#over de e-bike

[pathsofoak]

Ah! De zomervakantie! Die exacte periode waarin je absoluut niks kan als je op het platteland woont en geen rijbewijs hebt.

[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

I’ve had this idea in my head for days now and it just won’t LEAVE so here have scraps

So we know those de-aged au’s with Danny right, and the ones where Jason adopts him? YESSSSSS so anyways the thing that’s been ravaging my brain like an anteater on crystal meth is:

So all night has been pretty shit for Jason. Drug dealers, a couple muggings (who even goes out anymore in crime alley, at this time of night???????) and some human traffickers. You know, the usual. So anyways he’s pissed. Not to mention when he comes across some bastard who’s beating his family, jason promptly broke his legs in a couple new ways he liked. Later, deep into the night he’s already seeing a bit of green around the edges and he’s already called in dick to cover some areas while he cools off, so, naturally, as it is in crime alley, something goes horribly wrong that gets him pissed. Beyond pissed. He sees green and only when dick drags him away does he see some red too. A lot of red.

Fuck.

Well, he knows exactly what he has to do, so he pushed dick off of him and starts roof-hopping over to his apartment (where did his bike go?) and dick calls in the others thinking Jason’s going for more weapons/ammo or smthn, and Jason gets to his lil place and carefully opens a window, trying to be quiet because even though he’s in a killing mood he doesn’t want to wake Danny up, what kind of monster would do that?

Anyways Jason’s taking a moment with his helmet off, leaning his arms against the counter to calm himself down taking deep breaths he learned from Danny yes okay he learned from his son when Tim and dick crash through and Jason gets a little more pissed because those assholes probably just woke up Danny!

So here’s Tim and dick wrestling with Jason to get his weapons off of him and calm him down when all of a sudden the lights flick on and there’s a little boy, around 6, with a messy mop black hair and loose space-themed pajamas, rubbing his eyes as he clearly just woke up. everyone freezes in place and Danny looks around, his eyes adjusting to the light before he looks at Jason and–

“Dad? What’s going on?” He asks so innocently with a tilt of his head. While his brothers are stunned to silence Jason shrugs them off as hard as he can (they woke up his son) and walks over to Danny. Dick and tim lurch foreward but Jason just picks up Danny and places him on his hip. Danny reaches forward and carefully pulls off his dads domino and holds it in his hand while he frowns. “Green monsters are being angry again?” And Jason just sighs with his son (his son!!) in his arms and looks at danny; dick and Tim now seeing the green almost completely gone from his eyes.

“Yeah bud. No big deal though, alright? The green monsters are all gone now. So come on, it’s past your bedtime Danny.” To which Danny groans and he turns to look at the two others in the room who are bewildered as fuck because does Jason have a kid????? W h e n?? H o w??? Okay they know how they really don’t but that’s not the point

Anyways they stand there for a minute while Jason puts Danny to bed and when Jason comes back out he stares at them in silence. Then he just *sighs* and stares them dead in the eyes “yes, I have a kid. Yes, he quiets the pit. Yes, it’s past his bedtime. And yes,” Jason cocks his gun, “you both will be getting out of my apartment. right now. Silently.”

Yeah, they guess questions can wait till tomorrow

Link to the fic :)

[vashtijoy]

after makoto awakens, ryuji and makoto make a bon jovi reference in a group chat. what were they talking about in japanese?

Hi! This was originally a reference to a song called THE NIGHT (１５の夜 juugo no yoru), by the late Yutaka Ozaki.

Ryuji 俺も盗んだバイクで走り出してえ… ore mo nusunda baiku de hashiridashitee… It'll be just like the song! "I'm a phantom, on a steel horse I ride…" I could let loose on a stolen bike too... Makoto 人聞き悪いこと言わないで 別に盗んでないわ hitogiki warui koto iwanaide, betsu ni nusunde nai wa Don't say such things. And for the record, I am most certainly not "wanted." You'll give me a bad name. Anyway, it's not stolen.

translators of Atlus West, "you give love a bad name" was right there

人聞き悪いこと言わないで hitogiki warui koto iwanaide literally means "don't say disrespectable things", but in practice seems to be used to scold people for saying things that make you look disrespectable!

Also, note that (as per usual) the Japanese script doesn't feel the need to hit the player over the head with the fact that they're referencing a song.

This song appears to be pretty well-known, and according to Japanese Wikipedia, is relevant to our interests:

This song was written based on Ozaki's experience of being found smoking a cigarette at his junior high school when he was 14 years old, or of one of his classmates being cut by a teacher with clippers because he had long hair, and running away from home with his friends in rebellion. Ozaki says that he ran away from home in the middle of the night with 10 friends and rode around the city on a motorcycle, but later, with nowhere to go, he was found by a teacher while taking a nap at a car scrapyard and was taken into custody... However, according to the diary of his father, Kenichi Ozaki , it is clear that the song was actually inspired by a friend of Ozaki's who ran away from home. Kenichi's diary states that the runaway occurred in October 1978, and that he "searched for his friend until 3 a.m.", and that "this is the incident that Yutaka later sang about in '15 no Yoru'.

Here's the original (rather sad) lyric. You can see why Ryuji might like it.

盗んだバイクで走り出す　行き先もと解らぬまま nusunda baiku de hashiridasu, ikisaki moto wakaranu mama I'll let loose on a stolen bike, still not knowing where I'll go, 暗い夜の帳の中へ kurai yoru no tobari no naka e Into the night's dark curtain, 誰にも縛られたくない��　逃げ込んだこの夜に dare ni mo shibararetakunai to, nigekonda kono yoru ni I said I didn't want anyone to tie me down, the night I ran away, 自由になれた気がした　15の夜 jiyuu ni nareta ki ga shita, juugo no yoru I thought I could be free, that night I was 15.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.1 (2024/10/07)—forgot the wikipedia link!

v1.0 (2024/10/07)—first posted.

[adore-laur]

BEAUTY

— harry & nadine’s meet-cute 🕊️

——

SIX YEARS AGO

Grey skies loomed over Loire Valley with the promise of an April rainstorm. The slow-moving river snaked through the scenic countryside and stretched beyond what the human eye could see. Trees rustled in a favorable breeze, stirring up aromas from nearby fruit orchids. Firecrests and turtledoves chirped in the distance, signaling the start of spring.

Nadine savored it all while crossing the bridge on her Beaumont bicycle. In the front wicker basket was her canvas tote bag containing her Kodak camera protectively wrapped in a pillowcase, a serving of fresh tapioca pudding she had impulsively purchased from the local farmer's market, and an unknown flower she had found under the oak tree in her backyard. Her yellow raincoat crinkled as she pedaled vigorously to get to her destination before the clouds burst. The scrape on her knee she had gotten from falling off her bike in her gravel driveway dully ached. Maybe the rain would wash away the dried blood.

The Domaine de Chaumont-sur-Loire opened its annual International Garden Festival that morning, which Nadine wouldn't have missed for the world. It resurfaced fond childhood memories of strolling through the enriching gardens with her family and getting lost in the creative landscapes showcased by landscapers, architects, and photographers far and wide.

Nadine planned to take photos to build her modeling portfolio. As a curvy girl with distinct ethnic features, getting her foot in the door had been challenging, but the alluring backdrop of the gardens would make her stand out. The theme was Gardens of Sensations.

In the past, it had been no easy feat to photograph herself with her less-than-adequate camera and awkward self-direction. However, she prepared to make these sacrifices for a prosperous career. Loire Valley only had one modeling agency, which meant she had to start somewhere small and affordable before traveling north to Paris for more lavish opportunities.

To earn a living, Nadine provided housekeeping services for surrounding chateaus. The work was rewarding, but it did not spark any passion for her. As a young girl, she had been fascinated by the aesthetic of posing in different environments and making fashion statements after seeing magazine spreads of French models strutting down the catwalk. But she had never been able to imagine herself in their shoes—literally and figuratively. Those six-inch heels seemed killer. With her thick eyebrows, pesky cellulite, and blemished skin, she had been the complete opposite of what model scouts sought.

Once Nadine became wiser over the years, she knew her worth. Her natural beauty just needed to be highlighted by the right scenery and garments.

When she arrived at the festival, she locked her bike on a rack and slung her tote bag over her shoulder. The historical Chateau-de-Chaumont on the sprawling lawn caused her to stop and stare for a moment. It was grand and beautiful, just as she remembered. Her new-fangled perspective left her wondering what inspiration she would discover.

After purchasing an admission ticket, she walked under the arch of the chateau to reach the garden path that weaved through twenty-one hectares of artistic garden exhibits. Each display differed depending on where the landscaper originally hailed from, like Japan, South Korea, Great Britain, and countless other countries. Among the trees was a greenhouse kitchen where vegetables were grown and offered to visitors. Nadine remembered eating juicy little tomatoes there as a teenager—they were called 'the nipples of Venus.' The memory made her smile faintly.

She glanced around for a pretty scene to photograph herself in just as rain began to sprinkle. Shivering, she pulled the hood of her poncho over her head. Maybe today wasn’t the best day to embark on a modeling adventure. Maybe she should have turned around and gone home.

But further in the gardens, Nadine stumbled upon a peculiar situation. An exhibition was still being set up, nestled in an opening surrounded by greenery like a secret oasis. Landscapers worked diligently to put the finishing touches on it. Their work had been delayed by the unpredictable climate in central France. It was a blessing that the rain didn’t fall much through the canopy of trees above.

There was a rectangular vat of water with a wooden path winding through it, similar to a Candyland board. The landscapers removed leaves and branches from the water with pool skimmers. Red bamboo canes stood tall around it, hugging the scene with vibrant color. There was something simple yet entrancing about it, and she was drawn to the energy of tranquility that called to her.

Nadine slowly approached, attempting to act invisible so as not to disturb them. She would wait until they were done before taking photos. Perhaps sitting on the path and posing near the bamboo would be adequate. Yes, that would be a fantastic shot. Unique, too, which was what she strived for.

Her childlike wonder pushed her closer until her attention snagged on something else. Something a little more intriguing.

A man stood waist-deep in the water, rearranging bamboo with sedulous care, his bare back turned to her. He had the most muscular, contoured back Nadine had ever seen in her life. It was sculpted in a way that captured her gaze, but she should not have been surprised. He was some sort of landscaper, which was a labor-intensive job. His tendons were surely robust. Sacré bleu, why was she thinking about his tendons?

She snapped out of her man-induced hypnosis. She had a job to get done. Her future was at stake! With that thought, she unwrapped her camera from its cocoon just as a couple of landscapers brushed past her with metal buckets, paying no mind to her lingering presence. She must have looked like a mere tourist.

Nadine delicately cleared her throat in an attempt to catch the attention of the man with the beautiful back. He was the only one still tending to the exhibit and did not seem to hear her.

"Excusez-moi?" she said, removing her hood to appear more approachable.

The man's large hands, which were also gorgeously sculpted, halted around the lithe bamboo sticks. His face turned before his body did, and goodness gracious! Oh wow. He was pleasing—to look at, she meant. His foreign face was a masterpiece of symmetry. While he did not look French, remnants of European features still adorned his face. A well-chiseled bone structure and an elegant straight nose. Pink lips that were parted. A firm chest with a ridged midsection. Disheveled, rain-soaked hair.

"Bonjour," he replied, sounding perplexed. Soulful green eyes stared intently at her.

Nadine's gaze desperately wanted to wander south again, but she remained strong. "Is this exhibit open to visitors?" she asked.

He regarded her for longer than normal—not scrutinizingly, but rather in a mystified manner. "Yes. My apologies; I was just perfecting a few details."

"I did not mean to intrude. I—" She paused and searched for the proper words. "Well, I was hoping to take pictures for my portfolio here."

"Your portfolio?" he echoed.

Nodding, Nadine nervously tucked her damp hair behind her ears. "For modeling. I want to broaden my use of compelling backdrops, and this festival has plenty of them." She waved a hand, the flourishing nature around them not needing further explanation. "Anyway, this particular exhibit caught my eye. Would it be possible for me to take some pictures?"

The man glanced behind her, his brows furrowing. "Where’s your photographer?"

"I do not have one," she said shyly. "I just place my camera on a flat surface and set the timer."

It was far too expensive to hire an entire crew for a photoshoot. She would have rather saved money by gaining hands-free experience herself. Besides, people in the modeling industry admired humble beginnings. She was building her career from the ground up.

"Would you like some assistance?" he asked, raindrops gently falling from his chin. Nadine detected a lilted British accent.

"Oh, I do not want to be a nuisance," she said. "I’m sure you’re busy."

He walked to the edge closest to her and shook his head, a handsome smile pulling at his lips. "No, not anymore."

Feeling thrilled, Nadine's heartbeat pounded like a stampede of wild animals. "All right, then."

It was an unexpected turn of events. As far as she was concerned, she had not expected to meet someone as generous as this man. She hadn't expected much of anything out of today since the weather put a damper on her mood, and her dreams often felt unattainable.

"What's your name?"

Handing over her camera, she answered, "Nadine."

"I'm Harry," he said. "I'm a landscape architect, which might not help your situation, but I did get a passing grade in a college-level photography class. Is that good enough?"

"I don't know," she countered playfully. "I might interpret a passing grade differently from you."

He laughed, his nose scrunching. "B-minus."

She pretended to mull it over before saying, "I will accept that."

"Merci." He sat on the wooden path. "So, do you have any specific ideas in mind for the photoshoot?"

"I know I want to be a part of nature. Close-up shots are preferred. And..." Nadine looked at the exhibit, pondering. "Am I allowed to go in the water?"

"I don't see why not."

"Will I get into trouble? I couldn't stand being banned from this place."

While fidgeting with her camera, Harry said, "This is my exhibit."

This had been designed by him? It was highly impressive, and it made her feel better knowing a person with a meticulous brain and a keen eye for design was helping her. It was also attractive knowing he had constructed it with his bare hands. Did his fingers have calluses? Were there blood, sweat, and tears involved? No, don’t think about him sweating!

"You're letting a stranger interfere with your creation?" she asked, willing away the heat rushing up her neck.

As Harry raised the camera to his eye and pointed it at random things, seemingly testing its functionality, he murmured, "You would be adding beauty to it."

In the middle of removing her sandals and poncho, Nadine’s breath hitched. It was quite bold of him to make such a statement. She had to tread carefully around this male enigma. She was there for business and business only.

"Hop in," Harry said. "The water is heated."

She felt vulnerable in her white camisole and brown silk maxi skirt. Her curves were accentuated by the spring breeze blowing through the fabric. Her feet sank into the dirt. To remain true to the theme of nature and its rawness, she had opted not to wear any makeup.

Shimmying down her skirt and letting it pool on the ground, she was left wearing beige underwear. Without a single word spoken, the mood turned intimate.

While she dipped one leg into the water, Harry's gentlemanly gaze remained fixed on her face. He was right—it was a glorious temperature, like sinking into a lukewarm bath after a long day. She was submerged up to her rib cage.

"Are you new to Loire Valley?" Nadine asked, curious about how this beautiful man showed up in her hometown.

"I live in England. I was invited to this festival to create a United Kingdom exhibit."

"Ah, oui. It must be such an honor. Do you like it here so far?"

Harry nodded. "It's gorgeous. The architecture is brilliant."

"I hope the sheer number of chateaus we have is not overwhelming,” Nadine said, slicking her hair back with wet palms.

He chuckled and stood up. "Shall we get started?"

Nadine leaned against the edge of the vat, swaying trees and clusters of red bamboo behind her. She settled her expression into her "model face," which was basically just her looking slightly pissed off at something, but in a sexy way. With her chin tilted up, she showed off her sharp jaw and neck muscles.

Harry knelt on the wooden path and held the camera steadily. Leaning forward, he zoomed in at a low angle. There was a look of concentration on his face, and she felt elated that he was so serious about assisting her.

The shutter clicked a few times. By moving her face just a smidge, she subtly posed. It was all natural to her once she was in the moment—like breathing. She loved immersing herself in working the camera to her advantage. She made it her best friend.

"Regardez-moi," Harry murmured, sending a delightful shiver down Nadine’s spine. She looked at him with her lips pursed attractively, and he snapped more photos. "Parfaite."

"You speak very good French."

Still adorably focused on his task, he hummed in acknowledgment. "I studied architecture at Versailles and took French classes. It's a romantic language."

"I agree." She switched her pose by spreading her arms in the water and trying to smize, as invented by Tyra Banks. The camera’s shutter sounded dozens of times.

To get the best angles, Harry contorted his body in semi-ridiculous ways. He then got in the water and stood near her. Nadine’s heart rate spiked since he was even more ethereal up close. There was a gentleness to his presence, and she was undeniably attracted to it.

"What do you call an angry French aunt?" Harry asked, setting up a joke.

"Oh, boy. What?"

"A crossaunt."

Nadine let a giggle escape. Slowly lowering the camera, Harry stared at her in awe. His smile was stuck in place, as if making her laugh stopped time.

"Fossetes," he whispered. Dimples.

A powerful blush expanded across her face and spread to her chest. Suddenly, her smile turned shy. She had never experienced such attention from a man before. The feeling was both daunting and exhilarating.

Water sluiced down Nadine's body when she stood at her full height. "Thank you for doing this," she said, her voice weak.

"It was my pleasure,” Harry replied. “You made my job easy."

She was going to burst into flames if she kept blushing. "Can I repay the favor in any way?"

His lips quirked to the side as he hummed thoughtfully. "What are your plans for next weekend?" he asked.

"I will most likely be back here again."

"As will I."

"So...” Nadine chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I will see you then?"

"Absolutely." He cleared his throat and held her gaze. "I was wondering if you would fancy doing something with me afterward. We could visit all the farmer's markets. Perhaps stroll along the river at sunset. You could show me your favorite spots and tell me why you love them."

Nadine inhaled a little gasp. If he wanted to spend an evening together, he had surely felt the connection too. It was palpable, hanging thickly in the air like a storm cloud. She could feel the electrical charge with just a single glance. It was definitely worth exploring.

"Unless you're taken,” Harry added uncertainly, combing a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I should have asked first. I just find you so pretty, and you have a lovely laugh." He paused briefly, glimpsing at her lips. "I'd love to hear more of it."

She walked toward him, her pulse going haywire. Her palms rested against his chest as she softly kissed his clean-shaven cheek and said, "I’m available.”

"Oui?"

"Oui."

Harry's eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Splendid. I'm looking forward to it, dove."

Gleeful flutters took flight in Nadine's stomach. She had been yearning for a serendipitous moment for ages. The prospect of being wanted always felt unreachable to her. No boy had ever decided she was worth a chance. Now, there was a glimmer of hope.

When Nadine arrived home later that evening, she perused through the pictures on her camera—there were at least a hundred. Each one captured her in a certain light that had been unknown to her. Through the eyes of someone else, she found herself desirable.

All thanks to the man with the beautiful back.

——

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

15 Inventors Who Were Killed By Their Own Inventions

Marie Curie -  Marie Curie, popularly known as Madame Curie, invented the process to isolate radium after co-discovering the radioactive elements radium and polonium. She died of aplastic anemia as a result of prolonged exposure to ionizing radiation emanating from her research materials. The dangers of radiation were not well understood at the time.

William Nelson - a General Electric employee, invented a new way to motorize bicycles. He then fell off his prototype bike during a test run and died.

William Bullock - he invented the web rotary printing press. Several years after its invention, his foot was crushed during the installation of the new machine in Philadelphia. The crushed foot developed gangrene and Bullock died during the amputation.

Horace Lawson Hunley - he was a marine engineer and was the inventor of the first war submarine. During a routine test, Hunley, along with a 7-member crew, sunk to death in a previously damaged submarine H. L. Hunley (named after Hunley’s death) on October 15, 1963. 

Francis Edgar Stanley - Francis crashed into a woodpile while driving a Stanley Steamer. It was a steam engine-based car developed by Stanley Motor Carriage Company, founded by Francis E. Stanley and his twin Freelan O. Stanley. 

Thomas Andrews - he was an Irish businessman and shipbuilder. As the naval architect in charge of the plans for the ocean liner RMS Titanic, he was travelling on board that vessel during her maiden voyage when the ship hit an iceberg on 14 April 1912. He perished along with more than 1,500 others. His body was never recovered.

Thomas Midgley Jr. - he was an American engineer and chemist who contracted polio at age 51, leaving him severely disabled. He devised an elaborate system of ropes and pulleys to help others lift him from the bed. He was accidentally entangled in the ropes of the device and died of strangulation at the age of 55.

Alexander Bogdanov - he was a Russian physician and philosopher who was one of the first people to experiment with blood transfusion. He died when he used the blood of malaria and TB victim on himself.

Michael Dacre -  died after testing his flying taxi device designed to permit fast, affordable travel between regional cities.

Max Valier - invented liquid-fuelled rocket engines as a member of the 1920s German rocket society. On May 17, 1930, an alcohol-fuelled engine exploded on his test bench in Berlin that killed him instantly.

Mike Hughes - was killed when the parachute failed to deploy during a crash landing while piloting his homemade steam-powered rocket.

Harry K. Daghlian Jr. and Louis Slotin -  The two physicists were running experiments on plutonium for The Manhattan Project, and both died due to lethal doses of radiation a year apart (1945 and 1946, respectively).

Karel Soucek -  The professional stuntman developed a shock-absorbent barrel in which he would go over the Niagara Falls. He did so successfully, but when performing a similar stunt in the Astrodome, the barrel was released too early and Soucek plummeted 180 feet, hitting the rim of the water tank designed to cushion the blow.

Hammad al-Jawhari - he was a prominent scholar in early 11th century Iraq and he was also sort of an inventor, who was particularly obsessed with flight. He strapped on a pair of wooden wings with feathers stuck on them and tried to impress the local Imam. He jumped off from the roof of a mosque and consequently died.

Jean-Francoise Pilatre de Rozier -  Rozier was a French teacher who taught chemistry and physics. He was also a pioneer of aviation, having made the first manned free balloon flight in 1783. He died when his balloon crashed near Wimereux in the Pas-de-Calais during an attempt to fly across the English Channel. Pilâtre de Rozier was the first known fatalities in an air crash when his Roziere balloon crashed on June 15, 1785.

[heyvasorakurdistane]

#KURDÎ

BANGA ALÎKARIYÊ

BI HEZARAN KESÊN JI BER ŞER REVIYAN E LI BENDA ALÎKARIYÊ NE!

Ji 7’ê Cotmeha sala 2023’an ve şerê di navbera Îsraîl û Hamasê de rê li ber kuştina bêtirî 42 hezar kesî vekir. Ne tenê kuştin, ji ber wêraniyê bi sed hezaran mirov jî ji cih û warên xwe bûn.

Di rewşeke wiha de ku mirovahî hewl dide birînên vî şerê derman bike, şerê di navbera Lubnan û Îsraîlê de li vê karesetê zêde bû. Ew jî mîna Gazayê, herî zêde dibe sedem ku zerara herî mezin li xelkê sivîl were.

Weke tê zanîn ku ji ber şer û aloziya ku 13 sal in li Sûrî dewam dike, ji vî welatî bi deh hezaran kes berê xwe dabûn Lubnanê. Di nava wan de jî beşeke mezin ji gelê Kurd ê Rojavayê Kurdistanê heye.

Ji rojên pêşî yên aloziya Îsraîl û Hîzbullahê, Rêveberiya Xweser a Bakur û Rojhilatê Sûrî ket nava hewldanan da ku welatiyên Sûrî yên penaber ji bandora şer xelas bike.

Bi vê armancê hem Rêveberiya Xweser di nava demeke kurt de amadekariyên pêşî yên pêşwazîkirinê temam kirin. Li ser banga rêveberiyê ji 29’ê Îlonê ve bêtirî 13 hezar mirov ji deriyên Tebqa û Minbicê derbasî herêmê bûn.

Saziya Alîkariya Mirovî ya Rojava, Heyva Sor a Kurd ji bo pêwîstiyên welatiyan bicih bîne, kampanyeke lezgîn a alîkariyê ragihand. Ji bo bi hezaran kesên ji ber şerê Îsraîl û Hîzbullahê reviyan e li deverên ewle werin bicihkirin û pêdiviyên wan ên jiyanî werin peydakirin, Kampanya Heyva Sor a Kurd pir girîng e.

Ji ber vê ��endê em jî weke Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê xwe hevkarê vê kampanyayê yê dibînin. Netew, ola û baweriya wan çi dibe bila bibe, xwedîderketina li mexdûrên şer erka exlaqî û mirovî ye.

Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê ê li seranserê welatên Ewrûpa, Skandînavya û Japan xebatên berhevkirina alîkariya madî bi tevî saziyên hevkar wê birêve bibe.

Bi vê bîr û baweriyê Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê bang li sazî û xêrxwzên li derveyî welat dike da ku beşdarî Kampanya Heyva Sor a Kurd bibin.

Her çi mirov û saziyên ku dixwazin destê alîkariyê dirêjî koçberên Kurd û Sûrî yên ji Lubnanê reviyan bikin, dikarin bi rêya Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê alîkariyên xwe bighînin kesên muhtac.

04.10.2024

HEYVA SOR A KURDISTANÊ

HESABÊ BANKÊ:

Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê e.V.

Kreissparkasse Köln

IBAN: DE49 3705 0299 0004 0104 81

BIC/SWIFT: COKSDE33XXX

PAYPAL: heyvasorakurdistan@gmail.com

paypal.com/paypalme/heyvasorakurdistan

Armanca alîkari şandinê: Koçberên Lubnanê

(Li gorî biryara ADD saziya Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê li herêma Rheinland-Pfalz nikare alîkariyê kom bike)

—————————————————

#ENGLISH

AID APPEAL

Thousands of people who have had to flee due to war are waiting for help!

The war between Israel and Hamas has resulted in more than 42,000 deaths since October 7, 2023, and due to the destruction, hundred thousand of people have been displaced.

At a time when humanity is trying to heal the wounds of this war, the catastrophe of the Lebanon-Israel conflict has also emerged.

It is known that tens of thousands of people have fled to Lebanon due to the 13-year-long war and conflicts in Syria, including a large number from Rojava, Kurdistan. Since the early days of the conflicts between Israel and Hezbollah, the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria has been working to protect Syrian refugees from the effects of the war.

To this end, the Autonomous Administration quickly completed its initial preparations. In response to the administration's call, over 13,000 people have entered the region through the borders of Tabka and Minbic since September 29.

The Rojava aid organization Heyva Sor a Kurd has launched an emergency aid campaign to meet the needs of the citizens. The campaign by Heyva Sor a Kurd is of great importance for relocating thousands of people fleeing the war between Israel and Hezbollah to safe places and fulfilling their vital needs.

For this reason, we see ourselves as partners in this campaign. With the awareness that it is a moral and human duty to care for war victims, regardless of nationality, religion, or belief, we will jointly raise funds in Europe, Scandinavia, and Japan with our partner aid organizations to carry out this campaign.

As Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê, we call on organizations and benefactors abroad to participate in the campaign of Heyva Sor a Kurd.

All individuals and institutions wishing to extend a helping hand to Kurdish and Syrian refugees fleeing from Lebanon can send their donations to those in need through Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê.

BANK ACCOUNT:

Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê e.V.

Kreissparkasse Köln

IBAN: DE49 3705 0299 0004 0104 81

BIC/SWIFT: COKSDE33XXX

PAYPAL: heyvasorakurdistan@gmail.com

paypal.com/paypalme/heyvasorakurdistan

Reference: Lebanon refugees

(According to the Supervisory and Service Directorate decision we cannot collect donations in the State of Rheinland Pfalz.)

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#DEUTSCH

SPENDENAUFRUF

Tausende von Menschen, die aufgrund des Krieges fliehen mussten, warten auf Hilfe!

Der Krieg zwischen Israel und Hamas hat seit dem 7. Oktober 2023 zu mehr als 42.000 Todesopfern geführt, und aufgrund der Zerstörung sind Hunderttausende von Menschen vertrieben worden.

In einer Zeit, in der die Menschheit versucht, die Wunden dieses Krieges zu heilen, kam die Katastrophe des Libanon-Israel-Kriegs hinzu.

Es ist bekannt, dass aufgrund des 13 Jahre andauernden Krieges und der Konflikte in Syrien Zehntausende von Menschen in den Libanon geflüchtet sind, darunter auch eine große Anzahl aus Rojava, Kurdistan. Seit den ersten Tagen der Konflikte zwischen Israel und der Hisbollah arbeitet die Autonome Verwaltung von Nord- und Ost-Syrien daran, syrische Flüchtlinge vor den Auswirkungen des Krieges zu schützen.

Zu diesem Zweck hat die Autonome Verwaltung ihre ersten Vorbereitungen schnell abgeschlossen. Auf den Aufruf der Verwaltung hin sind seit dem 29. September über 13.000 Personen durch die Grenzen von Tabka und Minbic in die Region eingereist.

Die Rojava-Hilfsorganisation Heyva Sor a Kurd hat eine Notfallhilfe-Kampagne gestartet, um die Bedürfnisse der Bürger zu decken.

Die Kampagne von Heyva Sor a Kurd ist von großer Bedeutung, um Tausende von Menschen, die vor dem Krieg zwischen Israel und der Hisbollah geflohen sind, in sichere Orte zu bringen und ihre lebensnotwendigen Bedürfnisse zu erfüllen.

Aus diesem Grund betrachten wir uns als Partner dieser Kampagne. Mit dem Bewusstsein, dass es eine moralische und menschliche Pflicht ist, sich um die Kriegsopfer zu kümmern, unabhängig von Nationalität, Religion oder Glauben, werden wir gemeinsam mit unseren Partnerhilfsorganisationen in Europa, Skandinavien und Japan finanzielle Mittel sammeln, um diese Kampagne durchzuführen.

Als Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê rufen wir Organisationen und Wohltäter im Ausland auf, sich an der Kampagne von Heyva Sor a Kurd zu beteiligen.

Alle Personen und Institutionen, die den kurdischen und syrischen Flüchtlingen, die aus dem Libanon geflohen sind, helfen möchten, können ihre Spenden über Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê an die Bedürftigen senden.

BANKVERBINDUNG:

Heyva Sor a Kurdistanê e.V.

Kreissparkasse Köln

IBAN: DE49 3705 0299 0004 0104 81

BIC/SWIFT: COKSDE33XXX

PAYPAL: heyvasorakurdistan@gmail.com

paypal.com/paypalme/heyvasorakurdistan

Verwendungszweck: Libanon-Flüchtlinge

(Bitte beachten! Durch eine Verfügung seitens der ADD Rheinland-Pfalz können wir keine Spenden aus dem Bundesland Rheinland-Pfalz annehmen. Bis zur Klärung der Sachlage umfasst keine unserer Hilfsaktionen dieses Gebiet.)

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[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

15 Inventors Who Were Killed By Their Own Inventions

Marie Curie -  Marie Curie, popularly known as Madame Curie, invented the process to isolate radium after co-discovering the radioactive elements radium and polonium. She died of aplastic anemia as a result of prolonged exposure to ionizing radiation emanating from her research materials. The dangers of radiation were not well understood at the time.

William Nelson - a General Electric employee, invented a new way to motorize bicycles. He then fell off his prototype bike during a test run and died.

William Bullock - he invented the web rotary printing press. Several years after its invention, his foot was crushed during the installation of the new machine in Philadelphia. The crushed foot developed gangrene and Bullock died during the amputation.

Horace Lawson Hunley - he was a marine engineer and was the inventor of the first war submarine. During a routine test, Hunley, along with a 7-member crew, sunk to death in a previously damaged submarine H. L. Hunley (named after Hunley’s death) on October 15, 1963. 

Francis Edgar Stanley - Francis crashed into a woodpile while driving a Stanley Steamer. It was a steam engine-based car developed by Stanley Motor Carriage Company, founded by Francis E. Stanley and his twin Freelan O. Stanley. 

Thomas Andrews - he was an Irish businessman and shipbuilder. As the naval architect in charge of the plans for the ocean liner RMS Titanic, he was travelling on board that vessel during her maiden voyage when the ship hit an iceberg on 14 April 1912. He perished along with more than 1,500 others. His body was never recovered.

Thomas Midgley Jr. - he was an American engineer and chemist who contracted polio at age 51, leaving him severely disabled. He devised an elaborate system of ropes and pulleys to help others lift him from the bed. He was accidentally entangled in the ropes of the device and died of strangulation at the age of 55.

Alexander Bogdanov - he was a Russian physician and philosopher who was one of the first people to experiment with blood transfusion. He died when he used the blood of malaria and TB victim on himself.

Michael Dacre -  died after testing his flying taxi device designed to permit fast, affordable travel between regional cities.

Max Valier - invented liquid-fuelled rocket engines as a member of the 1920s German rocket society. On May 17, 1930, an alcohol-fuelled engine exploded on his test bench in Berlin that killed him instantly.

Mike Hughes - was killed when the parachute failed to deploy during a crash landing while piloting his homemade steam-powered rocket.

Harry K. Daghlian Jr. and Louis Slotin -  The two physicists were running experiments on plutonium for The Manhattan Project, and both died due to lethal doses of radiation a year apart (1945 and 1946, respectively).

Karel Soucek -  The professional stuntman developed a shock-absorbent barrel in which he would go over the Niagara Falls. He did so successfully, but when performing a similar stunt in the Astrodome, the barrel was released too early and Soucek plummeted 180 feet, hitting the rim of the water tank designed to cushion the blow.

Hammad al-Jawhari - he was a prominent scholar in early 11th century Iraq and he was also sort of an inventor, who was particularly obsessed with flight. He strapped on a pair of wooden wings with feathers stuck on them and tried to impress the local Imam. He jumped off from the roof of a mosque and consequently died.

Jean-Francoise Pilatre de Rozier -  Rozier was a French teacher who taught chemistry and physics. He was also a pioneer of aviation, having made the first manned free balloon flight in 1783. He died when his balloon crashed near Wimereux in the Pas-de-Calais during an attempt to fly across the English Channel. Pilâtre de Rozier was the first known fatalities in an air crash when his Roziere balloon crashed on June 15, 1785.

[motor-sports23]

History And Benefits of Bicycle/Bikes

Bicycles have long been more than just a mode of transportation; they embody a sense of freedom, efficiency, and environmental consciousness that has made them enduring icons of mobility. From humble beginnings in the early 19th century to the sophisticated machines of today, bicycles have evolved significantly, shaping cultures and lifestyles around the world.

Historical Evolution

The history of bicycles traces back to the early 1800s when the first mechanically driven two-wheel vehicle, known as the 'dandy horse' or 'velocipede,' appeared in Europe. This rudimentary contraption, propelled by pushing off the ground with the feet, sparked a wave of innovation that led to the invention of the modern bicycle.

In the mid-19th century, French metalworker Pierre Michaux and his son Ernest Michaux developed the pedal-driven velocipede, known as the boneshaker for its uncomfortable ride over rough terrain. Subsequent designs saw improvements in comfort and efficiency, with the introduction of the high-wheel bicycle (or penny-farthing) in the 1870s, which featured a large front wheel and a smaller rear wheel. This design was later replaced by the safety bicycle in the 1880s, which closely resembles the bicycles we ride today, with equally sized wheels and a chain-driven rear wheel.

Modern Innovation and Varieties

Today, bicycles come in a staggering array of designs tailored for different purposes and terrains. Road bikes, built for speed and efficiency on paved surfaces, feature lightweight frames and thin, smooth tires. Mountain bikes, on the other hand, are rugged machines equipped with shock absorbers and knobby tires designed to handle off-road trails and rugged terrain. Hybrid bikes blend features of road and mountain bikes, offering versatility for both urban commuting and recreational riding.

Recent decades have seen the rise of specialized bikes such as fat bikes with oversized tires for riding on sand or snow, and electric bikes (e-bikes) equipped with battery-powered motors to assist with pedaling, offering a viable alternative for commuters and recreational cyclists alike.

Benefits of Cycling

Beyond their mechanical innovations and diverse designs, bicycles offer numerous benefits to individuals and society as a whole. Cycling promotes physical fitness and cardiovascular health, providing a low-impact aerobic workout that strengthens muscles and improves coordination. Regular cycling is associated with reduced risk of obesity, heart disease, and other chronic illnesses.

From an environmental perspective, bicycles are one of the most sustainable forms of transportation, emitting zero greenhouse gases and requiring minimal resources to manufacture compared to automobiles. Cycling reduces traffic congestion, noise pollution, and the demand for parking spaces in urban areas, contributing to cleaner, more livable cities.

Cultural Impact and Community

Bicycles have also left an indelible mark on culture and society. They have been embraced as symbols of youthfulness, independence, and adventure, inspiring countless films, artworks, and literary works. Events like the Tour de France have elevated cycling to the status of a highly competitive sport, showcasing the endurance and skill of professional athletes on a global stage.

In cities worldwide, the cycling community has grown into a vibrant subculture, fostering camaraderie among enthusiasts through group rides, bike clubs, and advocacy efforts to promote cycling infrastructure and safety. Cycling events and festivals celebrate the joy of riding and raise awareness about the benefits of cycling for individuals and communities alike.

Conclusion

In conclusion, bicycles have transcended their humble origins to become icons of sustainable transportation, physical fitness, and cultural significance. Their evolution continues to be driven by innovations in technology, materials, and design, ensuring that bicycles remain relevant and accessible for generations to come. Whether for commuting, recreation, sport, or adventure, bicycles continue to embody the spirit of freedom and exploration that captivates riders worldwide.

[iuriinacio]

Os Sem Floresta (Over The Hedge) Fora de Contexto!

Certo dia a gambá Stella decidiu abrir uma concessionária de motos, o nome e o slogan que ela escolheu que combine com seu estilo foi:

Honda Bikes, The Power Of Dreams

Créditos ao @cj33333 pelo Twitter/X feito em 2021.

[101flavoursofweird]

Could you do either 2 or 4 for Alfendi and Lucy from Professor Layton? Wichever you prefer!

Thank you! Spoilers: For Layton Brothers: Mystery Room 

Set: After Case 9 of LB:MR but before Layton returns home in the anime. 

Warnings: Alfendi breaks his leg, but it’s not discussed in great detail

Alfendi would like to say he had broken his leg in a blaze of glory; that he had been chasing an armed criminal through the streets of London, that he had been leaping over obstacles thrown in his path and pushing civilians to safety, that he had taken a bullet for Lucy, like something out of an action movie… 

But all of that would be a lie.

He had, in fact, been foiled by a banana peel while he was strolling through the park on their lunch break. Luckily— or, not so luckily for half of Alfendi’s bruised ego— Lucy had been with him.

Fendi— The clumsy fool!— had been in control when he slipped, but now, Al was sprawled on his backside with his right leg sticking out at an odd angle.

Al seethed with pain and rage. “Some… hooligan must have planted that banana here, hoping to incapacitate me—“

“More like some kid just missed the bin,” Lucy said, tossing the banana peel into the nearest bin.

Then she crouched beside Alfendi on her two perfectly functioning legs.

Al scowled at her. For a few seconds, he entertained the ludicrous notion of cutting off one of Lucy’s legs for himself… No, that would never work— she was too short. 

Same with Kat… Not that Kat would give him a leg, anyway. That greedy brat wouldn’t even let him borrow her bike!

Flora? Flora was taller, and she was more considerate…

Or, what if Flora could drive him to St. Mystere? Surely her relatives could fit Al with a robot leg… But if they refused, there was always Uncle Des…

Al wouldn’t object to becoming a RoboCop. Then nothing would stop him from hunting down the fiend who had impaired him with a banana peel—

“OW!” Al yelled as Lucy lifted his lower leg a little. “What the—“

Lucy removed her cap and placed it under his ankle, like a cushion. 

“Oh… Thank you, Lucy,” Fendi sighed, resurfacing.

Lucy pressed her hand against his forehead. “You don’t feel cold or sweaty… I don’t think you’re in shock, are you?”

“I’ve survived far more shocking things than this,” Fendi said pleasantly.

“Right!” Lucy chimed. “Still— we need to get you to A&E… Should I call an ambulance? Or, I could carry you there!”

Fendi chuckled. “I appreciate that Lucy, but—“

“—There’s no way in hell you could carry me,” Al concluded.

Lucy frowned. She folded her arms and crossed her legs, plonking herself down next to him.

“Fine, then,” she huffed. “We’ll just wait for the ambulance… Want to solve a puzzle to pass the time? Here’s one about a banana—“

“No!” Al snapped, covering his ears. “No puzzles…!”

Lucy kept talking through the puzzle until he sighed and raised his arms to her in resignation. Grinning, Lucy stood up. She took his hands.

“If you drop me, I will drop you into the Thames,” Al hissed. (He was about as threatening as an injured alley cat.)

“Sure, Prof…”

Lucy frowned. Alfendi was by no means a large person, but he was lanky. Would Lucy be strong enough to take him? 

Well, they had told her she would never pass her policing exams or last more than one day in the Mystery Room office— and yet, here she was!

She could do anything if she put her mind to it.

With a grunt, Lucy dragged Alfendi to his feet— foot. He hopped on his not-broken leg until Lucy pulled his arm over her shoulder. Even with his bent back, he still dwarfed her in size.

“Ha!” Lucy puffed triumphantly.

Fendi smiled down at her. “Well done… Do you know the way to the nearest hospital?”

“Yep! It’s this-a-way!” 

She took a determined step towards the park gate, supporting Alfendi like they were part of a three-legged race.

“You forgot your cap,” Fendi said, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Eee! Hold on a sec…”

Lucy left him balancing on one leg like a flamingo while she rushed back to scoop up her cap.

As she returned the cap to her head, Al called, “Baker— Heeeelp—!” Arms flailing, Al fell forward.

Lucy caught him just in time. 

She giggled as he growled, “Get me to the hospital right now— or we’ll both need a doctor…!”

“But who would you lean on then, Prof?” Lucy teased.

“I….” Alfendi trailed off. Both sides of his personality were speechless.

Who else did he have? 

His father was gone— presumed dead for years now.

His sisters— though they both loved him in their own way— had never fully understood him after the incident at Forbodium. (Not like Lucy, anyway.)

Justin Lawson was in prison. Hilda was off searching for a wanted criminal in Europe…

Commissioner Barton had always watched over Alfendi— from a distance— but surely this was out of obligation to Alfendi’s father.

There was Florence, Dustin and Sniffer at the Yard, but they had only really come around to him since Lucy cleared his name.

Would any of these people be in his life now if it weren’t for Lucy?

“I don’t know,” Fendi admitted. Then, Al added earnestly, “Where would I be without you, Lucy Baker?”

Lucy beamed at him and said, “You’d still be sitting flat on your behind!”

Alfendi snorted. “Let’s move.”

As they staggered out of the park, Alfendi vowed, “I’m arresting the next lout I catch littering.”

“I don’t think that’s legal, Prof—“

“Littering is illegal!”

[ncisladaily]

@danielaruah - Sunday was amazing! Not only did I achieve a huge goal (look mom I did it!) but I did it alongside wonderful friends AND the @malibutri raised over $1.2 MILLION dollars for @childrensla … Congrats to everyone who participated! & Thank you so very very much to all who donated! The whole journey has been unforgettable. Shall we do it again next year??? . Domingo foi incrível! Não só atingi um objectivo enorme (mãe, consegui!) mas fi-lo ao lado de amigos maravilhosos E o triatlo de Malibu angariou mais de $1.2 milhões para o Hospital pedi��trico de LA… parabéns a todos os que participaram e muito obrigada do fundo do coração pelas doações! Esta jornada foi inesquecível. Bora fazer outra vez no próximo ano??? . Donation link in bio! . #triathlon #goal #triatlo #malibu #childrenshospital #LA #ocean #swim #bike #run #happy #sore #dorida

[larytello]

I posted 187 times in 2022

44 posts created (24%)

143 posts reblogged (76%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mad4turtles

@shinidamachu

@larytello

@tangledupblue

@kenmagoesblep

I tagged 177 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#transformers - 20 posts

#inuyasha - 16 posts

#sonic the hedgehog - 15 posts

#2022 fifa world cup - 14 posts

#yes - 13 posts

#important - 10 posts

#brazil - 9 posts

#brasil - 9 posts

#digimon - 7 posts

#rockman exe - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#now i wanna go to the car thing tribute to jesse and shurastey in my city but the rain might ruin the whole plan with floodings everywhere

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fiz umas artes novas para produtos na minha lojinha da RedBubble! Essa música tá presa na minha cabeça já faz mais de uma semana e eu vou surtar AUSHUASHAUSHAUS ----- I made some new artworks for my RedBubble shop! This song has been stuck in my mind for over a week now and I'm gonna flip AUSHAUHSAUSHAUSHA

7 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

#4

Can we stop a minute to consider about how Kagome surely got the strongest legs out of everyone in the InuGang

I mean, she rides that bike ACROSS Japan, most of the time through dirt or rocky roads as it's ANCIENT JAPAN, also carrying that monster of a backpack - School books alone are already heavy as fucking Hell, God knows how it took years for me to feel my back normal again after I was done with school, and she carries them + first aid kit + food and snacks for several days + water bottles + whatever other random stuff she feels like bringing with her to Feudal Japan to entertain her friends or to care for herself. She's also carrying Shippou along on her bike most of the time. And InuYasha himself catches rides too. InuYasha might not be fat but he's pure muscle and bigger so THAT'S HEAVY TOO.

I'm perfectly aware we've seen InuYasha run above water, which means he's got damn strong leg muscles to move that fast, but bitch that's his Youkai side giving him above-human strength. Kagome is simply human. And she's riding that bike with all that weight around like a boss.

8 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

#3

Hitch is a pretty good boy, your honor

15 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

#2

❤️🤍💙

Ontem o filme "Se Meu Fusca Falasse" (The Love Bug) completou 53 anos, que é o número de corredor do simpático Herbie, a grande estrela do filme. Eu gosto muito dos filmes do Herbie, então resolvi fazer esse desenho rapidinho. Que venham mais 53 anos de muito amor pra dar!

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Yesterday the movie "The Love Bug" turned 53 years young as ever, which is the racing number of our beloved Herbie, the big star of the movie. I absolutely love all Herbie movies, so I decided to draw this. Here's for more 53 years of much love to give!

20 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Nova tabela de preços! Por favor, quem puder compartilhar, eu agradeço!

Eu demoro um pouco pra concluir os trabalhos, mas garanto que ficam ótimos no final 😌👌🏽

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New prices chart! Please, share if you can, I thank you!

It takes some time for me to finish the artworks, but I guarantee you that they all look great in the end 😌👌🏽

47 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[defietssite]

Fietsvakanties zijn er in alle soorten en maten. Je kunt in vele landen een fietsvakantie houden, en het zal je niet verbazen dat ons eigen land ook bijzonder in trek is voor het houden van een fietsvakantie. Nederland behoort tot de meest fietsvriendelijke landen ter wereld. Allereerst bestaat Nederland voornamelijk uit een vlak landschap en we beschikken over een ruim fietspadennetwerk. Wie toch eens verder wil kijken dan Nederland heeft niet alleen de keuze uit vele andere landen. Maar heeft ook de keuze uit het type fietsvakantie: neem je de eigen fietsen mee of ga je georganiseerd op reis? Zelf je fiets meenemen of georganiseerd? Ben jij, of zijn jullie, van het zelf organiseren? Dan pak je de auto, maak je een keuze uit de beste en meest geschikte fietsendragers voor het vervoeren van fietsen. en stippel je thuis precies uit welke routes jullie op de fiets willen afleggen en welke accommodaties je daarvoor kunt boeken. Zwaarte van de route Vanzelfsprekend houd je rekening met de zwaarte van de routes, want in vele ons omringende landen tref je vaak heuvelachtig, tot bergachtige landschappen. Ben je sportief aangelegd dan kunnen mountainbikes ideaal zijn. Maar wie liever een iets meer ontspanning op de fiets zoekt kan ook het gebruik van een e-bike overwegen. Ken de fietsregels ter plaatse Zorg er overigens voor dat je altijd bekend bent met de eisen die aan fietsers ter plekke worden gesteld. Zo kan het zijn dat je fiets over bepaalde faciliteiten moet beschikken. Zoals de aanwezigheid van een voor- en achterrem. De aanwezigheid van bepaalde reflectoren. Het verplicht dragen van een fietshelm, et cetera. Reis- en ziektekostenverzekering Zorg ook dat je beschikt over een ruim voldoende reisverzekering. want bepaalde behandelingen kunnen in het buitenland veel duurder uitpakken dan de zorgverzekering in Nederland vergoedt. Dekt de Nederlandse ziektekosten de behandeling in het buitenland maar gedeeltelijk. Dan kun je zelf de rest bijbetalen. Informeer je dus echt heel goed voordat je op reis gaat. Want een ongeluk zit doorgaans in een klein hoekje - zeker op de fiets. Georganiseerde fietsvakantie Op vele plekken ter wereld kun je een fietsvakantie houden. Er bestaan specifieke online reiswinkels waar je de meest spectaculaire fietsreizen kunt boeken. Wat dacht je bijvoorbeeld van Oezbekistan, Thailand, of Scandinavië? Houd er wel rekening mee dat in specifieke landen er een mindere wegkwaliteit bestaat, neem daarom altijd goede beschermmiddelen mee en draag altijd een fietshelm. Het gemak van een georganiseerde fietsvakantie Een groot verschil tussen zelf je fietsen meenemen en georganiseerd op reis gaan is dat bij een georganiseerde fietsvakantie jouw spullen telkens van overnachtingsplek naar overnachtingsplek worden vervoerd. Je hebt dus geen omkijken naar je bagage, dit wordt voor je geregeld en de bagage wacht op je in de nieuwe accommodatie. Georganiseerde fietsvakanties bieden wat dat betreft dus een groot gemak, alleen mag het ook wat kosten natuurlijk. Zelfstandig op reis gaan bespaart je dan natuurlijk wel de nodige kosten!

[mrssimply]

19th: Sugar

This is clearly me saying "I'm sorry for yesterday's fic". Look, they're back on sweet and fluffy ground!

People close to me know I've had a... brief but very intense obsession with Dacre Montgomery without even watching Stranger Things. What had me absolutely obsessed was this. I had to incorporate that scene into a fic and when this challenge gave me an opportunity, I seized it.

If you don't know who Cedric Grolet is, or what he does I invite you to check, but maybe eat something before or you'll probably end up with a craving. Same for that fic, too.

I'm amazed by what he does, but I've yet to try it...

This is a very "happy" AU, Johnny is a bit different. Still an asshole, but probably a lot softer than in game. It's christmas, I'm allowed!

This one contains unsanitary practices in the kitchen to go with it's E-rating u.u

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

This morning, Johnny let his two apprentices take care of the croissants, so he expects the worst as he gets off his bike. Nancy insisted: “they’re here to learn from you, but also to help us, they’re done observing,” she said while making quote marks, “now it’s time they do something.” 

Johnny smokes a cigarette while letting his eyes roam over the front of his shop. Wedged between two buildings — former warehouses turned into fancy green-flats for tree huggers — it looks more like a record shop than a bakery. His modest kingdom consists of a small coffee shop as a storefront, and a state of the art kitchen at the back. The cafe is decorated with a 911 Porsche suspended from the ceiling as if the car was nose diving toward the ground, and first edition records of famous bands over the walls. Old mismatched armchairs and rickety wooden tables welcome the few patrons. The usual crowd is already there, either at their preferred table, or queuing while reading their mails and scrolling down their social media feeds. Johnny observes them from a distance, parked on the other side of the street. 

Once he’s done with his cigarette, he makes his way to the kitchen by the backdoor, trying to mentally prepare for the disaster he’s sure will greet him.

Instead, once he’s donned his white apron, leaving the three top buttons open because he would be dead before getting caught conforming to any rule, he finds V and Evelyn quietly unloading another tray of chocolate croissants. 

Johnny doesn’t even greet them before swooping on the pastries to take one. It’s still hot from the oven, but Johnny doesn’t care: his chrome arm is useful in his field, he doesn’t need to use mitts. The croissants look the right size, right shape, they smell great. So far, so good. He glances at V, who’s placidly waiting for judgment. 

Rogue sent those two. She’s the headmaster of Night City’s school of  “Arts de la table”, and Johnny trusts her to send his way only the best, and most importantly, the toughest. Johnny hates the apprentices; but as Nancy keeps reminding him, they’re cheap labor so they compromised and Johnny only takes the third years, which are not totally incompetent. Although, it’s the first year they’ve held this long, nearly six months. Sometimes, Johnny even thinks about offering them a job, before shaking his head and wondering if he’s losing his touch. 

The chef takes a knife, making it jump in his palm before reaffirming his grip and, swift as a snake, cuts the chocolate croissant in two perfectly equal halves. Johnny bends to observe the inside like he’s doing an autopsy. He catches Evelyn’s eye roll from the corner of his eyes, and can practically taste V’s smirk on his left. 

But Johnny’s whole focus is on the croissant: inside, the laminated dough has blown out finely, giving the pastry its typical vaporous texture. It’s suspiciously well done. Now that it’s cooled down a bit, Johnny takes one half to bring it to his mouth and both apprentices can’t quite hide their apprehension. 

The salted butter balances the sugar neatly, then the chocolate hits his taste buds and gives the pastry a rich taste. The whole thing is luxurious in his mouth, like biting on a cloud, and the dough melts on his tongue like it should, leaving behind the after taste of the dark cocoa and a hint of sweetness.

It’s perfect.

“Not bad,” Johnny says.

He sees their shoulders drop in relief and a hint of disappointment for the lackluster compliment when they probably worked really hard to impress him, but they chose this world, it’s a ruthless one and Johnny won’t spare them. They will thank him later, he tells himself, turning away to observe the rest of his kingdom.

“Alright,” he finally declares when he can’t find anything to criticize, “this weekend, you have free reins over the pastry of the day. Evie, you get Saturday, V you get Sunday. Let the customers be the judges.”

-

Sunday, V’s trompe-l’oeil artichokes are a huge success. The center is an egg shaped yuzu/citrus cheesecake with a nuts and caramel craquelin as the base. Saturday, he made about a hundred basil flavored chocolate petals in preparation for the morrow. It took him nearly the entire day to make them, and then piece the artichokes together so they were ready at opening sunday. He made twenty one pieces, all of them brought before noon, about as fast as Evelyn’s electric blue and violet mini cakes the day before. They’d all been topped by a vulva of a different shape and color. Johnny had found it a bit too much “woke” for his taste, but they’d been marvelous, and he had liked the details she’d put on each of them. Contrary to V, she had chosen simplicity and quantity over complexity, so she’d made about fifty different vulvas, still a feat, even Johnny could admit it.

-

Around four, they are cleaning up the kitchen while Judy sells their last items. Nancy is off today, which is why Johnny loves weekends so much. The manager still reblogged, retweeted and shared all the photos customers posted of the two young chef’s creations, but at least she’d been off Johnny’s back.

Johnny is about to launch the dishwasher when a voice makes his ears perk up.

“Hi Judy,” the newcomer greets with a warm and deep voice.

Next to to the chef, V also straightens and Johnny smirks. The kid is apparently a fan, and loses all composure around Kerry Eurodyne, superstar extraordinaire, and Johnny’s best friend. V looks down at his apron, covered in various shades of chocolate and green coloring, then gives Johnny a deer in headlights look that only makes the chef bark a laugh.

“Go, I’ll stall him.”

He doesn't need to say it twice, the kid disappears in the backroom, probably to change. 

A few seconds later, Kerry enters the kitchen, still looking back at Judy and waving at her with a laugh. He’s dressed in casual wear: jeans, a dark tee-shirt with a band name on it (not his, thank god for small mercies), and his usual leather jacket. His glasses are tucked in the V of his neck, clinking against the many gold chains he’s wearing. 

Johnny crosses his arms and leans against a counter.

“Hey,” he greets and his friend gives him a huge smile in answer, sliding right into his personal space. Since the moment they met, Kerry has been doing this, as if more distance between them would be unbearable. Johnny is not complaining.

“I was in the district, and suddenly craved an apple,” the musician informs the chef, who rolls his eyes.

“We’re sold out.”

“Oh maaaan… Really? C’mon? For me?” And he literally bats his eyelashes, forcing Johnny to fight down an ironic smile. He shouldn’t encourage him.

The infamous apple that Kerry is supposedly craving is Johnny’s best-known creation: a trompe l’oeil cake looking just like the forbidden fruit, filled with, quote “the best apple pie man has ever created, one God would probably indeed try to keep for themself”.

“What’s this?” Kerry suddenly exclaims, stopped in the middle of his inspection of the kitchen by the sight of the last artichoke V made.

“I know you’re mostly eating at restaurants now you’re a star, but I hope even you can recognise what it is,” Johnny replies with a mischievous tone.

“I can see it’s an artichoke, but excuse my surprise ‘cause I don’t generally find them in your kitchen.”

Kerry is about to touch the pastry when Johnny’s chrome arm closes around his wrist.

“V made it. That one is for his girlfriend.”

“Oh, the biker gal?”

“Panam, yeah.”

The fact Kerry knows his apprentice’s name is probably a clue on how much time he spends haunting Johnny’s bakery.

“Looks good… Oh, I saw the Vulva cakes on instagram, too!”

Johnny grunts, making Kerry snort.

“What, worried the padawans surpassed the master?”

“They have much to learn, yet,” Johnny declares, dignified. Mirth shines in Kerry’s eyes, but before he can open his mouth, V comes back, changed and cleaned up.

“Hi Mister Eurodyne,”

“Hey V, I told you not to call me that. I’m Kerry, ok?”

“Sure, yeah, hm, good day?”

Johnny bites his tongue hard not to laugh, and he can see the shadow of embarrassment on V’s face but Kerry, bless his friendly soul, takes it in stride.

“Yes, thank you, I finished recording what might be the next single!”

V’s eyes sparkle like stars as they widen in wonder.

“That’s great, means I can listen to it soon!”

“Meh, don’t expect it that soon, it’s gonna be released as part of the album’s promo. Few more months… But if you graduate with flying colors, I might let you listen to the demo.”

V is speechless, cheeks coloring, mouth open in wonder.

“Please don’t kill the kid, Ker,” Johnny intervenes, pushing the young chef softly toward the door. “C’mon, go home, don’t forget your artichoke.”

Once V is gone, Johnny finds Kerry munching on the leftover of the artichokes’ leaves, the ones that weren’t pretty enough to make it on the cakes. 

“You’re cute with the kid, all protective and shit, looking after him, bit like a da —”

“Don’t,” Johnny says right in his face, “or you won’t get your fuckin apple”

Kerry raises his hands in surrender and gives him an innocent look.

-

The next hour is spent with Kerry retelling juicy gossip from the music world, steeling Johnny’s resolve that leaving it was his best call. Chromerock only made him angrier. After his stunt in prison, where he discovered baking, he decided to change path. Baking focuses his mind and clears his emotions like few things do. He secretly loves hearing gossip, though, and pips in once or twice to keep Kerry going. The man tries to taste everything, putting his dirty fingers in Johnny’s preparations to the man’s rising exasperation.

Johnny puts a stop to it when Kerry tries to plunge his index into the chocolate that will serve as the cast between the filling and the outside of the apple.

“Fuck, you’re hungry today!” Johnny barks, holding the thieving hand in his chrome fist. 

Kerry becomes fluid suddenly, spreading his legs where he’s seated on the counter with a lascivious attitude.

“Hungry for you,” he replies while his pupils turn dark and smoldering. Johnny slit his eyes, trying to judge if this is a distraction technique or a real invitation. “Chocolate always tastes better on your skin,” Kerry adds with a flick of his tongue over his bottom lip. 

Johnny’s fist relaxes a tad.

“Maybe instead of a cake I wanna eat you,” Kerry concludes, his face an inch from Johnny’s, bright eyes mesmerizing. 

Long ago, Johnny tried to resist that gaze, and the alluring pleasure it promised, but his defense wall crumbled years back, when he got out of prison and Kerry was there, waiting for him, leaning against the Porsche.

It means the man has no trouble taking control of the situation: he hops off the counter, caught between the cold metal and Johnny’s warm body and lands a teasing kiss on the line of his friend’s jaw. Johnny’s chest rumble, a moan, or a groan, or a protest, who knows? It’s all for show anyway. Slowly, Kerry raises his hands to Johnny’s shoulders and pushes up on his feet to lick his upper lip, giving it a bite before, with a muffled noise, the chef decides enough is enough and kisses him for real. It’s all bite and passion from here on, both hungry for each other. 

In a sly and fluid move, Kerry turns them over, pushing Johnny against the counter before turning the cooker off. The smell of chocolate is everywhere. Kerry’s hand slides down between Johnny’s legs and the man grunts and widens his stance, covering the wandering fingers with his own to make him push harder. He thrust against the warm palm, uncaring if it looks wanton. Kerry doesn’t care, he’s back to mouthing at Johnny’s neck, purring when the chef’s chrome hand slides down his back to squeeze his ass.

The musician leans back, smiles at his best friend and occasional lover, before dipping his fingers into the chocolate. It gathers him a glare.

“Now it’s all ruined,” Johnny breathes, distracted by the spectacle of Kerry licking his fingers and making it a lewd show.

“Aww, what a shame, we should make good use of your hard work,” he whispers against the chef’s lips, squeezing his hardening dick tighter. 

The next kiss tastes like rich cocoa, and Johnny lets a whimper escape because it’s absolutely decadent when served on Kerry’s tongue. 

Johnny grips his friend’s hair in his chrome fist, forcing his head back and holding him still as he plunges his fingers in the pot, before bringing them to Kerry’s lips, smearing the thick liquid on his mouth. The man lets him do it placidly, eyes still shining with mischief and desire.

Their kiss is hot and messy, and they’re rutting against each other like mindless beasts now, before Kerry shudders and takes a step back. Looking at Johnny straight in the eyes, he unbuttons the apron, and then attacks his pants before pushing them under Johnny’s ass. He bites his lips as he looks at the hard length it uncovers and Johnny wants to laugh. He doesn’t get the opportunity because Kerry scoops more chocolate on his hand and then falls on his knees. He smears the creamy preparation over Johnny’s cock, who hisses and curses because of the warmth, jerking forward uncontrollably.

With a laugh, Kerry opens his mouth and starts licking him. Chocolate drips everywhere around his mouth, on his chin, down to his neck and Johnny grips his hair again, thrusting slightly. He can’t help it, the smell, the warmth, the feeling… Kerry’s mouth is so perfectly wet and welcoming, and he just loves seeing his friend on his knees for him, here in his fucking kingdom. 

It’s over too soon, Johnny tries to keep Kerry where he is for a minute longer but the man pushes against him. Saliva drips from his tongue to Johnny’s dick, still smeared by chocolate. The musician smiles, licks his lips, kisses the tip of the still hard dick and rises fluidly. As Johnny gasps and tries to regroup, Kerry ditches his pants and then bends over the counter, reaching for the coconut oil Johnny used in the preparation earlier.

“C’mon, do me. I want your chocolate cock inside of me. Make a cream pie out of my hole and everything.”

Johnny grits his teeth, pushing back against the hazing heat inside his mind and slaps Kerry’s cheeks, hard, open palmed across booth muscles and delights in the yelp he receives. He doesn’t waste time, coats his dick in oil, uses the rest to push two fingers inside his friend, who groans. And then he’s sliding in, slowly, bit by bit, half to tease, half because Kerry is so fucking tight.

“You need to relax.”

“I fucking can’t, shit I’m… I like it when you take me like this.”

Like this is bent over the counter, legs spread wide, Johnny’s chrome hand pushing between his shoulder blades to keep him immobile. Kerry loves doing this in the kitchen: he takes pleasure in defiling the sanctity of the place.

In the end, Kerry focus and relax for a minute, just enough to let Johnny in completely, just enough to let him fuck him with fast thrusts followed by long drags out. He’s drooling on the inox counter, cursing and keening with each plunge, sweaty hands leaving prints on the smooth metal of the workspace. His ass pulls taught around Johnny, and he’s just taking it submissively, which drives the chef mad. Johnny speeds up and loses coordination, blinded by the need to claim him once more, to fill him and make even more of a mess out of him.

Johnny grips Kerry’s hair to wrench his head backward, forcing him to arch, and fucks him in earnest now. The man encourages him, knowing full well he’s close. Johnny comes biting his lips, trying not to make any noise but it’s fruitless because the pleasure is too great and he lets out a curse like he’s been shot. 

His hips slow down, his thighs twitch everytime Kerry clench around him, earning a light slap on his asscheek. The musician gives him thirty seconds to enjoy the glow before he’s shifting impatiently. With a huff, Johnny pulls out and hoists him on all four on the counter. Kerry whines and spreads his legs needily, arching his back with his head and chest low, ass in the air. 

Johnny parts his cheeks, pushes his chrome thumb against his opening, watches his cum trickle with satisfaction. He teases Kerry a few seconds more before the man reaches for his own cock. Johnny lets him, instead bending to eat him out, licking chocolate, coconut oil and cum out of him. Cream pie indeed, Johnny’s best creation maybe.

Kerry is practically crying, trembling all over, begging Johnny not to stop while he strokes himself hard and fast. Leaning back for a breath, Johnny slaps his ass again, teases his hole with two, three fingers, pushes in and out just to hear Kerry whine, before he goes back to it. His grip over Kerry’s thighs will leave bruises, just how the man likes it. 

It takes a minute more but Kerry is now holding still, hand tight around his cock, shaking and clenching around Johnny’s tongue.

“Fuck,” he breathes out before air seems to freeze in his lungs. Johnny doesn’t stop, helps him through the climax, and goes on even when Kerrys sags on the workbench. He enjoys listening to the worldwide star keening and twitching every time his tongue swipes over his taint, until Kerry twists to push his head away. 

Only their panting breaths can be heard for a while, until Kerry rolls on his back, legs hanging over the edge of the counter.

“Hmmm,” he sighs lasciviously while Johnny is fastening his pants again. “I’m still craving that apple, though.”

The chef rolls his eyes.

“It’s late. C’mon, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Kerry gives him another forlorn sigh.

“The Dark Matter?”

Of course he would choose the best and most expensive restaurant.

“Sure,” Johnny still says, there is always a table for Kerry there, like everywhere else. “Let me change.”

Johnny looks over at the mess they made of his kitchen for a few seconds before shrugging.

Let the kids take care of that tomorrow.

[123voordeeltjes]

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[twistednuns]

August 2024

Munich Micro Burn. First and foremost, learning my lesson: EMBRACE THE CHAOS. After all the planning and hustling and stressful weeks, nothing really worked out. First I was pissed, then I cried myself into a tiny nervous breakdown and eventually I just accepted it and went with the flow, enjoying myself. I didn't even do any workshops myself and completely gave up control. Acid Friday was magical on the dancefloor with my kaleidoscope and prism glasses. I went on a little trip through the universe and ended up in a cuddle puddle with Luna, Patri and David. Rainmaker massaged me. I was so happy to be reunited with Luki and loved hanging out with him in the pool or cuddle space. He shared a baritone sax fantasy with me. I also connected with Makelove (playing bingo) and Marjolien (following a black cat together, then I drew one of her heart notes - "there is no right or wrong"). I got buffed. And drank a lot of cherry slushie. Played with the ball pool equipment in the pool. And started a mud wrestling event. I reunited with Frank after months of hardly any contact. I made a delicious batch of creamy coconut porridge. I performed in the Consent Cabaret and initiated the Sonic Sound Experiment with C. (humming and tuning in together with an electric toothbrush). I happily ate Pombären in my tent and wrote down everything I wanted to get rid of into the old book we'd burn in Katharina's and Alex's temple on Saturday. I played on the swing and enjoyed watching my boyfriend's DJ sets. The opening ceremony was cute this year, too. We all got little keys and symbols for our archetypes.

A personal little decompression with C. I don't even know what we did all those days. All I know is that we started watching Twin Peaks.

Holding Charlie in baby pose. He even snuggled up to my chest.

Homemade pizza.

Getting a cheep red dress that is so comfy I wanna live in it for the whole summer.

Devouring a whole, moist mozzarella ball. Alone time. Dopamine mode with strange food, gaming, even smoking a few cigarettes. I don't really like myself when I'm like that though. I appreciate a pinch of control in my life.

Board game night with Margit and Ansgar. Having three kids around was a little too much though. Spiel des Wissens nostalgia.

Swimming in Klostersee during Golden Hour after L.'s sport event. Going to the other side of the lake. Watching the dragonflies (thinking of my mum whenever I see one after Ash's comment) and water lilies.

Test-driving e-bikes.

Cuddling with L. and C. on the sofa. With lots of blankets and pillows.

Having Kanako, Uli, Gyan and Jana over for a campfire BBQ and stargazing. Kanako shared a lot of stories and the next day we sat around in the kiddie pool together.

Riding the rollercoasters, water slide and boat swing with C. and L. at the amusement park. More cherry slushie. Discovering the Nordic theme world with obvious Midsommar vibes. There was a triangular church and eerie music playing. Inside the church you could ride around a tree in walnut halves and shoot at creepy little animals. Lian was super scared of the buffalos with the giant horns. In the evening, we drive through a medieval village and had delicious pizza and ice-cream. C. researched its history and came up with stories about witch trials.

Flutschfinger popsicles. So fruity.

Getting to know Christian's parents. They're pretty much exactly as he described them. It's creepy to see how he changes his personality completely when he's around them.

Getting to know Maike and Simon. Such wonderfully open, engaged, intelligent, easy-going people. She used to be a feminist porn director and now works as an art teacher. He used to be a climate activist and cuts movies. I loved their home (the green bathroom with yellow and pastel pink accents looked delicious), the conversations, dinners with their friends and daughters. We stayed in Ala's room. Of course I connected with her. Little girls always find me.

Mediterana Therme in Bergisch Gladbach. I've never visited a more beautiful spa. I especially enjoyed the Indian and Persian saunas, pools and courtyards. There were events every 30 minutes and there was so much art around. No kids allowed either. What a fantastic experience.

Richard Seewald's Surrealist painting Katze mit Salamander (I didn't even find the original - I bought the postcard in the gift shop before I even bought an entrance ticket). Walking through Museum Ludwig with Christian, calming down after a sensitive mood with tears and overwhelm in the morning. Taking photos in a far-off corner of the photography exhibition. Being inspired by the Surrealist paintings. I probably liked Ursula's Dunkle Messe best.

Only touching, no talking during the train ride. Earplugs. C. already knows when I need them and offers them to me.

A tiny corner of Cologne (my first time there): lighting a candle in the cathedral. Gift shopping on our way to Brüsseler Platz (I bought a glass straw, a Hamsa bookmark made from brass and a postcard as a thank you note for Maike and Simon). Balinese food. Chocolate coconut popcorn. Going home early, enjoying the night outside on the terrace after everybody had already gone to bed.

Cute children's books in Ava's room (one about a little girl going on a nightly stroll through the city with her dad because she's afraid of the dark) and in the museum shop.

Staying with Ludo in Eibelstadt. He let us stay there the first night even though he wasn't there. On our way back to Munich we stopped by again and went to his cabin in the hills behind the river with him, his partner Sophia and his son. He built everything himself! Such a cozy and cool place. We had a decadent barbecue and hopped into the warm jacuzzi after the boys had gone to bed. I performed a witchy little ritual on C. in the morning. Then we went to Ludo's other property to visit the old building there. Lost places.

Bubblegum pink nails.

C. sending kiss emojis and 111(1) reminders.

Guessing correctly which year a movie came out.

Late summer/early fall vibes. I can already feel a slight urge to bake zucchini cake and pumpkin quiche, watch whimsical autumn movies, read gothic novels. I started reading the first Practical Magic book and even found a copy of the Book of Shadows on the street in Leipzig. And when I bought a drink at Marie's Hoffest, the bartender girl tattooed a little magic wand on my wrist! It's the season of the witch!

Going to Leipzig for my Gestalt therapy training. Meeting my group. Observing my process. I'm very happy with my decision to ditch my yoga module and do this instead. I got the feeling that my empathy and intuition is very well-suited for the position of a therapist. I even managed to make someone cry because I helped him realize an important need in one of my first training sessions.

Learning about my role as a leader / how I want to be lead in an exercise with Tillmann.

Going into plough pose to help my back pain. Deep stretches. Recovery measures after hours on those tiny meditation pillows.

All the mirroring and the little insights it produces: that I'm hardly able to sit with a feeling. I always want to move on, find solutions, go deeper. Movement comes easy, stillness is hard. Which is quite fitting to someone's recent observation about me: I tend to avoid stillness and rest. / I can't feel myself very well. Which is why I push my boundaries. I don't even notice them until it's too late and at that point I draw a very strict line and establish tight boundaries. Too tight, of course. But I need to protect myself because I haven't taken good care of my needs before. / I can't tolerate weakness very well. Not in me, not in others. I want to learn how to lean into my own fragility more and allow it to come to the surface from time to time.

Listening to NOUK and Anna's beautiful voice. I adored her edgy haircut and the long white dress she was wearing.

Sitting outside on the balcony with Franzi and Marie, talking in the dark. / Drinking beer outside Marcus's camper van after class on Saturday.

(Vintage) shopping. I got a cheap yellow plastic ring, a wooden ring holder, a hair clip, and a funny postcard for C.

I got a copy of Psychologie Heute for the train and was surprised to find articles about the topics most relevant to me now: Gestalt Therapy, eating disorders, and especially boundaries.

C. picked me up from the train in Munich. It was lovely to see him but felt a little unfamiliar at first. On the way home he filled me in on his exciting weekend. We had a chat with his neighbors who gave us fresh produce from the garden and plum cake - which was fantastic because the fridge was empty so now we were able to make a big pot of creamy lemon-zucchini pasta. I loved touching each other's warm, naked skin. Reconnecting, tuning in. Going through an elaborate pop-up book together.

Hearing about C.'s very cinematic dream in the morning. Toasted bread with butter and honey for breakfast. Encouragement to become some sort of touch therapist. Apparently I've got magic hands.

Learning about Ursula Schultze-Blum and her fascinating Surrealist art.

Two harmonious, beautiful days at C.'s place. Journalling, drawing, making a shadow frame for the Hilma Af Klint altar piece. Visiting Tobi one evening, creating visions for the cabin and the forest lot. Pizza and a long evening walk with Marcus. Caring for the scared little red cat they caught to bring him to the vet. Watching a spider catch a fly, devouring it violently. Embracing my crazy urges. Eating scrambled eggs on cheese toast. Watching The Broken Circle Breakdown together, researching Bluegrass bands in Munich. Singing together. C. said I should find a Bluegrass band and sing with them instead of my gospel choir.

A summer afternoon outside. Ripping out vines, picking blackberries behind the vegetable garden. Memories of the brambles we had behind our house when I was young. Huge tomatoes, an abundance of beautiful butterflies everywhere. Biting into a ripe plum; vowing to make zucchini cake and plum dumplings when we get back from France.

C. carrying my backpack for me, entertaining me during the wait at the train station. Waving cheerfully after the train doors had closed and I was about to leave.

Drawing the Page of Fire, Playfulness - along with Adventure (Page of Rainbows). Writing about it. And the dream I had about feeling unwanted and criticized at home, trying to leave in overwhelm and chaos. And then there was C., smiling at me, embracing me, not even aware of the perceived hostility.

Emotional release on a physical level. This is new for me. I felt so nervous, was hardly able to hold the feeling in my body. It was unbearable. I ate some granola with almond milk and an apple. Lay down. And then my jaw started shaking uncontrollably. I was crying, grasping for air. I already felt better afterwards.

A hard massage from Pani. Coming back into my body.

Starting our roadtrip with a deep talk about having children. Visiting Kerem (I loved learning about his travels and diving, playing and drawing with his daughter, confusing the cat, looking at his design furniture), Makelove (our afternoon by the river was gorgeous; eggs and mayonnaise, land art, insightful conversations, learning something new about him), and Marjolien (eating salad on her balcony, learning about her passion for constellation work, her love for Tobi). Then we drove all the way over the San Bernardino pass. Enjoyed the view of the austere landscape and even saw a true cowboy up there. Dinner in Torino. Well-deserved sleep.

Making an excellent 90s Ethno-pop playlist on our way over the mountains between Italy and France. And the view from the top! What a lovely road we took.

Try not / to expect / anything - in this way / everything / will open up / to you (Buddhist teaching)

Arriving at Villa Josalie. Buying the most delicious snacks at the French supermarket. The friends dropping in one by one. Drinking wine and eating cheese outside, watching fireworks together.