit of chainsword for @inkary !

[weirdstills]

me and my friends oc's larry coleman (black hair) and sam oli marsh (blonde hair)

they're both ten and are dating, i love this little guys

sam (any pronouns) is my oc, she is stan's cousin, who ran to south park with her mother after accidentally killing her father, his parents had a abusive relashionship and his dad was very violent, sam became paranoid after the incident and is usually angry, but is a nice person to his friends and family, they are kind of a dick tho, he became close to jimbo and ned, and goes hunting with them, he likes barbies, hello kitty, animals (he loves cats), taxidermy, to fight, pop and country music, and films like mean girls and clueless

she is friends with: wendy, butters, bebe, craig, kenny and larry

larry (he/him) belongs to my friend wígenes/iohan, he grew up in a very open minded family and loves metal and rock music (he is bullyed for his red corpse paint and black clothes), he had a twin sister named barry, but she died when he was 8, barry is a ghost and haunts her brother, larry talks with his sister but is still in a state of shock, she gives him advice and company, hes very shy and nice, larry likes cats, cooking, hello kitty, hide and seek, sweets (gummybears especially) and horror movies from the 50's

he is friends with: the goth kids, tweek, butters, wendy, kenny and sam

hope u guys like them :)

[leguin]

by request, some of the most interesting articles/reviews/obituaries of 2021:

“all work and no play” by sam adler bell | dissent magazine

“honoring a water warrior: how harry williams fought for paiute water rights in owens valley” by jeanine pfeiffer | kcet

“shitty men du jour: france’s literary #metoo” by madison mainwaring | the baffler

“where does it end?” by samuel stein | the baffler

“‘the water is coming’: florida keys faces stark reality as the seas rise” by oliver milman | the guardian

review of kevin richard martin’s return to solaris by jared dix | the quietus

“understanding the horror of slavery is impossible. but a simple cotton sack can bring us closer.” by rebecca onion | slate

“kip kinkel is ready to speak” by jessica schulberg | huffington post

“the anti-trans lobby’s real agenda” by jules-gill peterson

“did james plymell need to die?” by leah sottile | high country news

“big and slow” by elisa gabbert | real life

“a world where george floyd and ma’khia bryant would still be here is a world without police” by mariame kaba and andrea j. ritchie | newsone

“between a rock and a god place: rural oregon’s war on the homeless” by theo witcomb | the baffler

“lost and unfounded: will kafka’s work survive the distorted representations made in his name?” by judith butler | jewish currents

“celebrate the good news of the crab“ by daniel lavery | the chatner

“’i’m taking back what’s mine‘: the many lives of thandiwe newton” by diana evans | vogue

“i have one of the most advanced prosthetic arms in the world - and i hate it” by britt h. young | input mag

“‘their spirits were trapped in those masks’“ by avi steinberg | topic

“gay stories for straight allies” by huw lemmy | utopian drivel

“the memory war” by katie heaney | the cut

“built trades” by andrew yamakawa elrod | phenomenal world

“the internet is rotting” by jonathan zittrain | the atlantic

“do no harm: the complex ethics of portraying suicide” by jess mcallen | the baffler

“how the personal computer broke the human body” by laine nooney | vice

“community service: inside the native tribe transforming justice” by abacki beck | bitchmedia

“when ‘foundation’ gets the blockbuster treatment, isaac asimov’s vision gets lost” by julian lucas | the new yorker

“gary bettman & the nhl are who we thought they were” by sean gentille | the athletic

“iohan gueorguiev, ‘bike wanderer’ of the wilderness, dies at 33″ by alex traub | the new york times

“the dying art of the blockbuster film trailer” by merryana salem | kill your darlings

“vanishing: a bond across centuries” by daniel hudon | the revelator

“loving lies” by bill adair | airmail