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izpira-se-zlato · 10 months

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Munich Gig Report (04.12.23)!

Very haphazard report in no particular order under the cut

no Kris NGVOT :( genuinely sad bc I'd been looking forward to that

I finally broke my no-Jance-ASTP-curse

they almost fell down the stairs after the final SSOL. I say "fell". I mean "Jan almost tackled Nace on stage and then down the stairs." Well, he jumped on Nace's back on the stage and they kinda wrestled/hugged a bit and almost tumbled down the stairs

Jan said Ho Ho Ho in the ASTP intro and it was adorable

Bojan learned of the cancelled flight during the gig as he was telling us not to wait for them because they'd leave immediately (and they did)

Bojan spit so much water onto Jan during Omamljeno telo that Kiki had to come out with a towel and dry off Jan's guitar. My arms were noticably wet. Why, Bojan.

Bojan caught lots of bracelets out of the air

I handed over the gift for Nace between Katrina and ASTP and hoped to catch his reaction but he didn't look at it then. He did give me a plec in return, which I hadn't expected and so caught me by surprise 😂

they got oodles of presents and didn't take them backstage between Carpe Diem and SSOL 2, so I didn't expect Nace to have taken the shirt, but he must have because he came back to thank me before SSOL2 and I blue-screened

Nace started the pedalboard shenanigans and then Jan flipped switches and pushed buttons on his and I'm pretty sure I caught it on camera but I need to actually... post it, oops

we got drums and bass during Novi val, which was neat, but not as cozy as usual

I saw Kris in his Stožice outfit again and it's hot ngl but I was low-key hoping for the white one. Bojan in the cummerbund :(

Kris wore Hot Mess glasses and wiggled adorably and sat very cutely on the stage, and yeah I know I'm talking about a 1.9m tall dude or sth but still. Yeah.

Nace's bass was out of tune and of course Jan was the first to notice and tell him

we were so close to the stage I would have been able to hear Nace and Jan talk if not for my earplugs

the sound was amazing -- it might have been the best sound I've encountered especially for front row

I never want to be this close to Bojan's crotch again

Bojan had a snapped string on his acoustic guitar, and Jan's guitar also had issues that Kiki quickly fixed and Bojan meanwhile told the story of how Tokio came to be

Jure came back eating a Brezel, and Bojan basically stole it from his mouth (Jure looked happy to let him)

they got a Lebkuchenherz (gingerbread heart) with "Joker Out Munich 04.12.23" written on it

two of my friends sang Umazane Misli! And the way Bojan looked at them was amazing

Bojan was so, so delighted by the German version of Umazane Misli

there was a five-year-old or something in the audience and Bojan was very charmed, I think

during Tokio, Nace and Kris got really up close and personal with each other

Bojan looked so good during the gig and jfc I hate coming out of gigs a temporary Bojan girlie (gn)

this might have been my favourite gig ever. Berlin was amazing. Dublin was awesome. But yesterday was just. Above and beyond even without the shirt. I was worried I'd be disappointed about not being able to give the shirt in person, but Nace looked so, so happy in the story and aaaah

it was a really nice crowd, and the queue was so so chill. The numbers system worked magically

apparently Jan got briefly distracted by Nace's ass near the beginning (but I missed it)

Bojan said having the audience so close was their favourite

we once again sang happy birthday for Nace and Jan

Kiki gave me a setlist! And had lovely lavender nail polish

#joker out #gig report #jo munich 23 #bojan cvjeticanin #nace jordan #jan peteh #jure macek #kris gustin #nace ja jan #my gig footage

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d125 · 2 years

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Food in Serbia...

Unlike mainland Europe, food in Serbia remains largely authentic. Google didn't even show a single Indian restaurant in Novi Sad or in Kopaonik. Belgrade has a couple of Indian restaurants but the food was pedestrian. Whilst in Serbia it is best to stick to local delicacies.

And there are quite a few , we did eat in malls as well as fine dining places. Overall for us with an Indian palette, the food was a mixed bag with some places serving outstanding flavorsome food while some were not so great.

S and her colorful nails:

Serbia has only one kind of restaurants. They are all cafes that operate 11am to 11pm and serve everything from beers, coffee to pizzas, pastas etc through out the day.

A 1000 ml gigantic Hoegaarden draught beers are served commonly in Serbia:

Local Beers are cheap and tastier!

Coffee breaks galore !

Some with views:

This was in Kopaonik :

If you are in Serbia, do not forget to try Rakija. It is a very strong fruit Brandy made locally and just this 30ml drink knocked me out for 10 hours straight !!

We celebrated our last dinner in Serbia in a SLH place. Lanes adjacent to St Sava church in Belgrade are dotted with beautiful restaurants.

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valwentinefics · 3 years

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Savior - Dark!Helmut Zemo X F!Reader (Intro) 18+

A/n: I promised I’d release this a while ago and never did. I’m abandoning First Impressions for this. Updates will be slow, I got my nails done and cannot type well!! This is short, I was gonna write more but then my depression slapped me when I first wrote it and I since I got my nails done I chose to not make it longer since typing is too hard and just post it as an intro. I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Series warnings: Stalking, dubcon kidnapping, dark!zemo, violence, murder, manipulation, smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, sexism, abuse of power, unhealthy power dynamics, implied age gap (reader is legal but age is not specified, implied to be much younger than Zemo), abuse, innocence kink, ‘justification’ of unhealthy thoughts, alcoholism. THE DARK THEMES ARE NOT PAINTED IN A POSITIVE LIGHT, THEY ARE DISGUSTING AND AS A SURVIVOR I DO NOT CONDONE THEM. IF YOU FEEL LIKE READING THIS WILL NEGATIVELY IMPACT YOU, CLICK AWAY. IF YOU’RE HERE TO HATE, CLICK AWAY. REMEMBER TO CONSUME MEDIA CRITICALLY.

Series Masterlist

Novi Grad, Sokovia - 2015

You let out a small sigh as you rested your elbows on the weathered counter, staring out the window to the overcast street outside. You usually were an optimist but working as a waitress was tough. Your hours were filled with rude customers and men that were all too touchy. You’ve always wanted to quit the job, to throw down your apron and storm out to somewhere far from Sokovia where you would find a new life filled with adventure and maybe even romance, something you had never experienced before. However it was an unattainable dream, you were tied down with your university debt and your fear of the unknown stopped you from taking any risks. So, you were stuck in the dingy diner for the foreseeable future until you gave up your dreams to become a housewife or you graduated university and found a better job.

“Y/n, bring this to the Baron please.” Your coworker placed a plate of eggs and bacon in your hand and gestured to a booth across the room where the Baron sat. His name was Helmut Zemo and he was a regular around the place with his family for reasons you couldn’t understand. He was royalty and surely could afford something better than the greasy and always slightly undercooked food served here, but you didn’t mind it. He tipped well and often engaged in small conversation with you which made you two friendly acquaintances

With a nod to your coworker you headed over to the booth, noticing the man sat alone instead of his family like usual. “Is there anything else I can get you sir? If your wife and son are meeting you you can order for them now if you would like.” You said as you placed the hot plate gently in front of him on the yellowing white table.

He replied with a shake of his head. “They are out of town visiting my father, thank you though.” His words made you a little sad. You loved his son Carl who always came in with an Avengers t-shirt and often snuck handfuls of candy from the bowl by the door. You were never one for children, they were messy and required too much work, however Carl was different. He was polite and could talk your ear off about the Avengers if given the chance and he often did, his favourite one being Iron Man.

“No problem. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” You turned around to leave before being stopped by the Baron’s voice speaking up.

“Y/n, stay safe. You’ve seen the news, things aren’t too good in the world right now.” He said with a concerned look. You had seen the news and heard about the rising crime rates, and honestly didn’t care. Your friends always called you naive for brushing off the issues and insisting everything to be okay, but you didn’t see the point in living in fear, things would always get better, they had to. You had faith in humanity.

You shot him a smile. “Don’t worry sir, I always am.”

---

Riga, Latvia - 2024

You were oblivious to Helmut following you, and that’s why he knew he had to take you. You were too trusting, innocent, in your mind the world was a safe and caring place even after what had happened to your home country. To him, his following wasn't creepy or in any way weird, after all you had known him. Hell, you were almost friends with him! So no, he wasn’t a stalker, he was just a concerned friend watching over you, and soon he would be a concerned friend who you lived with.

He had this planned out since he escaped from prison. He had planned to take you, to protect you from the world and everyone in it. After all, you were one of the very few people he cared about that survived the Sokovian tragedy and he didn’t intend to lose anyone else to the cruelty of fate. With the Flag Smashers and that idiot John Walker running around, who knew what could happen to you? Not to mention there were various threats that could appear out of thin air. So, at the first chance he got Helmut slipped away from James and Sam’s careful watch and to the location Oeznik had sent him.

The sight of you took his breath away as he watched you sleeping peacefully through the window, your curtains had been left open. What if it was some type of creep watching you instead of him? You shouldn’t make it so easy for someone to spy on you, especially when you looked so downright ravageable as you slept soundly. Your shirt was rolled up as you laid on your stomach, revealing the smooth skin of your torso while your small shorts hugged every curve of your ass. If he were some creep he would be thinking impure thoughts, but he wasn’t, and so he pushed them to the back of his mind as soon as they appeared, although he couldn’t completely keep out the fantasy of pressing his lips gently against your delicious looking ones to wake you up, you were his sleeping beauty after all, and he was the prince who would save you.

One day it would happen, one day he would be the one to awaken you from your slumber with a kiss that boasted his dedication to your safety and all the love he could provide you. He promised himself it. He didn’t know how he’d fallen for you in such a way when he had once had a family of his own that he had loved. As much as it hurt him to think so, he began to believe all the tragedy in his life was just fate the second he saw your sleeping form. He had started out with the innocent goal to protect the last remnant of Sokovia he had, but as he watched you sleep Helmut realized you were more than a sentimental attachment. He loved you. His former family was important to him and every fond memory with them was seared into his brain, but his destiny wasn’t to be happy with them, their purpose in his life was to lead him to a future with his soulmate, you.

#zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #dark!zemo #dark!zemo x reader

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bandsonfilm · 3 years

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Gig List 2022

02.02. Björk - The Shrine, Los Angeles 08.02. Tommy Cossack & The Degenerators/ Plastic Gift / Ikari Orchestra - George Tavern 17.02. CLT DRP/ After London - Signature Brew E8 19.02. Cassels/ Kyoto Kyoto/ Cursty & Cry - The Victoria 20.02. Shame/ MAY - Windmill Brixton 24.02. M(h)aol / Genn/ Blood Wizard - The Ivy House 25.02. Girls in Synthesis - The Shacklewell Arms 26.02. Sit Down/ Slap Rash/ Sleemo - Signature Brew E8 02.03. Sprints/ Prima Queen/ Saloon Dion - MOTH Club 07.03. Destroy Boys/ Lambrini Girls - Camden Assembly 10.03. Wunderhorse/ Oscar Browne - The Lexington 15.03. Lambrini Girls - The Victoria 17.03. Butch Kassidy/ UH - The George Tavern 19.03. Yowl/ Loose Articles/ Lemondaze - Shacklewell Arms 22.03. Lumer/ Novi Sad - Shacklewell Arms 24.03. Ditz/ Predeceased/ Frank and Beans - Shacklewell Arms 26.03. Stiff Little Fingers/ The Professionals - Roundhouse 28.03. Skating Polly/ Fräulein - The Lexington 29.03. Bodega/ M(h)aol - MOTH Club 30.03. bdrmm/ Pozi - Studio 9294 02.04. A Place To Bury Strangers - Lafayette 05.04. Bambara - Rough Trade East 07.04. Junodef - Oslo 10.04. Crows/ Lumer/ Fuzz Lightyear - Brudenell Social Club, Leeds 14.04. Grouper - Barbican 16.04. Protomartyr/ Traams - Islington Assembly Hall 19.04. Florence & The Machine - Theatre Royal Drury Lane 20.04. King Hannah/ Hussy - Oslo 23.04. Heartworms - Lion Coffee & Records 28.04. Big Brave - MS Loretta, Bremen 05.05. Scalping - Fabric 09.05. Gustaf/ Kills Birds - MOTH Club 10.05. Bad Waitress - MOTH Club 12.-15.05. The Great Escape, Brighton 16.05. Illuminati Hotties - MOTH Club 18.05. Nono - Old Street Records 18.05. Treeboy & Arc - Sebright Arms 19.05. Predeceased - Blondies 20.05. LA Witch - MOTH Club 21.05. Lambrini Girls/ Sit Down - Dream Bags 23.05. Kim Gordon/ Pretty Happy - KOKO 26.05. Bob Vylan/ Grove - Underworld 27.05. Mogwai/ bdrmm/ Beak> - Alexandra Palace 28.05. Wide Awake Festival 06.06. Pinkshift - Camden Assembly 07.06. Judy and the Jerks - The Finsbury Pub 09.06. The Velveteers - The Lexington 17.06. Kikagaku Moyo - Futurum Music Bar, Prague 19.06. Pulled Apart by Horses - Signature Brew E17 21.06. Nine Inch Nails/ Yves Tumor - Brixton Academy 22.06. Sunn O))) - Fabric 25.06. Phoebe Bridgers/ The Rolling Stones/ Dream Wife/ Vista Kicks - Hyde Park 28.06. Bloodmoon/ Hexvessel - Alexandra Palace Theatre 29.06. St. Vincent/ Big Joanie - Hammersmith Apollo 02.07. Calva Louise/ Highly Suspect - Electric Ballroom 02.07. Heartworms/ Kyoto Kyoto - The Shacklewell Arms 07.07. Web - Shacklewell Arms 08.07. Bad Breeding/ Thank/ The Reflecting Skin - Mabgate Bleach, Leeds 09.07. Rat Cage/ Blind Monarch - Lughole, Sheffield 20.07. Iron Maiden - Bürgerweide 23.07. Traams - Rough Trade East 26.07. Phoebe Bridgers/ Sloppy Jane - Brixton Academy 05.08. Junodef/ Japanese Television - The Victoria 06.08. Treeboy & Arc - The Shacklewell Arms 14.08. Ditz/ Liz Lawrence - Signature Brew E17 22.08. Emma Ruth Rundle/ Jo Quail - Clapham Grand 24.07. Junodef/ Cheerless/ Mango in Euphoria/ Elis 25.08. Tame Impala/ Caroline Polachek/ Feet/ Goat/ Working Men’s Club/ Mattiel/ House of Women - All Points East 26.08. Clamm/ 7ebra - The Shacklewell Arms 27.08. Boy Harsher - The Garage 29.08. M(h)aol - The Grace 30.08. Taraka/ Index For Working Music - MOTH Club 01.09. Meatbodies/ Predeceased - MOTH Club 06.09. Drag/ Vanity Fairy - The George Tavern 10.09. English Teacher - Dr. Martens Boot Fair 16.09. Jeffrey Lewis - Schule 21, Bremen 20.09. Drahla/ Genn/ Mynk - Bermondsey Social Club 04.10. James Burgess / CC Honeymoon/ First Hate - Moth Club 09.10. Sniffany & The Nits/ Stingray/ Skitter/ Last Affront - House Show 10.10. Lingua Ignota - Earth 12.10. Double Helix/ Joanie - The Lower Third 13.10. Traams - MOTH Club 17.10. Kate Clover - Shacklewell Arms 18.10. Midwife - Cafe OTO 19.10. Deli Girls/ Prison Religion/ Lizzitsky - Shacklewell Arms 20.10. Liiek/ Miltown - New River Studios 21.10. Crack Cloud - Earth 25.10. Kaputt - Shacklewell Arms 29.10. Stingray/ Micromoon - Blondies 30.10. Pulled Apart By Horses - The Hope and Ruin, Brighton 4.11. Crows - Patterns, Brighton 5.11. Saint Agnes - The Prince Albert, Brighton 5.11. JOHN/ Nuha Ruby Ra - Green Door Store, Brighton 5.11. Kyoto Kyoto/ Moreish Idols - The Old Blue Last 09.11. Gilla Band - Studio 9294 10.11. Highschool/ Moreish Idols/ Wet Kiss- The Shacklewell Arms 14.11. Bnny - St. Pancras Old Church 15.11. Lambrini Girls - Shacklewell Arms 17.11. Dion Lunadon/ Novi Sad - Shacklewell Arms 18.11. Crows/ Film Noir/ Zilcho Hamblin/ Platonica Erotica - Shacklewell Arms 24.11. Total Luck - Dream Bags Jaguar Shoes 26.11. Beige Banquet/ Butch Kassidy - MOTH Club 30.11. Fatdog/ Sweat - Corsica Studios 01.12. Baby in Vain - The Victoria 02.12. JOHN/ Ditz - The Dome 03.12. Bob Vylan - Electric Ballroom 06.12. Ethel Cain/ Kavari - Omeara 07.12. Cobra Man - The Garage 15.12. Scalping/ Working Men’s Club - The Forum Kentish Town

#gig list #2022

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roraruu · 5 years

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wip: foxglove and forget me nots

tw: blood, swearing and two counts of death (f)

thanks for all the support! this has been a fun au to write! I’m hoping to edit it and have it up on ao3 someday... good luck to summoners tmrw!!!

A saint does not belong in a cemetery.

The gates of the cemetery are just rickety as the ones back on Novis. She feels angel’s claws on her back, ripping her away. She practically tears off her necklace, throwing it in her leather travelling bag, struggling for breath.

“You in pain?” He asks, gaze heavy on her as she fights off faintness. She swears that she sounds worried.

She shakes her head. “Just a little dizzy.” She says. “The relic is working.”

“It’s stronger at the border. Witches are probably close.” He says. “Working overtime to protect you.”

“Better be careful then.”

He scoffs. “Wish that were the prerogative.” Her brow furrows as his gaze narrows. “Why do think we’re here Silque? You wanted answers.”

“I can’t enter the cemetery.” She says, voice thinning. A hand comes up to clasp around the edge of his cloak. She had grown cold and pulled it from her bag as they neared. When she tried to return it, he waved her off.

He touches the gates. “There is one way to enter.” He says. She knows what he means.

“I will not revoke my oath to the Mother.” She says quickly. It is the one thing she will not do for answers.

“Then shut your eyes.” A command, but her mind isn’t muddy or full. He doesn’t use his charm.

Her brow furrows and she abides. She feels something soft against her lips, there for only a moment. A cool, almost freezing chill runs through her body, freezing her to her core. She opens her eyes. He removes his hand from her chin, the chill setting in a pit in her stomach.

He kissed her.

He grabs her hand, looking away. “Don’t let go of my hand.” He says. When she looks down, she sees his half-burnt away pinkie. For once it doesn’t look gangrenous, instead like a scarred nub of flesh. She feels ajolt ofpain through her own hand scar. “Something might take you.”

He knows the dead differently than she. Her texts and oral myths have all been wrong about vampires, who’s to say they’re the same about the dead. The claws in her back cease their burning. They’re now minor pinches every now and then. She ignores them, instead thinking about his hand on her cheek, his lips pressed gently against hers. A kiss, from him to her. She’d never been kissed before. An electric current runs through her body. His hand is freezing in hers. Is he always this cold? Perhaps... she could keep him warm.

“Careful.” He warns. A root in their path. She steps over it carefully. She watches his back.

But they are done after this. No debt left, nothing more to discuss.

They stop before a grave towards the back. Just a cross in the ground, a date against the stone. It’s caked with dirt and eroded with age.

“Is that...” she can’t finish the sentence.

He nods. “Yeah.” He says.

She closes her hand a little tighter around his, almost meeting his shoulder against hers. She doesn’t look at the date, instead at the lichens and moss that overtake his marker.

“I joined the army with Forsyth when I was 25. He convinced me to do it. We were stationed out here.” He explains, his voice quiet and thin. “I messed with that witch and she cursed me and then—“

“You died.” She says. “When?”

He stares at the grave.

“Python.” She says harsher this time.

“26.”

Silence falls between them. She swallows trying to find her voice.

“Is... Was Forsyth the same age as you?” He nods and she sucks back a breath. Her hand grows loose in his. He clutches it a little harder. “He has two children and grey hair and lines in his face.”

He stays quiet again.

“Python,” She says in a thin warning voice.

“Silque.” He looks to her, eyes pleading. “It shouldn’t matter how—“

“Python, has it been 20 years since you died?” She asks.

Silence again.

“I... I care about you Silque.”

“Answer the damn question!” She cries out. “Answer it for once!”

His hand clenches against hers, nails digging into her flesh. He pierces her skin, blood trickling down her pale skin. “Yes!” He yells.

She lets go of his hand. A deadly mistake. She feels something around her throat, choking her as she cries out for the Mother. Something pierces her side, a sharp burning pain runs through her body. She looks down at her robe, watching a red mark spread through the white.

She looks up at him and he stops yelling. Her grabs her, holding her tight and in a flash, they leave the cemetery. Her eyes focus on his. She is fights for lucidity and challenges death helplessly.

She was right—a saint does not belong in a cemetery.

Was this punishment for all the lies she’d told? To Celica, to Nomah, to the priory, to Forsyth and his wife? Surely it is Mila’s holy wrath, coming to take her sinful soul back.

She’s pulled from her airy thoughts by his hands. He holds her face in both hands. “Why’d you let go?!” He yells at her. “You’re a fucking idiot!”

“I didn’t... You’ve been dead for that long?” She fights tears.

He nods. “I have.But it doesn’t matter I just...Idon’t think I could handle losing you.”He says, staring at her wounds and fighting thirst. He looks through her damned pack for gauze, something to save her. But instead he recoils back, her necklace guarding the pack. He howls and she lurches for him.

“I’m afraid it’s too late.” She breathes. Silque gently holds his hand for a moment, hands slick with blood. “You should go.”

“Why?” He asks.

“You have other things to do.” She says. She forces a smile. “You wanted me to go back to Novis and leave you alone after this.

His words grow fumbled. “I—It was only for your safety—“ He struggles then stops. “I’m not leaving you Silque.”

She stops, lids growing heavy. She falls back in the grass, the earth sucking up her blood. Her brow knits. “If you’re going to stay... would you gather me some flowers?” She asks. “I want something to hold.”

He does so, blood stained hands touching innocent petals of forget me nots. He pulls up foxglove too and hands it to her. She smiles at them and thanks him breathily. He presses them into her hand, fingers grazing the scar.

I’m sorry you can’t see your priory one last time. He wants to say it but he can’t speak. The words are caught in his throat, blocked by the bloodlust he fights.

She holds out her hand to him, the cuff of her holy robe pulled back to show the bones in her thin wrist. “I am yours.” She says. “Bad behaviour or not, I do not care anymore.

Her hand wavers. He catches it and holds it as gingerly as he can. “Say goodbye to that sainthood then.” He warns.

“I give it up fully, what with all the sins I’ve committed I would’ve been just another dead cleric.” She says breathily. “I give it all, just to be yours.”

“I’m yours too.” He says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Is this how they are to die? In each other’s arms? Silque would have thought she would die an old holy woman. But instead, she will be in his arms and he will be in hers. It is silently spoken between the two, that they would rather die together than apart.

He glances at her wrist. She does not know about the unholy pain she is about to enter. Her syrupy blood may have him go mad. She feels his hand on her waist, just above where her dagger is hidden.

“Then take your holy dagger—”

Her brow furrows. “Why?”

“It will finish the game.” He says. “It’s no fun if you won’t be there. No point in living.”

Her eyes grow glassy. She sucks back a breath, her fingers reaching to her dagger in her robe. She clasps the marble handle of the dagger, resting it against her stomach for support.

A handful of flowers, a dagger in the other. He drops her wrist and laces his fingers into hers, crushing the flowers. He leers over her, breathing in her soft, springtime smell for the last time. Her breathing is shallow. The ground beneath themis slick with her blood; his throat aches with such intensity. But it is not just bloodlust, it’s the burning pain of parting.

Python gently kisses her throat first, as if it will prime her for the pain. His fingers tighten against hers as if his iron grip will pull her from death. His teeth graze her soft skin, almost feral at the scent of her blood. Then, holding her hand tight, he sinks his fangs into her neck. She lets out a deafening cry that sends a shiver of life down his spine. Her blood is sweet, syrupy like cherry wine he’d tasted once as a youth. But it is not enough to keep him from her horrible cries of pain and the tremors of her body.

Silque’s hand rams upwards with what little strength she has left. She plunges the dagger into where his heart would have once been. His eyes widen as he pulls his lips from her neck. He glances down at the blade in his chest. It burns like holy fire through his body, purging the hellish curse that was set on him twenty years ago. He should be screaming bloody hell, but instead he feels an eerie calm as inky plasma begins to ooze out, spilling onto her white robe.

“Silque...” he moans gutturally. His lips are stained red.

“Python,” She chokes out. Her eyes are glassy and barely open.

The magic of dagger works quickly, pulling him toward the underworld, the other side. He falls back to the ground, chest wheezing for the first time in years. Air courses through his dying body; for a human this would be natural, this would be full of relief, but there is none in a dying vampire’s body.

“I could think of worse final sights.” He coughs.

She forces a smile, weak and sad. “As can I.” She breathes. “Python... I... love...”

Her eyes grow dark, staring at him. Death is kind to her, leaving her beautiful even in the afterlife. Unsure of seconds orminutesor hours, he studies her face: how soft and blue her hair is and how it gently falls against the ground; the soft curve of her cheek to the edge of her jaw; the rosy flush of her cheeks isgone, skin as pale as the clouds above; and her eyes are grey like a stormy sky or the fog along the Valentian countryside in the early morning. Death is brutal to him, leering over him until sunrise. He could have run, pulled the weakening dagger out of his chest and run for the cover of the trees. The area where he dropped her, just outside the cemetery, is wooded, but the trees open up just enough to let sunlight in. It is a fatal position to be in.

But to hold her hand, to breathe the same air as she did, to be her final sight—and she, his... it is sweeter and more rare than her springtime blood that is on his tongue. He finds comfort in her holy gaze, holding her limp hand of forget me nots and foxgloves tightly.

He finishes the words she could not: an answer to her question.

“I love you too Silque.” He croaks as the sunrise comes. He sees the light brighten her heavenly face and feels its blistering warmth on his face for the first time in years. He feels no pain as the sun slowly turns his body into ash.

—

A foot soldier is the one to find the bodies, laying just beyond the gates of the cemetery by the holy tombs. A leather bag is spilled out, provisions of shieldfish, silver marks and a prayer cord beyond her dead grasp. The woman lays on an old cloak, tattered and warn and crusted with blood. Her holy white robes—the sight of a cleric—are stained with black plasma and blood. The man that lays beside her, holding her hand, is a torched body with a beautiful dagger stuck in his chest, a harrowing sight. There is a mark in her wrist, almost a bite.

The ground has sucked up her blood, dry with life. Blood or some other humanly substance stains him. What’s stranger is that they don’t have the fetor of death around them. Shocking, as their bodies have been there for Gods know how long.

A double suicide? The soldier thinks, and remembers that a local commander had lost a house guest one night. When the soldier leads him and his wife to the bodies, he collapses in sock of seeing his guest dead with his best friend.

But as the commander and his wife mourn the loss, the soldier notices that flowers have begun to sprout up where the cleric and creature lie, feeding the earth with their bodies. Buds of sweet forget me nots and lethal foxglove; the same that withered between their hands. And the soldier remembers that every life that ends, another one, small or large, begins.

The end.

#fe echoes #fire emblem echoes #silque #python #forbidden ship #vamp au #tag urselves I’m the footsoldier who finds python and silk fucking dead in a field #j

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zlochesti-nokti-novi-sad-blog · 7 years

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Proper Hand Care

It is known that hands that are subjected to frequent hand-washing and glove use all day can become irritated. Over-exposure to water, friction, dry air, soaps, detergents, solvents, cleaning agents and chemicals used are all potential causes of hand rashes and dermatitis. There are many different types of hand dermatitis, including irritant hand dermatitis, atopic hand dermatitis, allergic…

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#nail #nail blog #nail care #nails novi sad #zlochesti nokti

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nuclearblastuk · 6 years

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SOILWORK | TOUR RECAP AND STÅLFÅGEL LIVE CUT After their insanely successful co-headlining tour with label mates AMORPHIS (18 sold out shows) in support of their globally acclaimed new record, 'Verkligheten' (album of the month in Metal Hammer, Rock Hard, Aardschok and Scream), Swedish visionary metallers SOILWORK have issued the following statement: "'Verkligheten' has been out almost two months now and we keep getting amazed by the recognition it gets. We just finished off a successful EU tour with our friends in AMORPHIS, JINJER and NAILED TO OBSCURITY. Once again we want to thank everyone for attending our shows and making it memorable. To sum up our journey through Europe, we chose to make a live video out of ‘Sålfågel’ as the crowd reaction, when playing it live, was just INSANE!!! 'Verkligheten' is a new era of SOILWORK and we are ready to take this journey with our fans. We cannot wait to get back on the road this summer and bring 'Verkligheten' to life again!!! See you all soon!!!" Watch the intense live video for the anthemic hit song here: https://youtu.be/EhgDVPeuDFM The clip was shot by Jörg Harms from Black Vision Films and mixed by Tommy Bertelsen and SOILWORK's Sylvain Coudret.

ICYMI 'Arrival' visualizer: https://youtu.be/nuItul-D0PA 'Stålfågel' music video: https://youtu.be/8-kcWrCX9rA Studio webisode #1: https://youtu.be/wc6BaYOI3h4 Studio webisode #2: https://youtu.be/9SRtzjDKnr0 Studio webisode #3: https://youtu.be/YtcATGBBHNs Album Trailer #1: https://youtu.be/8w0UdGCAY4Y Album Trailer #2: https://youtu.be/LUkqSGhEM3s Album Trailer #3: https://youtu.be/eB6Br1maU7w 'Verkligheten' is out now via Nuclear Blast. The first edition digipack, as well as the vinyl, also contain the exclusive 'Underworld' EP, carrying 4 more songs (see tracklist below). The digipack version also features special artwork with lavish foil print. The album as well as accompanying merchandise is available now in various formats (Deluxe Box-Set including Digipack CD, lanyard with lavish metal application (mock missing), metal pin, patch, sticker, signed photo card and poster, Digipack CD + T-Shirt bundle, Digipack CD, black vinyl as well as digital download/stream)

'Verkligheten' album tracklist:

01. Verkligheten 02. Arrival 03. Bleeder Despoiler 04. Full Moon Shoals 05. The Nurturing Glance 06. When The Universe Spoke 07. Stålfågel 08. The Wolves Are Back In Town 09. Witan 10. The Ageless Whisper 11. Needles And Kin (feat. Tomi Joutsen/AMORPHIS) 12. You Aquiver

'Underworld' Bonus EP tracklist:

13. Summerburned and Winterblown 14. In This Master's Tale 15. The Undying Eye 16. Needles And Kin (original version)

SOILWORK live 14. - 15.06. E Zamora - Z! Live Rock Fest 19. - 22.06. FIN Nummijärvi - Nummirock 03. - 06.07. D Ballenstedt - Rockharz Open Air 07.07. SRB Novi Sad - Exit Fest 25.07. SLO Tolmin - MetalDays 26./27.07. P Vila Nova de Famalicão - Festival Laurus Nobilis Music Famalicão 01. - 04.08. RO Rasnov - Rockstadt Extreme Fest 03.08. F Saint-Maurice-de-Gourdans - Sylak Open Air 06.08. SK Bratislava - Majestic Music Club (w/ HYPOCRISY, DOOMAS) 09./10.08. B Kortrijk - Alcatraz Metal Festival 11.08. UK Derby - Bloodstock Open Air 14.08. D Dinkelsbühl - Summer Breeze 16. - 18.08. F St. Nolff - Motocultor Festival 22. - 24.08. D Sulingen - Reload Festival 29.10. SGP Singapore - EBX Live Space (Ebenex) 31.10. AUS Brisbane - The Triffid 01.11. AUS Sydney - Manning Bar 02.11. AUS Melbourne - Max Watt’s 04.11. JP Osaka - Umeda amHall 05.11. JP Nagoya - Reny Limited 06.11. JP Tokyo - Shinjuku Blaze

SOILWORK is:

Björn "Speed" Strid - vocals

David Andersson - guitars

Sven Karlsson - keyboards

Sylvain Coudret - guitars

Bastian Thusgaard - drums

www.soilwork.org | www.facebook.com/soilwork | www.nuclearblast.de/soilwork

#SOILWORK #AMORPHIS #Nuclear Blast

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scarletworn · 6 years

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fun little character game ! fill in the below categories with 3 — 5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS.

distrust.

passion.

rage.

loneliness.

COLORS.

scarlet #bd0004

burgundy #48020b

black #000000

faded blacks – #37363a & #3e403d

muted tones – #212f38 & #4f591a

SCENTS.

an absence of perfume. she doesn’t own any perfume, her deodorant is without a distinct odor, and she uses a neutral soap. the only artificial smell on her could come from her shampoo. she doesn’t have a standard brand and will use whatever’s available, even if it means smelling like fake strawberry (that one was not touched again.)

sweat. as an avenger, she worked out every other day, something she’s dedicated to keeping up since quitting. prefers working out in either the early morning or the evening and showering right after, respectively starting her day or going to bed after finishing.

gasoline. she worked in a car repair shop for a short while doing her secondary education. she’s never minded the smell of gasoline much, nor the smog in novi grad. her brother on the other hand hated it and was not particularly sad when she quit.

CLOTHING.

whatever makes her blend in the most successful way. fashion as a means to an end, not a goal in itself. she doesn’t favor bright colours -- prefers to pass by without standing out. her uniform is one exception to the rule -- when wearing it, she used to be unafraid of being seen. in other words, the avengers civilian starter pack ™ is her jam.

(p)leather jackets. that being said, she likes the look and feel of (p)leather jackets. she’s not completely devoid of vanity.

layers. practical and an old habit. when all you have is what you can carry, layering up is the easiest way to keep from losing something. without a home base to fall back on and the occasional need to disappear without notice, layers are her way to give some comfort in nights spent walking the streets until dawn, huddling at freezing bus stations, and shawls functioning as pillows or blankets whenever there’s room for rest.

OBJECTS.

things to adorn her hands; rings, useless and frivolous but sometimes as good as armor. weightlifting gloves, to protect her palms when training. fingerless gloves to fight.

guitar. she’s neither good nor talented, but it’s therapeutic. she rarely carries it with her and has left it behind in the states after the civil war. will on occasion joke about replacing it with an ukelele - at least that’s easier to carry around.

the key to a safe deposit box filled with faded pictures and trinkets from a past life that seems a world away.

small notebook. pages torn out, thoughts scrabbled in older page margins, lists of everything and nothing, half-hearted pros and cons, arguments for discussions held only inside her head. a way to keep track of grief / getting frustrated with it and burning it, before caving a week later and getting a new one.

VICES / BAD HABITS.

scratching off chipped nail polish. either it’s perfect or it needs to go.

combative. no longer as comfortable showing it unless she knows her odds as before, but carries a streak of (passive) aggressive a mile wide and twice as deep. easy to anger for what she deems to be the right cause, only rarely hesitant to fight for what she thinks is right. even if someone else is right and she is wrong, she needs to work through it and come to the same conclusion on her own, it’s useless trying to change her mind.

vindictive and destructive. unfamiliar with the concept of letting go; can count on one hand the times it has happened. aims to make it hurt.

joint cracking. does her wrists and hands.

BODY LANGUAGE.

placidly guarded. intent on passing it off as comfort in all surroundings; it rarely is. don’t show weakness if you can avoid it, and especially don’t do it with unknowns.

underlying restlessness; absent only when deeply thinking or making a conscious choice to shut it out. always watching, considering the next thing. the world is not still and neither is she.

smiles, rather than laughs. conveys amusement more in tone than in openness, same with the rest of her emotions.

side of the room, rather than the center. avoids drawing attention with her presence, but will never make herself smaller. prefers to observe rather than participate since the experiments.

AESTHETICS.

weeds growing through cracks in the pavement, markings on the road long since faded. broken glass on the ground, cutting your way through wire fences to find a temporary reprieve.

the moment before the die falls on its side; the illusion things still can go one way or another, but knowing the decision already deep down in your bones.

checking your surroundings. always looking for the easiest exit, but taking the long road to ensure safety. keeping cash in your bra and an empty wallet in your pocket.

carefully watching the streets from a window above the ground floor. different flag, no changes. transgenerational weariness of army and authority. king’s dead, long live the king.

SONGS.

gorillaz - all alone.

glitch mob - we can make the world stop.

kavinsky - first blood.

glitch mob - our demons.

bonus 80s in this electro list: pat benatar - love is a battlefield.

tagged by: stolen from @falsedking tagging: you!

#meme.#headcanon.

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momsden · 4 years

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Hey, there! I've been a no-show (and no fun!) in the past few days! (Sharing another tired, no-makeup selfie that totally confirms that! I've been focused on nailing my IELTS test, scheduled on the 17th of June. Feeling nervous is definitely an understatement, but hey - I've got this! If I start panicking, I'll just tell myself: "Hey. You wrote a book. In English. People loved it. Remember?" 😂 💪 What do you do one day before a big event? . . . . . #ieltspreparation #ieltsspeaking #ieltstips #ieltsvocabulary #ieltsexam #ieltstest #ieltswriting #ieltsclass #ieltsreading #ieltspractice #ieltsprep #ieltslistening #ielts_exam #ieltstraining #ieltsgeneral #ielts #selfiepic #selfiestagram #selfiemood #selfiefun #selfiegoals #selfiesofinstagram #selfiemoment #takeaselfie #momsden #selfiephoto #selfiegirls #selfiequeens #selfieagain #writerselfie (at Novi Sad, Serbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBeNZdEHkto/?igshid=w19fsuk3zdpa

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tijanabakic1 · 5 years

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Novi Kiara Sky Gelly Tips Set 💅🏼✌🏼✌🏼za sve ljubitelje Gela , nesto Revolucijonarno i najbolje od Gela do sad 😉✨✨✨ (na lokaciji Kiara Sky Nails BiH) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9lYKl6BlVQ/?igshid=1cfh3rr2qyjky

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burlveneer-music · 7 years

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The Mecanocentric Worlds of Pierre Bastien

We’re proud and excited to present a magical live recording from the legend that is Pierre Bastien, showcasing his mecanoid orchestra at its intricate best during a performance at Studio M, the historical studio-concert hall of Radio-Television of Vojvodina, Serbia. Around 1986, French composer and multi-instrumentalist Pierre Bastien started creating and building his own orchestra called Mecanium: an ensemble of musical automatons constructed from meccano parts and activated by electro-motors, that ‘play’ on acoustic instruments from all over the world. On this record the Mecanium plays amplified Meccano parts, drums, reeds, rubber bands, paper, nails and flutes whilst Pierre plays kundi, rubber band, prepared trumpet, video loops, nail violin and râbab. Recorded live at Studio M, Novi Sad, October 8, 2016. Tracklist A side - QUIET MOTORS A1- May Yam (0'00-5'40) A2- Elastic, It’s Ale (5'40-10'40) A3- Moody Doom (10'40-13'40) A4- Trapeze Part (13'40-16'15) A5- Avid Diva (16'15-18'45) B side - FRANTIC MOTORS B1- Retool a Looter (0'00-6'00) B2 -Romanian In Amor (6'00-12'00) B3- Wedded Dew (12'00-17'30) creditsreleased October 27, 2017 All compositions and live mix by Pierre Bastien Artwork by Stéphane Blanquet Mastered & Cut by Rashad Becker

#pierre bastien #mecanocentric worlds #electronic #experimental #avant-garde #mecanoid orchestra #2017 #discrepant #quiet motors #frantic motors

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chroniclesofawkwardness · 5 years

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Enter the Dragana

The title is a homage to the 1973 film Enter the Dragon starring Bruce Lee. I don’t know if what follows will have anything to do with the movie, but Enter the Dragana sounded cool.

Meeting roommates can be exciting, nerve-wracking, or a host of other adjectives that describe the tension between humans. My first encounter with Dragana was very brief. We hadn’t said much more than “hi” to one another before she left on vacation to Greece for a week. My little head thought she was an attractive woman, but all I knew for sure was that one of the four small rooms in the Crazy House now had a new tenant to help Raymond and Vesna pay for their son’s private school tuition and the washing machine none of the tenants could use.

In the summer of 2008, I took a bus from Novi Sad to visit my sister-in-law, who was attending the Trieste Joyce School in Trieste, Italy. I’d paid Raymond’s mother a portion of my month’s rent before I left and promised to pay the rest upon my return to Novi Sad. She seemed cool with it. Raymond, however, was not. All hell broke loose when I returned from Italy. Raymond felt I was late on my rent. I don’t know if this meant he and Vesna couldn’t pay their son’s tuition on time, but I knew I had to change my living arrangements before somebody got hurt because there was no banister for the stairs that led up to our rooms, or someone found out that we four roommates were living in the Crazy House without any formal rental agreement.

“You and I should get our own place,” Dragana told me one day. I’d heard from more that one novosađanin that people from Vrbas were crazy, but I wouldn’t know the full extent of Dragana’s pantyless, partying ways until I agreed to share an apartment with her to escape the Crazy House.

The apartment was modern for Novi Sad standards. It had a decent-size living room and kitchen, along with an upstairs you could get to using a staircase where each step as designed for alternating feet. The lone bathroom was at the top of stairs, to the left was a large bedroom and closet.

Dragana was already in party mode the first night we spent together at our new place. Dragana had already taken the bedroom upstairs, so I laid claim to the pullout sofa bed in the living room. I soon noticed an odd reddish glow coming from the kitchen. I discovered that Dragana had used red nail polish to paint the kitchen light fixtures red. I worried that her artistic endeavor could be a fire hazard. All she cared about was whether or not the music was loud enough. I couldn’t fall asleep later that night because Dragana and her guy friends didn’t seem to be able to stop talking for more than ten seconds. As I lay on my back plotting my revenge on the sofa bed, one of them came downstairs. He must have detected that I was pissed off by the lateness of the hour and the unending noise.

“I sorry brother,” was all he said. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t just stick brate on the end of a sentence and expect that we’d be instant homies,

Dragana had a seemingly endless stream of male friends. I think Bojan’s father owned a construction company, which would explain why Bojan would always leave some money for Dragana either before or after a night out. Srđa would pull up porn sites on Dragana’s laptop and die laughing as she’d squirm uncomfortably. Boško had beaten up his girlfriend and spent three years in prison for involuntary manslaughter after shooting the wrong guy while working as a nightclub bouncer. Dragana said he regretted not bringing me a gift. She never said what the gift could have been, but I didn’t think Boško was the type of guy I should accept gifts from.

For all of Dragana’s male friends, the guys she loved were the soccer players.

Mladen played soccer for one of Belgrade’s two major sports clubs, Partizan (Partisan). I don’t know how he met Dragana, but I do remember that damn ham sandwich. Once, as I was tossing and turning on the sofa bed trying to fall asleep at around 4 AM, the room flooded with light from the hallway, Dragana and (this time) Mladen were home. I decided sleeping was pointless and I’d just get out of bed. As happy drunk Mladen stumbled toward me with the sandwich, he yelled something at me I’ll never forget:

“NOOOO SLEEEEP MYYY FRIEEEEND!!!”

“Shit,” I thought. This is going to be a long night. I was hungry, so I accepted the sandwich without knowing where it had been. As I ate, Mladen and Dragana swayed and sauntered up the stairs as best they could. Soon after, I could hear music playing in the bedroom, but more prominent were the unmistakable sounds of human copulation. Wide awake, I lay flat on my back with my eyes open. I could only take it all in. I don’t remember how long their session lasted. The next thing do I remember is Mladen leaving our apartment at about 8 AM. I never saw him again. Dragana’s belief that she was special in his eyes was misguided after all.

When she came downstairs later, I confronted her about the previous night’s soundtrack:

“I heard you and Mladen fucking last night. I don’t care if you do that, but if Mladen is going to be in town, could you let me know so I can crash somewhere else?”

“But… I had the music on!”

“I know… I heard that too.”

I slept upstairs after that.

II.

At that time, there was what I considered a trashy British TV show running on Serbian TV called Footballers’ Wives; the day Dragana showed up at our door with a Maltese puppy, I thought we might get our own spinoff, Footballers’ Dogs.

Leno the Maltese belonged to another soccer player, Diarra, from Senegal. I think he was under contract with Belgrade’s other major club, Crvena zvezda (Red Star) His relationship with Dragana wasn’t sexual that I know of, but somehow they made an arrangement for Dragana to look after Leno while Diarra was playing in Turkey.

We were only supposed to have Leno for a week, but he stayed with us for nearly a month. Dragana would complain that she’d take him out for hours but he wouldn’t relieve himself. Once, as soon as they hit our apartment door, Leno ran expertly up the stairs (much more deftly than Dragana’s own thoroughly confused Shar-Pei) and shit in the corner of the shower cabin in the bathroom. I don’t know if the little guy was waiting for the privacy of being behind a curtain, but he looked up at me afterward with a sense of accomplishment, as if to say, “Look what I did!”

I already knew Dragana could be gone for hours, days, and sometimes weeks at a time. As long as she paid her share of the rent, I didn’t mind. I thought sleeping upstairs would mean I’d see her even less. Sadly, any hopes I had that a change in sleeping arrangements would bring me a measure of peace were quickly dashed.

Many people Dragana’s age were students at the University of Novi Sad. Dragana, on the other hand, had openly bragged to me not long after we moved into the apartment that although she was technically a student, her parents paid off her professors to give her credit for attending class. I never once saw her with a textbook of any kind. She thought of herself as a model and tried to get me to vote for her in the Ms. Serbia on Facebook contest in or around July 2008. She came in second place. Her performance must have been a boon to her confidence because her modeling aspirations led to two of the most bizarre incidents of our time together.

On one occasion, she called me the night before she knew The Man in the Cowboy Hat and I would be passing by Štark Arena (formerly Belgrade Arena) to ask if I could bring her the hair extensions she sometimes wore. I don’t know if she had a photoshoot scheduled, or what. Picture me with an old-school Nokia in one hand rummaging through a woman’s closet with the other:

“Which one? Blonde or brunette?”

“The brown one!”

“Can’t I just bring whatever looks like hair and let you sort it out?”

Click.

Another time, she’d been to a club opening and hadn’t come home that night. The only phone in the apartment was downstairs. It rang five times, stopped for a few seconds, and then rang several times again. I ignored the ringing at first because I thought it was just Dragana’s grandma being persistent. But, by the time the pattern had repeated itself for what felt like twenty minutes, I was in panic mode.

My brother was serving in the U.S. Army and had been deployed to Iraq. As the ringing kept on, I began thinking the only person who would call so many times was someone from the U.S. Embassy in Belgrade who’d somehow gotten my number and was calling to tell me my brother had been killed.

When I finally answered the phone, I was boiling mad and sick to my stomach:

“Is Dragana there?”

I’ve never been so angry at another human being. I yelled something like this at him in English:

Listen, you stupid motherfucker. Do you have any idea what it’s like to think your only brother is dead and you’re about to get the worst news of your life? If you EVER call here again, I will find you, and I will fucking kill you. Understand?

He was calling because Dragana was late for a photoshoot.

After that, the phone didn’t ring for the rest of the day.

III.

The last incident I’ll never forget occurred when Dragana and a group of friends came to our apartment to remember a friend of theirs who’d been killed in an accident. Dragana was inconsolable that night and repeatedly mentioned taking drinks for her friend’s soul. I never got the person’s name, nor do I know exactly what happened to him or her. I was upset about all the noise she and her friends were making, but at the same time, I’ d never seen Dragana so emotional, so human. She never mentioned her friend or what happened that night around me again. I suppose some things shouldn’t have to be rehashed.

Dragana was practically living in Belgrade by the time I moved out of the apartment. It was a miracle she paid her portion of the rent for as long as she did. My life was never quite the same after Dragana entered it, which is not a bad thing. I appreciate the experience. Wherever she is today, I hope she has consistently found whatever hair extensions she’s needed. She reminded me that no matter how different we think we are from another person, we all share in a common humanity, with a seemingly infinite capacity to frustrate and fascinate one another.

Choose your roommates, partners, and puppies carefully.

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lizastravelnotes · 5 years

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Seattle

Hello again! The long pause has been because I wrapped up the trip (well, this leg) and came home for August in Seattle. I head back out in September for another ~2 months. Here’s everywhere I spent a night in my first 4 months of travel (post-Belize):

Growing up, whenever we finished a family trip, my mother would force lovingly encourage us to go around the table and name our favorite parts of the trip. So, in that spirit, I present my wrap up:

Best overall experience: Mokrin House, Serbia.

Favorite hotel: Square Nine, Belgrade, Serbia. Runner up: Rooms Hotel, Tbilisi, Georgia.

Favorite hostel: none, they were all terrible, cell phones have killed hostels, hostels are dead.

Favorite Airbnb, before I became ethically opposed to the tourism disaster that an unregulated Airbnb is unleashing on European cities and stopped using the site entirely: my cave in the gypsy neighborhood of Granada

Best meal: this is a three way tie between MÁK in Budapest, Machneyuda in Jerusalem, and Project 72 in Novi Sad, Serbia. Note: the only Michelin star restaurant I ate at on this trip/in my life does not make the list (Mina in Bilbao, Spain)

Meals shared unexpectedly with strangers: far too many to count.

Best gelato/ice cream: the competition is fierce here as I felt it was my duty to sample the ice cream every single place I went. The best gelato everywhere I went was made by Italians, and the win goes to Nannarella in Lisbon

Favorite bar: Bellboy, Tel Aviv.

Strangest time I was asked to pose as a foot model for animal wisdom based spiritual healing ceremonies: ok it was just that one time at a mountain yurt retreat in Colmenar, Spain

Most meaningful experience: 3 day silent meditation retreat on my family’s kibbutz in northern Israel

Favorite gym: A Philippe Starck masterpiece in Bilbao, Spain

Favorite museum: Design Museum Holon, Tel Aviv, Israel (thanks Lindsey!) both the museum building itself and the featured exhibit on Maarten Baas

Most beautiful gardens/parks: three way tie between Sintra in Portugal, Seville and Cordoba, Spain

Dreamiest landscapes: Tuscany and Lake Como. Shocker, I know

Favorite outdoor adventure: caving and mountain biking in Romania

Easiest place to meet people: Israel

Hardest place to meet people: Seville, Spain

Flights taken: 11

Flights purchased but not taken: 2

Number of times things were confiscated from me at airport security: 5 (all nail files/clippers/scissors)

Number of times I responded to these unnecessary confiscations calmly and in stride: 0

Car rentals: 3

Rental cars returned with no body damage: 2

Finally, here’s my recommendation on:

Go: Tel Aviv. Seville, Granada, and Cordoba, Spain. Novi Sad and Belgrade, Serbia. Western Romanian countryside. Kutaisi and Tbilisi, Georgia.

Eh: Jerusalem. London. San Sebastian and Bilbao, Spain. Budapest.

Skip: Lisbon. Valencia and Santander, Spain. Sarajevo, Bosnia. St Moritz, Switzerland.

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