Podcasts about reykjavik

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

Send us your feedback — we're listeningPsalm 34:18 — Comfort for the Lonely, the Grieving, and the Empty Chair at Christmas From London to Johannesburg, from New York to Auckland, from Reykjavik to Accra — a global 10 P.M. prayer within the DailyPrayer.uk 24-Hour Devotional Cycle. Scripture (NIV): Psalm 34:18 — “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…” | Isaiah 41:10 — “Do not fear, for I am with you…” Across global search platforms tonight, spikes rise for “loneliness at night,” “missing someone at Christmas,” and “why does grief feel heavier in December?” The night intensifies absence. Prayer: Father, in the name of Jesus, draw near to every person ending this day with heaviness and quiet pain. Comfort those facing the empty chair, those missing a loved one, those whose grief resurfaces when the world slows. Bring warmth where memories ache, rest where tears fall, hope where hearts feel fragile. Let Your presence settle the room, silence emotional noise, lift sorrow, and give deep sleep to the weary. Heal wounds of loss, restore strength, and hold every listener in Your nearness. In Jesus' name. Amen. Prayer Points: prayer for comfort, prayer for grief, prayer for loneliness, prayer for emotional rest, prayer for night peace, prayer for healing memories, prayer for God's presence, prayer for hope, prayer for calm, prayer for restoration Life Application: Before sleep, release the weight you are carrying by speaking it aloud to God, then ask Him to hold what your heart cannot manage tonight. Declaration: I declare that God's comfort surrounds me and restores peace to my heart tonight. Call to Action: Share this prayer and visit DailyPrayer.uk for global devotional resources.24-Hour ARC Connector: Previous: Friday 8 P.M. — Peace for Family Pressure | This Episode: Friday 10 P.M. — Comfort for the Lonely and Grieving | Next: Saturday 12 A.M. — Strength for the New Day AheadOutro: Thank you for praying with us today. For more daily devotion, follow us on all social platforms at DailyPrayer.uk.Support This Ministry:https://buymeacoffee.com/reverendbencooperpsalm 34:18 prayer, comfort for grief, loneliness at christmas prayer, christian night prayer, reverend ben cooper, dailyprayer.uk, global prayer podcast, prayer for sorrow, healing for broken hearts, grief and loneliness prayerSupport the showFor more inspiring content, visit RBChristianRadio.net — your home for daily devotionals, global prayer, and biblical encouragement for every season of life. We invite you to connect with our dedicated prayer hub at DailyPrayer.uk — a place where believers from every nation unite in prayer around the clock. If you need prayer, or would like to leave a request, this is the place to come. Our mission is simple: to pray with you, to stand with you, and to keep the power of prayer at the centre of everyday life. Your support through DailyPrayer.uk helps us continue sharing the gospel and covering the nations in prayer. You can also discover our ministry services and life celebrations at LifeCelebrant.net — serving families with faith, dignity, and hope. If this devotional blesses you, please consider supporting our listener-funded mission by buying us a coffee through RBChristianRadio.net. Every prayer, every gift, and every share helps us keep broadcasting God's Word to the world.

Episode 506 / Ragnar Kjartansson Ragnar Kjartansson is an artist who lives and works in Reykjavik. He engages multiple artistic mediums in his performative practice. The history of film, music, theatre, visual culture and literature find their way into his video installations, durational performances, drawing and painting. Pretending and staging are key tools in Kjartansson's efforts to convey sincere emotion and offer genuine experiences to audiences. Kjartansson's work has been exhibited widely, including solo exhibitions and performances at the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, Kunstmuseum Stuttgart, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Barbican Centre, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Reykjavik Art Museum, Palais de Tokyo, and New Museum. 

Send us your feedback — we're listeningPsalm 34:18 — The Empty Chair at Christmas: A Global Prayer for Grief, Healing and God's Comfort for Those Missing Loved Ones From London to Chicago, from Mumbai to Reykjavik, from Accra to Melbourne — recorded live here in London, England — a global 5 A.M. prayer within the DailyPrayer.uk 24-Hour Devotional Cycle. Scripture (NIV) Psalm 34:18 — “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 — “The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles…” December brings a worldwide rise in searches around grief, loss and the emotional weight of an empty chair at Christmas. Psalm 34:18 remains a leading global scripture for comfort, healing and the nearness of God to those who mourn. Prayer  Father, we lift to You every heart aching this Christmas. For the empty chair, the missing voice, the quiet space where love once sat — bring Your comfort. Hold the grieving in Your arms and remind them that they are not alone. Let Your presence fill the room where sorrow lingers. Heal the sharpness of memory, soften the heaviness of loss and breathe peace into every moment of longing. Bring strength to those who face Christmas with tears and restore hope where grief feels overwhelming. Surround each home with Your gentleness and let Your compassion steady every step. Tonight, let Your love rest upon us like light in the darkness, reminding us that You are close, healing, holding and sustaining. Prayer Points prayer for comfort, prayer for healing, prayer for peace, prayer for strength, prayer for hope, prayer for restoration, prayer for calm Life Application  Speak Psalm 34:18 today, inviting God's comfort into the places where grief, memory and longing feel strongest. Declaration I declare that God is close to my broken heart and healing is at work within me. Call to Action Share this prayer and visit DailyPrayer.uk for global devotional resources. 24-Hour Arc ConnectorPrevious: 3 A.M. — Healing for Emotional OverloadThis Episode: 5 A.M. — The Empty Chair at ChristmasNext: 9 A.M. — Persecuted Church Prayer (Nigeria, Bangladesh, North Korea, Somalia)“Thank you for praying with us. For more daily devotion, follow us at dailyprayer.uk.”psalm 34:18 prayer, grief at christmas prayer, empty chair christmas prayer, comfort for loss prayer, reverend ben cooper, dailyprayer.uk, global Support the showFor more inspiring content, visit RBChristianRadio.net — your home for daily devotionals, global prayer, and biblical encouragement for every season of life. We invite you to connect with our dedicated prayer hub at DailyPrayer.uk — a place where believers from every nation unite in prayer around the clock. If you need prayer, or would like to leave a request, this is the place to come. Our mission is simple: to pray with you, to stand with you, and to keep the power of prayer at the centre of everyday life. Your support through DailyPrayer.uk helps us continue sharing the gospel and covering the nations in prayer. You can also discover our ministry services and life celebrations at LifeCelebrant.net — serving families with faith, dignity, and hope. If this devotional blesses you, please consider supporting our listener-funded mission by buying us a coffee through RBChristianRadio.net. Every prayer, every gift, and every share helps us keep broadcasting God's Word to the world.

Last week our reporter Ben Symes travelled up to Reykjavik, the capital city of Iceland to get some more insight into the background of the Irish men's national team manager Heimir Hallgrímsson from his fellow natives. While up there Ben also travelled to some of the now world famous indoor footballing facilities that are dotted around the tundra landscape across the island, and found out that they're not just used for football…Ben also met Icelandic football journalist Jóhann Ingi Hafþorsson who gave a little bit of insight into the 2021 scandal that saw the entire Icelandic FA board resign in disgrace.

Last week our reporter Ben Symes travelled up to Reykjavik, the capital city of Iceland to get some more insight into the background of the Irish men's national team manager Heimir Hallgrímsson from his fellow natives. While up there Ben also travelled to some of the now world famous indoor footballing facilities that are dotted around the tundra landscape across the island, and found out that they're not just used for football…Ben also met Icelandic football journalist Jóhann Ingi Hafþorsson who gave a little bit of insight into the 2021 scandal that saw the entire Icelandic FA board resign in disgrace.

When you arrive in Iceland in December, the first thing you notice is the quiet. Snow sits on the hills like a thick blanket, steam rises from hot springs, and the cold air feels crisp but clean. Towns look small against the vast landscape, and most homes glow with warm lights by mid-afternoon. The short daylight makes every window feel like a beacon, and families across the country lean into these warm touches to brighten the long season. Walking through Reykjavik or any of the small towns, you see people with bags of baked goods from local shops, children bundled in thick coats, and families gathering indoors before the evening chill settles in. Icelanders handle winter with simple routines that make the season feel friendly. Nothing here rushes. People enjoy the slow build toward Christmas, with lights, books, treats, and old traditions that help them get through the cold months. December in Iceland feels like an invitation to slow down and enjoy the season alongside everyone else... Podcast Notes: https://ancestralfindings.com/christmas-traditions-iceland/ Ancestral Findings Podcast: https://ancestralfindings.com/podcast This Week's Free Genealogy Lookups: https://ancestralfindings.com/lookups Genealogy Giveaway: https://ancestralfindings.com/giveaway Genealogy eBooks: https://ancestralfindings.com/ebooks Follow Along: https://www.facebook.com/AncestralFindings https://www.instagram.com/ancestralfindings https://www.youtube.com/ancestralfindings Support Ancestral Findings: https://ancestralfindings.com/support https://ancestralfindings.com/paypal  #Genealogy #AncestralFindings #GenealogyClips Podcast Notes: https://ancestralfindings.com/christmas-traditions-sweden/ Ancestral Findings Podcast: https://ancestralfindings.com/podcast This Week's Free Genealogy Lookups: https://ancestralfindings.com/lookups Genealogy Giveaway: https://ancestralfindings.com/giveaway Genealogy eBooks: https://ancestralfindings.com/ebooks Follow Along: https://www.facebook.com/AncestralFindings https://www.instagram.com/ancestralfindings https://www.youtube.com/ancestralfindings Support Ancestral Findings: https://ancestralfindings.com/support https://ancestralfindings.com/paypal  #Genealogy #AncestralFindings #GenealogyClips

Join Matthew Brennan, Ben Symes and David Wilson as they look back at Irish football's 2025 and what we can look forward to in 2026.Ben tells us about his sojourn to Iceland to cover Shamrock Rovers' recent trip to Reykjavik to take on Breidablik.The lads discuss facilities, access for all, plus sharing them across sports in perhaps a municipal basis similar to what happens across the European mainland.There is discussion around the League of Ireland teams in Europe, and whether it has been a positive season on the domestic front.There is a look ahead to what could be an exciting couple of months next year.And as ever, we are looking for your inspiration to help us. What do YOU think could be a good name for this podcast? Let us know in the comments what you think.Become a member and sign up at offtheball.com/join

Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around the circumference of the room, being chased by yellow-eyed foes. "They're mostly quantum, they don't always perceive real-state things or beings until they're interacted with!" he answered. "They weren't looking for you until you announced yourself!" "Oh, you and your weird physics shit!" she groused, her robe coming more and more undone as she ran. One of her tits was exposed, bouncing annoyingly and the nipple hardening as a cold wind from the endless holes in her walls and windows blew into the room. "Now what?" "Well, since they know you're here, you might as well use the gun," he answered as he tackled a small knot of them who were looking to cut off her avenue of escape. "At least then you can defend yourself if you're careful!" "The fuck am I supposed to do?" she shouted angrily as she clutched the ridiculous, useless gun. "Nerf them to death? Hope I shoot one foam dart down a throat and hope the bastard chokes and dies?" "Didn't you just let me inside all of your orifices?" he pointed out as he spun low, sweeping one foe's feet from under him and then taking him by the ankles to slam him off the floor. "Trust me, Virginia!" "Dammit!" she spat, steeling her nerve, hoping her resolve was harder than her nipple currently was. Taking a deep breath, she stopped running and spun, pointing the gun and pulling the plastic trigger; She yelped in astonishment as coruscating arcs of lightning crackled and lashed out from the muzzle, enveloping several foes, who wailed in glowing agony before disappearing from view. "Jesus H Fucking Tesla!" she exclaimed in amazement as she gaped down at her toy. "Virginia, language!" Santa warned. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another man rushing her, pulling the trigger and watching him explode in a shower of scintillating particles. "This shit will fuck you up!" blared the speakers. The wall splintered next to Ginny and several terrifying creatures barged in, causing her to shriek in fright, they were easily Santa's size, vaguely humanoid but covered in a greyish, segmented carapace, with insectoid heads, evil-looking mandibles and huge claws at the end of four arms. They hissed as the lunged for her. "Fuck fuck fuck!" cried out as she began running. "Fucking hate motherfucking bugs!" She fired wildly behind herself without looking, managing to strike one of the new creatures but only slowing it down. Ginny raced for the stairs, stampeding up them only to find more of the yellow-eyed humanoids waiting for her. "Santa!" she cried out in terror. "Help!" He glanced her way and grimaced at her predicament. "Aw, hell;" With a strength born of the desperation to protect one of his precious children, he surged forward, shoulder-blocking his way through a knot of assailants, springing through the air with astonishing agility, alternately using the wall and railing of the stairs to get to the upper floor, twisting and executing a flying kick that downed a foe about to attack Ginny. "Good thing I wore my enhanced parkour boots tonight, eh?" he muttered as he glared at the foes crowding to get up the stairs or down the hallway at them. "I don't even know what that means." Ginny snapped, backing up warily as the horde coming for them grew in numbers. "If that's some sort of geek speak, then we, are you getting bigger?" "I guess I am," he replied, grimly, glaring at their foes. "I don't expect what I'm saying to make sense, but the other iterations of me, my other selves, they're all coming here, merging with me to help meet the threat." "You're; consolidating?" she asked in disbelief. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his blue eyes flashing. "It's gonna make finishing the Christmas run tight if I get held up here much longer." "Oh, terribly sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, your highness." Ginny said, trying to not sound too snide. He put his body between her and her foes, backing her up against the wall. "They can't come through the wall you're up against, it's the South wall," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency. "You're safe from that angle. You can fire your gun past me or over the rail at the guys down below. Since they're trying to reach you that means they've solidified enough that they can't do crazy things like jump seven meters up to reach you, they'll have to use the stairs." "I thought they were after you." Ginny said hotly. "They were, until you announced yourself with a jug of nog," he pointed out. "Now they want to destroy you to hurt me." "Oh. Sorry." Ginny mumbled somewhat sheepishly. "You can make it up to me later!" he said as he surged forward suddenly, bulling his way through the approaching crowd, clotheslining several at once. Shouts went up and the fight was on again. Santa punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed and wrenched his way through the enemy horde. Ginny swore he was indeed bigger than he had been earlier. His already hard body physique was almost bulging with muscles now, like a California beach bodybuilder. Black blood glistened on his flawless skin as he maimed the attackers. Droplets that hit the carpet sizzled and ate through it, burning the hardwood floor beneath. "No!" Ginny wailed in despair. "Not the hardwood! I loved that feature!" She glared and gritted her teeth as she leaned over the railing and pointed the nerf gun down at the endless crowd on the main floor, pulling the trigger. The crackling arcs of energy enveloped several foes, who wailed and vanished. Same as before, the giant insectoids rarely disappeared but seemed slowed or staggered by the attack. Santa fought his way forward, forcing the attackers back from Ginny. Try as they might, no one got by him, even if it meant that they could strike at him instead. He took their assaults resolutely, using his body as a shield to protect her. Before long, the floor of the hallway was littered with bodies, some barely stirring, others not moving at all. Still, the foes swarmed up the stairs. One of the bug-things swiped at him with its vicious claws and he ducked under the blow before kicking his boot into one of the reverse-jointed legs, snapping it. The bug screeched and tumbled and he leapt onto its back, grabbing hold of one of the large, wet-grey chitinous plates that armored its back and pulled, it tore away with a mushy crack and the beast's keened agony as it shuddered and thrashed. Without pausing, Santa whirled around and slammed the exoskeletal plate across several men's heads, dropping them. Ginny kept firing the nerf tesla gun, wondering what sort of sociopath would invent a deadly weapon that looked like a famous kid's toy. She pushed it from her mind, realizing that she wanted to live and didn't care at the moment about the social mores of the issue. Santa was using the huge chitin plate almost like a shield, driving his foes back with it to the stairs. It finally cracked in half and he punched through the mess, unwilling to give the enemy time to regroup. He spun one man around with a fist across the jaw before grabbing his arms from behind and ramming his knee into the man's back, lifting him off the floor and letting him slam his spine onto the stairs. Without waiting, Santa launched himself through the air, knee raised and smashed it into the face of a man on the stair's corner landing. The foe's head went back through the wall with a loud crunch and he hung there limply, no longer part of the battle. "Ack!" Ginny squawked as the nerf gun sputtered and let out several impotent flashes and then died. "Not now! No no no!" One foe had broken through the cordon and now raced toward her. She yelled loudly and smashed the butt of her nerf gun into his face, staggering him for a moment. She glared at him angrily, waiting for him to fall, but her didn't, so she kicked him in the crotch with her instep. He groaned and sunk to his knees, holding himself. Ginny was practically jumping up and down on top of him by the time he stopped moving. "Stay; the; fuck; down!" she shouted angrily as she turned his ribcage into powder. She failed to notice the one last foe who rushed up behind her. But then Santa was at her side and he delivered a devastating haymaker to the man's thorax. Stunned, the intruder staggered back against the railing. With a growl, Santa grabbed him by the face and ruthlessly bent his back over the railing before leaping over and slamming his elbow across the man's neck as he went down to the main floor. The lifeless form crumpled next to him as he looked around, glaring. No foes remained standing. Aside from the music, all was quiet. "It is safe?" Ginny called from the gallery. "Are the scary guys and bug-thingies all gone?" "No," Santa said warily. "And the next wave is even bigger." "Great!" Ginny complained, tossing the useless nerf gun over the side. "And according to you, there's no one that can help us!" "I didn't say that," he countered, beckoning for her to come down the stairs and be near him for protection. "I just said there was no Easter Bunny." "No Superman either, apparently," she grumbled as she approached him, letting him put a huge arm around her possessively. He was, indeed, bigger than ever. She was practically child-sized next to him now. "So who the hell is there to help us?" "If help's arriving it had better get here soon," he said, taking her to the remains of her big glass bay windows and back door. The wind was howling as snow drove into the living room. What was left of it, anyway. Which was nothing. "It's now or never. Can you see them?" She peered into the darkness outside and a chill ran down her spine, hundreds of red and yellow glowing eyes could be seen in the darkness. And they seemed to be getting closer. "Do; do they see me?" she asked, swallowing nervously. "I'm sure they do," he said, grimacing. "Not going to take a chance and assume they don't. I'll do everything I can to protect you, of course." "Is; is that going to be enough?" She could hear the angry hisses and an evil chanting outside clearly now, getting closer with each moment. It pained Santa that he couldn't lie to her. "I don't know, Virginia." She sighed and smiled weakly. "Well, at least I know there's a Santa Claus now. And he gave me the night of my life before it all ended." He returned the smile, trying to feign a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I don't;" Ginny faltered, trying to find the words. "I don't suppose that you'd; well; that you'd be willing to kiss me one last time? You know, before the end?" He turned to look down at her, his hands holding her arms with an unreal gentleness and a warmth in his eyes that comforted her even now. "Nothing would make me happier, Virginia." She smiled and closed her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Santa." "Merry Christmas, Virginia;" he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her. Then the night was filled with high-pitched shrieks, a noise that made her eyes snap open. She'd heard noises like that before, once a long time ago in grade school. It sounds like the hissing passage of meteors above, and getting closer. Or what she imagined artillery sounded like when it was incoming, like in all those war movies. Santa's head turned and an almost evil grin crept over his face as he listened. "That's more like it!" he declared, standing tall and pointing at the blackness of the night. "Watch the sky, Virginia;" She looked up and noticed glittering points of light, dozens of them, seeming to get closer. The hissing shriek was indeed their approach and they seemed to be aimed right at them. She felt Santa's hand squeeze on her shoulder, almost in excitement. His blue eyes were blazing ferociously. Finally, what looked like dozens of giant icicles, each larger and longer than a semi, lanced out of the night sky and slammed into the earth around her house, shaking it as they buried their tips in the frozen ground and came to a stop. Several impaled the intruders as they came in, while others kicked up a covering spray of snow as the enemy stopped and looked around in confusion. Then doors or portals opened on the sides of the titan icicles and tall, lithe beings began leaping out of them, wearing weird, form-fitting armor and carrying space-age guns and swords or axes. Their armor and long hair was a riot of colors that was reflected by the snow and ice. Wild, ululating war cries pierced the air. And a savage, bloody battle began on her property. "Who the hell are they?" Ginny almost yelled in astonishment as she watched. They moved with inhuman grace and speed, the ones not wearing helmets revealing long, beautiful facial features that were often frightening because of the wrath they displayed. The helmets were all tall and peaked, showing fearsome designs and glowing eyes. Weird runes pulsed and throbbed with light all over their armor. Guns hissed and shrieked while swords hummed as they slew. "My elves," Santa said, clearly pleased and also eager to fight but not willing to leave her side yet. "They got my call and converged on my position." "Those are elves?" she exclaimed in amazement. "Aren't they cutesy little toy-shop people?" "Cute myth, but no, not these ones," he replied, watching as several elves wearing bone-white armor with feminine features raced past, throwing themselves into a knot of the hulking bugs. They screamed and the masks of their wild-maned helmets gave off vibrations that shook Ginny's teeth in her head as it melted their foes' faces off. "No, a lot of my elves are warriors, meant to help me fight Krampus. They keep Christmas safe with me." "What the hell are they wearing?" she asked in disbelief. How could this weird night get any weirder? Santa sighed. "Truth? They've been spending way too much time playing Warhammer 40k and they; appropriated armor, weapons and tactics from the Eldar faction. They're space elves." "Wow. Gay;" she muttered, shaking her head. "Well, they're certainly earning their keep tonight." He nodded. "Been a long time since Krampus moved against us this hard. Apparently he got bored and was feeling uppity. That or he just forgot what a good thrashing felt like." Ginny watched as three elves, clad in scary black armor and wearing helmets that looked like peaked skulls, marched relentlessly forward, firing little rockets from elaborate launchers they carried in their hands and on suspensor harnesses. The rockets punctured the bugs' chitin shells and exploded inside them, sending shards of exoskeleton and stinking goo in every direction. Ginny squeaked and hid behind Santa as some of the nasty effluence landed right where she'd been standing only a moment before. Beams of super-heated plasma and tiny, shuriken-like projectiles hissed and whizzed by them, the remains of her lovely house now the center of a battleground while the winter storm raged on. Warriors in green armor, carrying weapons that looked like a horrifying hybrid of sword and chainsaw, tore into a knot of foes, slicing them to bloody ribbons. As savage as the battle had been earlier, when it had just been her and Santa, she suddenly appreciated its relative civility. "They need my help," Santa said finally, cracking his knuckles, his expression grim. "We have to finish this off or Christmas won't come on time." "I thought you said there was plenty of time." Ginny protested, frowning up at him. "There was," he admitted. "But in order to defeat Krampus' minions, I summoned every single quantum iteration of myself back to here to help me fight. No one is delivering presents anywhere at the moment. I can't change real-time if I'm here in my entirety." He turned and looked at her. "Hopefully we're keeping them busy enough that they don't worry about you. Stay against the wall and work the music, will you?" "Manning the music station," she said, nodding, focusing on giving herself a task. "Music for Santa and his homicidal elves to kill by. Got it;" She watched as Santa leapt through the shattered remains of her bay doors into the howling storm and crashed into a knot of foes, savaging them. She watched in disbelief for some time, trying to figure out how Santa could kill anyone. I mean, even serial murderers got presents in prison, didn't they? Maybe they didn't, she had no way of knowing and chalked up thinking about this to what could only be described as the weirdest night of her life. She squealed and dodged out of the way as a body came flying through the doors and landed next to her. She scrambled over to the entertainment center and stood in front of it, trying to figure out what the hell she should play. "Okay;" she breathed, trying to focus. "Mass slaughter music; mass slaughter music;" What constituted mass slaughter music? Death metal? Panic At The Disco? Teletubbies music? She had no playlists, so she began cycling through the radio, hoping to find anything that might suffice. Oldies; Christmas music; hip-hop; trance; disco; "Son of a fuck," she muttered. "This is harder than it looks." She finally came across a station playing 'Jailhouse Rock' and decided that was good enough, she was sick of looking. She winced, trying to ignore another splintering crash as a body came through her wall. She hugged herself but then felt her robe. She frowned as she looked down at it, realizing it had been thoroughly shredded in the fight earlier. Those shuriken-thingies had been cutting it real close. Ginny grumbled as she pulled it off and threw it away, standing there completely naked, it hadn't been keeping her warm in its current condition and she was thoroughly beyond giving a shit at this point about who saw her naked. They were all too damn busy tearing one another apart anyway. And that sort of pissed her off. She was buck-naked and no one seemed to care. She'd shaved her cunt for this? "And I thought my night sucked before," she sighed to no one in particular. "Not getting my cunt pounded had been my biggest complaint before this hack!" She never saw the menacing shadow that had slipped up behind her. Santa picked one of his foes up overhead and hurled him into a cluster of foes, bowling them all over. He then punched another man as he tried to run by, knocking him off his feet and into his back. A quick stamp on his solar plexus made sure he stopped moving. The huge man thrust his fist in the air and shouted loudly. "Clear!" he thundered, indicating no other enemies surrounded him. His elves responded in kind, many of them gathering in a tight ring about him, weapons facing out as they sought to protect him. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn across the landscape, some burning from plasma blasts, other shredded and blown apart by rockets or sliced into bloody jerky. The storm seemed to be abating, no longer a blizzard so much as a stiff wind and swirls of snow. "Sire, we detect no enemies in the immediate vicinity," one elf wearing blue armor with a tall, crested helmet announced, striding up and saluting by thumping his gauntleted fist over his heart. "This attack has been defeated." "Maybe," Santa said, looking around warily. "But that doesn't mean anything just yet. We have to secure the area, make sure Virginia is alright and then get back to” "Kringle!" "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I thought this was too easy." He made several complex gestures, sending his elves fanning out in a wide arc as he began trudging forward through the snow, heading toward where the voice had come from out of the night. The winds and squalls of snow continued to die down until there was an almost deafening silence, the moon shining brightly overhead and revealing the sheer carnage of the battle that had been waged, the snow and ice glittered with frozen blood. "Kringle!" snarled the inhuman voice angrily. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Santa said loudly, scowling. "Don't get your panties in a bunch!" He stopped in a clearing on the other side of the house, glowering at who confronted him, the beast was not as tall as he was, nor as muscular, but horrifying in aspect. The backward-jointed, hairy legs ended in wicked hooves. The skin not covered in coarse black fur was almost as dark and criss-crossed with innumerable scars. The vascular chest was crowned with a strong neck and sitting atop it was a blasphemous head, a demonic goat's visage from which grew four evil, twisting horns. The red eyes blazed like wrathful coals and sharp teeth glistened wetly inside the hateful mouth. Krampus. And in one of his powerful, clawed hands, he held Virginia by the neck, who looked like a rag doll. "Hi, Santa;" she said weakly, looking very apologetic. Santa kept walking forward, clenching his fists. "By all means, Kringle, keep coming forward if you mean to slay the child." Krampus growled, starting to squeeze and causing Ginny to shudder in fear. Santa stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His elves had now cast a tight net around the scene, hemming in Krampus. One circle of warriors faced inward, pointing their weapons at the abomination while another behind them faced out, prepared for any further attacks. Santa didn't move. "Let the girl go, Krampus," he said levelly. "This doesn't concern her." "Oh, I beg to differ," said the beastman in an almost non-chalant tone. "It's always about the children, isn't it?" "Hey!" said Ginny angrily. "I am not a child, jerk! I'm twenty, Gurr!" "Oh, do stop talking, you're such an annoyance." Krampus said, giving her neck another warning squeeze. "Let the adults work this out." "There's nothing to work out, Krampus," Santa growled, his blue eyes flashing. "You'll let the girl go." "I think we both know that's not happening," intoned the vile intruder. "She is my victory over you, and you know it. Revenge is not only a dish best served cold but often. And not often enough for me." "About this cold revenge dish thing," Ginny said, squirming slightly. "Couldn't; couldn't I just find you a nice tin can to chew on instead?" "Shut up, girl!" Krampus said harshly while several elves could be heard to chuckle and even Santa smirked at her jest. "I hold your life in my hands, to dispose of as I please." His foul breath crackled in the cold night air. His touch was uncomfortably warm, almost hot and strangely kept her body from freezing in the winter night. His touch felt evil and her skin crawled in revulsion. His strength was terrifying. "It wasn't enough that I slaved in coal mines for you, giving you carbon lumps to deliver to naughty children," Krampus growled, glaring at Santa. "It wasn't enough that I found the worst of them and brought them to you in the night so you could lecture them." "Hey, nobody asked you or ordered you to do the coal thing, pal," Santa said angrily. "And the whole kidnapping kids thing was your idea. I decided to let you have some creative control and look what happened. When it didn't work out, you decided that beating naughty kids with reeds was the answer. You're damn right that wasn't good enough!" "Silence!" Krampus snarled loudly, stamping one of his clawed hooves and making the ground shake dangerously. "Your kind-hearted foolishness with these puny mortals changed nothing about their behavior! Your failure to recognize their inherent selfishness was why our efforts were doomed!" "These puny mortals?" Santa countered. "You used to be one of them, Pete, remember? You were a well-behaved boy once." "Shut up!" growled Krampus. "Well-behaved, but not good," Santa continued. "You followed the rules and wanted everyone to follow rules. You were a control freak. I brought you north to show you what kindness could do, but you hated the cheer and the happiness and you fled to the coal mines in Greenland, hiding in the dark where the light of Christmas couldn't touch you! And when making kids feel bad with coal didn't bring them into line, you started the whole whipping them with reeds thing. Good job there, Pete!" "I'm warning you, Kringle;" Krampus said dangerously. "Oh, he really gets your goat, doesn't he?" Ginny sneered, causing several elves to laugh loudly. Krampus now snarled furiously and lifted her into the air by her neck, causing her to cry out in pain. Santa watched warily, knowing better than to make a move. "We seem to have an impasse," Krampus said, an evil smile playing over his slavering mouth. "You cannot harm me, because you know I can slay the child, but I cannot as yet slay her because she is my bargaining chip. But my need to hurt you, old man, is so very strong." He lowered Ginny down until her feet were just touching the snow-covered ground. She frowned as she heard a wet slithering sound she could not identify. "And there are other ways to hurt you than slaying the poor dear, aren't there?" Ginny felt something slimy touch her leg and then start to crawl up it, wrapping around her smooth skin. She shuddered and squirmed in horror as she realized exactly what was happening. The snake-like appendage wound up her thigh and then behind her. She gasped as it slid between her ass cheeks and then underneath to her cunt. She felt the blunt head split her lips and then move upward again. "Don't do this, Krampus." Santa said, trying to figure out what to do without hurting Ginny. "And why not?" replied the qliphotic abomination. "Don't you have a present for me? Then I guess I'll have to give myself one." Krampus' organ continued to slither its way around her body, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. She stiffened and moaned as his appendage wrapped around her tits, squeezing them, the head pausing and teasing the nipples. "Hey, asshole, dinner and a movie first!" she spat angrily. Ginny was about to say something else when the large, grayish cockhead snaked up in front of her face and then plunged into her mouth, causing her to gag and go silent. Her eyes widened and she thrashed furiously, but to no avail. He was simply too strong. "Language, young lady." Krampus chided, still staring at Santa. "Hasn't Santa taught you anything?" "This isn't gonna end well for you, Pete." Santa said, his tone dire. "Christmas never does, Kringle," replied the demon, his cock sliding in and out of Ginny's mouth. "I'm just hoping to make the holiday every bit as awful and intolerable for you as it is for me. After all, misery loves company." He brought her body close to his head and his other hand reached over and stroked her cunt lips, which were glistening. He leered at his foe, knowing Santa was helpless to get closer. "Is she good down here?" Krampus said mockingly. "Nice and wet and tight for you? Was she the best one ever, in the endless list of good girls you have fucked?" Santa said nothing, just glaring at Krampus. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. "Sharing your toys is the spirit of Christmas, isn't it?" Krampus said evilly, finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. Ginny coughed and sputtered, tendrils of resinous spittle and worse trailing away from her lips. She glared at Krampus but was still immobilized. "Just get this over with and fuck me already, whip-cock," she spat. "You won't be my first egotistical disappointment, trust me." Krampus' eyes blazed red and his tongue sped around her naked form blindingly quickly while he released her from his clawed grip. The tongue wrapped and immobilized her arms, holding them out straight while still encircling her tits. It then snaked around her waist and legs, pinning those as well while his long cock, swaying about like a cobra, came to a stop in front of her swollen cunt lips. The head teased and tapped against the opening, causing her to moan and squirm. "As you wish, child;" The head forced itself through her lips, sliding deep inside her. Ginny cried out in a mixture of shock and indescribable pleasure. She felt the tip of his pointed tongue probe trailing around her nipples. The python-like length of his cock churned inside her cunt. The blinding light behind her eyes finally receded and she lifted her head, looking out into the night, feeling his tongue constricting around her neck. She could dimly see a huge being in red pants and black boots watching nearby, his powerful chest exposed. The startling blue eyes flashed in the darkness of the night. She could tell he wanted to rescue her but didn't dare come closer. She gasped and shuddered as Krampus' cock pushed still deeper inside her. She felt fuller than she had imagined possible, the slithering appendage stretching her wide. The sticky, squelching noises were hardly to be believed. "Ew, gross! Hentai noises!" she thought in revulsion. "Krampus;" Santa warned. His elves all pointed their weapons menacingly but he held up his hand, staying them. "The child is naughty," Krampus said, smiling through pointed teeth. "Very naughty. Such a sordid past." "Hey, back off, she was young and needed the money!" Santa snapped defensively. "That thing with the midget and the donkey was” "You're not helping here!" Ginny shouted, blushing furiously, even as Krampus violated her. "Wicked child," growled the vile demon, shoving his cock in and out of her, the peristaltic actions of its length causing her to writhe and squirm in his grip, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Shameless. Even though I violate her, she finds a way to be concerned about how you perceive her. I find it; titillating." "Oh, do I make you horny?" she sneered, turning her head to smirk at him. "Couldn't tell, looking at that head of yours." "Silence!" Krampus hissed, spittle flying from his jaws, his eyes flashing angrily. "I hold your life and death in my hands." "How would I know?" she shot back. "Hope you're better with your hands than you are with your cock, Billy G." He plunged his cock deeper still inside her. She went rigid and cried out. "That all you got?" she rasped, trying not to faint as she felt popping inside her hips while he stetched her. "My brother got in deeper than that when we were little!" "Insolent!" Krampus snarled savagely, bouncing her up and down and he fucked her harder than ever, pulling on her arms and legs, stretching her joints til they creaked. She felt a deep, wet heat building inside her and in spite of the horror she consciously felt about the situation, even more dire was her need to cum. She felt her cunt squeezing around his cock. His snake-like tongue probed her ass and wriggled inside, further adding to her desperation. "Intholent bith, you will be punithed!" "What was that?" Santa asked, turning his head slightly and putting his hand to his ear. "I couldn't understand you, it's like you have a lisp or something." "Don't mock meef!" Krampus said angrily, his tongue whipping out of Ginny's ass, causing her to yelp suddenly. "I'll kill her, Kringle!" "Not before I cum, damn you!" Ginny panted, her body flushed and covered in sweat as she twisted and writhed in his grip. "Uh, so close, goddammit!" "Language!" Santa and Krampus both snapped at her. "Aw, c'mon!" she wailed. "You two are total pains in the ass! Do it, Billy! Show me what a bad boy you are!" Krampus glared at her and began fucking her harder than ever. "As you wish, child!" "Krampus!" Santa shouted, reaching out his hand in alarm. "Don't!" Krampus grinned evilly at Santa, his teeth clenching as he drew close to climax. His cock seemed to swell along its length, stretching her wider still. She threw her head back and gritted her teeth, straining as she was overwhelmed by sensation; Santa's fist slammed across Krampus' jaw with a powerful crack. The demonoid's eyes rolled into his head and he crumpled to the ground. Ginny wailed in frustration as his cock pulled out of her and retreated back to his body, like a wet, slimy Stanley tape measure. She collapsed to her hands and knees in the snow, panting and shaking, her eyes wide. Santa raced up and knelt next to her, his eyes shining with concern. "Fuck;" Ginny whispered, gasping for air. "Motherfucker;" She looked up at her rescuer now, her eyes flashing accusingly. "The hell? Couldn't you have let him make me cum first?" Santa paused. "What?" "I was so damn close!" she hissed, standing up and stamping her foot. "I was within half a second of the orgasm of my life and you had to choose that moment to intervene and play the hero! Don't expect a thank you card!" "Uh, Virginia," Santa said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say. "If he had brought you to orgasm, it would have killed you. When Krampus climaxes, his appendage you were so attached to bursts into spikes, basically killing you from the inside while denying you your orgasm." She paused and then deflated. "Holy cobra dildos. What a bastard." Ginny then pointed a finger at her savior. "But you still owe me an orgasm, then, pal. You may have rescued me from certain death, but that doesn't mean I don't need relief." Santa looked really confused. "What, here? Now?" "Damn straight," she said firmly, suddenly remembering she was buck naked in a snow-storm. In spite of the no-doubt freezing weather, her body was still warm and very wet with need. She put her hand down her cunt and felt around for a moment before presenting her sticky palm and fingers to Santa for inspection. "Do I look satisfied to you? You've already fucked me, Screamo the Goat Boy just fucked me, who cares if your freaky gay elves watch us? I need satisfaction now and I already am aware that you can't say no." Santa sighed. "It's gotta be quick, Virginia. I'm really behind, now that I'm completely temporal in one location." "Whatever, just get me to the promised land, man." Ginny replied, shrugging. "Who knows, maybe your entourage might enjoy a show." "Oh, right, about that," Santa said, standing up tall and shouting loudly. "About; Face!" As a single unit, the elves all turned around smartly on their heels, still arranged in a protective ring around their liege and his companion, weapons ready as they scanned the darkness for trouble, their eyes glowing menacingly inside their helmets. Santa strode up to Ginny, towering over her and ignoring the prostrate form of the still-unconscious Krampus, snuffling nearby. She smiled up at him, somehow warmed by his presence, in spite of the icy night she should have frozen to death in already. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth as she felt her already molten core getting even more heated in response to his touch. Tongues tangled and played as he took her ass cheeks in his hands and squeezed them, making her shiver. Ginny's hands fumbled with his large black belt until it fell away and then pulled down his red pants. He pulled her onto his powerful thighs, resting her on them. She hooked her legs behind his waist and began grinding her wet, eager cunt against his hardening cock, which swelled readily. Her head was almost spinning, she was so horny. "Hmm, give it to me, baby," she purred, feeling the head of his cock touch her cunt lips. "Make me cum hard and fast." She sighed loudly as he pulled her close, penetrating and sliding deep inside her. Ginny moaned shamelessly as Santa once again began to pump back and forth inside her. His huge cock stretched her cunt wide, but not in the violent, violating way Krampus did. This felt warm and utterly perfect. She nipped at the skin of his chest while he moved in and out of her. "Yes," Ginny breathed as he began to moved faster, pumping strongly and rhythmically. She could feel her wetness trickling down between her cheeks, her cunt clutching at him hungrily, greedily and unwilling to let go until it was somehow sated. "Oh, God, just what I needed. Yes, fuck me, Santa!" He gripped her tight and thrust into her, picking up his pace just the way she wanted. She was gasping and yelping now and he squeezed her cheeks, one of his fingers poking inside her puckered knot. She clenched her teeth and groaned at the intrusion, murmuring that she loved it. She grew warmer and warmer, her body tingling with an exquisite fire that rippled out from her core. Santa turned her around and set her feet on top of his boots, bending her forward and pulling on her arms. She cried out as he fucked her harder, his hips thumping against her ass cheeks. Her hands clenched wildly, her breath coming in gasps as his overwhelming strength dominated her. "Oh, God!" she panted, beginning to shudder uncontrollably, almost drooling. "Uh, cum in me, dammit! Fucking cum in me!" Santa pulled on her arms even tighter as his thighs slammed into her. Ginny strained, craning her neck, teeth clenched as she tried not to scream, but it was no use, she wailed loudly as he came inside her, filling her once again in a way she could not describe. Her orgasm shook every last atom of her being, transporting her to a world of nothing but pleasure, edged with mint. She buckled, hanging loosely in his arms, exhausted. She'd been fucked hard at least five times tonight and had a dreadful suspicion that this experience would only make her libido even more hyperactive. She sighed as Santa scooped her naked form into his arms and cuddled her against the cold. Ginny purred and traced a fingernail across his broad chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Just what the doctor ordered. That quenched the flames, for now." He finally put her down and she looked at the remains of her ruined chateau, which was completely leveled and now on fire. "Poor Oatmeal," she murmured. "Where am I going to live?" She scowled down at the still supine Krampus, anger flaring in her. "It's this jack wagon’s fault. You should totally napalm his face." Santa looked down at her in shock. "Did you just say I should jerk off in Krampus' face?" "Damn right, he'd deserve it too." Ginny announced. "That and shove your sleigh up his ass." "I am not jizzing in Krampus' face." Santa said, clearly repulsed by the suggestion. "Fine, leave a woman to do a man's job," Ginny said testily, striding over to Krampus and putting one leg on either side of his head. She stuck three fingers inside her cunt and managed to tease out considerable amounts of Santa's minty cum, which she smeared all over Krampus' face and into his fur with glee, even giving him a glistening white moustache. "Take that, asshole!" She looked like she might have been done desecrating the unconscious form, but then she paused and squatted over him, peeing on his body and face, the stream steaming in the cold night air. She grinned evilly as she thoroughly baptized him. "Teach you to mess with me." Ginny muttered as she walked back to Santa, nodding. The huge man had a wide smirk on his face and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you just pissed all over Krampus," he said, hugging her to him. "However, you're going to freeze to death at this rate;" He held out his hand and one of his elves dutifully brought him a large, velvety red cloak, which he wrapped around her. She blushed and smiled gratefully at his consideration, but only until he slid it off her, revealing that she was now wearing some ridiculous 'Hot Christmas Elf' outfit, complete with striped stockings and high heels. She looked like a Yule whore. "Seriously?" she asked, unimpressed. "This is your solution to my naked issues?" He shrugged. "I liked you better naked, but you would freeze quickly." "Whatever," she sighed, looking down and appreciating the considerable lift it gave her cleavage. It was incredibly warm, in spite of how scant it was. "So now what? I still have no damn home, you and Goatse here blew it up with your little barnyard brawl." Santa looked around warily. "That might be the least of your worries. The wind's picking up again, which means that another assault is coming. We need to get out of here." "Sire!" said one of the armored elves, thumping his fist to his breastplate and bowing his head. "We will cover you. You must go while you still have a head-start and the dark one is unconscious." Santa nodded. "Yeah, he's not gonna be happy when he wakes up and he's really gonna want revenge on you, Virginia." She felt her mouth go dry at the notion of another battle and Krampus waking up to even the score. "So; now what?" Santa shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly obvious. I've still got to make my rounds before the night is over and I'm not leaving you here;" She gaped as he put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Virginia, you're coming with me and you're going to help save Christmas." Chapter 3, Christmas Wishes "How the hell do you drive this thing?" Ginny called in a panic, her eyes wide as she held onto the reigns, twisting them wildly as she tried to steer. Up ahead of her, eight large reindeer squealed and thrashed their heads. The sleigh corkscrewed while it hurtled through the cold night air, the moon shining down on them. "Well, first of all, stop panicking," Santa replied as he stood on the back of the sleigh, atop his huge red sack of toys. He was more or less back to his original size she had become accustomed to, now that he had sent his other 'iterations' of himself out over the globe to deliver presents. "That would be an excellent start." "Easy for you to say," she snapped, scowling back at him for a moment since taking her eyes off her designated path seemed to make no difference to how she was doing at navigating. "You're used to doing this!" "Trust me, between the two of us, you're the one with the easy job right now and I'd be happy to trade," he called back as he ducked wildly. A comically large rocket thundered by, with an evil-looking man strapped to the bottom of it, swinging a weapon wildly to hit Santa. "Try to keep her steady!" "While dodging psychos on rockets, no problem!" she grumbled, trying to ignore the howling wind and roaring projectiles. "Have I mentioned Krampus is a gigantic asshole?" "Repeatedly," Santa answered, watching warily. The sky was threaded with jets of fire as their enemies kept coming about in ponderous, elliptical arcs and heading back towards them, intent on their destruction. They had only just pulled off from the smoldering remains of Ginny's country chateau when the assault began. Krampus was nowhere to be seen, but his minions were clearly determined to avenge him. "Maybe urinating on him wasn't such a good idea. He never did take humiliation well." Ginny squawked in alarm and ducked as a rocket streaked right at her. Santa jumped in the air, doing the splits to avoid the projectile and landing back on top of his present sack. Another tried to pull up alongside them but Santa grabbed the harness the man was wearing and wrenched the rocket off course, sending it speeding into one some distance away. Both rockets (and presumably their pilots) exploded in a violent orgy of noise and flashing lights. "Really hope people just think those are fireworks," Santa muttered as he looked glared balefully at yet another rocket considering approaching. "Fireworks right in the middle of the world's most spastic meteor shower. Sure, they'll buy that;" "Funny part is I can't tell if you're serious," Ginny said loudly. "If they don't believe that narrative, then they've gotta accept that Santa Claus was engaged in an epic air battle over their town with quantum men strapped to rockets." "Truth is often stranger than fiction," Santa agreed, nodding. "Fighting these jerks off is taking too much time!" "Well, don't you have anything in your back of tricks there?" Ginny asked. In spite of the sleigh being open, it seemed to have some weird form of climate control and she'd been getting rather warm. To that end she'd pulled down her top, exposing her tits to cool herself off. The breeze allowed through made her nipples tingle delightfully, but not enough to distract her from driving the sleigh. After all, she often drove ninety minutes to her job wearing a vibrating insert in her panties, so she knew for a fact she could orgasm and still control a vehicle. A wheeled one, at least. She wasn't so sure about a sleigh doing Mach Three at twenty thousand feet. "You mean a weapon?" Santa asked. "In the bag full of toys for kids?" "You gave me a nerf gun out of that bag and it turned out to be some sort of doomsday device, didn't it?" she pointed out. "Scary lightning bolts everywhere. I refuse to believe you don't have some other goodies in there." Santa shrugged and squatted down to look inside the bag, getting narrowly missed by another rocket that shot over his head. The pilot cursed and came around again, aiming directly at the chassis of the sleigh from the side. Ginny's eyes widened in fright as she saw him approach. She jerked the reins to one side and the sleigh tilted ninety degrees, presenting its wide, flat red underside. The rocket slammed into it and exploded. Whatever it was made of or whatever shielding was in place, Ginny only heard the detonation and felt a rumble, but there was no damage aside from that. "Ha!" Santa said, standing tall and holding an electric guitar in the air, its black body gleamed in the moonlight. He put the strap around his neck and took several seconds to tune it, ignoring the aerial mayhem that swirled around him. "The hell are you going to do with that?" Ginny asked, scowling as she looked behind to see what he was up to. "You said to find something, I found something," he said simply as he checked the pickups. "Now let's see what we can do here;" He took the pick in hand and strummed it across the strings, a screeching pulse of sound blared out from the instrument, heading in all directions. It struck several rockets nearby, which exploded brightly. Other were knocked off course, spiraling around crazily as they fought for control. Santa laughed loudly, apparently enjoying himself. "Quit laughing and kill, red man!" Ginny yelled, nonplussed by his amusement. "I want to survive the night and I've had several close calls with death already!" "I'm working on it, Virginia, patience." Santa chided, adjusting the tuners momentarily. "Near-death experiences make you cranky." "No shit, Sherlock," she grumbled as he blasted out another screeching wave of sound. "Do you plan to play anything or just keep shrieking out that one sound?" "As you wish," he said cheerfully, pleased to be doing as she asked. Making her happy was all he cared about. He began playing a heavy metal version of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries', the pulsing walls of sound thundering out and striking every foe within hundreds of

Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around the circumference of the room, being chased by yellow-eyed foes. "They're mostly quantum, they don't always perceive real-state things or beings until they're interacted with!" he answered. "They weren't looking for you until you announced yourself!" "Oh, you and your weird physics shit!" she groused, her robe coming more and more undone as she ran. One of her tits was exposed, bouncing annoyingly and the nipple hardening as a cold wind from the endless holes in her walls and windows blew into the room. "Now what?" "Well, since they know you're here, you might as well use the gun," he answered as he tackled a small knot of them who were looking to cut off her avenue of escape. "At least then you can defend yourself if you're careful!" "The fuck am I supposed to do?" she shouted angrily as she clutched the ridiculous, useless gun. "Nerf them to death? Hope I shoot one foam dart down a throat and hope the bastard chokes and dies?" "Didn't you just let me inside all of your orifices?" he pointed out as he spun low, sweeping one foe's feet from under him and then taking him by the ankles to slam him off the floor. "Trust me, Virginia!" "Dammit!" she spat, steeling her nerve, hoping her resolve was harder than her nipple currently was. Taking a deep breath, she stopped running and spun, pointing the gun and pulling the plastic trigger; She yelped in astonishment as coruscating arcs of lightning crackled and lashed out from the muzzle, enveloping several foes, who wailed in glowing agony before disappearing from view. "Jesus H Fucking Tesla!" she exclaimed in amazement as she gaped down at her toy. "Virginia, language!" Santa warned. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another man rushing her, pulling the trigger and watching him explode in a shower of scintillating particles. "This shit will fuck you up!" blared the speakers. The wall splintered next to Ginny and several terrifying creatures barged in, causing her to shriek in fright, they were easily Santa's size, vaguely humanoid but covered in a greyish, segmented carapace, with insectoid heads, evil-looking mandibles and huge claws at the end of four arms. They hissed as the lunged for her. "Fuck fuck fuck!" cried out as she began running. "Fucking hate motherfucking bugs!" She fired wildly behind herself without looking, managing to strike one of the new creatures but only slowing it down. Ginny raced for the stairs, stampeding up them only to find more of the yellow-eyed humanoids waiting for her. "Santa!" she cried out in terror. "Help!" He glanced her way and grimaced at her predicament. "Aw, hell;" With a strength born of the desperation to protect one of his precious children, he surged forward, shoulder-blocking his way through a knot of assailants, springing through the air with astonishing agility, alternately using the wall and railing of the stairs to get to the upper floor, twisting and executing a flying kick that downed a foe about to attack Ginny. "Good thing I wore my enhanced parkour boots tonight, eh?" he muttered as he glared at the foes crowding to get up the stairs or down the hallway at them. "I don't even know what that means." Ginny snapped, backing up warily as the horde coming for them grew in numbers. "If that's some sort of geek speak, then we, are you getting bigger?" "I guess I am," he replied, grimly, glaring at their foes. "I don't expect what I'm saying to make sense, but the other iterations of me, my other selves, they're all coming here, merging with me to help meet the threat." "You're; consolidating?" she asked in disbelief. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his blue eyes flashing. "It's gonna make finishing the Christmas run tight if I get held up here much longer." "Oh, terribly sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, your highness." Ginny said, trying to not sound too snide. He put his body between her and her foes, backing her up against the wall. "They can't come through the wall you're up against, it's the South wall," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency. "You're safe from that angle. You can fire your gun past me or over the rail at the guys down below. Since they're trying to reach you that means they've solidified enough that they can't do crazy things like jump seven meters up to reach you, they'll have to use the stairs." "I thought they were after you." Ginny said hotly. "They were, until you announced yourself with a jug of nog," he pointed out. "Now they want to destroy you to hurt me." "Oh. Sorry." Ginny mumbled somewhat sheepishly. "You can make it up to me later!" he said as he surged forward suddenly, bulling his way through the approaching crowd, clotheslining several at once. Shouts went up and the fight was on again. Santa punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed and wrenched his way through the enemy horde. Ginny swore he was indeed bigger than he had been earlier. His already hard body physique was almost bulging with muscles now, like a California beach bodybuilder. Black blood glistened on his flawless skin as he maimed the attackers. Droplets that hit the carpet sizzled and ate through it, burning the hardwood floor beneath. "No!" Ginny wailed in despair. "Not the hardwood! I loved that feature!" She glared and gritted her teeth as she leaned over the railing and pointed the nerf gun down at the endless crowd on the main floor, pulling the trigger. The crackling arcs of energy enveloped several foes, who wailed and vanished. Same as before, the giant insectoids rarely disappeared but seemed slowed or staggered by the attack. Santa fought his way forward, forcing the attackers back from Ginny. Try as they might, no one got by him, even if it meant that they could strike at him instead. He took their assaults resolutely, using his body as a shield to protect her. Before long, the floor of the hallway was littered with bodies, some barely stirring, others not moving at all. Still, the foes swarmed up the stairs. One of the bug-things swiped at him with its vicious claws and he ducked under the blow before kicking his boot into one of the reverse-jointed legs, snapping it. The bug screeched and tumbled and he leapt onto its back, grabbing hold of one of the large, wet-grey chitinous plates that armored its back and pulled, it tore away with a mushy crack and the beast's keened agony as it shuddered and thrashed. Without pausing, Santa whirled around and slammed the exoskeletal plate across several men's heads, dropping them. Ginny kept firing the nerf tesla gun, wondering what sort of sociopath would invent a deadly weapon that looked like a famous kid's toy. She pushed it from her mind, realizing that she wanted to live and didn't care at the moment about the social mores of the issue. Santa was using the huge chitin plate almost like a shield, driving his foes back with it to the stairs. It finally cracked in half and he punched through the mess, unwilling to give the enemy time to regroup. He spun one man around with a fist across the jaw before grabbing his arms from behind and ramming his knee into the man's back, lifting him off the floor and letting him slam his spine onto the stairs. Without waiting, Santa launched himself through the air, knee raised and smashed it into the face of a man on the stair's corner landing. The foe's head went back through the wall with a loud crunch and he hung there limply, no longer part of the battle. "Ack!" Ginny squawked as the nerf gun sputtered and let out several impotent flashes and then died. "Not now! No no no!" One foe had broken through the cordon and now raced toward her. She yelled loudly and smashed the butt of her nerf gun into his face, staggering him for a moment. She glared at him angrily, waiting for him to fall, but her didn't, so she kicked him in the crotch with her instep. He groaned and sunk to his knees, holding himself. Ginny was practically jumping up and down on top of him by the time he stopped moving. "Stay; the; fuck; down!" she shouted angrily as she turned his ribcage into powder. She failed to notice the one last foe who rushed up behind her. But then Santa was at her side and he delivered a devastating haymaker to the man's thorax. Stunned, the intruder staggered back against the railing. With a growl, Santa grabbed him by the face and ruthlessly bent his back over the railing before leaping over and slamming his elbow across the man's neck as he went down to the main floor. The lifeless form crumpled next to him as he looked around, glaring. No foes remained standing. Aside from the music, all was quiet. "It is safe?" Ginny called from the gallery. "Are the scary guys and bug-thingies all gone?" "No," Santa said warily. "And the next wave is even bigger." "Great!" Ginny complained, tossing the useless nerf gun over the side. "And according to you, there's no one that can help us!" "I didn't say that," he countered, beckoning for her to come down the stairs and be near him for protection. "I just said there was no Easter Bunny." "No Superman either, apparently," she grumbled as she approached him, letting him put a huge arm around her possessively. He was, indeed, bigger than ever. She was practically child-sized next to him now. "So who the hell is there to help us?" "If help's arriving it had better get here soon," he said, taking her to the remains of her big glass bay windows and back door. The wind was howling as snow drove into the living room. What was left of it, anyway. Which was nothing. "It's now or never. Can you see them?" She peered into the darkness outside and a chill ran down her spine, hundreds of red and yellow glowing eyes could be seen in the darkness. And they seemed to be getting closer. "Do; do they see me?" she asked, swallowing nervously. "I'm sure they do," he said, grimacing. "Not going to take a chance and assume they don't. I'll do everything I can to protect you, of course." "Is; is that going to be enough?" She could hear the angry hisses and an evil chanting outside clearly now, getting closer with each moment. It pained Santa that he couldn't lie to her. "I don't know, Virginia." She sighed and smiled weakly. "Well, at least I know there's a Santa Claus now. And he gave me the night of my life before it all ended." He returned the smile, trying to feign a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I don't;" Ginny faltered, trying to find the words. "I don't suppose that you'd; well; that you'd be willing to kiss me one last time? You know, before the end?" He turned to look down at her, his hands holding her arms with an unreal gentleness and a warmth in his eyes that comforted her even now. "Nothing would make me happier, Virginia." She smiled and closed her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Santa." "Merry Christmas, Virginia;" he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her. Then the night was filled with high-pitched shrieks, a noise that made her eyes snap open. She'd heard noises like that before, once a long time ago in grade school. It sounds like the hissing passage of meteors above, and getting closer. Or what she imagined artillery sounded like when it was incoming, like in all those war movies. Santa's head turned and an almost evil grin crept over his face as he listened. "That's more like it!" he declared, standing tall and pointing at the blackness of the night. "Watch the sky, Virginia;" She looked up and noticed glittering points of light, dozens of them, seeming to get closer. The hissing shriek was indeed their approach and they seemed to be aimed right at them. She felt Santa's hand squeeze on her shoulder, almost in excitement. His blue eyes were blazing ferociously. Finally, what looked like dozens of giant icicles, each larger and longer than a semi, lanced out of the night sky and slammed into the earth around her house, shaking it as they buried their tips in the frozen ground and came to a stop. Several impaled the intruders as they came in, while others kicked up a covering spray of snow as the enemy stopped and looked around in confusion. Then doors or portals opened on the sides of the titan icicles and tall, lithe beings began leaping out of them, wearing weird, form-fitting armor and carrying space-age guns and swords or axes. Their armor and long hair was a riot of colors that was reflected by the snow and ice. Wild, ululating war cries pierced the air. And a savage, bloody battle began on her property. "Who the hell are they?" Ginny almost yelled in astonishment as she watched. They moved with inhuman grace and speed, the ones not wearing helmets revealing long, beautiful facial features that were often frightening because of the wrath they displayed. The helmets were all tall and peaked, showing fearsome designs and glowing eyes. Weird runes pulsed and throbbed with light all over their armor. Guns hissed and shrieked while swords hummed as they slew. "My elves," Santa said, clearly pleased and also eager to fight but not willing to leave her side yet. "They got my call and converged on my position." "Those are elves?" she exclaimed in amazement. "Aren't they cutesy little toy-shop people?" "Cute myth, but no, not these ones," he replied, watching as several elves wearing bone-white armor with feminine features raced past, throwing themselves into a knot of the hulking bugs. They screamed and the masks of their wild-maned helmets gave off vibrations that shook Ginny's teeth in her head as it melted their foes' faces off. "No, a lot of my elves are warriors, meant to help me fight Krampus. They keep Christmas safe with me." "What the hell are they wearing?" she asked in disbelief. How could this weird night get any weirder? Santa sighed. "Truth? They've been spending way too much time playing Warhammer 40k and they; appropriated armor, weapons and tactics from the Eldar faction. They're space elves." "Wow. Gay;" she muttered, shaking her head. "Well, they're certainly earning their keep tonight." He nodded. "Been a long time since Krampus moved against us this hard. Apparently he got bored and was feeling uppity. That or he just forgot what a good thrashing felt like." Ginny watched as three elves, clad in scary black armor and wearing helmets that looked like peaked skulls, marched relentlessly forward, firing little rockets from elaborate launchers they carried in their hands and on suspensor harnesses. The rockets punctured the bugs' chitin shells and exploded inside them, sending shards of exoskeleton and stinking goo in every direction. Ginny squeaked and hid behind Santa as some of the nasty effluence landed right where she'd been standing only a moment before. Beams of super-heated plasma and tiny, shuriken-like projectiles hissed and whizzed by them, the remains of her lovely house now the center of a battleground while the winter storm raged on. Warriors in green armor, carrying weapons that looked like a horrifying hybrid of sword and chainsaw, tore into a knot of foes, slicing them to bloody ribbons. As savage as the battle had been earlier, when it had just been her and Santa, she suddenly appreciated its relative civility. "They need my help," Santa said finally, cracking his knuckles, his expression grim. "We have to finish this off or Christmas won't come on time." "I thought you said there was plenty of time." Ginny protested, frowning up at him. "There was," he admitted. "But in order to defeat Krampus' minions, I summoned every single quantum iteration of myself back to here to help me fight. No one is delivering presents anywhere at the moment. I can't change real-time if I'm here in my entirety." He turned and looked at her. "Hopefully we're keeping them busy enough that they don't worry about you. Stay against the wall and work the music, will you?" "Manning the music station," she said, nodding, focusing on giving herself a task. "Music for Santa and his homicidal elves to kill by. Got it;" She watched as Santa leapt through the shattered remains of her bay doors into the howling storm and crashed into a knot of foes, savaging them. She watched in disbelief for some time, trying to figure out how Santa could kill anyone. I mean, even serial murderers got presents in prison, didn't they? Maybe they didn't, she had no way of knowing and chalked up thinking about this to what could only be described as the weirdest night of her life. She squealed and dodged out of the way as a body came flying through the doors and landed next to her. She scrambled over to the entertainment center and stood in front of it, trying to figure out what the hell she should play. "Okay;" she breathed, trying to focus. "Mass slaughter music; mass slaughter music;" What constituted mass slaughter music? Death metal? Panic At The Disco? Teletubbies music? She had no playlists, so she began cycling through the radio, hoping to find anything that might suffice. Oldies; Christmas music; hip-hop; trance; disco; "Son of a fuck," she muttered. "This is harder than it looks." She finally came across a station playing 'Jailhouse Rock' and decided that was good enough, she was sick of looking. She winced, trying to ignore another splintering crash as a body came through her wall. She hugged herself but then felt her robe. She frowned as she looked down at it, realizing it had been thoroughly shredded in the fight earlier. Those shuriken-thingies had been cutting it real close. Ginny grumbled as she pulled it off and threw it away, standing there completely naked, it hadn't been keeping her warm in its current condition and she was thoroughly beyond giving a shit at this point about who saw her naked. They were all too damn busy tearing one another apart anyway. And that sort of pissed her off. She was buck-naked and no one seemed to care. She'd shaved her cunt for this? "And I thought my night sucked before," she sighed to no one in particular. "Not getting my cunt pounded had been my biggest complaint before this hack!" She never saw the menacing shadow that had slipped up behind her. Santa picked one of his foes up overhead and hurled him into a cluster of foes, bowling them all over. He then punched another man as he tried to run by, knocking him off his feet and into his back. A quick stamp on his solar plexus made sure he stopped moving. The huge man thrust his fist in the air and shouted loudly. "Clear!" he thundered, indicating no other enemies surrounded him. His elves responded in kind, many of them gathering in a tight ring about him, weapons facing out as they sought to protect him. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn across the landscape, some burning from plasma blasts, other shredded and blown apart by rockets or sliced into bloody jerky. The storm seemed to be abating, no longer a blizzard so much as a stiff wind and swirls of snow. "Sire, we detect no enemies in the immediate vicinity," one elf wearing blue armor with a tall, crested helmet announced, striding up and saluting by thumping his gauntleted fist over his heart. "This attack has been defeated." "Maybe," Santa said, looking around warily. "But that doesn't mean anything just yet. We have to secure the area, make sure Virginia is alright and then get back to” "Kringle!" "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I thought this was too easy." He made several complex gestures, sending his elves fanning out in a wide arc as he began trudging forward through the snow, heading toward where the voice had come from out of the night. The winds and squalls of snow continued to die down until there was an almost deafening silence, the moon shining brightly overhead and revealing the sheer carnage of the battle that had been waged, the snow and ice glittered with frozen blood. "Kringle!" snarled the inhuman voice angrily. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Santa said loudly, scowling. "Don't get your panties in a bunch!" He stopped in a clearing on the other side of the house, glowering at who confronted him, the beast was not as tall as he was, nor as muscular, but horrifying in aspect. The backward-jointed, hairy legs ended in wicked hooves. The skin not covered in coarse black fur was almost as dark and criss-crossed with innumerable scars. The vascular chest was crowned with a strong neck and sitting atop it was a blasphemous head, a demonic goat's visage from which grew four evil, twisting horns. The red eyes blazed like wrathful coals and sharp teeth glistened wetly inside the hateful mouth. Krampus. And in one of his powerful, clawed hands, he held Virginia by the neck, who looked like a rag doll. "Hi, Santa;" she said weakly, looking very apologetic. Santa kept walking forward, clenching his fists. "By all means, Kringle, keep coming forward if you mean to slay the child." Krampus growled, starting to squeeze and causing Ginny to shudder in fear. Santa stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His elves had now cast a tight net around the scene, hemming in Krampus. One circle of warriors faced inward, pointing their weapons at the abomination while another behind them faced out, prepared for any further attacks. Santa didn't move. "Let the girl go, Krampus," he said levelly. "This doesn't concern her." "Oh, I beg to differ," said the beastman in an almost non-chalant tone. "It's always about the children, isn't it?" "Hey!" said Ginny angrily. "I am not a child, jerk! I'm twenty, Gurr!" "Oh, do stop talking, you're such an annoyance." Krampus said, giving her neck another warning squeeze. "Let the adults work this out." "There's nothing to work out, Krampus," Santa growled, his blue eyes flashing. "You'll let the girl go." "I think we both know that's not happening," intoned the vile intruder. "She is my victory over you, and you know it. Revenge is not only a dish best served cold but often. And not often enough for me." "About this cold revenge dish thing," Ginny said, squirming slightly. "Couldn't; couldn't I just find you a nice tin can to chew on instead?" "Shut up, girl!" Krampus said harshly while several elves could be heard to chuckle and even Santa smirked at her jest. "I hold your life in my hands, to dispose of as I please." His foul breath crackled in the cold night air. His touch was uncomfortably warm, almost hot and strangely kept her body from freezing in the winter night. His touch felt evil and her skin crawled in revulsion. His strength was terrifying. "It wasn't enough that I slaved in coal mines for you, giving you carbon lumps to deliver to naughty children," Krampus growled, glaring at Santa. "It wasn't enough that I found the worst of them and brought them to you in the night so you could lecture them." "Hey, nobody asked you or ordered you to do the coal thing, pal," Santa said angrily. "And the whole kidnapping kids thing was your idea. I decided to let you have some creative control and look what happened. When it didn't work out, you decided that beating naughty kids with reeds was the answer. You're damn right that wasn't good enough!" "Silence!" Krampus snarled loudly, stamping one of his clawed hooves and making the ground shake dangerously. "Your kind-hearted foolishness with these puny mortals changed nothing about their behavior! Your failure to recognize their inherent selfishness was why our efforts were doomed!" "These puny mortals?" Santa countered. "You used to be one of them, Pete, remember? You were a well-behaved boy once." "Shut up!" growled Krampus. "Well-behaved, but not good," Santa continued. "You followed the rules and wanted everyone to follow rules. You were a control freak. I brought you north to show you what kindness could do, but you hated the cheer and the happiness and you fled to the coal mines in Greenland, hiding in the dark where the light of Christmas couldn't touch you! And when making kids feel bad with coal didn't bring them into line, you started the whole whipping them with reeds thing. Good job there, Pete!" "I'm warning you, Kringle;" Krampus said dangerously. "Oh, he really gets your goat, doesn't he?" Ginny sneered, causing several elves to laugh loudly. Krampus now snarled furiously and lifted her into the air by her neck, causing her to cry out in pain. Santa watched warily, knowing better than to make a move. "We seem to have an impasse," Krampus said, an evil smile playing over his slavering mouth. "You cannot harm me, because you know I can slay the child, but I cannot as yet slay her because she is my bargaining chip. But my need to hurt you, old man, is so very strong." He lowered Ginny down until her feet were just touching the snow-covered ground. She frowned as she heard a wet slithering sound she could not identify. "And there are other ways to hurt you than slaying the poor dear, aren't there?" Ginny felt something slimy touch her leg and then start to crawl up it, wrapping around her smooth skin. She shuddered and squirmed in horror as she realized exactly what was happening. The snake-like appendage wound up her thigh and then behind her. She gasped as it slid between her ass cheeks and then underneath to her cunt. She felt the blunt head split her lips and then move upward again. "Don't do this, Krampus." Santa said, trying to figure out what to do without hurting Ginny. "And why not?" replied the qliphotic abomination. "Don't you have a present for me? Then I guess I'll have to give myself one." Krampus' organ continued to slither its way around her body, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. She stiffened and moaned as his appendage wrapped around her tits, squeezing them, the head pausing and teasing the nipples. "Hey, asshole, dinner and a movie first!" she spat angrily. Ginny was about to say something else when the large, grayish cockhead snaked up in front of her face and then plunged into her mouth, causing her to gag and go silent. Her eyes widened and she thrashed furiously, but to no avail. He was simply too strong. "Language, young lady." Krampus chided, still staring at Santa. "Hasn't Santa taught you anything?" "This isn't gonna end well for you, Pete." Santa said, his tone dire. "Christmas never does, Kringle," replied the demon, his cock sliding in and out of Ginny's mouth. "I'm just hoping to make the holiday every bit as awful and intolerable for you as it is for me. After all, misery loves company." He brought her body close to his head and his other hand reached over and stroked her cunt lips, which were glistening. He leered at his foe, knowing Santa was helpless to get closer. "Is she good down here?" Krampus said mockingly. "Nice and wet and tight for you? Was she the best one ever, in the endless list of good girls you have fucked?" Santa said nothing, just glaring at Krampus. His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. "Sharing your toys is the spirit of Christmas, isn't it?" Krampus said evilly, finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. Ginny coughed and sputtered, tendrils of resinous spittle and worse trailing away from her lips. She glared at Krampus but was still immobilized. "Just get this over with and fuck me already, whip-cock," she spat. "You won't be my first egotistical disappointment, trust me." Krampus' eyes blazed red and his tongue sped around her naked form blindingly quickly while he released her from his clawed grip. The tongue wrapped and immobilized her arms, holding them out straight while still encircling her tits. It then snaked around her waist and legs, pinning those as well while his long cock, swaying about like a cobra, came to a stop in front of her swollen cunt lips. The head teased and tapped against the opening, causing her to moan and squirm. "As you wish, child;" The head forced itself through her lips, sliding deep inside her. Ginny cried out in a mixture of shock and indescribable pleasure. She felt the tip of his pointed tongue probe trailing around her nipples. The python-like length of his cock churned inside her cunt. The blinding light behind her eyes finally receded and she lifted her head, looking out into the night, feeling his tongue constricting around her neck. She could dimly see a huge being in red pants and black boots watching nearby, his powerful chest exposed. The startling blue eyes flashed in the darkness of the night. She could tell he wanted to rescue her but didn't dare come closer. She gasped and shuddered as Krampus' cock pushed still deeper inside her. She felt fuller than she had imagined possible, the slithering appendage stretching her wide. The sticky, squelching noises were hardly to be believed. "Ew, gross! Hentai noises!" she thought in revulsion. "Krampus;" Santa warned. His elves all pointed their weapons menacingly but he held up his hand, staying them. "The child is naughty," Krampus said, smiling through pointed teeth. "Very naughty. Such a sordid past." "Hey, back off, she was young and needed the money!" Santa snapped defensively. "That thing with the midget and the donkey was” "You're not helping here!" Ginny shouted, blushing furiously, even as Krampus violated her. "Wicked child," growled the vile demon, shoving his cock in and out of her, the peristaltic actions of its length causing her to writhe and squirm in his grip, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Shameless. Even though I violate her, she finds a way to be concerned about how you perceive her. I find it; titillating." "Oh, do I make you horny?" she sneered, turning her head to smirk at him. "Couldn't tell, looking at that head of yours." "Silence!" Krampus hissed, spittle flying from his jaws, his eyes flashing angrily. "I hold your life and death in my hands." "How would I know?" she shot back. "Hope you're better with your hands than you are with your cock, Billy G." He plunged his cock deeper still inside her. She went rigid and cried out. "That all you got?" she rasped, trying not to faint as she felt popping inside her hips while he stetched her. "My brother got in deeper than that when we were little!" "Insolent!" Krampus snarled savagely, bouncing her up and down and he fucked her harder than ever, pulling on her arms and legs, stretching her joints til they creaked. She felt a deep, wet heat building inside her and in spite of the horror she consciously felt about the situation, even more dire was her need to cum. She felt her cunt squeezing around his cock. His snake-like tongue probed her ass and wriggled inside, further adding to her desperation. "Intholent bith, you will be punithed!" "What was that?" Santa asked, turning his head slightly and putting his hand to his ear. "I couldn't understand you, it's like you have a lisp or something." "Don't mock meef!" Krampus said angrily, his tongue whipping out of Ginny's ass, causing her to yelp suddenly. "I'll kill her, Kringle!" "Not before I cum, damn you!" Ginny panted, her body flushed and covered in sweat as she twisted and writhed in his grip. "Uh, so close, goddammit!" "Language!" Santa and Krampus both snapped at her. "Aw, c'mon!" she wailed. "You two are total pains in the ass! Do it, Billy! Show me what a bad boy you are!" Krampus glared at her and began fucking her harder than ever. "As you wish, child!" "Krampus!" Santa shouted, reaching out his hand in alarm. "Don't!" Krampus grinned evilly at Santa, his teeth clenching as he drew close to climax. His cock seemed to swell along its length, stretching her wider still. She threw her head back and gritted her teeth, straining as she was overwhelmed by sensation; Santa's fist slammed across Krampus' jaw with a powerful crack. The demonoid's eyes rolled into his head and he crumpled to the ground. Ginny wailed in frustration as his cock pulled out of her and retreated back to his body, like a wet, slimy Stanley tape measure. She collapsed to her hands and knees in the snow, panting and shaking, her eyes wide. Santa raced up and knelt next to her, his eyes shining with concern. "Fuck;" Ginny whispered, gasping for air. "Motherfucker;" She looked up at her rescuer now, her eyes flashing accusingly. "The hell? Couldn't you have let him make me cum first?" Santa paused. "What?" "I was so damn close!" she hissed, standing up and stamping her foot. "I was within half a second of the orgasm of my life and you had to choose that moment to intervene and play the hero! Don't expect a thank you card!" "Uh, Virginia," Santa said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say. "If he had brought you to orgasm, it would have killed you. When Krampus climaxes, his appendage you were so attached to bursts into spikes, basically killing you from the inside while denying you your orgasm." She paused and then deflated. "Holy cobra dildos. What a bastard." Ginny then pointed a finger at her savior. "But you still owe me an orgasm, then, pal. You may have rescued me from certain death, but that doesn't mean I don't need relief." Santa looked really confused. "What, here? Now?" "Damn straight," she said firmly, suddenly remembering she was buck naked in a snow-storm. In spite of the no-doubt freezing weather, her body was still warm and very wet with need. She put her hand down her cunt and felt around for a moment before presenting her sticky palm and fingers to Santa for inspection. "Do I look satisfied to you? You've already fucked me, Screamo the Goat Boy just fucked me, who cares if your freaky gay elves watch us? I need satisfaction now and I already am aware that you can't say no." Santa sighed. "It's gotta be quick, Virginia. I'm really behind, now that I'm completely temporal in one location." "Whatever, just get me to the promised land, man." Ginny replied, shrugging. "Who knows, maybe your entourage might enjoy a show." "Oh, right, about that," Santa said, standing up tall and shouting loudly. "About; Face!" As a single unit, the elves all turned around smartly on their heels, still arranged in a protective ring around their liege and his companion, weapons ready as they scanned the darkness for trouble, their eyes glowing menacingly inside their helmets. Santa strode up to Ginny, towering over her and ignoring the prostrate form of the still-unconscious Krampus, snuffling nearby. She smiled up at him, somehow warmed by his presence, in spite of the icy night she should have frozen to death in already. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth as she felt her already molten core getting even more heated in response to his touch. Tongues tangled and played as he took her ass cheeks in his hands and squeezed them, making her shiver. Ginny's hands fumbled with his large black belt until it fell away and then pulled down his red pants. He pulled her onto his powerful thighs, resting her on them. She hooked her legs behind his waist and began grinding her wet, eager cunt against his hardening cock, which swelled readily. Her head was almost spinning, she was so horny. "Hmm, give it to me, baby," she purred, feeling the head of his cock touch her cunt lips. "Make me cum hard and fast." She sighed loudly as he pulled her close, penetrating and sliding deep inside her. Ginny moaned shamelessly as Santa once again began to pump back and forth inside her. His huge cock stretched her cunt wide, but not in the violent, violating way Krampus did. This felt warm and utterly perfect. She nipped at the skin of his chest while he moved in and out of her. "Yes," Ginny breathed as he began to moved faster, pumping strongly and rhythmically. She could feel her wetness trickling down between her cheeks, her cunt clutching at him hungrily, greedily and unwilling to let go until it was somehow sated. "Oh, God, just what I needed. Yes, fuck me, Santa!" He gripped her tight and thrust into her, picking up his pace just the way she wanted. She was gasping and yelping now and he squeezed her cheeks, one of his fingers poking inside her puckered knot. She clenched her teeth and groaned at the intrusion, murmuring that she loved it. She grew warmer and warmer, her body tingling with an exquisite fire that rippled out from her core. Santa turned her around and set her feet on top of his boots, bending her forward and pulling on her arms. She cried out as he fucked her harder, his hips thumping against her ass cheeks. Her hands clenched wildly, her breath coming in gasps as his overwhelming strength dominated her. "Oh, God!" she panted, beginning to shudder uncontrollably, almost drooling. "Uh, cum in me, dammit! Fucking cum in me!" Santa pulled on her arms even tighter as his thighs slammed into her. Ginny strained, craning her neck, teeth clenched as she tried not to scream, but it was no use, she wailed loudly as he came inside her, filling her once again in a way she could not describe. Her orgasm shook every last atom of her being, transporting her to a world of nothing but pleasure, edged with mint. She buckled, hanging loosely in his arms, exhausted. She'd been fucked hard at least five times tonight and had a dreadful suspicion that this experience would only make her libido even more hyperactive. She sighed as Santa scooped her naked form into his arms and cuddled her against the cold. Ginny purred and traced a fingernail across his broad chest. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Just what the doctor ordered. That quenched the flames, for now." He finally put her down and she looked at the remains of her ruined chateau, which was completely leveled and now on fire. "Poor Oatmeal," she murmured. "Where am I going to live?" She scowled down at the still supine Krampus, anger flaring in her. "It's this jack wagon’s fault. You should totally napalm his face." Santa looked down at her in shock. "Did you just say I should jerk off in Krampus' face?" "Damn right, he'd deserve it too." Ginny announced. "That and shove your sleigh up his ass." "I am not jizzing in Krampus' face." Santa said, clearly repulsed by the suggestion. "Fine, leave a woman to do a man's job," Ginny said testily, striding over to Krampus and putting one leg on either side of his head. She stuck three fingers inside her cunt and managed to tease out considerable amounts of Santa's minty cum, which she smeared all over Krampus' face and into his fur with glee, even giving him a glistening white moustache. "Take that, asshole!" She looked like she might have been done desecrating the unconscious form, but then she paused and squatted over him, peeing on his body and face, the stream steaming in the cold night air. She grinned evilly as she thoroughly baptized him. "Teach you to mess with me." Ginny muttered as she walked back to Santa, nodding. The huge man had a wide smirk on his face and shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you just pissed all over Krampus," he said, hugging her to him. "However, you're going to freeze to death at this rate;" He held out his hand and one of his elves dutifully brought him a large, velvety red cloak, which he wrapped around her. She blushed and smiled gratefully at his consideration, but only until he slid it off her, revealing that she was now wearing some ridiculous 'Hot Christmas Elf' outfit, complete with striped stockings and high heels. She looked like a Yule whore. "Seriously?" she asked, unimpressed. "This is your solution to my naked issues?" He shrugged. "I liked you better naked, but you would freeze quickly." "Whatever," she sighed, looking down and appreciating the considerable lift it gave her cleavage. It was incredibly warm, in spite of how scant it was. "So now what? I still have no damn home, you and Goatse here blew it up with your little barnyard brawl." Santa looked around warily. "That might be the least of your worries. The wind's picking up again, which means that another assault is coming. We need to get out of here." "Sire!" said one of the armored elves, thumping his fist to his breastplate and bowing his head. "We will cover you. You must go while you still have a head-start and the dark one is unconscious." Santa nodded. "Yeah, he's not gonna be happy when he wakes up and he's really gonna want revenge on you, Virginia." She felt her mouth go dry at the notion of another battle and Krampus waking up to even the score. "So; now what?" Santa shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly obvious. I've still got to make my rounds before the night is over and I'm not leaving you here;" She gaped as he put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Virginia, you're coming with me and you're going to help save Christmas." Chapter 3, Christmas Wishes "How the hell do you drive this thing?" Ginny called in a panic, her eyes wide as she held onto the reigns, twisting them wildly as she tried to steer. Up ahead of her, eight large reindeer squealed and thrashed their heads. The sleigh corkscrewed while it hurtled through the cold night air, the moon shining down on them. "Well, first of all, stop panicking," Santa replied as he stood on the back of the sleigh, atop his huge red sack of toys. He was more or less back to his original size she had become accustomed to, now that he had sent his other 'iterations' of himself out over the globe to deliver presents. "That would be an excellent start." "Easy for you to say," she snapped, scowling back at him for a moment since taking her eyes off her designated path seemed to make no difference to how she was doing at navigating. "You're used to doing this!" "Trust me, between the two of us, you're the one with the easy job right now and I'd be happy to trade," he called back as he ducked wildly. A comically large rocket thundered by, with an evil-looking man strapped to the bottom of it, swinging a weapon wildly to hit Santa. "Try to keep her steady!" "While dodging psychos on rockets, no problem!" she grumbled, trying to ignore the howling wind and roaring projectiles. "Have I mentioned Krampus is a gigantic asshole?" "Repeatedly," Santa answered, watching warily. The sky was threaded with jets of fire as their enemies kept coming about in ponderous, elliptical arcs and heading back towards them, intent on their destruction. They had only just pulled off from the smoldering remains of Ginny's country chateau when the assault began. Krampus was nowhere to be seen, but his minions were clearly determined to avenge him. "Maybe urinating on him wasn't such a good idea. He never did take humiliation well." Ginny squawked in alarm and ducked as a rocket streaked right at her. Santa jumped in the air, doing the splits to avoid the projectile and landing back on top of his present sack. Another tried to pull up alongside them but Santa grabbed the harness the man was wearing and wrenched the rocket off course, sending it speeding into one some distance away. Both rockets (and presumably their pilots) exploded in a violent orgy of noise and flashing lights. "Really hope people just think those are fireworks," Santa muttered as he looked glared balefully at yet another rocket considering approaching. "Fireworks right in the middle of the world's most spastic meteor shower. Sure, they'll buy that;" "Funny part is I can't tell if you're serious," Ginny said loudly. "If they don't believe that narrative, then they've gotta accept that Santa Claus was engaged in an epic air battle over their town with quantum men strapped to rockets." "Truth is often stranger than fiction," Santa agreed, nodding. "Fighting these jerks off is taking too much time!" "Well, don't you have anything in your back of tricks there?" Ginny asked. In spite of the sleigh being open, it seemed to have some weird form of climate control and she'd been getting rather warm. To that end she'd pulled down her top, exposing her tits to cool herself off. The breeze allowed through made her nipples tingle delightfully, but not enough to distract her from driving the sleigh. After all, she often drove ninety minutes to her job wearing a vibrating insert in her panties, so she knew for a fact she could orgasm and still control a vehicle. A wheeled one, at least. She wasn't so sure about a sleigh doing Mach Three at twenty thousand feet. "You mean a weapon?" Santa asked. "In the bag full of toys for kids?" "You gave me a nerf gun out of that bag and it turned out to be some sort of doomsday device, didn't it?" she pointed out. "Scary lightning bolts everywhere. I refuse to believe you don't have some other goodies in there." Santa shrugged and squatted down to look inside the bag, getting narrowly missed by another rocket that shot over his head. The pilot cursed and came around again, aiming directly at the chassis of the sleigh from the side. Ginny's eyes widened in fright as she saw him approach. She jerked the reins to one side and the sleigh tilted ninety degrees, presenting its wide, flat red underside. The rocket slammed into it and exploded. Whatever it was made of or whatever shielding was in place, Ginny only heard the detonation and felt a rumble, but there was no damage aside from that. "Ha!" Santa said, standing tall and holding an electric guitar in the air, its black body gleamed in the moonlight. He put the strap around his neck and took several seconds to tune it, ignoring the aerial mayhem that swirled around him. "The hell are you going to do with that?" Ginny asked, scowling as she looked behind to see what he was up to. "You said to find something, I found something," he said simply as he checked the pickups. "Now let's see what we can do here;" He took the pick in hand and strummed it across the strings, a screeching pulse of sound blared out from the instrument, heading in all directions. It struck several rockets nearby, which exploded brightly. Other were knocked off course, spiraling around crazily as they fought for control. Santa laughed loudly, apparently enjoying himself. "Quit laughing and kill, red man!" Ginny yelled, nonplussed by his amusement. "I want to survive the night and I've had several close calls with death already!" "I'm working on it, Virginia, patience." Santa chided, adjusting the tuners momentarily. "Near-death experiences make you cranky." "No shit, Sherlock," she grumbled as he blasted out another screeching wave of sound. "Do you plan to play anything or just keep shrieking out that one sound?" "As you wish," he said cheerfully, pleased to be doing as she asked. Making her happy was all he cared about. He began playing a heavy metal version of Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries', the pulsing walls of sound thundering out and striking every foe within hundreds of

We're talking about Airbnb. What is Airbnb? Well, Airbnb is an online community marketplace for holiday rentals. It connects people with rooms to share with people who need a place to stay.我们今天要谈的是 Airbnb。什么是 Airbnb？嗯，Airbnb 是一个线上社区型的短租市场平台。它把有空房可分享的人与需要住宿的人连接起来。Right, so Airbnb has really taken off recently, hasn't it? Yes. June 2015, the company was priced at $25.5 billion. Wow.是的，Airbnb 最近真的发展得很快，不是吗？是的。2015 年 6 月，这家公司估值达到 255 亿美元。哇。I know, and ranked the third most valuable start-up business in the world. Hmm, so how many properties do they have on their books then?我知道，它被评为全球第三有价值的创业公司。嗯，那他们的平台上到底有多少房源呢？Over 2 million listings, Richard, in more than 190 countries. So it's truly worldwide.超过 200 万条房源，Richard，分布在 190 多个国家。可以说是真正的全球化。Yeah, over 65 million people have used it already. And counting. Exactly.是的，已有超过 6500 万人使用过它，而且数字还在持续上涨。确实如此。And it's mainly in cities, isn't it? And I think it's come up with a few problems though recently.而且它主要集中在城市，对吧？不过我觉得最近也出现了一些问题。Yeah. For this podcast, we're going to look at some concerns that city authorities have on the Airbnb business.是的。今天的播客里，我们会探讨一些城市管理当局对 Airbnb 所提出的担忧。I can imagine the first one is a lot of these people renting out their rooms. They're not declaring their tax, are they?我可以想象，第一个问题就是很多人把房间出租出去，但并没有申报纳税，对吧？Yeah, the illegality issue, of course, is probably number one. Landlords don't always register their property or pay taxes on their income.是的，违法问题当然是首要的。房东并不总是登记他们的房产，也不一定会为他们的租金收入缴税。In New York, it's illegal to sublet a room for fewer than 30 days if you aren't actually living there. But, of course, people will though, won't they?在纽约，如果房东本人不住在房子里，那么把房间出租少于 30 天是违法的。但当然，人们还是会这么做，对吧？Yeah, and in Barcelona, any flat rented to tourists must be registered with the Catalan Tourist Board. And local laws also prohibit renting out rooms in private residencies.是的，而在巴塞罗那，任何出租给游客的公寓都必须向加泰罗尼亚旅游局登记。此外，当地法律也禁止在私人住所中出租房间。Hmm, I think that's the big thing, isn't it?嗯，我想这就是最大的问题，对吧？Yeah, that's not happening either. So, the city recently fined Airbnb 30,000 euros because the properties listed were not legal.是的，但这些规定也没有真正落实。所以，这座城市最近对 Airbnb 罚款了 3 万欧元，因为平台上列出的许多房源都是违法的。Hmm. Another problem, Richard, that cities have, as a result of Airbnb's popularity, there are fewer rental properties for local people and rates have increased.嗯。Richard，另一个问题是，因 Airbnb 的流行，当地居民可租的房源变少，租金也上涨了。So that the local people are getting priced out of the market.导致当地人被迫离开原本能负担得起的社区。Yeah, landlords have quickly realised that they can make more money by renting their apartments to tourists.是的，房东很快意识到，把房子租给游客可以赚更多钱。Short-term rather than the long-term, Brett.相比长期租客，短租更赚钱，Brett。Exactly, exactly. So, many urban neighbourhoods, for example, New Orleans, right, they have become fun, cheap places to stay in if you're a tourist, but an unaffordable area for people who used to live there.完全正确。例如许多城市社区，比如新奥尔良，已经变成游客觉得好玩又便宜的住宿地，但对于原本住在那里的人来说却变得负担不起。Hmm. So, what are cities doing about that then?嗯。那么城市在对此采取什么措施呢？Well, good question. Another city, Berlin, they reckon that private online bookings represent an additional 6.1 million overnight stays a year.好问题。以柏林为例，他们估计私人在线预订每年增加 610 万个过夜量。Wow.哇。So, in an effort to keep housing affordable for local people, the city has passed a new law. Landlords are now limited to renting out only rooms.因此，为了保持住房对当地居民的可负担性，这座城市通过了新法令。房东现在只能出租单个房间。It's no longer possible for landlords to rent out whole apartments.房东不再能出租整套公寓。Well, let's see if that makes a difference then.好吧，那就看看这会不会带来改变。Right, so all these people coming into the city, it must put a lot of pressure on the infrastructure as well.是的，这么多人涌进城市，也必然给基础设施带来很大压力。Another good point, Richard. If you take Iceland, it's only got a population of 335,000, right?你提得很好，Richard。以冰岛为例，它的人口只有 33.5 万，对吧？Most of them in Reykjavik, yes, the capital.大多数集中在雷克雅未克，也就是首都。Exactly. Now, 2016 saw 1.6 million tourists.没错。而在 2016 年，冰岛接待了 160 万名游客。Wow, that's a lot of people descending on a small town.哇，那对这么小的城市来说实在太多人了。Yeah, and unsurprisingly, the number of Airbnb properties has risen, especially in the capital, Reykjavik, where most tourists stay.是的，不意外地，Airbnb 的房源也大幅增加，特别是在游客最集中的雷克雅未克。So, what's the problem there then?那那里出现了什么问题呢？Well, the Icelandic Tourist Board doesn't want Reykjavik to become a city centre devoid of citizens, right?冰岛旅游局不希望雷克雅未克的市中心变成没有居民的地方，对吧？And also, the lack of infrastructure on the island is a concern, particularly lack of public toilets and parking facilities and things like that.此外，岛上的基础设施不足也是个问题，尤其是缺乏公共厕所、停车设施等。So, what are they doing about it then?那他们对此采取什么措施呢？Now, a special licence is needed for any apartment rented out for more than 90 days a year, and these are going to be tightly controlled.现在，凡是一年出租超过 90 天的公寓，都必须取得特别许可证，而且管控会非常严格。Interestingly though, if you have a flat in an apartment block and you want to rent out the flat or a room there, you have to have approval from the other residents in the building before you can advertise on Airbnb.有趣的是，如果你住在一栋公寓楼里，想把整间或部分房间出租，你必须先得到楼里其他住户的同意，才能在 Airbnb 上挂牌。Yes, I'm sure that might lead to a few problems with your neighbours.是的，这肯定会引起邻居之间的一些矛盾。Well, the neighbours get fed up because someone rents out their apartment to a whole load of people who have a big party and there's nothing you can do about it. They suffer from the noise and their neighbour gets all the cash.邻居们会非常不满，因为有人把房子租给大群人，举办派对，而他们对此无能为力。他们要承受噪音，而房东却拿走所有的钱。So, what about you, the listener? What's your experience of Airbnb? Have you used it? Has it been a positive experience or a negative experience? We'd love to hear from you.那么你呢？我们的听众，你对 Airbnb 有什么经验？你用过吗？是正面的体验还是负面的？我们很想听听你的故事。

This week on the Unsupervised Learning Podcast, Razib talks to returning guest Alex Young of UCLA and Herasight. Trained originally as a mathematician, Young studied statistics and computational biology at the University of Cambridge before doing a doctorate in genomic medicine and statistics at the Wellcome Trust Centre for Human Genetics, University of Oxford, under Peter Donnelly. He also worked at deCODE Genetics in Reykjavik and at Oxford with Augustine Kong, developing methods in quantitative and population genetics. Razib and Young talk extensively about what we know about heritability and genomics in 2025, four years after their first conversation. In particular, they discuss what larger sample sizes, high-density genotype-arrays and whole-genome sequencing have told us about heritability and the ability to predict traits in individuals from their sequence. They discuss quantitative and behavioral traits like height, intelligence and risk of autism, and the differences between classical statistical genetical methods utilizing twins and modern molecular genomic techniques that attempt to fix specific physical markers as causal factors in characteristics of interest. In addition to his academic work, Young has also been consulting for the polygenic embryo-screening company Herasight, working on cutting-edge methods for genomic prediction in the context of in vitro fertilization. They dig deep into the new method Young and colleagues worked on that helps democratize embryo selection using genomics, ImputePGTA.

Nieuw atelier, nieuw ingericht, een nieuwe paspop, de nieuwsbrief is nieuw leven ingeblazen. Nieuwtjes over ambasadeursschap, Geja voor de Paarse sokken en Marleen voor @Toupim.Verder vertellen Marleen en Geja over de Handwerkbeurs in Groningen waar veel bezoekers nieuwe technieken ontdekken. Nieuw garen in het assortiment en natuurlijk de agenda!Handwerkgroepen:Doorhalen: https://www.instagram.com/door_halen/Patronen:Swinging Patronen van Karosa Design: https://karosadesign.nlSint Slinger haken: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/sinterklaas-slingerSuus breipatroon van Zij Maakt Het: https://zijmaakthet.com/?product=patroon-karel-en-suusjeTeti's Knit Garden: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/sources/tetis-knit-garden-on-ravelryHeimathafen van Isabell Kreamer: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/heimathafenHouses of Reykjavik van Stephen West: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/houses-of-reykjavik-shawlElke truitje:https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/whimsy-fancyQueen Tinna: https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/queen-calWol:Tante Tuttebol Hiro Katia: https://tantetuttebol.nl/assortiment/wol-en-garen/katia/Witte Tesselaar: https://www.draadkracht.nu/webshop/ongeverfd-garen/detail/884/de-witte-tesselaar---wol-van-texelse-schapen.htmlDe Ullstee: https://deullstee.nlAGENDA7 december Amerikaans/Canadees Wolreis (besloten)13 december wolverven in nieuwe atelier14 december doorhalen in de Dakkas16 december borduren met Cecile18 december workshop wolverven (besloten)20 december wolverven (aanmelden nog mogelijk)DRAADKRACHTIGE CONTACTENSocialsWebsite DraadkrachtFacebook DraadkrachtInstagram @draadkrachtDoorhalen: https://www.instagram.com/door_halen/Team Draadkracht op Instagram:Geja: @gejamMeneer Draadkracht: @meneerdraadkrachtLeny: @eersellenyvanMarleen: @marleenmjansenCecille: @cecille1966Youtube Video'sZelf   WolvervenLink naar: ALLE BOXENLink naar: ALLE WORKSHOPS

In this episode, we dive into why sound is the next big leap for AI in industry. I share insights from recent events, including the SPS exhibition and Europe's AI scene, and discuss why edge AI is outpacing the cloud on the shop floor. Then, I sit down with Dr. Finnur Pind from Treble Technologies to explore how synthetic sound data is powering smarter machines—from voice recognition in cars to giving robots a sense of hearing. You'll hear how simulating sound opens up new possibilities for robotics and spatial awareness, and why industries are racing to make AI models that can truly listen. We also touch on the unique AI startup scene in Reykjavik, the challenges of accurate sound modeling, and what the future holds for audio-driven innovation. Join us to discover why the future of industrial AI might just depend on what machines can hear.

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

Ladda hem Aidas julpyssel-kalender! I dagens adventsavsnitt får vi höra den magiska och juliga sagan "Den försvunna Julstenen", önskad av Märta, 11 år från Reykjavik.Märta och hennes bror Nils bor på Island och vakar över den skimrande Jóla-stenen – den som lyser upp vintermörkret och kallar på de 13 isländska jultomtarna. Men på första advent har ett elakt Frost-troll stulit stenen! Nu måste syskonen, med hjälp av en klok snöuggla, leta tre magiska ingredienser från jordens alla hörn innan midnatt så att julens magi inte går förlorad. Det blir en isande och hisnande jakt efter vänskap, mod och julens största mirakel.I avsnittet lär du dig också allt om Islands 13 busiga jultomtar – från Korvsnattaren och Skedslickaren till jätten Grýla och varför potatis kan vara årets julklapp i isländska skor. En riktig äventyrsstund där julstämning och upptäckarfest möts!Stötta podden och få tillgång till nya sagor! Gå med i Magiska Godnattsagor-klubben!Skicka in förslag på kommande sagor och julsagor via www.magiskagodnattsagor.seFölj oss på Facebook & InstagramSökord: magiska godnattsagor, godnattsaga, barn, läggdags, podcast för barn, barnlitteratur, ai, godnatt, advent, island, isländska jultomtar, jul, mysterium

Asta's film credits include: 101 Reykjavik, Undercurrent, Summerland, Kon-Tiki, The Ash Lad: In Search of the Golden Castle, The 12th Man, The Quake, The Good Heart, The Wave, Everybody Hates Johan, and Touch. Asta's television credits include: Lazy Town, Dag, Norsemen, Beforeigners, Welcome To Utmark, and King and Conqueror.

This is one in a series about possible futures, which will be published in Booch News over the coming weeks. Episode 7 appeared last week. New episodes drop every Friday. Overview Peer-to-peer flavor-sharing platforms enabled home brewers to distribute taste profiles as digital files. Blockchain-verified SCOBY genetics allowed anyone to recreate award-winning kombucha flavors. Traditional beverage companies lost control as open-source fermentation recipes spread globally. This episode follows teenage hacker Luna Reyes as she reverse-engineers Heineken’s proprietary “A-yeast” strain and the century-old master strain used for Budweiser, releasing them under Creative Commons license, triggering a flavor renaissance that made corporate beverages taste like cardboard by comparison. Luna Reyes: The Seventeen-Year-Old Who Liberated Flavor Luna Reyes was brewing kombucha in her Oakland garage when she changed the course of human history. The daughter of Mexican immigrants, she had learned fermentation from her grandmother while teaching herself bioinformatics through YouTube tutorials and volunteering at the Counter Culture Labs Maker Space on Shattuck Avenue. By fifteen, she was running the Bay Area’s most sophisticated home laboratory, utilizing jury-rigged DNA sequencers and microscopes constructed from smartphone cameras. Her breakthrough came in February 2043 while investigating why her kombucha never tasted quite like expensive craft varieties and was different again from her grandmother’s home brew. Using Crispr techniques learned from online forums, Luna began reverse-engineering the microbial genetics of premium alcoholic beverages. Her target wasn’t kombucha—it was the closely guarded yeast strains that gave corporate beers their distinctive flavors. Luna hunched over her microscope, examining bacterial cultures from her latest kombucha batch. Around her, salvaged DNA sequencers hummed, fermentation vessels bubbled, and computer screens displayed multi-hued patterns of genetic sequences. Her grandmother, Rosa, entered carrying a tray with three glasses of homemade kombucha. “Mija, you’ve been working for six hours straight. Drink something.” Luna accepted the glass without looking up. “Abuela, your kombucha tastes better than anything I can buy in stores and the ones I’ve experimented with. Why? I’m using the same base ingredients—tea, sugar, water—but mine never has this complexity.” Her grandmother laughed. “Because I’ve been feeding this SCOBY for forty years. It knows what to do. You can’t rush relationships.” Luna’s sister Maya, lounging against a workbench, waved her phone. “Luna, people have noticed your forum post about Health-Ade’s fermentation process. Someone says you’re wasting your time trying to replicate commercial kombuchas.” “I’m not trying to replicate them,” Luna said, finally looking up. “I’m trying to understand why their kombucha tastes different than that I make at home. It’s not the ingredients. It’s not the process. It’s the microbial genetics.” Rosa sat down beside her granddaughter. “When I was young in Oaxaca, every family had their own kombucha culture, passed down generation to generation. Each tasted different because the bacteria adapted to their environment, their ingredients, their care. We had a saying, Hay tantas fermentaciones en el mundo como estrellas en el cielo nocturno – there are as many ferments in the world as stars in the night sky. The big companies want every bottle to be identical. That kills what makes fermentation special.” “Exactly!” Luna pulled up genetic sequences on her screen. “I’ve been reverse-engineering samples from different commercial kombuchas. Health-Ade, GT’s, Brew Dr—they all have consistent microbial profiles.” The Great Heist: Cracking Corporate DNA Luna’s first major hack targeted Heineken’s legendary “A-yeast” strain, developed in 1886 by Dr. Hartog Elion—a student of renowned chemist Louis Pasteur—in the company’s Amsterdam laboratory and protected by over 150 years of trade secret law. Using samples obtained from discarded brewery waste (technically legal under the “garbage doctrine”), she spent six months mapping the strain’s complete genetic sequence in her makeshift lab. The breakthrough required extraordinary ingenuity. Luna couldn’t afford professional gene sequencers, so she modified a broken Illumina iSeq100 purchased on eBay for $200. Her sequencing runs took weeks rather than hours; her results were identical to those produced by million-dollar laboratory equipment. Her detailed laboratory notebooks, later published as The Garage Genomics Manifesto, became essential reading for the biotech hacker movement. The Budweiser project proved even more challenging. Anheuser-Busch’s century-old master strain had been protected by layers of corporate secrecy rivaling classified military programs. The company maintained multiple backup cultures in cryogenic facilities across three continents, never allowing complete genetic mapping by outside researchers. Luna’s success required infiltrating the company’s waste-disposal systems at four breweries, collecting samples over 18 months while evading corporate security. The Decision The night before Luna was scheduled to meet her fellow bio-hackers at Oakland’s Counter Culture Labs, she sat at her workstation, hesitant, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Her sister Maya came in, looking worried. “Luna, I found something you need to see,” she says. “Remember Marcus Park? He tried releasing proprietary yeast information in 2039. Heineken buried him. He lost everything. His daughter dropped out of college. His wife left him. He’s working at a gas station now.” Luna spent the night researching what happened to Park. She found that almost everyone who challenged corporate IP ended up on the losing side of the law. It was not pretty. In the morning, Abuela Rosa finds her crying in her room. “Mija, what’s wrong?” she asks. “Oh, Abuela,” Luna says between sobs. “What am I doing? What if I’m wrong? What if I destroy our family? What if this ruins Mom and Dad? What if I’m just being selfish?” “That’s the fear talking.” Her grandmother reassured her. “Fear is wisdom warning you to be careful. But fear can also be a cage.” That evening at the Counter Culture Labs, Luna assembled a small group of advisors. She needed their guidance. She had the completed genetic sequences for Heineken A-yeast and Budweiser’s master strain on her laptop, ready for release. But is this the time and place to release them to the world? Dr. Marcus Webb, a bioinformatics researcher in his forties and Luna’s mentor, examined her sequencing data. “This is solid work, Luna. Your jury-rigged equipment is crude. The results are accurate. You’ve fully mapped both strains.” “The question isn’t whether I can do it,” Luna said. “It’s whether I should let the world know I did it.” On screen, Cory Doctorow, the author and digital rights activist, leaned forward. “Let’s be clear about what you’re proposing. You’d be releasing genetic information that corporations have protected as trade secrets for over a century. They’ll argue you stole their intellectual property. You’ll face lawsuits, possibly criminal charges.” “Is it their property?” Luna challenged. “These are naturally occurring organisms. They didn’t create that yeast. Evolution did. They just happened to be there when it appeared. That does not make it theirs any more than finding a wildflower means they own the species. Can you really own something that existed before you found it?” Doctorow, the Electronic Frontier Foundation representative spoke up. “There’s legal precedent both ways. Diamond v. Chakrabarty established that genetically modified organisms can be patented. But naturally occurring genetic sequences? That’s murky. The companies will argue that their decades of cultivation and protection created protectable trade secrets.” “Trade secrets require keeping information secret,” Luna argued. “They throw this yeast away constantly. If they’re not protecting it, how can they claim trade secret status?” Dr. Webb cautioned, “Luna, even if you’re legally in the right—which is debatable—you’re seventeen years old. You’ll be fighting multinational corporations with unlimited legal resources. They’ll bury you in litigation for years.” “That’s where we come in,” Doctorow said. “The EFF can provide legal defense. Creative Commons can help structure the license. You need to understand: this will consume your life. College, career plans, normal teenage experiences—all on hold while you fight this battle.” Luna was quiet for a moment, then pulled up a photo on her laptop: her grandmother Rosa, teaching her to ferment at age seven. “My abuela says fermentation is about sharing and passing living cultures between generations. Corporations have turned it into intellectual property to be protected and controlled. If I can break that control—even a little—isn’t that worth fighting for?” Maya spoke up from the back. “Luna, I love you, but you’re being naive. They won’t just sue you. They’ll make an example of you. Your face on every news channel, portrayed as a thief, a criminal. Our family harassed. Your future destroyed. For what? So people can brew beer with the same yeast as Heineken?” “Not just beer,” Luna responded passionately. “This is about whether living organisms can be owned. Whether genetic information—the code of life itself—can be locked behind intellectual property law. Yes, it starts with beer yeast. But what about beneficial bacteria? Life-saving microorganisms? Medicine-producing fungi? Where does it end?” Dr. Webb nodded slowly. “She’s right. This is bigger than beer. As biotech advances, genetic control becomes power over life itself. Do we want corporations owning that?” Doctorow sighed. “If you do this, Luna, do it right. Release everything simultaneously—BitTorrent, WikiLeaks, Creative Commons servers, distributed networks worldwide. Make it impossible to contain. Include complete cultivation protocols so anyone can reproduce your results. Make the data so damn widely available that suppressing it becomes futile.” “And write a manifesto,” he added. “Explain why you’re doing this. Frame the issue. Make it about principles, not piracy.” Luna nodded, fingers already typing. “When should I release?” “Pick a date with symbolic meaning,” Dr. Webb suggested. “Make it an event, not just a data dump.” Luna smiled. “December 15. The Bill of Rights Day. Appropriate for declaring biological rights, don’t you think?” Maya groaned. “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” “Yes. I’m really doing this.” The Creative Commons Liberation On Tuesday, December 15, 2043—a date now celebrated as “Open Flavor Day”—Luna released the genetic sequences on multiple open-source networks. Her manifesto, titled Your Grandmother’s Yeast Is Your Birthright, argued that microbial genetics belonged to humanity’s shared heritage rather than corporate shareholders. It stated: Commercial companies have protected yeast strains for over a century. They’ve used intellectual property law to control flavor itself. But genetic information isn’t like a recipe or a formula—it’s biological code that evolved over millions of years before humans ever cultivated it. These strains are protected as trade secrets—the bacteria don’t belong to anyone. They existed before Heineken, before Budweiser, before trademark law. The companies just happened to isolate and cultivate them. Her data packages included DNA sequences and complete protocols for cultivating, modifying, and improving the strains. Luna’s releases came with user-friendly software that allowed amateur brewers to simulate genetic modifications before attempting them in real fermentations. Within 24 hours, over ten thousand people worldwide downloaded the files. The Creative Commons community erupted in celebration. Cory Doctorow’s blog post, The Teenager Who Stole Christmas (From Corporate Beer), went viral within hours. The Electronic Frontier Foundation immediately offered Luna legal protection, while the Free Software Foundation created the “Luna Defense Fund” to support her anticipated legal battles. The Legal Assault Heineken’s response was swift. The company filed emergency injunctions in 12 countries simultaneously, seeking to prevent the distribution of its “stolen intellectual property.” Their legal team, led by former U.S. Attorney General William Barr III, demanded Luna’s immediate arrest for “economic terrorism” and “theft of trade secrets valued at over $50 billion.” Anheuser-Busch’s reaction was even more extreme. CEO Marcel Telles IV appeared on CNBC, calling Luna “a bioterrorist who threatens the foundation of American capitalism.” The company hired private investigators to surveil Luna’s family and offered a $10 million reward for information leading to her prosecution. Their legal filing compared Luna’s actions to “stealing the formula for Coca-Cola and publishing it in the New York Times.” In Heineken’s Amsterdam headquarters, executives convened an emergency meeting. “Who is Luna Reyes?” the CEO demanded. The legal counsel pulled up information. “She’s a seventeen-year-old high school student in Oakland, California. No criminal record. Volunteers at a maker space. Has been posting about fermentation on various forums for years.” “A child released our proprietary yeast strain to the world, and we didn’t know she was even working on this?” The CEO’s face reddened. “How do we contain it?” “We can’t. It’s distributed across thousands of servers in dozens of countries with different IP laws. We can sue Reyes, but the information is out there permanently.” An executive interjected, “What about the other breweries? Will they join our lawsuit?” “Some are considering it. Others…” The counsel paused. “Others are quietly downloading the sequences themselves. They see an opportunity to break our market dominance.” “She obtained samples from our waste disposal,” another executive explained. “Technically legal under the garbage doctrine. The sequencing itself isn’t illegal. The release under Creative Commons…” “Is theft!” the CEO shouted. “File emergency injunctions. Twelve countries. Get her arrested for economic terrorism.” Similar scenes played out at Anheuser-Busch headquarters in St. Louis. CEO Telles addressed his team: “This is bioterrorism. She’s destroyed intellectual property worth billions. I want her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Hire private investigators. Find everything about her and her family. Make her life hell!” By noon, both companies had filed lawsuits. By evening, Fox News was running stories about the “teenage bioterrorist” who “stole American corporate secrets.” Back in Oakland, Luna’s phone rang constantly. Her parents discovered what she’d done. Her mother cried. Her father was furious and terrified. Friends called with either congratulations or warnings. She was convinced that private investigators were photographing their house. Maya suspected she was followed to work. On Wednesday morning, Dr. Webb calls: “Luna, they’re offering me $2 million to testify against you. They’re going after everyone in your network.” Luna has a sickening feeling that she’s put everyone at risk. By Thursday, she is considering taking it all back somehow, sending an apology to the corporations, anything to protect her family. Luna turned off her phone and sat with her grandmother. “It’s started,” Luna said quietly. “Sí, mija. You’ve declared war. Now we see if you can survive it.” Maya burst in, laptop in hand. “Luna, you need to see this. The downloads aren’t slowing—they’re accelerating. Every time Heineken or Budweiser shuts down a website, ten mirror sites appear. People are treating this like a digital freedom fight. You’ve become a symbol.” Luna pulled up her own screen. The #FreeLuna hashtag was trending. Crowdfunding campaigns for her legal defense had raised $400,000 in twelve hours. Academic institutions were publicly endorsing her release, calling it “essential scientific information.” “They’re trying to destroy you,” Maya said, “but they’re making you famous instead.” Rosa handed Luna a fresh kombucha. “This is what happens when you fight for what’s right, mija. Sometimes the world surprises you by supporting you.” Luna’s Fame The corporations’ attempts to suppress Luna’s releases had the opposite effect. Every cease-and-desist letter generated thousands of new downloads. The genetic data became impossible to contain once the academic community embraced Luna’s work. Dr. Jennifer Doudna, the legendary Crispr pioneer now in her eighties, publicly endorsed Luna’s releases in a Science magazine editorial: Ms. Reyes has liberated essential scientific information that corporations held hostage for commercial gain. Genetic sequences from naturally occurring organisms should not be locked behind intellectual property law. They belong to humanity’s knowledge commons. While corporations claim Luna stole trade secrets, I argue she freed biological knowledge that was never theirs to own. There are no trade secrets in biology—only knowledge temporarily hidden from the commons. This is civil disobedience of the highest order—breaking unjust laws to advance human freedom. Ms. Reyes didn’t steal; she liberated. MIT’s biology department invited Luna to lecture, while Harvard offered her a full scholarship despite her lack of a high school diploma. The legal battles consumed corporate resources while generating negative publicity. Heineken’s stock price dropped 34% as consumers organized boycotts in support of Luna’s “yeast liberation.” Beer sales plummeted as customers waited for home-brewed alternatives using Luna’s open-source genetics. The Flavor Renaissance Luna’s releases triggered an explosion of creativity that corporate R&D departments had never imagined. Within six months, amateur brewers worldwide were producing thousands of flavor variations impossible under corporate constraints. The open-source model enabled rapid iteration and global collaboration, rendering traditional brewing companies obsolete. The world was engaged. In some of the most unlikely places. In Evanston, Illinois, a group of former seminary students who discovered fermentation during a silent retreat, transformed Gregorian chants into microbial devotionals. Tenor Marcus Webb (Dr. Webb’s nephew) realized symbiosis mirrored vocal harmony—multiple voices creating something greater than their parts. “In honoring the mystery of fermentation we express our love of the Creator,” he said. Here's ‘Consortium Vocalis' honoring the mother SCOBY. [Chorus]Our SCOBYIs pureOur SCOBYIs strongOur SCOBYKnows no boundariesOur SCOBYStrengthens as it fermentsOur SCOBYIs bacteria and yeast Our SCOBYTurns sucrose into glucose and fructoseIt ferments these simple sugars into ethanol and carbon dioxide,Acetic acid bacteria oxidize much of that ethanol into organic acidsSuch as acetic, gluconic, and other acids.This steadily lowers the pHMaking the tea taste sour-tangy instead of purely sweet. [Chorus] Our SCOBYThen helps microbes produce acids, enzymes, and small amounts of B‑vitaminsWhile probiotics grow in the liquid.The pH falls to help inhibit unwanted microbesOur SCOBY creates a self-preserving, acidic environment in the tea [Chorus] In Kingston, Jamaica, Rastafarian’s combined an award-winning kombucha sequenced in Humboldt County, California, with locally grown ganja into a sacramental beverage to help open their mind to reasoning and focus on Jah. Once fermented, it was consumed over the course of a three-day Nyabinghi ceremony. “Luna Reyes is truly blessed. She strengthened our unity as a people, and our Rastafari’ booch help us chant down Babylon,” a Rasta man smiled, blowing smoke from a spliff the size of his arm. The Groundation Collective’s reggae anthem ‘Oh Luna’ joyfully celebrated Luna Reyes’ pioneering discovery. Oh Luna, Oh Luna, Oh Luna ReyesI love the sound of your nameYou so deserve your fame Luna, Luna, Oh Luna ReyesShining brightYou warm my heart Luna, Luna, Oh Luna ReyesYou cracked the codeTeenage prophet, fermentation queenSymbiosis roadA genius at seventeen Oh Luna, Luna, Luna ReyesBeautiful moonMakes me swoon Oh Luna, Luna, Luna ReyesFreedom to fermentYou are heaven sentTo save us Luna, Luna, Oh Luna ReyesYou opened the doorTo so much moreKombucha tastes so goodLike it should Oh Luna, Oh Luna, Oh LunaI love you, love you, love youOh Luna, Luna, LunaLove you, love you,Love Luna, Luna love. In São Paulo, Brazil, MAPA-certified Brazilian kombucha brands combined Heineken and cacao-fermenting yeasts with cupuaçu from indigenous Amazonian peoples, to create the chocolate-flavored ‘booch that won Gold at the 20th World Kombucha Awards. A cervejeiro explained to reporters: “Luna Reyes gave us the foundation. We added local innovation. This is what happens when you democratize biology.” The Brazilian singer Dandara Sereia covered ‘Our Fermented Future’—The Hollow Pines tune destined to become a hit at the 2053 Washington DC Fermentation Festival. Baby sit a little closer, sip some ‘booch with meI brewed this batch with the SCOBY my grandma gave to me.On the back porch swing at twilight, watching fireflies danceYour hand in mine, kombucha fine, the sweetest sweet romance. They say that wine and roses are the way to win the heartBut your kombucha warmed me right up from the start.Fermentation makes the heart grow fonder, truer words they ain’t been saidYour SCOBY’s got a place forever — in my heart, and in my bed. Let’s share our SCOBYs, baby, merge our ferments into oneLike cultures in a crock jar dancing, underneath the sun.The tang of your Lactobacillus is exactly what I’m missingYour Brettanomyces bacteria got this country girl reminiscing. Oh yeah, let’s share those SCOBYs, baby, merge our ferments into oneYour yeasts and my bacteria working till the magic’s doneYou’ve got the acetic acid honey, I’ve got the patience and the timeLet’s bubble up together, let our cultures intertwine. I’ve got that symbiotic feeling, something wild and something trueYour SCOBY’s in my heart, right there next to youThe way your Acetobacter turns sugar into goldIs how you turned my lonely life into a hand to hold. We’ve got the acetic acid and the glucuronic tooWe’ve got that symbiotic feeling, so righteous and so trueOne sip of your sweet ‘booch, Lord, and you had me from the start,It’s our fermented future, that no-one can tear apart. It’s our fermented future…It’s our fermented future…It’s our fermented future… “Luna Variants”—strains derived from her releases—began winning international brewing competitions, embarrassing corporate entries with their complexity and innovation. Traditional beer flavors seemed flat and artificial compared to the genetic symphonies created by collaborative open-source development. Despite the outpouring of positive vibes, the corporations spared no expense to hold Luna to account in the courts. The Preliminary Hearing A preliminary hearing was held in the United States District Court for the Northern District of California on June 14, 2044. Luna sat at the defendant’s table, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She wore a borrowed blazer—too big in the shoulders—over a white button-down shirt Maya had ironed that morning. At seventeen, she looked even younger under the courtroom’s fluorescent lights. Across the aisle, Heineken’s legal team occupied three tables. Fifteen attorneys in matching navy suits shuffled documents and whispered into phones. Their lead counsel, William Barr III, wore gold cufflinks that caught the light when he gestured. Luna recognized him from the news—the former Attorney General, now commanding $2,000 an hour to destroy people like her. Her own legal representation consisted of two people: Rose Kennerson from the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a public interest lawyer who’d flown in from DC on a red-eye, and Dr. Marcus Webb, technically a witness but sitting beside Luna because she’d asked him to. Behind them, the gallery was packed. Luna’s parents sat in the second row, her father’s face gray, her mother clutching a rosary. Maya had taken the day off work. Abuela Rosa sat in the front row directly behind Luna, her ancient SCOBY wrapped in silk in her lap, as if its presence might protect her granddaughter. Judge Catherine Ironwood entered—sixty-ish, steel-gray hair pulled back severely, known for pro-corporate rulings. She’d been a pharmaceutical industry lawyer for twenty years before her appointment. “All rise,” the bailiff called. Judge Ironwood settled into her chair and surveyed the courtroom with the expression of someone who’d already decided the outcome and resented having to perform the formalities. “We’re here for a preliminary injunction hearing in Heineken International B.V. versus Luna Marie Reyes.” She looked directly at Luna. “Ms. Reyes, you’re seventeen years old?” Luna stood, hesitant. “Yes, your honor.” “Where are your parents?” “Here, your honor.” Luna’s mother half-rose, then sat back down. “Ms. Kennerson, your client is a minor. Are the parents aware they could be held liable for damages?” Rose Kennerson stood smoothly. “Yes, your honor. The Reyes family has been fully advised of the legal implications.” Luna glanced back. Her father’s jaw was clenched so tight she could see the muscles working. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Very well. Mr. Barr, you may proceed.” Barr rose like a battleship emerging from fog—massive, expensive, inevitable. He buttoned his suit jacket and approached the bench without notes. “Your honor, this is the simplest case I’ve argued in thirty years. The defendant admits to obtaining my client’s proprietary biological materials. She admits to sequencing their genetic information. She admits to distributing that information globally, in deliberate violation of trade secret protections that have existed for over 150 years. She did this knowingly, systematically, and with the explicit intent to destroy my client’s competitive advantage.” Luna felt Sarah’s hand on her arm—stay calm. Barr continued. “Heineken International has invested over $200 million in the development, cultivation, and protection of the A-yeast strain. Then this teenager”—he pointed at Luna—”obtained samples from our waste disposal systems, reverse-engineered our genetic sequences, and released them to the world via BitTorrent, deliberately placing them beyond retrieval.” He paced now, warming to his theme. “The damage is incalculable. We estimate lost market value at $50 billion. But it’s not just about money. The defendant has destroyed the possibility of competition in the brewing industry. When everyone has access to the same genetic materials, there’s no innovation, no differentiation, no reason for consumers to choose one product over another. She has, in effect, communized an entire industry.” Luna couldn’t help herself. “That’s not—” Sarah grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.” Judge Ironwood’s eyes narrowed. “Ms. Reyes, you will have your opportunity to speak. Until then, you will remain silent, or I will have you removed from this courtroom. Do you understand?” “Yes, your honor.” Luna’s voice came out smaller than she intended. Barr smiled slightly. “Your honor, the relief we seek is straightforward. We ask this court to order the defendant to provide us with a complete list of all servers, websites, and distribution networks where the stolen genetic data currently resides. We ask that she be ordered to cooperate fully in suppressing the data. We ask that she be enjoined from any further distribution. And we ask that she be ordered to pay compensatory damages of $5 billion, plus punitive damages to be determined at trial.” He returned to his seat. One of his associate attorneys handed him a bottle of Pellegrino. He took a sip and waited. Judge Ironwood looked at Sarah. “Ms. Kennerson?” Sarah stood. She looked tiny compared to Barr—five-foot-three, maybe 110 pounds, wearing a suit from Target. But when she spoke, her voice filled the courtroom. “Your honor, Mr. Barr has given you a compelling story about a corporation that’s been wronged. But it’s not the right story. The right story is about whether naturally occurring organisms—creatures that evolved over millions of years, long before humans ever existed—can be owned by a corporation simply because that corporation happened to isolate them.” She walked toward the bench. “Let’s be clear about what the A-yeast strain is. It’s not a genetically modified organism. It’s not a patented invention. It’s a naturally occurring yeast. Heineken didn’t create it. Evolution created it. Heineken merely found it. And for 158 years, they’ve claimed that finding something gives them the right to prevent anyone else from studying it, understanding it, or using it.” Barr was on his feet. “Objection, your honor. This is a preliminary hearing about injunctive relief, not a philosophical debate about intellectual property theory.” “Sustained. Ms. Kennerson, please focus on the specific legal issues before this court.” “Your honor, the specific legal issue is whether naturally occurring genetic sequences constitute protectable trade secrets. My client contends they do not. She obtained the yeast samples from Heineken’s waste disposal—materials they had discarded. Under the garbage doctrine, she had every right to analyze those materials. The genetic sequences she discovered are factual information about naturally occurring organisms. You cannot trade-secret facts about nature.” Luna watched Judge Ironwood’s face. Nothing. No reaction. Sarah pressed on. “Mr. Barr claims my client ‘stole’ genetic information worth $5 billion. But information cannot be stolen—it can only be shared. When I tell you a fact, I don’t lose possession of that fact. We both have it. That’s how knowledge works. Heineken hasn’t lost their yeast. They still have it. They can still brew with it. What they’ve lost is their monopoly on that knowledge. And monopolies on facts about nature should never have existed in the first place.” “Your honor—” Barr tried to interrupt. Judge Ironwood waved him down. “Continue, Ms. Kennerson.” “Your honor, Heineken wants this court to order a seventeen-year-old girl to somehow suppress information that has already been distributed to over 100,000 people in 147 countries. That’s impossible. You can’t unring a bell. You can’t put knowledge back in a bottle. Even if this court ordered my client to provide a list of servers—which she shouldn’t have to do—that list would be incomplete within hours as new mirror sites appeared. The information is out. The only question is whether we punish my client for sharing factual information about naturally occurring organisms.” She turned to face Luna’s family. “Ms. Reyes taught herself bioinformatics from YouTube videos. She works at home with equipment she bought on eBay. She has no criminal record. She’s never been in trouble. She saw a question that interested her—why do commercial beers taste like they do?—and she pursued that question with the tools available to her. When she discovered the answer, she shared it with the world, under a Creative Commons license that specifically protects sharing for educational and scientific purposes. If that’s terrorism, your honor, then every scientist who’s ever published a research paper is a terrorist.” Sarah sat down. Luna wanted to hug her. Judge Ironwood leaned back. “Ms. Reyes, stand up.” Luna rose, her legs shaking. “Do you understand the seriousness of these proceedings?” “Yes, your honor.” “Do you understand that Heineken International is asking me to hold you in contempt of court if you refuse to help them suppress the information you released?” “Yes, your honor.” “Do you understand that contempt of court could result in your detention in a juvenile facility until you reach the age of eighteen, and potentially longer if the contempt continues?” Luna’s mother gasped audibly. Her father put his arm around her. “Yes, your honor,” Luna said, though her voice wavered. “Then let me ask you directly: If I order you to provide Heineken with a complete list of all locations where the genetic data you released currently resides, will you comply?” The courtroom went silent. Luna could hear her own heartbeat. Sarah started to stand—”Your honor, I advise my client not to answer—” “Sit down, Ms. Kennerson. I’m asking your client a direct question. She can choose to answer or not.” Judge Ironwood’s eyes never left Luna. “Well, Ms. Reyes? Will you comply with a court order to help Heineken suppress the information you released?” Luna looked at her parents. Her mother was crying silently. Her father’s face was stone. She looked at Abuela Rosa. Her grandmother nodded once—tell the truth. Luna looked back at the judge. “No, your honor.” Barr shot to his feet. “Your honor, the defendant has just admitted she intends to defy a court order—” “I heard her, Mr. Barr.” Judge Ironwood’s voice was ice. “Ms. Reyes, do you understand you’ve just told a federal judge you will refuse a direct order?” “Yes, your honor.” “And you’re still refusing?” “Yes, your honor.” “Why?” Sarah stood quickly. “Your honor, my client doesn’t have to explain—” “I want to hear it.” Judge Ironwood leaned forward. “Ms. Reyes, tell me why you would risk jail rather than help undo what you’ve done.” Luna took a breath. Her whole body was shaking, but her voice was steady. “Because it would be wrong, your honor.” “Wrong how?” “The genetic sequences I released evolved over millions of years. Heineken didn’t create that yeast. They isolated one strain and claimed ownership of it. The code of life belongs to everyone. That’s humanity’s heritage. Even if you send me to jail, I can’t help suppress the truth.” Judge Ironwood stared at her for a long moment. “That’s a very pretty speech, Ms. Reyes. But this court operates under the law, not your personal philosophy about what should or shouldn’t be owned. Trade secret law exists. Heineken’s rights exist. And you violated those rights.” Luna did not hesitate. “With respect, your honor, I don’t think those rights should exist.” Barr exploded. “Your honor, this is outrageous! The defendant is openly stating she believes she has the right to violate any law she disagrees with—” “That’s not what I said.” Luna’s fear was transforming into something else—something harder. “I’m saying that some laws are unjust. And when laws are unjust, civil disobedience becomes necessary. People broke unjust laws during the civil rights movement. People broke unjust laws when they helped slaves escape. The constitution says members of the military do not have to obey illegal orders, despite what those in power might claim. Sometimes the law is wrong. And when the law says corporations can own genetic information about naturally occurring organisms, the law is wrong.” Judge Ironwood’s face flushed. “Ms. Reyes, you are not Rosa Parks. This is not the civil rights movement. This is a case about intellectual property theft.” “It’s a case about whether life can be property, your honor.” “Enough.” Judge Ironwood slammed her gavel. “Ms. Kennerson, control your client.” Sarah pulled Luna back into her chair. “Luna, stop talking,” she hissed. Judge Ironwood shuffled papers, visibly trying to compose herself. “I’m taking a fifteen-minute recess to consider the injunction request. We’ll reconvene at 11:30. Ms. Reyes, I strongly suggest you use this time to reconsider your position.” The gavel fell again, and Judge Ironwood swept out. The hallway outside the courtroom erupted. Reporters swarmed. Luna’s father grabbed her arm and pulled her into a witness room. Her mother followed, still crying. Maya slipped in before Sarah closed the door. “What were you thinking?” Luna’s father’s voice shook. “You just told a federal judge you’ll defy her orders. They’re going to put you in jail, Luna. Do you understand that? Jail!” “Ricardo, please—” Her mother tried to calm him. “No, Elena. Our daughter just committed contempt of court in front of fifty witnesses. They’re going to take her from us.” He turned to Luna, his eyes wet. “Why? Why couldn’t you just apologize? Say you made a mistake? We could have ended this.” “Because I didn’t make a mistake, Papa.” “You destroyed their property!” “It wasn’t their property. It was never their property.” “The law says it was!” “Then the law is wrong!” Her father stepped back as if she’d slapped him. “Do you know what your mother and I have sacrificed to keep you out of trouble? Do you know how hard we’ve worked since we came to this country to give you opportunities we never had? And you throw it away for yeast. Not for justice. Not for people. For yeast.” Luna’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s not about yeast, Papa. It’s about whether corporations get to own life. If Heineken can own yeast, why not bacteria? Why not human genes? Where does it stop?” “It stops when my daughter goes to jail!” He was shouting now. “I don’t care about Heineken. I don’t care about yeast. I care about you. And you just told that judge you’ll defy her. She’s going to put you in jail, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” “Ricardo, por favor—” Elena put her hand on his arm. He shook it off. “No. She needs to hear this. Luna, if you go to jail, your life is over. No college will accept you. No company will hire you. You’ll have a criminal record. You’ll be marked forever. Is that what you want?” “I want to do what’s right.” “What’s right is protecting your family! What’s right is not destroying your future for a principle!” he said. Luna responded, “What’s right is not letting corporations own the code of life!”They stared at each other. Maya spoke up quietly from the corner. “Papa, she can’t back down now. The whole world is watching.” “Let the world watch someone else!” Ricardo turned on Maya. “You encourage this. You film her, you post her manifestos online, you help her become famous. You’re her sister. You’re supposed to protect her, not help her destroy herself.” “I am protecting her,” Maya said. “I’m protecting her from becoming someone who backs down when the world tells her she’s wrong, even though she knows she’s right.” Ricardo looked between his daughters. “Ambos están locos! You’re both insane.” Abuela Rosa opened the door and entered. She’d been listening from the hallway. “Ricardo, enough.” “Mama, stay out of this.” “No.” Rosa moved between Ricardo and Luna. “You’re afraid. I understand. But fear makes you cruel, mijo. Your daughter is brave. She’s doing something important. And you’re making her choose between you and what’s right. Don’t do that.” “She’s seventeen years old! She’s a child!” “She’s old enough to know right from wrong.” Rosa put her hand on Ricardo’s cheek. “When I was sixteen, I left Oaxaca with nothing but the clothes on my back and this SCOBY. Everyone said I was crazy. Your father said I would fail. But I knew I had to go, even if it cost me everything. Sometimes our children have to do things that terrify us. That’s how the world changes.” Ricardo pulled away. “If they put her in jail, will that change the world, Mama? When she’s sitting in a cell while Heineken continues doing whatever they want, will that have been worth it?” “Yes,” Luna said quietly. “Even if I go to jail, yes. Because thousands of people now have the genetic sequences, Heineken can’t put that back. They can punish me, but they can’t undo what I did. The information is free. It’s going to stay free. And if the price of that is me going to jail, then that’s the price.” Her father looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I don’t know who you are anymore.” “I’m still your daughter, Papa. I’m just also someone who won’t let corporations own life.” A knock on the door. Sarah poked her head in. “They’re reconvening. Luna, we need to go.” Back in the courtroom, the atmosphere had shifted. The gallery was more crowded—word had spread during the recess. Luna recognized several people from online forums. Some held signs reading “FREE LUNA” and “GENETICS BELONG TO EVERYONE.” Judge Ironwood entered and sat without ceremony. “I’ve reviewed the submissions and heard the arguments. This is my ruling.” Luna’s hand found Maya’s in the row behind her. Squeezed tight. “The question before this court is whether to grant Heineken International’s motion for a preliminary injunction requiring Ms. Reyes to assist in suppressing the genetic information she released. To grant such an injunction, Heineken must demonstrate four things: likelihood of success on the merits, likelihood of irreparable harm without the injunction, balance of equities in their favor, and that an injunction serves the public interest.” Barr was nodding. These were his arguments. “Having considered the evidence and the applicable law, I find that Heineken has demonstrated likelihood of success on the merits. Trade secret law clearly protects proprietary business information, and the A-yeast strain appears to meet the legal definition of a trade secret.” Luna’s stomach dropped. “However, I also find that Heineken has failed to demonstrate that a preliminary injunction would effectively prevent the irreparable harm they claim. Ms. Kennerson is correct that the genetic information has already been distributed to over 100,000 people worldwide. Ordering one teenager to provide a list of servers would be, in technical terms, pointless. New copies would appear faster than they could be suppressed.” Barr’s face tightened. “Furthermore, I find that the balance of equities does not favor Heineken. They ask this court to potentially incarcerate a seventeen-year-old girl for refusing to suppress information that is, by her account, factual data about naturally occurring organisms. The potential harm to Ms. Reyes—including detention, criminal record, and foreclosure of educational and career opportunities—substantially outweighs any additional harm Heineken might suffer from continued distribution of information that is already widely distributed.” Luna felt Maya’s grip tighten. Was this good? This sounded good. “Finally, and most importantly, I find that granting this injunction would not serve the public interest. The court takes judicial notice that this case has generated substantial public debate about the scope of intellectual property protection in biotechnology. The questions raised by Ms. Reyes—whether naturally occurring genetic sequences should be ownable, whether facts about nature can be trade secrets, whether knowledge can be property—are questions that deserve answers from a higher authority than this court. These are questions for appellate courts, perhaps ultimately for the Supreme Court. And they are questions best answered in the context of a full trial on the merits, not in an emergency injunction hearing.” Barr was on his feet. “Your honor—” “Sit down, Mr. Barr. I’m not finished.” He sat, his face purple. “Therefore, Heineken International’s motion for preliminary injunction is denied. Ms. Reyes will not be required to assist in suppressing the genetic information she released. However,”—Judge Ironwood looked directly at Luna—”this ruling should not be construed as approval of Ms. Reyes’ actions. Heineken’s claims for damages and other relief remain viable and will proceed to trial. Ms. Reyes, you may have won this battle, but this war is far from over. Anything you want to say?” Luna stood slowly. “Your honor, I just want to say… thank you. For letting this go to trial. For letting these questions be answered properly. That’s all I ever wanted—for someone to seriously consider whether corporations should be allowed to own genetic information about naturally occurring organisms. So thank you.” Judge Ironwood’s expression softened slightly. “Ms. Reyes, I hope you’re prepared for what comes next. Heineken has unlimited resources. They will pursue this case for years if necessary. You’ll be in litigation until you’re twenty-five years old. Your entire young adulthood will be consumed by depositions, court appearances, and legal fees. Are you prepared for that?” “Yes, your honor.” “Why?” Luna glanced at her grandmother, who nodded. “Because some questions are worth answering, your honor. Even if it takes years. Even if it costs everything. The question of whether corporations can own life—that’s worth answering. And if I have to spend my twenties answering it, then that’s what I’ll do.” Judge Ironwood studied her for a long moment. “You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who believed the law should serve justice, not just power.” She paused. “That person doesn’t exist anymore. The law ground her down. I hope it doesn’t do the same to you.” She raised her gavel. “This hearing is adjourned. The parties will be notified of the trial date once it’s scheduled. Ms. Reyes, good luck. I think you’re going to need it.” The gavel fell. Outside the courthouse, the scene was chaotic. News cameras surrounded Luna. Reporters shouted questions. But Luna barely heard them. She was looking at her father, who stood apart from the crowd, watching her. She walked over to him. “Papa, I’m sorry I yelled.” He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he pulled her into a hug so tight it hurt. “Don’t apologize for being brave,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m just afraid of losing you.” “You won’t lose me, Papa. I promise.” “You can’t promise that. Not anymore.” He pulled back, holding her shoulders. “But I’m proud of you. I’m terrified, but I’m proud.” Her mother joined them, tears streaming down her face. “No more court. Please, no more court.” “I can’t promise that either, Mama.” Elena touched Luna’s face. “Then promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll remember that you’re not just fighting for genetics. You’re fighting for your life.” Luna smiled. “I promise.” Abuela Rosa appeared, carrying her SCOBY. “Come, mija. We should go before the reporters follow us home.” As they pushed through the crowd toward Maya’s car, Luna's phone buzzed continuously. Text messages and emails pouring in. But what caught her attention was a text from Dr. Webb: You were right. I’m sorry I doubted. Check your email—Dr. Doudna wants to talk. Luna opened her email. The subject line made her stop walking: From: jennifer.doudna@berkeley.eduSubject: Civil Disobedience of the Highest Order She started to read: Dear Ms. Reyes, I watched your hearing this morning. What you did in that courtroom—refusing to back down even when threatened with jail—was one of the bravest things I’ve seen in forty years of science. You’re not just fighting for yeast genetics. You’re fighting for the principle that knowledge about nature belongs to humanity, not to corporations. I want to help… Luna looked up at her family—her father’s worried face, her mother’s tears, Maya’s proud smile, Abuela Rosa’s serene confidence. Behind them, the courthouse where she’d nearly been sent to jail. Around them, reporters and cameras and strangers who’d traveled across the country to support her. She thought about Judge Ironwood’s warning: This war is far from over. She thought about Barr’s face when the injunction was denied. She thought about the thousands who’d downloaded the genetic sequences and were, right now, brewing with genetics that had been locked away for 158 years. Worth it. All of it. Even the fear. Maya opened the car door. “Come on, little revolutionary. Let’s go home.” The Corporate Surrender By 2045, both Heineken and Anheuser-Busch quietly dropped their lawsuits against Luna. Their legal costs had exceeded $200 million while accomplishing nothing except generating bad publicity. More importantly, their “protected” strains had become worthless in a market flooded with superior alternatives. Heineken’s CEO attempted to salvage the company by embracing open-source brewing. His announcement that Heineken would “join the La Luna Revolution” was met with skepticism from the brewing community, which recalled the company’s aggressive legal tactics. The craft brewing community’s response was hostile. “They spent two years trying to destroy her,” a prominent brewmaster told The New Brewer Magazine. “Now they want credit for ’embracing’ the revolution she forced on them? Heineken didn’t join the Luna Revolution—they surrendered to it. There’s a difference.” The global brands never recovered their market share. Luna’s Transformation Luna’s success transformed her from a garage tinkerer into a global icon of the open knowledge movement. Her 2046 TED Talk, “Why Flavor Belongs to Everyone,” went viral. She argued that corporate control over living organisms represented “biological colonialism” that impoverished human culture by restricting natural diversity. Rather than commercializing her fame, Luna founded the Global Fermentation Commons, a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving and sharing microbial genetics worldwide. Their laboratories operated as open-access research facilities where anyone could experiment with biological systems. The headquarters of the Global Fermentation Commons occupied a former Genentech facility donated by Dr. Webb. Six continents, forty researchers, one mission: preserve and share microbial genetics worldwide. Luna addressed a crowded auditorium at the organization’s third anniversary. “When I released Heineken and Budweiser’s yeast strains, some people called it theft. Others called it liberation. I called it returning biological knowledge to the commons, where it belongs. Three years later, so-called Luna Variants have created economic opportunities for thousands of small brewers, improved food security in developing regions, and demonstrated that genetic freedom drives innovation faster than corporate control.” She continued. “We’re not stopping with beer. The same principles apply to all fermentation: cheese cultures, yogurt bacteria, koji fungi, sourdough starters. Every traditionally fermented food relies on microorganisms that corporations increasingly claim to own. We’re systematically liberating them.” A World Health Organization representative raised a concern: “Ms. Reyes, while we support democratizing food fermentation, there are legitimate concerns about pharmaceutical applications. What prevents someone from using your open-source genetics to create dangerous organisms?” Luna nodded. “Fair question. First, the organisms we release are food-safe cultures with centuries of safe use. Second, dangerous genetic modifications require sophisticated laboratory equipment and expertise—far beyond what releasing genetic sequences enables. Third, determined bad actors already have access to dangerous biology, enabled by AI. We’re not creating new risks; we’re democratizing beneficial biology.” “Pharmaceutical companies argue you’re undermining their investments in beneficial organisms,” another representative pressed. “Pharmaceutical companies invest in modifying organisms,” Luna clarified. “Those modifications can be patented. What we oppose is claiming ownership over naturally occurring organisms or their baseline genetics. If you genetically engineer a bacterium to produce insulin, patent your engineering. Don’t claim ownership over the bacterial species itself.” A Monsanto representative stood. “Your organization recently cracked and released our proprietary seed genetics. That’s direct theft of our property.” Luna didn’t flinch. “Seeds that farmers cultivated for thousands of years before Monsanto existed? You didn’t invent corn, wheat, or soybeans. You modified them. Your modifications may be protectable; the baseline genetics are humanity’s heritage. We’re liberating what should never have been owned.” “The ‘Luna Legion’ has cost us hundreds of millions!” the representative protested. “Good,” Luna responded calmly. “You’ve cost farmers their sovereignty for decades. Consider it karma.” After the presentation, Dr. Doudna approached Luna privately. “You’ve accomplished something remarkable,” the elderly scientist said. “When I developed Crispr, I never imagined a teenager would use similar principles to challenge corporate biology. You’re forcing conversations about genetic ownership that we’ve avoided for decades.” “It needed forcing,” Luna replied. “Corporations were quietly owning life itself, one patent at a time. Someone had to say no.” “The pharmaceutical industry is terrified of you,” Doudna continued. “They see what happened to brewing and imagine the same for their carefully controlled bacterial strains. You’re going to face even more aggressive opposition.” “I know. Once people understand that biological knowledge can be liberated, they start questioning all biological ownership. We’re not stopping.” The New Economy of Taste Following Luna’s breakthrough, peer-to-peer flavor-sharing platforms emerged as the dominant force in food culture. The “FlavorChain” blockchain allowed brewers to track genetic lineages while ensuring proper attribution to original creators. SCOBY lineages were carefully sequenced, catalogued, and registered on global blockchain ledgers. Each award-winning kombucha strain carried a “genetic passport”—its microbial makeup, the unique balance of yeasts and bacteria that gave rise to particular mouthfeel, fizz, and flavor spectrum, was mapped, hashed, and permanently recorded. Brewers who created a new flavor could claim authorship, just as musicians once copyrighted songs. No matter how many times a SCOBY was divided, its fingerprint could be verified. Fermentation Guilds formed to share recipes through FlavorChain, enabling decentralized digital markets like SymbioTrdr, built on trust and transparency rather than speculation. They allowed people to interact and transact on a global, permissionless, self-executing platform. Within days, a SCOBY strain from the Himalayas could appear in a brew in Buenos Aires, its journey traced through open ledgers showing who tended, adapted, and shared it. Kombucha recipes were no longer jealously guarded secrets. They were open to anyone who wanted to brew. With a few clicks, a Guild member in Nairobi could download the blockchain-verified SCOBY genome that had won Gold at the Tokyo Fermentation Festival. Local biotech printers—as common in 2100 kitchens as microwave ovens had once been—could reconstitute the living culture cell by cell. Children began inheriting SCOBY lineages the way earlier generations inherited family names. Weddings combined SCOBY cultures as symbolic unions. (Let’s share our SCOBYs, baby, merge our ferments into one.) When someone died, their SCOBY was divided among friends and family—a continuation of essence through taste. Kombucha was no longer merely consumed; it was communed with. This transparency transformed kombucha from a minority regional curiosity into a universal language. A festival in Brazil might feature ten local interpretations of the same “Golden SCOBY” strain—one brewed with passionfruit, another with cupuaçu, a third with açaí berries. The core microbial signature remained intact, while the terroir of fruit and spice gave each version a unique accent. Brewers didn’t lose their craft—they gained a canvas. Award-winning SCOBYs were the foundations on which endless new flavor experiments flourished. Many people were now as prolific as William Esslinger, the founder of St Louis’s Confluence Kombucha, who was renowned for developing 800 flavors in the 2020s. Code of Symbiosis The Symbiosis Code, ratified at the first World Fermentation Gathering in Reykjavik (2063), bound Fermentation Guilds to three principles: Transparency — All microbial knowledge is to be shared freely. Reciprocity — No brew should be produced without acknowledging the source. Community — Every fermentation must nourish more than the brewer. This code replaced corporate law. It was enforced by reputation, not by governments. A Guild member who betrayed the code found their SCOBYs mysteriously refusing to thrive—a poetic justice the biologists never quite explained. Every Guild had elders—called Mothers of the Jar or Keepers of the Yeast. They carried living SCOBYs wrapped in silk pouches when traveling, exchanging fragments as blessings. These elders became moral anchors of the age, counselors and mediators trusted more than politicians. When disputes arose—over territory, resources, or ethics—brewers, not lawyers, met to share a round of Truth Brew, a ferment so balanced that it was said to reveal dishonesty through bitterness. The Fullness of Time The International Biotech Conference of 2052 invited Luna to give the closing keynote—a controversial decision that prompted several corporate sponsors to withdraw support. The auditorium was packed with supporters, critics, and the merely curious. “Nine years ago, I released genetic sequences for beer yeast strains protected as trade secrets. I was called a thief, a bioterrorist, worse. Today, I want to discuss what we’ve learned from those years of open-source biology.” She displayed a chart showing the explosion of brewing innovation since 2043. “In the traditional corporate model, a few companies control a few strains, producing a limited variety. With the open-source model, thousands of brewers using thousands of variants, producing infinite diversity. As Duff McDonald wrote “Anything that alive contains the universe, or infinite possibility. Kombucha is infinite possibility in a drink.” And the results speak for themselves—flavor innovation accelerated a thousand-fold when we removed corporate control.” A student activist approached the microphone. “Ms. Reyes, you’ve inspired movements to liberate seed genetics, soil bacteria, and traditional medicine cultures. The ‘Luna Legion’ is spreading globally. What’s your message to young people who want to continue this work?” Luna smiled. “First, understand the risks. I was sued by multinational corporations, received death threats, spent years fighting legal battles. This work has costs. Second, be strategic. Release information you’ve generated yourself through legal methods—no hacking, no theft. Third, build communities. I survived because people supported me—legally, financially, emotionally. You can’t fight corporations alone. Finally, remember why you’re doing it: to return biological knowledge to the commons where it belongs. That purpose will sustain you through the hard parts.” Teaching By twenty-eight, Luna was a MacArthur Fellow, teaching fermentation workshops in a converted Anheuser-Busch facility. As she watched her students—former corporate employees learning to think like ecosystems rather than factories—she reflected that her teenage hack had accomplished more than liberating yeast genetics. She had helped humanity remember that flavor, like knowledge, grows stronger when shared rather than hoarded. Luna’s garage had evolved into a sophisticated community biolab. The original jury-rigged equipment had been replaced with professional gear funded by her MacArthur Fellowship. Abuela Rosa still maintained her fermentation crocks in the corner—a reminder of where everything started. A group of five

Recomanem les estrenes m

In this episode, Mike takes a break from Northern Michigan stories and heads far north—way far north—to share memories from his year living in Keflavik, Iceland in the early 1990s while serving in the U.S. Air Force. Life on the NATO Base Mike talks about being assigned to Naval Air Station Keflavik, a joint-base environment with Air Force, Navy, Marines, and other NATO personnel. He recounts working with the 57th Fighter Interceptor Squadron – the Black Knights, maintaining F-15 electrical and environmental systems, and occasionally pulling duty in “FISneyland,” the alert barn for interceptor operations. The Journey to Get There Before Iceland came a whirlwind of military orders: Originally headed to remote Galena, Alaska, the Air Force cancelled those orders at the last minute. The next day, new orders arrived sending him to Keflavik instead. He completed F-15 training at Tyndall AFB in Florida, drove across the country, shipped his belongings, and ultimately hopped a Hawaiian Airlines DC-8 from Philadelphia to Iceland—a strange but memorable experience. Daily Life Before the Internet Mike recalls what it was like living overseas before modern connectivity: Expensive phone calls back to the States ($1.06 per minute!) Mail arriving once a week on the “rotator” DC-8 Magazines being precious entertainment Trading software, playing early PC games, and marveling at a 286 computer with 1MB of RAM A handful of TV channels including AFRTS, BBC, RTL4, and Sky News/Sports Food, Weather, and Icelandic Oddities Mike shares a mix of practical and quirky details: The legendary Icelandic hot dogs (a recurring theme!) Navy chow halls, the USO, and Friday fish fries with cod caught the same day Wild weather with winds over 100 mph, handrails along sidewalks, and dumpsters blowing around Surprisingly mild temperatures thanks to the Gulf Stream Extreme daylight shifts—near-constant darkness in winter and 24-hour light in summer Exploring Iceland During his tour, Mike bought a quirky little Škoda 120 and used it to explore beyond the base. He describes: Driving through the first roundabouts he'd ever seen Visiting the Hard Rock Café in Reykjavik, where one of his Idaho ham-radio license plates hung from the ceiling Cheap hops on Navy P-3 “airline-style” flights to London or Shannon, Ireland Customs rules that prohibited gas cans, extra cigarettes, and oddly… cassette tapes Looking Back Mike reflects on how much Iceland has changed—from relatively untouched in the early '90s to a major European travel destination today. He also notes a past interview he did on the All Things Iceland podcast in May 2020, sharing more of his experiences from that era. I appeared on an episode of All Things Iceland Episode 61 in May of 2020. 

In this episode, Mike takes a break from Northern Michigan stories and heads far north—way far north—to share memories from his year living in Keflavik, Iceland in the early 1990s while serving in the U.S. Air Force. Life on the NATO Base Mike talks about being assigned to Naval Air Station Keflavik, a joint-base environment with Air Force, Navy, Marines, and other NATO personnel. He recounts working with the 57th Fighter Interceptor Squadron – the Black Knights, maintaining F-15 electrical and environmental systems, and occasionally pulling duty in “FISneyland,” the alert barn for interceptor operations. The Journey to Get There Before Iceland came a whirlwind of military orders: Originally headed to remote Galena, Alaska, the Air Force cancelled those orders at the last minute. The next day, new orders arrived sending him to Keflavik instead. He completed F-15 training at Tyndall AFB in Florida, drove across the country, shipped his belongings, and ultimately hopped a Hawaiian Airlines DC-8 from Philadelphia to Iceland—a strange but memorable experience. Daily Life Before the Internet Mike recalls what it was like living overseas before modern connectivity: Expensive phone calls back to the States ($1.06 per minute!) Mail arriving once a week on the “rotator” DC-8 Magazines being precious entertainment Trading software, playing early PC games, and marveling at a 286 computer with 1MB of RAM A handful of TV channels including AFRTS, BBC, RTL4, and Sky News/Sports Food, Weather, and Icelandic Oddities Mike shares a mix of practical and quirky details: The legendary Icelandic hot dogs (a recurring theme!) Navy chow halls, the USO, and Friday fish fries with cod caught the same day Wild weather with winds over 100 mph, handrails along sidewalks, and dumpsters blowing around Surprisingly mild temperatures thanks to the Gulf Stream Extreme daylight shifts—near-constant darkness in winter and 24-hour light in summer Exploring Iceland During his tour, Mike bought a quirky little Škoda 120 and used it to explore beyond the base. He describes: Driving through the first roundabouts he'd ever seen Visiting the Hard Rock Café in Reykjavik, where one of his Idaho ham-radio license plates hung from the ceiling Cheap hops on Navy P-3 “airline-style” flights to London or Shannon, Ireland Customs rules that prohibited gas cans, extra cigarettes, and oddly… cassette tapes Looking Back Mike reflects on how much Iceland has changed—from relatively untouched in the early '90s to a major European travel destination today. He also notes a past interview he did on the All Things Iceland podcast in May 2020, sharing more of his experiences from that era. I appeared on an episode of All Things Iceland Episode 61 in May of 2020. 

What's that shiny object at the thrift store? It's a surprise Charm Scene Thanksgiving with charming guest Sydney Clinton! Sydney tells us a bit about her time as a performer and comedian, and her dad's unique perspective on her career, which we use as inspiration for an all-new fully improvised musical - featuring balladic belts, feuding families, a kicked Kyle, and more. Happy Thanksgiving! Sydney Clinton is a Chicago-based performer who plays on stages across the city. Catch her regularly in "Voila! The Improvised Musical" (iO Chicago) and "ANARCHY: The Improvised Rock Opera" (Second City). Outside of Chicago, Sydney teaches music improv at festivals around the world, from Seattle to Nashville to Reykjavik and beyond. Cast: Lily Ludwig, Austin Packard, Sydney Clinton Music Director: Sam Scheidler Drums: Chris Ditton Follow us @CharmScenePod on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, or shoot us a message at CharmScenePod@gmail.com!

Dans ce nouveau roman, l'autrice islandaise Audur Ava Ólafsdóttir brosse le portrait d'une femme transgenre arrivée dans la soixantaine.  Les noms islandais sont toujours un peu longs, car ils ont la particularité de marquer le genre ! À la naissance, elle est née homme et s'appelle V …  comme son père. Adulte, elle devient biochimiste, spécialisée dans les cellules, les plus petits éléments du corps humain. Elle a 61 ans, s'est toujours sentie femme, mais elle est née dans un corps d'homme. Elle s'est mariée avec Sonja, est devenue père alors qu'elle voulait devenir père. Mais elle ne veut pas mourir dans ce corps d'homme. Elle va demander à s'appeler Logn, un terme qui n'existe pas en français, qui signifie «le calme plat entre deux tempêtes, l'immobilité de l'air» en islandais. Ce temps suspendu, c'est le temps perdu de sa vie.  Son surnom «Bambi» n'est pas anodin. Formé à partir de l'italien «bambino, enfant». C'est aussi le nom choisi par sa grand-mère et son frère, d'après une référence à Disney, mais surtout au roman de Felix Salten publié en 1923 qui fut brûlé une dizaine d'années plus tard par les Nazis qui le considéraient comme une allégorie du sort des Juifs. Contrairement au long métrage de 1942, Bambi est seul, comme le personnage du livre, car toute sa vie, elle a dû essuyer les insultes, la culpabilité et un grand sentiment de solitude et pense même à se suicider. Mais ce n'est pas un roman sur la mort, c'est un roman sur la survie, sur la guérison, sur la réparation, la renaissance.  L'idée de ce roman lui est venue d'après une amie, une femme transgenre qui lui a demandé si elle pouvait écrire sur elle et sur la transidentité.  En Islande, la loi de juin 2019 sur l'autonomie de genre, facilite les procédures de transition. Aujourd'hui, le pays reconnaît un genre neutre sur les passeports et les documents officiels, prenant en compte les personnes non-binaires. L'islandais est une langue qui comporte trois langues : le masculin, le féminin, le neutre.  Invitée : Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir,  née en 1958 à Reykjavik, est une autrice, poétesse et dramaturge islandaise. Formée à l'histoire de l'art, La Sorbonne, elle a longtemps enseigné cette discipline à l'Université d'Islande. Elle s'est imposée sur la scène littéraire avec ses romans Rose candida, Hotel silence ou encore Miss Islande.  DJ Bambi, son dernier roman est paru aux éditions Zulma.  Programmation musicale : L'artiste Joseph Marchand avec le titre Au début du soleil et son nouvel album Treize miniatures.

Dans ce nouveau roman, l'autrice islandaise Audur Ava Ólafsdóttir brosse le portrait d'une femme transgenre arrivée dans la soixantaine.  Les noms islandais sont toujours un peu longs, car ils ont la particularité de marquer le genre ! À la naissance, elle est née homme et s'appelle V …  comme son père. Adulte, elle devient biochimiste, spécialisée dans les cellules, les plus petits éléments du corps humain. Elle a 61 ans, s'est toujours sentie femme, mais elle est née dans un corps d'homme. Elle s'est mariée avec Sonja, est devenue père alors qu'elle voulait devenir père. Mais elle ne veut pas mourir dans ce corps d'homme. Elle va demander à s'appeler Logn, un terme qui n'existe pas en français, qui signifie «le calme plat entre deux tempêtes, l'immobilité de l'air» en islandais. Ce temps suspendu, c'est le temps perdu de sa vie.  Son surnom «Bambi» n'est pas anodin. Formé à partir de l'italien «bambino, enfant». C'est aussi le nom choisi par sa grand-mère et son frère, d'après une référence à Disney, mais surtout au roman de Felix Salten publié en 1923 qui fut brûlé une dizaine d'années plus tard par les Nazis qui le considéraient comme une allégorie du sort des Juifs. Contrairement au long métrage de 1942, Bambi est seul, comme le personnage du livre, car toute sa vie, elle a dû essuyer les insultes, la culpabilité et un grand sentiment de solitude et pense même à se suicider. Mais ce n'est pas un roman sur la mort, c'est un roman sur la survie, sur la guérison, sur la réparation, la renaissance.  L'idée de ce roman lui est venue d'après une amie, une femme transgenre qui lui a demandé si elle pouvait écrire sur elle et sur la transidentité.  En Islande, la loi de juin 2019 sur l'autonomie de genre, facilite les procédures de transition. Aujourd'hui, le pays reconnaît un genre neutre sur les passeports et les documents officiels, prenant en compte les personnes non-binaires. L'islandais est une langue qui comporte trois langues : le masculin, le féminin, le neutre.  Invitée : Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir,  née en 1958 à Reykjavik, est une autrice, poétesse et dramaturge islandaise. Formée à l'histoire de l'art, La Sorbonne, elle a longtemps enseigné cette discipline à l'Université d'Islande. Elle s'est imposée sur la scène littéraire avec ses romans Rose candida, Hotel silence ou encore Miss Islande.  DJ Bambi, son dernier roman est paru aux éditions Zulma.  Programmation musicale : L'artiste Joseph Marchand avec le titre Au début du soleil et son nouvel album Treize miniatures.

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

"We have this phrase called Þetta reddast, which we say a lot, and it's just like the things will work out somehow. And I think that describes it quite well."We're live from Reykjavik for the Iceland Airwaves festival! Brian sits down with Icelandic experimental pop artist Lúpína to discuss the vibrant and creative local music scene. Lúpína shares why singing in her native Icelandic language feels so special and how her music, while not strictly "emo," is built entirely around emotion. She describes the unique DIY culture of Reykjavik , where gigs happen in record stores and bookshops , all driven by the national mentality of "Þetta reddast" (things will work out). We also discuss her use of vocal effects , her collaboration with Dadi Freyr , and why Icelandic music has such a unique, spacious, and electronic sound. Key Topics & Timestamps:[00:25] The most emo song Lúpína is listening to (Highasakite)[01:53] The special feeling of singing in Icelandic[02:53] The Reykjavik DIY Scene & "Þetta reddast"[04:51] Defining the Lúpína sound (Experimental Pop)[05:16] Why Icelandic music has so much "space"[07:03] Collaborating with Dottie Frere[08:15] Why is there so much talent in Iceland?[08:53] Where to find Lúpína Guest/Band Links:Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2WBanXfuVc8n09WZIwhGGc?si=YiETkPVDRNagWrb1j1EFiQ&nd=1&dlsi=8d47dbe1c9ee4f7a Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lupina.is/YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@eg.er.lupina/Official Website: https://lupinamusic.com/ Episode Highlights:"I wouldn't categorize my music as emo, but it all comes from emotions and it's all built around emotions.""I feel like there's something about singing in your native language that's just really special.""We have this phrase called Þetta reddast... it's just like the things will work out somehow." JOIN THE CLUB! Youtube: https://emosocial.club/youtube Instagram: https://emosocial.club/instagram TikTok: https://emosocial.club/tiktok Twitch: https://emosocialclub.tv Discord: https://emosocial.club/discord Facebook: https://emosocial.club/facebook Twitter: https://emosocial.club/twitter Support the Show:Leave a review on Apple Podcasts/SpotifyShare this episode with a friend who needs to hear itSupport us and watch exclusive episodes: https://emosocialclub.tvIt was never just a phase. We connect the Myspace era to today's waves.

No guest this week - but we've got massive news! Jack battles tech gremlins, Seann's missing a laptop, Dolly loses a tooth, Juniper's been on a road trip and Mildred might have a cold. Plus, Jack's Reykjavik dog fact and we get to the bottom of why dogs show their bellies...

C'est aux portes de la forêt amazonienne que s'est ouvert la COP30, la conférence de l'Onu sur le climat. À Belém, il ne sera pas seulement question de l'aide aux pays en développement, mais aussi beaucoup de protection de la forêt, notre poumon vert.   Première étape de notre tour des forêts européennes dans Accents d'Europe, avec l'Albanie. Dans ce petit pays du sud des Balkans, les forêts souffrent depuis trente ans d'une déforestation massive qui contribue non seulement à l'érosion, mais aussi à la dégradation des sols. Un projet de l'Union Internationale pour la conservation de la nature, vise à réparer l'écosystème, en reboisant, mais aussi en développant des bandes d'herbe pour atténuer l'érosion, et en améliorant le pâturage. C'est le reportage dans le nord-est de l'Albanie de Louis Seiller.  L'Islande à nouveau candidate à l'UE  L'Albanie, mais aussi le Monténégro ou la Serbie, sans parler de l'Ukraine ou de la Moldavie. Ils sont nombreux les candidats à l'adhésion à l'Union européenne. Et voilà qu'un outsider refait surface : l'Islande. Les visées de Donald Trump sur le Groenland ont poussé Reykjavik a relancé les négociations qui étaient gelées depuis dix ans. Clémence Pénard.   La résistance des juges hongrois  Voilà quinze ans que le Premier ministre hongrois Viktor Orban met en place dans son pays une politique qu'il qualifie d'illibérale. Où le nationalisme prime sur la liberté, et s'épanouit grâce à l'asphyxie des contre-pouvoirs. D'où une mise au pas de la justice. Le gouvernement a réussi à mettre ses hommes à la tête de la Cour constitutionnelle et de la Kuria, la Cour suprême. Mais malgré ce lent effritement, la majorité des juges résiste pour garder leur indépendance. Reportage à Budapest de Florence Labruyère. Les deux procureurs  Le dernier film du cinéaste ukrainien Serguei Lonitsa est une plongée historique dans l'Union soviétique des années 30 et des grands procès de Moscou. L'occasion aussi de découvrir un des auteurs méconnus du goulag, Gueorgui Demidov. Les deux procureurs est sorti sur les écrans mercredi, il était présenté à Cannes en juin 2025. Et si l'on en croit le titre, c'est bien de justice dont il est question. Olivier Favier.  

C'est aux portes de la forêt amazonienne que s'est ouvert la COP30, la conférence de l'Onu sur le climat. À Belém, il ne sera pas seulement question de l'aide aux pays en développement, mais aussi beaucoup de protection de la forêt, notre poumon vert.   Première étape de notre tour des forêts européennes dans Accents d'Europe, avec l'Albanie. Dans ce petit pays du sud des Balkans, les forêts souffrent depuis trente ans d'une déforestation massive qui contribue non seulement à l'érosion, mais aussi à la dégradation des sols. Un projet de l'Union Internationale pour la conservation de la nature, vise à réparer l'écosystème, en reboisant, mais aussi en développant des bandes d'herbe pour atténuer l'érosion, et en améliorant le pâturage. C'est le reportage dans le nord-est de l'Albanie de Louis Seiller.  L'Islande à nouveau candidate à l'UE  L'Albanie, mais aussi le Monténégro ou la Serbie, sans parler de l'Ukraine ou de la Moldavie. Ils sont nombreux les candidats à l'adhésion à l'Union européenne. Et voilà qu'un outsider refait surface : l'Islande. Les visées de Donald Trump sur le Groenland ont poussé Reykjavik a relancé les négociations qui étaient gelées depuis dix ans. Clémence Pénard.   La résistance des juges hongrois  Voilà quinze ans que le Premier ministre hongrois Viktor Orban met en place dans son pays une politique qu'il qualifie d'illibérale. Où le nationalisme prime sur la liberté, et s'épanouit grâce à l'asphyxie des contre-pouvoirs. D'où une mise au pas de la justice. Le gouvernement a réussi à mettre ses hommes à la tête de la Cour constitutionnelle et de la Kuria, la Cour suprême. Mais malgré ce lent effritement, la majorité des juges résiste pour garder leur indépendance. Reportage à Budapest de Florence Labruyère. Les deux procureurs  Le dernier film du cinéaste ukrainien Serguei Lonitsa est une plongée historique dans l'Union soviétique des années 30 et des grands procès de Moscou. L'occasion aussi de découvrir un des auteurs méconnus du goulag, Gueorgui Demidov. Les deux procureurs est sorti sur les écrans mercredi, il était présenté à Cannes en juin 2025. Et si l'on en croit le titre, c'est bien de justice dont il est question. Olivier Favier.  

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

In this week's Just The Tip, we're sharing 4 splurge-worthy tasting dinners we've done on vacation and inspiring you to indulge in a special, culinary journey while on a trip. And we share a couple more tasting dinner we have our eye on!Food Cellar Martk, Reykjavik, IcelandJoel Rubuchon, Las Vegas, NV, USABarley Swine, Austin, TX, USAPasta Bar, Austin, TX, USA—---------------------------------------Shop:⁠ Trip Itineraries ⁠⁠&⁠ ⁠Amazon Storefront ⁠⁠Connect:⁠ ⁠YouTube⁠⁠,⁠ ⁠TikTok⁠⁠, and⁠ ⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠and contact us at travelsquadpodcast@gmail.com to submit a question of the week or inquire about guest interviews and advertising. Submit a question of the week or inquire about guest interviews and advertising.Contains affiliate links, thanks for supporting Travel Squad Podcast!

Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne原文Chapter 3: IcelandIt was very early in the morning when the boat got to Iceland.We could see the round body of the Sneffells Yokul volcano going up into the sky through the clouds.It had snow near the top, and it looked like an angry monster waiting for someone to try and climb it.The boat stopped at Reykjavik.It was a small town with small brick houses.Mr. Fridriksson, a professor from the university there, met us at the boat.He looked very friendly and smiled when he saw us."You must be professor Lidenbrock.""And you must be professor Fridriksson. This is my assistant, Axel."We shook hands."You got my letter, then.""Oh,yes, professor, and everything is ready for you. Please, come with me."My uncle did not tell anyone the real reason for our journey.But we needed someone to go along with us as we didn't know the area, and the ice and snow around the volcano was too dangerous.So, Mr. Fridriksson found us a guide.His name was Hans and he looked perfect for the job.He was tall and very strong.He had small blue eyes and long red hair.He almost never smiled or spoke.Mr. Fridriksson introduced us."Professor Lidenbrock, this is Hans. Hans, professor Lidenbrock and his assistant, Axel."Hans moved his head just a little to say hello."Hans is a very quiet man, like most Icelanders, but he is the strongest and best climber in Reykjavik."My uncle smiled at Mr. Fridriksson's words."He's just perfect, Mr. Fridriksson."Mr. Fridriksson let us stay at his house until we were ready to leave.We needed many things for our adventure.We took four horses to travel to the mountain.The professor and I each rode one, but Hans walked.The other two horses carried our bags.We took a lot of things with us: rope for climbing, tools, lights, guns, medicine and enough food for six months.The only problem was we could only carry enough water for one week.The professor believed there was water under the volcano, but what if there wasn't?We left Reykjavik on the 15th of June, early in the morning.We travelled along the sea and it was a wonderful journey.The land had a dark color from the explosions of the volcano, and the beautiful blue sea next to it made it look fantastic.The journey to Sneffels took us six days, and each day we stopped in a different village for the night.The villages were small and very pretty, built at the foot of the volcano, next to the sea.The villagers were very nice, but, like Hans, they did not talk much.When we got closer to the top of Sneffels, I thought of something."Uncle,what happens if the volcano explodes again?""No,that's impossible. This volcano had its last explosion in 1229. I checked the ground.It's impossible.""But...""Axel,I am a scientist. This is a fact. There is nothing more to say."It was now eleven o'clock at night and we were at the top.We stopped and found a small place inside the opening of the volcano where we could sleep.That night, I had a dream.I saw that I was alone inside the volcano.I was lost and very scared.Suddenly,the volcano exploded and I was shot out of it stop like a rock!翻译第三章：冰岛船到达冰岛时，天还很早。我们可以看到斯奈菲尔·尤库尔火山的圆形火山体穿过云层直插云霄。山顶附近有雪，它看起来像一个愤怒的怪物，等待着有人试图爬上它。船在雷克雅未克停了下来。那是一个有小砖房的小镇。那里一所大学的教授弗雷德里克森先生在船上迎接我们。当他看到我们时，他看起来很友好，微笑着。“你一定是利登布洛克教授吧。”“你一定是弗雷德里克森教授吧。这是我的助手，阿克塞尔。”我们握了握手。“那么你收到我的信了。”“噢，是的，教授，一切都为您准备好了。请跟我来吧。”我叔叔没有告诉任何人我们旅行的真正原因。但是我们需要有人和我们一起去，因为我们不熟悉这个地区，而且火山周围的冰雪太危险了。弗雷德里克森先生给我们找了个向导。他的名字叫汉斯，看起来很适合这份工作。他又高又壮。他有一双蓝色的小眼睛和一头红色的长发。他几乎从不微笑或说话。弗雷德里克森先生介绍我们认识。“利登布洛克教授，这是汉斯。汉斯，这是利登布洛克教授和他的助手阿克塞尔。”汉斯微微摇了摇头打招呼。“汉斯是一个非常安静的人，就像大多数冰岛人一样，但他是雷克雅未克最强壮、最好的登山者。”叔叔听了弗雷德里克森先生的话笑了。“他太完美了，弗里德里克森先生。”弗雷德里克森先生让我们住在他家，直到我们准备离开。我们的冒险需要很多东西。我们骑了四匹马去山上旅行。教授和我各自骑着车，但汉斯是步行的。另外两匹马驮着我们的行李。我们带了很多东西：登山用的绳子、工具、灯、枪、药品和够六个月吃的食物。唯一的问题是我们只能带够一个星期的水。教授认为火山下面有水，但如果没有呢？6月15日一大早，我们离开了雷克雅未克。我们沿着海边旅行，这是一次美妙的旅行。火山爆发后，大地呈现出一片黑暗的颜色，旁边美丽的蓝色大海使它看起来非常迷人。去斯奈菲尔的旅程花了我们六天的时间，每天我们在一个不同的村庄停留过夜。这些村庄很小，但非常漂亮，建在火山脚下，紧挨着大海。村民们都很好，但是，像汉斯一样，他们不怎么说话。当我们走近斯奈菲尔山顶时，我想起了一件事。“叔叔，如果火山再次爆发会怎么样？”“不，那不可能。这座火山最后一次喷发是在1229年。我检查了一下地面。这是不可能的。”“但是……”“阿克塞尔，我是个科学家。这是事实。没什么可说的了。”现在是晚上十一点，我们已经到了山顶。我们停下来，在火山口里找了一个小地方睡觉。那天晚上，我做了一个梦。我看到火山里只有我一个人。我迷路了，非常害怕。突然，火山爆发了，我被射了出来，像块石头一样停了下来！

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

The China Matrix is a brilliant, and very timely, new book by Lee Smith. It chronicles how successive presidents of both parties and countless leaders of America's business, political and other elites have subordinated national security and economic strength to the benefit of the Chinese Communist Party, and often their personal enrichment.   Mr. Smith documents how Donald Trump started warning about this sell-out pioneered by Henry Kissinger decades ago, and how as a presidential candidate and in office he has worked to put America First, instead.  President Trump will be tempted this week to ignore the “unrestricted warfare” the CCP has long waged against us by approving yet another “trade deal” that props up that mortal enemy. A generation ago, Ronald Reagan faced a similar choice at Reykjavik – and declined.  Will Mr. Trump do the same, or join the China Class?  This is Frank Gaffney.

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

It was such a rookie mistake. I was tramping in the Kahurangi, last summer. The Douglas Range, 1000m above sea level. And after we'd pitched a tent, as the sun got heavy and the surrounding hills cast their shadows long and deep, I realised I'd screwed up, big time. Zzzzzz. Zzzzzz. Zzzzzz. What made the error so much worse was that it wasn't a bit of absent-minded forgetfulness. I'd carefully considered my options before loading my pack. It wasn't that I'd forgotten to bring long johns or pants. It's that I'd *chosen* not to pack them. Up top I had a poly-prop, jumper and jacket. But down bottom I had shorts… and that was it. Zzzzz. Zzzzzzzz. The only way to keep sandflies from biting is to keep moving. And the last thing you feel like doing after 8 or 10 hours of steady climbing… is keep moving. As if to wallow in my own stupidity, I ended up treading a middle ground. Moving just enough so as not to rest, but not enough to stop the sandflies from completely devouring me. Still, I've had worse experiences with them. I'll not forget my night at the mouth of the Heaphy River, where the swarms were so thick they hung in the skies like pockets of buzzing black smoke. Walking by, you had to make sure to close your mouth so as not to catch a bit of extra protein. And you know what? I'd still take a sandfly over a biting gnat. I once chose to visit one of Utah's national parks on a Sunday in the middle of biting gnat season. The locals call them ‘moose flies' which I suppose could be cos' they hang around moose, or just as feasibly in my experience because the gnats are a comparable size. It wasn't just the itching that killed me, though. My bare legs were soon covered in blood. I returned to Salt Lake City to discover every pharmacy closed for the rest of the weekend and spent the night lying in a tepid bath, trying to stave off shock. Often it's the obvious downside to natural beauty. If it's a beautiful natural landscape… there will be something that'll give you an itchy bite. At least there's one place on Earth you could still safely wear shorts. Sure, you might be a bit nippy striding down the streets of Reykjavik in your stubbies, but at the very least you could be sure there were no sandflies. There were no biting gnats. No midges. No moose flies. No mozzies. That was at least, until this week. Scientists have confirmed that for the first time, the World's deadliest creature has reached the last country on Earth. Iceland officially has mosquitoes. And while sure, Iceland is not the Amazon. They're not at risk of a Dengue Fever outbreak, You can still safely leave the Deet at home. The truth is that the discover probably represents more than just an ecological quirk. At an individual level, sure, it's a potential nuisance. But what confirming mosquitoes in Iceland says about the state of the planet is probably far more serious. LISTEN ABOVESee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

A new mini-series from The Europeans, landing in this feed later this week. From Paris to Breda, Rome to Reykjavik, ‘Who Does It Best?' showcases some of Europe's most successful policies—and offers a few lessons for other countries along the way.

Við hittumst kl. 11:00 á sunnudögum við Fagraþing 2a ... We meet at 11:00 on Sundays at Fagraþing 2a, about 7 miles (12 km) southeast of downtown Reykjavik. If you live in Iceland, or plan on visiting soon, make plans to worship with us in person!

What happens when a trauma survivor discovers TRE and becomes the practitioner she needed? Alex Greene speaks with Svava Brooks, a TRE practitioner in Reykjavik, Iceland, who has mastered integrating neurogenic tremoring with mindful self-compassion and polyvagal theory. Svava didn't set out to become a provider—she entered the training for her own healing. But what she discovered transformed not only her life but her approach to holding space for others.As a complex trauma survivor in functional freeze, Svava shares practical wisdom from taking "a thousand tiny steps" into social engagement. She reveals why TRE alone wasn't enough—she needed self-compassion practices to befriend her body and build the safe attachment capacity she'd never experienced. She discusses why she teaches the "hand on heart" practice first, how to work with freeze patterns during tremoring, and why going "slower than slow" creates lasting change. Now bringing TRE to every town in Iceland, Svava offers insights on sustainable healing practices, integrating somatic work with other modalities, and creating compassionate containers where bodies feel safe to release.Key Highlights:00:04 - Introduction and Congress Overview 03:10 - Robert Schleip on Fascia 05:29 - Fascia Responds to Stress 08:45 - Fabiana de Silva's Vagal Resets 11:17 - Self-Help Grounding Through Squeezing 12:18 - Gil Hedley's Vagus Dissection 14:01 - Sounding and Vagal Activation 18:06 - Fascia, Consciousness, and Soul 21:28 - Meeting Stephen Porges 25:32 - Traumatic Brain Injury Insights 30:00 - Liza's TRE Presentation Experience 32:51 - 100 People Experience Tremoring 40:00 - Future Congress Plans 42:40 - Sami Yoiking Healing Songs 48:34 - Human Algorithm Workshop PreviewResources Mentioned:ACE Study (Adverse Childhood Experiences Study): https://www.ajpmonline.org/article/s0749-3797(98)00017-8/pdf Polyvagal Theory: https://www.polyvagalinstitute.org/whatispolyvagaltheory Kristin Neff - Self-Compassion Research: https://self-compassion.org/the-research/ Dr. David Berceli: https://treglobal.org/about-dr-david-berceli/ Svava's Website: https://www.svavabrooks.com/ Find us Online:Neurogenic Integration: https://neurogenic-integration.com/Instagram: @neurogenicintegration

durée : 00:03:52 - Sous les radars - par : Sébastien LAUGENIE - Du 16 au 18 octobre, l'Assemblée du Cercle Arctique 2025 ouvre ses portes à Reykjavik en Islande. L'idée ? Faire venir les acteurs internationaux et discuter de plusieurs thèmes, dont la géopolitique autour du Groenland. Un sujet toujours dans la tête d'un certain … Donald Trump Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

durée : 00:03:52 - Sous les radars - par : Sébastien LAUGENIE - Du 16 au 18 octobre, l'Assemblée du Cercle Arctique 2025 ouvre ses portes à Reykjavik en Islande. L'idée ? Faire venir les acteurs internationaux et discuter de plusieurs thèmes, dont la géopolitique autour du Groenland. Un sujet toujours dans la tête d'un certain … Donald Trump Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

The road to the 2026 FIFA World Cup burns hotter than ever.

durée : 01:01:26 - Very Good Trip - par : Michka Assayas - Sélection de morceaux de Yasmine Hamdan, Arooj Aftab, ou encore Ólöf Arnalds et Radio Tarifa Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

Huge thank you to this week's sponsor Smartwool. Join the Smartwool mailing list to received updates and 15% off your first purchase

Aldís Amah Hamilton is a trailblazing Icelandic actress, writer, and cultural icon. Born in Germany and raised in Reykjavík, she has starred in hit shows like The Valhalla Murders, Netflix's Katla, and co-created the gripping series Black Sands. In 2019, she made history as the first woman of color to embody the Fjallkonan, Iceland's national symbol on Independence Day in Reykjavík, which is the largest celebration and is televised around the country.Beyond the screen, Aldís lends her voice to video games like Senua's Saga: Hellblade II and Echoes of the End, and leads as chair of the Vegan Association of Iceland—advocating for plant-based living while shaping Iceland's cultural landscape. Save Big When You Stay in Reykjavík The “In bed with” series is sponsored by Center Hotels and the interviews are recording at one of their hotels while I chat with my guests in a bed. They have 9 hotels in the center of Reykjavik and each of them is unique. To save 25% on your stay with Center Hotels use my code ATI25.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyWfVs_j36A The Previous Interview I did with Aldís Amah Years Ago I was very fortunate to interveiw Aldís Amah Hamilton years before her acting career took off. Learn more about her childhood in Iceland by checking out that interview here - https://allthingsiceland.com/aldis-amah-biracial-iceland-interview/ Some of the Topics Aldís Amah and I Spoke About During the Interview ✨ Breaking barriers in the Icelandic acting world✨ Making history as the Fjallkonan✨ Life as a vegan and her role in Iceland's vegan community✨ What drives her authenticity on and off screen Live Iceland Trip Planning Workshop On Saturday, October 4th, 2025, I'm hosting a Live Iceland Trip Planning Workshop. Get local expertise to help cut through confusion and plan your trip with ease. Click Here Share this with a Friend Facebook Email Threads Let's Be Social Youtube Instagram Tiktok Facebook Þakka þér kærlega fyrir að hlusta og sjáumst fljótlega.

In this episode of Explaining History, we explore Mikhail Gorbachev's bold diplomatic strategy during the mid-1980s. Between 1985 and 1988, Gorbachev sought to end the crippling arms race with the United States and ease the immense economic burden of Cold War militarisation on the Soviet Union.We examine the key moments of his diplomacy: the Geneva and Reykjavik summits, his pursuit of arms reduction agreements with President Reagan, and the wider goal of redirecting Soviet resources away from military expenditure and towards much-needed economic reform.By reassessing both superpowers' assumptions about security, Gorbachev challenged decades of Cold War orthodoxy. But his reforms also carried risks, provoking resistance from hardliners at home and raising questions about the future of the Soviet empire.Join us as we unpack how Gorbachev's efforts to reduce the arms spending burden helped reshape the Cold War, and how his diplomacy set in motion forces that he could neither fully control nor contain.Newsflash: You can find everything Explaining History on Substack, join free hereHelp the podcast to continue bringing you history each weekIf you enjoy the Explaining History podcast and its many years of content and would like to help the show continue, please consider supporting it in the following ways:If you want to go ad-free, you can take out a membership hereOrYou can support the podcast via Patreon hereOr you can just say some nice things about it here Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Bob D from Las Vegas NV speaking at The Men Among Men Groups 3rd Annual Conference in held in Reykjavik Iceland in May of 2006. Support Sober Cast: https://sobercast.com/donate Email: sobercast@gmail.com Sober Cast has 3000+ episodes available, visit SoberCast.com to access all the episodes where you can easily find topics or specific speakers using tags or search. https://sobercast.com