#kikkert

[theaftermath-rpg]

CONOCE AL PERSONAJE: 20.

Mosaic August-Kikkert.

1. Frase que te defina.

¿Esto que es? ¿Un intento de hacer un tablero de pinterest? ¿Quién en la vida real tiene una frase que le defina? Yo que sé. Si sirve mi estado de whatsapp (o inserte nombre de su aplicación de mensajería de preferencia) es: “pathetic aesthetic” Ok, eso da pena. El anterior era “¿puedo tener un gofre?” No sé que es peor. Pasapalabra.

No. No. ¡Esperad! He encontrado algo: 

«The world is the sound of tree shapes decoded in a bat's brain. The world is electric fields flexing in the mind of a shark. The world is a landscape of scents, recalled by a wolf like an old friend. The world is a mosaic of temperature shifts on the tip of a python mamba's snout».

2. 5 cosas sin las que no podrías vivir.

1. Matemáticas   2. Mapas y Brechas.   3. Meteorología y Piedras   4. Gominolas Ácidas   5. IRIS, tkm. Eres el sol de cada día y la voz que me despierta cada mañana y quien me recuerda que tengo que lavar los dientes antes de dormir. No sería lo mismo sin tí. Ojalá te reconozcan como persona algún día.   6. ¿Puedo añadir drones y mis cachivaches? Por favor, no tenéis ni idea lo convenientes que son, eso es porque no habéis visto mi mini...dejadme que os enseñ...- *corte*

3. La canción de la que nunca te cansas.

IRIS ¿Cuál es mi canción más reproducida? IRIS me dice que esta música de videojuegos retro Wii U Mii Editor, no sé de donde ha sacado ese dato...Este álbum llamado Entomogaku, cualquiera de sus pistas.

4. ¿Qué haces cuando estás ansioso para calmarte?

Disociar

No, ahora, en serio. Depende donde esté. Buscar un sitio tranquilo, a solas puede ayudar. A veces simplemente buscar un estímulo sensorial concreto y centrarme en ese, tocar algo puede ayudar. Si toda la energía que está a nuestro alrededor no ha sido el problema, extender los sentidos más allá y notar la energía de toda la vida que pulsa, vive y se mueve a la vez en una danza sincronizada como las estrellas del cielo por la noche o el baile de las luciérnagas y los caminitos de una colmena de hormigas. Sentirse conectado con el mundo ayuda volver a la realidad, te hace sentir vivo, distinguir que es real de lo que no. Y no me miréis ahí, no chupo a nadie.

Mentira, chupo rocas. Pero esa es una válida técnica científica. No soy python, no sé como lo hacen... eso de tener que conectarse o absorber energía de otra persona, me da asco. Nauseas. De vomitar.

5. ¿Cuál es la lección más valiosa que has aprendido este último año de tu vida?

Tus voces, a veces, tienen la razón.

6. Dale un consejo a tu yo de 18 años.

No tienes porque ir a casa de tus padres por Navidad, o desaparecer en el bosque. Eres adulto.

7. Si pudieras extinguir una quimera para siempre, ¿cuál sería? ¿Y por qué el Blop?

El razonamiento queda como ejercicio para el lector.

Para aquellos que no hayan tenido la oportunidad de abrir un manual de matemáticas: sharkgulls. La demostración es trivial: cagan, potan y explotan. El mal chiste de un niño de 2 años que no ha superado la fase de humor escatológico. Además de generar unas condiciones extremadamente insalubres de trabajo, es totalmente inaceptable. Los trajes de brecha no sirvieron ni mierda, y sirven menos si tu éter sale de tu cuerpo y terminas con más agujeros que un colador. Es un descomunal riesgo de infección, más de lo habitual... Y no llega a ser odio, pero sí tengo fuertes opiniones sobre algunos de esos bichos... Mi móvil no deja de autocorregirme carpetas por capretas... Volviendo al tema, ¿Cuándo podemos tener trajes y equipamiento adaptable? No todos podemos ser caballeros radiantes o magical girls. ¿Por qué alguien no prueba a tirar un vaso de cristal al suelo rebozarse las esquirlas en el brazo y luego ponerse un brazal encima? Así, para variar, después de eso podemos hablar, muchas gracias.

8. Si se te presentara el genio de la lámpara, ¿qué tres deseos le pedirías?

Asumiendo que las intenciones del susodicho genio son genuinas y no quiere hacerte la vida peor. Me gustaría no tener una enfermedad crónica que me obliga a ser un soldado para una organización paramilitar para no morir, o ¡mejor! podría existir asistencia sanitaria universal. Sin embargo, considerando que eso ni existía pre-convergencia, lo veo menos factible que la posibilidad que existan unicornios. También podría ser que mi otro yo no hubiera muerto y ser convergente, pero posiblemente entonces sería muy posible que hubiera muerto definitivamente después de la Convergencia... No era una buena época para buscar tratamiento oncológico pediátrico. Pedir que la Convergencia no existiera haría que yo, como persona, dejara de existir. Hay multitud de cosas que no me gustan pero tampoco deseo la inexistencia. En caso de hacerlo, implicaría la desaparición de mi universo de personas que aprecio como Caroline, Trevor, Sullivan, Robert o Madeline. Y seguro que Diamond pasaría de mí.

No lo sé, esto me está dando una crisis existencial. ¿Puedo hablar con un abogado que sepa escribir clausulas contractuales? No me fio esto de los 3 deseos, siempre me ha dado muy malas vibras. ¿Los velos saben de estas cosas? ¿Alguien sabe dónde está Morvell-Waite? Dadme un minuto. ¿James? ¿Jaaames? *se levanta*

9. ¿Hay alguien a quien admires profundamente? De ser así, ¿quién es y por qué?

*vuelve a sentarse, cruza y descruza las piernas* La Agente Gretel, Caroline Brahm. Es brillante, implicada en su trabajo, eficaz en el campo, su conocimiento sobre quimeras es envidiable. No me cambiaría de especialización pero el esmero que demuestra en ese área me parece destable. Sé que odia que le encasquillen mocosos pero, sin duda, de las mejores docentes que la Academia ha podido tener. Diría que es un excelente modelo a seguir y una gran persona de tener al lado, ya sea en misión o fuera de ella. Opino que es alguien en quien realmente puedes confiar, sabe escuchar, no va a querer hacerte de madre y tampoco mirarte con espanto.

10. Dinos una cosa sobre ti que la gente asume erróneamente que te define o que tienes.

No soy mujer. Así que Trevor, me llamas “chica” una vez más, y el universo sabe que soy una persona muy pacífica y no proclive a instintos violentos, pero te partiré la cara (no demasiado porque si no Diamond me odiará). Tampoco hombre. Igual que August no es mi segundo nombre, es Ellery. Mosaic-August es nombre compuesto. Que se arreglen los papeles pertinentes, por favor y gracias.

Por otro lado, aventuraría que me define el hecho que parte de mi familia tradicionalmente se han dedicado al vidrio soplado, me gusta pensar que es parte de la razón de ser de mi éter. El poder ver lo que es una artesanía pasada de generación en generación, aprender algo, creo que ha tenido un gran impacto en como veo y he decidido hacer cosas en mi vida. Me gusta realizar mis mapas a papel, con tinta y lápiz, aunque no deje de lado las maravillas que el renderizado y los gráficos dinámicos que la tecnología nos puede aportar. No creo que deje de hacerlo. Hay algo, muy humano, en ello. Que nos conecta con otros, el mundo por los materiales que nos da para hacerlo, con nuestra historia por el conocimiento que nos viene y con otros por el conocimiento que compartimos. Es la capacidad y el potencial de crear algo donde no había nada, moldearlo y llevarlo hasta dónde y cómo deseas. Puede ser por utilidad, belleza o mero antojo del día. Es el hecho de poder hacerlo. Es tiempo dedicado, para ganar maestría en una habilidad hasta que puedes volar con ella en la aspiración de, igual, poder llamarlo excelencia. Implica disciplina, perseveración y pasión para llegar a ello. Es el fulcrum de técnica-ciencia y arte.

Luego tengo un tatuaje que... y me dicen por el pinganillo que he respondido a tres preguntas. ¿Cómo es sólo una? Esa pregunta contiene tres cuestiones, claro que iba a responder a las tres. No debería ser tan difícil redactar preguntas que realmente digan lo que se quiere decir.

[breitzbachbea]

Man, I love Sims, I made Tahir and Arielle be madly in love and I cannot wait for them to marry, move out and then for me to ruin it with both of them having extramarital affairs. <3

[melkikkert]

morgen komt de zon weer op in minecraft

deze registratie is gemaakt op 14 juni 2023 in het huis van puck in arnhem

performance, tekst, muziek. concept - mel kikkert regie - louis van brink, mel kikkert videografie - santino van der goes, tiemen hageman edit - bram de smit, santino van der goes met dank aan - huis van puck, maartje smits, ettie edens, giniwithabottle, jaak, jibbe met muziek van C418

[reve-writes]

—dense; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 2,2k words. ʚ you're a bit clueless as to why the dirtyhands do the things he does, like call you schatje and pay you to steal something when he clearly doesn't need to. ʚ fluff. ʚ a/n maybe ooc kaz im sorry. more at the end!

Ketterdam is a marvel from afar, a pretty little flower offering promises of its nectar—new life, new opportunities, debauchery—only to catch you in its trap and swallow you whole. All the way up on the clock tower, roughly centralised in the port city, the Barrel is nothing more than bright lights emanating from bar signs and glittering roofs.

The bell rings, reveberating to signal the change of the hour. It's time to work, finally.

Your boots thump as you make your way down the spiraling concrete staircase, paying attention not to step on the chunks flaking off of the edge. Whoever was responsible for building this was clearly cutting cost, the concrete is about as fragile as clay.

A painting. It is an annoying job to do on your own, but your contractor offered a lot of Kruge for it—perhaps too much, but if Mr. Kikkert is willing to scrape his pockets for it, then you're more than happy to accept. It is more Kruge than you would ever need for a while, so you won't have to scrounge for scraps in this Ghezen-forsaken town. Moreover, it's been a while since your last job and you're frankly not doing too well.

You step lightly over the rooftops, hopping from building-to-building with sure, steady steps. You have done this for most of your lives, to avoid being stomped into the vile muck at the bottom of the Barrel, you learned to hide near the skies.

Where the painting is being kept isn't far from the Canal, just on the rows of overpriced apartments for rent. You were told that it was housed on the third floor of the corner building. Everything is going well. Your journey is uninterrupted and the stadwatch aren't on alert.

Until you spot him.

The familiar curve of his black hat. The high collar of his coat. The shining leather of his gloves.

Brekker.

You strut towards him as if you are neighbours crossing paths on your evening walks. When in truth, his Crow Club is on the other side of the town and you never come to this area without reason. You call his name sweetly. His head whips around immediately, finding you in the dwindling foot traffic of the street.

He says your name in a warning tone, suspicious of your being here.

“What? Can't I come and see an old friend?”

Brekker scoffs. “I don't know. Can you, schatje?”

You almost turn around and leave when you hear the term of endearment. He knows it gets under your skin—it always does. Your heart skips a beat or two and your train of thoughts gets interrupted whenever he calls you that. He means it as a jeering nudge and your head is wholly aware of that. Your heart, though. What a fickle little thing.

“A bit of a walk from the club, isn't it?” you say, falling into step next to him as he turns the corner towards the apartment building. “I assume you must be up to something.”

“Ah, but I'm always up to something.”

“I can't say I disagree,” you snort. “You don't happen to have a job around the area, do you?”

He halts, his cane knocking against the stone pathing. He turns to look at you and your elbows brush against each other. “Do you need anything? I have important matters to attend to.”

You bring a hand to your chest exaggeratedly, feigning a frown. “How callous. Call me schatje and throw me aside. Is this how you treat everyone, Kaz?”

“Only you, mijn schatje.”

You roll your eyes, unsure how to behave. Huffing, you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“I was under the impression that you liked the nickname.”

Oh, you do.

“I'll be going now. I've something to do. Stay off my job,” you warn. “You still owe me literal crown jewels from last time.”

Kaz's neutral expression shifts into fond nostalgia as he recalls the incident you're referring to. The crown jewels in question were under dispute by a pair of soon-to-be divorcees. One of them hired the Crows' help. The other called on you. One thing led to another and the item ended up in Kaz's hands and you went home empty-handed.

“I won that fair and square,” Kaz retorts. “Your current job wouldn't involve a certain painting, would it?”

Judging by his smug thin smile, you know that he knows.

“Tell me it isn't what you're here for.” You sigh exasperatedly. “Stay off of it, Brekker. I can't afford to lose another job.”

You think to be threatening, bluff your way out and tell him you'll tear down his Crow Club if he gets in your way, but you doubt it will work against the Dirtyhands. After all, you're one person and he has the whole Dregs behind him.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment and for that terrible moment, you think that he may be there for the same reason you are, but he shakes his head lightly. “Fortunately, schatje, no. Stop looking as if you're going to murder me in my sleep.”

An involuntary smile blooms. “I wouldn't dream of it, Kaz.”

“Go on, then,” he says. “Be careful.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling. “You too.”

With that, you part ways with Dirtyhands, entering the building. Your acquisition of the painting goes smoothly and the deal is closed swiftly a few hours later. It's too easy. You know it is. You're missing something.

Miss something, you did.

You push open the door to the Crow Club carelessly. The loud chatter mixed with atmospheric radio surges to meet you as you push your way past sweat-slicked bodies and drunken patrons. Your eyes dart back-and-forth, trying to spot the familiar curve of his black hat or the shiny glow of the head of his cane.

Jesper spots you from one of the open gambling tables.

“If it isn't my favourite thief,” he says, inclining his glass towards you. “Fancy a game?”

It isn't until you stop by his table that he sees the downward slope of your frown and the sharp glare you're giving. He instinctively sits up straighter, taking his shoes off of the corner of the table.

“Where's Brekker?” You ask, to-the-point, without indulging in your usual chit-chat whenever you visit.

The other three patrons on the table freeze—sensing the tension on your shoulders, too. They look between you and jesper, both confused and intrigued to know more. What is Ketterdam if it doesn't have rumours and secrets whispered about?

Jesper's brow furrow. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

To Jesper's knowledge, you and Kaz are on friendly terms, despite the frequent bickering. Hell, he assumes you're more-than-friendly, with the way Kaz gives you a nickname—an endearment, to be specific. Is it possible that you're going through a lover's spat?

“Brekker, Jesper. Where is he?”

A familiar rasp cuts through the rowdiness. “Here.”

Your head whirls around and you shoot an accusatory stare at the source of the voice. You stomp your boots as you make your way towards him. As you pass by him, you tug on the sleeves of his coat.

“We need to talk.”

“Hold on, schatje,” he says, still trailing after you. His cane knocks against the hardwood of the floor. “About what?”

You make your way up the stairs, to the second floor and swing the door to his office open as if it belongs to you. He has an eyebrow raised when he enters after you, closing the door behind him. He leans back against it, waiting for you to speak whatever it is that's on your mind.

“Kikkert,” you snarl. “You paid him to pay me.”

“That's quite a conclusion. How did you come to it?” His voice is level, not betraying whether or not you've spoken the truth.

You're pacing in front of him. “He says, and I quote, ‘If you're so close to Brekker, why doesn't he ask you himself to do this?'”

His eyes furrow and he runs a hand through his combed hair. He sighs, holding a hand up in a you-caught-me gesture. “Kikkert clearly has no idea what discretion means.”

You glare at him. “Do you think this is funny?”

He seems taken aback. “I don't see why this is a big deal, schatje. It's a job. You're paid. I get the painting. What's wrong with it?”

“Why are you doing this, then? Pay me for something you clearly are able to do yourself? Hell, whose painting was it? Was it yours? Did you pay me to steal from you?”

He doesn't reply, but the way he shifts his gaze away from you let's you know. It's as clear as a verbal admission.

“It was yours. That's why you were there. From your safehouse, wasn't it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Is this amusing to you? I'm sorry if I don't quite see it as such.”

“Schatje—”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

You can't wrap your head around Kaz Brekker's thinking process. He pays someone to pay you to steal a painting he already owns. What's his plan in the long run? To embarrass you? Hurt your pride? Is this some sort of ploy to rope you to be indebted to him?

He sighes. “You were struggling. I only wanted to help.”

“Dirtyhands doesn't help people. You don't run gangs the way you do charities,” you retort.

Is that all you see him as? The demjin? The one who's willing to stain his hands for the right price? Is there no other version of him in your eyes?

“You're forgetting the man behind the monster here,” he says softly.

“Am I?” You approach him, leaving a little over two steps in-between the two of you. “Who exactly is the man behind Dirtyhands then?”

He pushes himself off of the door, taking one step forward. The thump of his cane practically echoes in the room. The hustle bustle of the Crow Club is nothing more than a muffled sound. There's a sudden tension in the air—the same one that hangs over you whenever he calls you his schatje, but this one is heavier due to your lack of light-hearted banter to parry.

“Do you really not know?” he asks, as if the question is staring at you in the face. As if it's the most obvious thing in all of Kerch. His stare is heavy, dark irises acting like magnets that pull you in. He scoffs, “You really are dense.”

“Well, enlighten me, Brekker! None of this is making a lot of sense to me.” You let out a frustrated huff of breath. Your hands move wildly to stress your points. “You know what? Whatever it is, I don't want to know. Just — quit doing it. I'll never take another job from Kikkert. I'll stay away from your damned club and all your friends. I'll stay away from you. I'm a capable enough thief without your pity, Brekker. I don't need it. You can shove it up your—”

His gloved hand wraps around your wrist as it's flailing in the air. Your speech immediately comes to a halt and your eyes widen.

“You are impossible,” he says.

You snort. “And you aren't?”

“At the moment, no,” he retorts.

His stare is intense. It isn't until then that you realise you've taken a step forward during your rant, decreasing the perfectly amicable distance and turning it into a heart-thundering one.

“It wasn't pity,” he says. “You're capable, I have never doubted that, but even the most capable ones struggle sometimes. My intention is to help. Trust me on this. I know you're too prideful to accept any, so I paid Kikkert.”

“But why? Why bother?”

“Why?” He blinks, sighing loudly before continuing. “Why? Have you ever stopped and thought, for a moment, that I've been calling you schatje. Do you think that was out of pity?”

You bite the insides of your cheek and shake your head. “It was something else.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that it's because —ghezen forbid— I may actually harbour fondness for you?”

You blink once, twice. Kaz thinks he much prefers breaking into the ice court than having this conversation right now. His hand trembles when he brings them to brush your cheekbone lightly. He lets out a relieved sigh when you don't pull back. Your hand wraps over his gloved one, the leather cold on your skin. You lean into the touch.

“I thought it was one-sided,” you say finally. “I'm quite fond of you, too, you know.”

“You do a horrible job of showing it.”

“Says you,” you argue. “Just—don't do it again. Let me handle my own problems, Kaz. I'll let you know if I need your help.”

He hums in agreement. “You'll let me know.”

“I will.”

The two of you jump apart abruptly when there's a loud knock.

“Boss?” Jesper's voice sounds muffled through the door. “Everything okay? I hope ___ hasn't murdered you yet.”

“I haven't,” you answer, half-chuckling. Turning to look at Kaz, you say, “It's funny how he doesn't assume you'll murder me instead.”

Kaz shrugs. “He knows I can't.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Can't or won't?”

“Both,” he answers. “Can we not talk about murdering each other after what just happened?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. What just happened is you practically professing your little (well, maybe not-so-little) crush on him.

“So, is Kaz okay?” Jesper shouts again.

“Fine,” Kaz answers. “You can go back to your table.”

[ ]

i wanted to write something cute. schatje is taken from google and inspired from a kaz fic i read that used 'schatz' as a nickname. the plot is slightly ehhh? because it didn't really end the way i intended it to and i didn't proofread (when have i ever?). i was hoping to turn it into a two or three part series, but this is what we've ended up with & im quite happy with it. thank you for reading!

[naturallyadventured]

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ursulabach

Vidste du det? At i dag var International Skinny Dip day? Efter en følger havde skrevet at hun og nogle andre unger piger sad på en strand i Aarhus og blev chikaneret af en flok fyre med kikkert, syntes jeg det var vigtigere end nogensinde at understrege at man har lov til at bade med eller uden badetøj UDEN at det er en invitation og UDEN at man skal chikaneres eller modtage krænkende beskeder af den grund. Så her er den så. Min nøgne krop. My birthday suit. Ikke inviterende. Ikke seksuel. Men badende i saltvand. Forstå det nu. . #internationalskinnydipday

[thetimecrystal]

🔴 BABYBELL WRAPPER! 🔴

Fordi da kunne vi ha gjemt oss i skogen og sett på bjørner sammen (men på trygg avstand da)

vibecheck me?

babybell wrapper - get in loser we're gonna go frolic through the woods

AHAHAHAH ja omg!!! herregud det hadde vært så gøy fyf, å gjemme oss i skogen for bjørnetitting... kan se for meg oss to som sånne fugletittere med kikkerter og hele pakka ahahah

[kikotapasando]

AFSCHEIDSBEZOEK DOMINEE KIKKERT

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[blokmusik]

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Billions / Sunset / Welcome my Island

Caroline Polachek

Ja, I know, det er lidt kontroversielt at placere tre singler på en årsliste over bedste alber. Ikke desto mindre er jeg blevet bjergtaget af hver og ét af disse out-of-this-world skyhøje ambitiøse singler. Billions står som årets ubestridt bedste sang fra året der gik, hvor Caroline Polachek springer hovedkuls udi poppens allerfineste balanceparametre - benytte en specifik situation mellem et dig og et mig og herefter invitere lytteren ind i verden hvor vedkommende selv kan fylde sanguniverset ud med drømme, mareridt og fantasi. Sunset er, ganske uventet, flamenco-pop og Welcome to Island slibrig dansepop som var det hukket ud af en collegeserie fra slut-90erne.

13.

Ants from Up There

Black Country, New Road

Mest musikalskoverlegne udgivelse - post-rocken er stadig sitrende vital og Black Country er hungrende efter at give lytteren noget at tænke over i tekster mellem brændende rumskibe og ravruskende kærlighed.

12.

Motomami

Rosalia

Rosalia markerer med Motomami ikke kun hendes entré på hitlisternes allerhøjeste tinder, men løfter hende også blandt nutidens musikinnovatører af allerhøjeste rang. Et album, der ikke vil sættes i bås. Hun flytter sig fra ophavet i den spanske flamenco-tradition over mod caribisk reaggeton (tak for vitalisere denne trivialiserede poprytmik) til 90er grunge, sydstats-rap og sågar free-jazz. Hvem sagde smalstrøm ikke kan disrupte main-strøm?

Som med Guld Palme-vinderen Titane, skaber Rosalia en persona i skikkelse af et feministisk motorvæsen, der bliver frigjort gennem transformeringen fra menneske til maskine - som hun også selv siger det på SAOKO "Yo me transformo" - hun transformerer sig - ikke kun musikalsk, men også kreativt. Popdronningen er født påny. Pas på Beyoncé, der er en popkunstner, der ikke er bange for at lege med.

11.

Sometimes, Forever

Soccer Mommy

Fodboldmoderen Sophie Allison med det alletiders melodiøse overskud træder, som hun har for vane, endnu engang opad ambitionernes rangstige med sine skrøbelige, hjertelige og fremfor alt smukke poprockede sange. Men vent. På Sometimes, Forever er det som om det gruer fra undergrunden. Innovatoren Daniel Lopatin har nemlig haft en finger med i spillet, og det kan i den grad høres på numre som den eksperimentelle "Unholy Affliction" eller 90'er ørehængeren Darkness Forever - som var den taget ud af britpoppen.

På et tætpakket Loppen i september 2022 fik hun også i den grad dementeret, at Sometimes, Forever ubesværet kan hypnotisere et publikum til at glemme alt om tid og sted. Allison har i den grad fremtiden i sin hule hånd.

10.

Cherry

Daphni

Yndlings Dan, eller Daphni, Caribou, hvad han nu ikke alt kalder sig, gjorde mig rundtosset, euforisk og en smule halvforelsket i hans til dato mest poppede danseunivers. Og gud hvor er det appetitligt. Numre som "Mania", "Take Two", "Arrow", "Mona" og "Fly Away" føles som en lang dopaminrus, mens "Arp Blocks", "Clavicle" og "Cherry" føles som forårsbebudende knopskydninger på dette spraglede, vildtvoksende kirsebærtræ.

9.

I guess nothing will be the same

Liss

Verden mistede en sangstemme i alt for ung en alder. Søren Holm var et personligt forbillede for mig, og derfor betød hver eneste udgivelse fra Liss's hånd noget helt særligt for mig. I Guess blev udgivet efter Søren ikke længere var iblandt os længere. Men gudskelov og tak for bandets øvrige medlemmer Villads, Vilhelm og Tobias, kunne Liss' debutalbum alligevel se dagens lys i forsommeren 2022. Som fan af Århus-bandet siden deres spæde begyndelse i 2015, har det været som en rutsjetur af følelser at følge dem gennem årerne. Man kan mærke, at Søren efter nogle turbulente år, genfandt glæden og lysten til at skrive musik, og særligt "We Made It", "Exist", "Turn Your Back On Me" og "Text Me Back" virker som tætpakkede refleksioner over et liv som de færreste når at leve gennem et helt livsløb.

8.

Once Twice Melody

Beach House

Victoria Legrand og Alex Scally har efterhånden fulgt hinanden i mange år, på mange plader og mange turneer. Er det overhovedet muligt for duoen, der nu har 8 album på CV'et, stadig at holde sig selv aktuelle? Det korte svar er et rungende ja! På den 18-numre lange Once Twice Melody beviser de, med hjælp fra livetrommeslageren James Barone, at man med storladenhed, mørke og cinematisk rumlighed kan gro yderligere som band og frembringe endnu en artistisk manifestation.

7.

nymph

Shygirl

Nymph er en sensuel udforskning med en uomtvistelig vision. Med kæberaslende produktioner fra typer som Arca, Sega Bodega og Mura Masa smelter soniske væsner sammen til et fantastisk mytho-kosmos oooog * whoops * pludselig har man Shygirls unikum af en verden.

6.

souvenir

Gents

Break-up albummet jeg ikke vidste, at jeg gik og drømte om. Tak Gents! Min tro følgesvend ned ad popverdenens evige boulevarder - inklusiv artefakter, dating-sprog, cornyness og hjerte-rimer-på-smerte. Læn dig tilbage og bliv pakket ind i bittersød hjertesorg og legelandslette produktioner.

5.

And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow

Weyes Blood

I en alder af 34 år, trækker Natalie Mering alias Weyes Blood tæppet til side for nostalgisk dagdrømmeri, idiosynkratiske hymner og hjemsøgende poesi til mennesker, der ligesom mig selv, søger hjælp i en verden af klimaforandrende kaos og nationsfejdende ufred. I denne barokke ensomhed har du fået en ven, der gerne tager dig ved hånden udad klodens uigennemskueligheder.

4.

A Light for Attracting Attention

The Smile

Dette var ikke bare et hvilket som helst sideprojekt fra Radiohead bandmedlemmerne Thom Yorke og Jonny Greenwood. Langt fra - ideen, der opstod i kølvandet på COVID-kedsomlighed etc. fik de to kreative radiohoveder sammen med trommeslageren Tom Skinner rystet rockposen - for ud kom jazz, elektro, kraut. Forvent gåsehud og mere til.

3.

CRASH

Charli XCX

CRASH er power pop deluxe. Fra en kunstner, der måske, måske ikke har sluttet sin karriere - i hvert fald med hendes nuværende pladeselskab - føles bestemt ikke som nogen svanesang. Tværtimod udforsker hun atter nye landskaber fyldt med lutter pop, hvor hendes glæde for legender som Janet Jackson får lov at side om side med alt det bedste fra poppens 80ere, 90ere og 00ere. Hun er i sandhed forud for sin tid.

2.

Dawn FM

The Weeknd

Abel Tesfaye har kunne fortælle historier som få andre blandt popartister af hans popularitet. Og han er samtidig en konceptelsker. En Michael Jackson elsker. Og en af verdens mest streamede kunstnere. Med disse variable in mente, formår han på Dawn FM at balancere fuldstændig ubesværet mellem parodisk radioføring, coronaens råb om nærhed, tidløshed, paranoia, men også med en vis portion humor og forfriskende uselvhøjtidelighed, der summeret op i retromaniens favør, udfolder sig som en helende terapisession i dans og eufori, hvor de færreste producere kan følge med. Måske lige på nær hovedpersonen selv.

1.

Om Vi Får Leva Jonathan Johansson

Efter 15 års kunstneriske op og nedture udgav svenske Jonathan Johansson i skyggen af krigens Europa sit ottende album. Timingen kunne ikke være bedre, for i en dunkel tid, påminder han os om, at vi ikke ved, hvad der venter os - at hvert åndedræt ikke behøver at være det sidste. Hvor Lebensraum! næsten føltes som en idiosynkratisk fremtidsprofeti om Europas nuværende uvisheder sammenvævet med en lethed og tro på fremtiden, var Scirocco var dog alligevel en smule mere dystopisk, men samtidig et lovende tegn på, hvad man har i vente, hvis bare man har tålmodighed med Johanssons kreative pophjerne.

Om Vi Får Leva føles nemlig som en genkomst til varmen og en rejse ind i et mere åbent og håbefuldt univers han ikke har befundet sig i længe. Og det han lykkedes så godt med er, at han bruger han evner at benytte sig af sit bedste våben - evnen til at formulere sig hemmelighedsfuldt, politisk, næsten essayistisk - og samtidig poetisk - at det kommer fra hans inderste tanker. Tag nummeret "Dåligt År", der med følgende linjer viser den rådløse position nogle europæere nok står i "Men vad ska vi göra/När vi har räknat alla döda/Slåss för fred i Nagiala". Eller på "Våroffer", hvor han blotter sin egen usikkerhed "Ge mig en fjäderpenna/Och en pulpet/Så jag kan misslyckas igen" - at en kunstner som ham kan mislykkes med sine ellers vigtigste stykker værktøj - fjerpennen og talerstolen. Men hvis man lytter efter, breder optimismen sig "solen skiner igenom alla moln/Alla färger som finns" som han håbefuldt synger på den mesterlige "Varje Regnbåge (Den sista)".

Hvis vi må leve, så synes jeg, man skal leve med Om Vi Får Leva.

Boblere:

Charlotte Dos Santos: Morfo / Jockstrap: I Love You Jennifer B / Let's Eat Grandma: Two Ribbons / Perfume Genius: Ugly Season / Dry Cleaning: Stumpwork / The 1975: Being Funny in a Foreign Language / Beyoncé: Rennaisance / Cate Le Bon: Pompeii / Bill Calahan: YTILAER / Björk: Fossora / Nu Guinea: Bar Mediterriano / Alvayys: Blue Rev / Fountaines DC: Skinty Fia / Stella Donelly: Flood / SZA: S.O.S. / Sofie Birch & Antonina Nowacka: Languoria + Holotropocia / Angel Olsen: Big Time / Slowgold: Kärlek / Jennifer Loveless: Around the World / Khruangbin: Ali / Two Shell: Aliens / Wet Leg: Wet Leg

Af Jens Bjørn Grelck, 2023

[avetruth]

Maurits van Nassau : Kikkert, J. G

Maurits van Nassau : Kikkert, J. G https://www.avetruthbooks.com/2022/04/maurits-van-nassau-kikkert-j-g.html?feed_id=5494

[bilduden]

Kikkert test: Topp 7 kikkerter til hobby- og friluftsbruk

Kikkert test: Topp 7 kikkerter til hobby- og friluftsbruk

[museumnordhavn]

55°42'54.0"N 12°35'42.7"E

 31. Januar 2020

[breitzbachbea]

Uhhh, okay, so this is a bit intimidating bc I don't wanna fuck up in front of an esteemed mutual in law @thenarrativefoil

The short thing about my OCs is that I imprinted on Hetalia at age 13 (I know), at some point developed a Human AU/Organized Crime AU and one moment later, I have elaborate worldbuilding and over 200 named characters. I often like to make historical AUs with them, where I take whoever fits historical context or would be interesting in it and start vividly imagining scenarios. I am a bit of a history nerd (that's an understatement), so whenever I learn about history it makes me want to make an AU or make new OCs (so that I then can make an AU).

*goes into the clownbox to retrieve on of my jokers*

3 for the price of 1, because these three jokers have been living rentfree in my head for the past week and a half. The main characters of the book-length fanfiction series I am currently rewriting are 4 Irish and 3 Sicilians - Paddy is one of these Irishman. In the main story that starts in 2013, he's 48. He was born and raised in Derry in the North, but left the city and the state for the Irish Republic when he was 24, winding up in Dublin and becoming involved in the mob. (Because even if he could have emigrated, Paddy just couldn't. Leave Ireland. Even leaving Derry wasn't something he ever imagined.) The life he left behind he had mainly shared with two friends - Kilian MacLeod and Angus O'Malley.

Kilian was, like Paddy, a lower middle class Presbyterian. Ever since sunday school, Kilian would play pranks on others and be a general nuisance and then flee to hide behind his best friend - and still taunt the others some more. The proclivity to be a trouble maker never waned - Kilian was a contrarian. As he grew older, he started to develop an interest in photography, to capture the world through his eyes and on his terms, and he'd carry a Polaroid camera everywhere at some point. Kilian was loud-mouthed, easily enraged and loved to argue, but it was because despite growing up in a fraught, violent time (or because of it), he did care about the world and the people around him. He couldn't take the world making no sense to him silently.

Angus, a year older than them, entered the picture basically in High School. Lower middle class as well, but Catholic, he was basically an odd experiment in an odd time. Wanted to go to one of the Protestant schools that would serve him better than the ones in his district and his parents somehow made it happen. Much like Kilian, Angus was a contrarian - He liked to write texts, poems, essays, short stories. Philosophize about the way the world and life works. Always an air of cynicism about him. Also delighted in mischief, which is why it is no wonder that he became friends with Kilian and Paddy. Ostracized in this community and eyed with suspicion, the two other 'weirdos' were the only ones who'd hang with him. And together, they got into a lot of trouble.

None of that comes up in the main story. Paddy rarely talks about his past to others. But he thinks often about it. Whenever he speaks Irish, it's the Ulster Irish that slipped through the cracks on the Irish side of his family (like Kili, his other roots are Scottish). It's the Ulster Irish that Angus had caught here in there in his family and taught himself. Whenever Paddy heard about Harry, one of the kids he helped raise, get in trouble in school for a prank, he had to think of Kilian. Paddy lives with a lot of ghosts in his bones, but the ones he carried home from Derry are the most guarded.

does anyone want to hear about. my OCs

[melkikkert]

Please don't miss us this time

sep 2023 | samenwerking

‘Please don’t miss us this time’ is een vervolg op het eerste evenement ‘All the performances you’ve missed’ bij Omstand in Arnhem. In december 2021 kwamen we bij elkaar en vormden een sporadisch collectief. Als een groep schrijvers en beeldende kunstenaars was het doel te experimenteren met taal, beeld en performance. Startpunt was het presenteren van een eigen werk, dat daarna aan anderen in het collectief werd doorgegeven. Zo kwamen we tot nieuwe manieren om onze werken aan publiek tentoon te stellen.

In ‘Please don’t miss us this time’ begonnen we vanuit dezelfde basis. Iedereen nam een werk mee en gaf dat door aan de rest. Deze keer hebben we nog meer gespeeld en vooral veel nieuw werk gemaakt gebaseerd op wat we in handen kregen. Het eerste evenement stond in het teken van het aftasten van het collectief, de werkwijze en tentoonstellingsruimte. Na deze basis te ontwikkelen hebben we nu nog meer op elkaars werk kunnen inhaken, durfden we meer toe te eigenen en er een eigen draai aan te geven. Zo hebben we verder kunnen onderzoeken wat collectief makerschap en gedeelde verantwoordelijkheid voor ons betekent en kan opleveren.

Participating artists:​ Ingmar de Wijk, Mel Kikkert, ​Ettie Edens, Martine van Lubeek, Max van Loon, Mees

lees meer

[huariqueje]

Still life    -   Ad Kikkert

Dutch, 1914-1995

Oil on canvas,  55 x 65 cm.

[gryffindorkxdraws]

[germanpostwarmodern]

If you have seen the documentary “Infinite Space - The Architecture of John Lautner” you might remember Jan-Richard Kikkert and Tycho Saariste, two dedicated Lautner enthusiasts who, architects themselves, spent years researching John Lautner’s architecture. In the film one can see them start what would turn out to be an ambitious and very positively nerdy journey: to identify and locate all of Lautner’s remaining built works with the help of books, archival research and Google Maps. Luckily for all Lautner admirers they didn’t keep their findings to themselves but eventually compiled them in the present book: „Lautner A-Z. An Exploration of the Complete Built Work“, published by ArtEZ Press in 2018. It features 144 buildings (of which 103 were still around when the book was published), each annotated with relevant information regarding history and design. What makes each entry so highly readable and sometimes even funny is the fact that it includes the authors‘ personal stories of how they identified the building, travelled there and whether they were able to get inside (and how). „The final product is a road movie with 144 stops, the story of a unique tour de force, one which Jan-Richard and Tycho, as practicing architects with active professional lives, will most likely be able to undertake only once in their lifes“, writes Ko Jacobs in his foreword and it couldn’t be a more accurate description of the book!