Me kiep

Hello everyone, I hope you can help me. Please feel free to reply in Dutch. I can understand quite a bit but it is easier to explain my case in English.
At the beginning of this year I moved into a new apartment. Now I have gotten into a discussion with the next door neighbour that my kitchen window needs to be closed at all times. For better understanding, my window is facing one of hers and I assume it is her bedroom window.
She stood in front of my kitchen window yesterday (that I had open on kiep) and knocked to tell me that I had to close it. I also checked with my landlord if this is the case and they told me that, yes and it had to be closed for privacy reasons. However, since I’ve been living there I have a foil on the window as I also like to have my privacy so you cannot see anything when looking out or in. As we are getting close to summer you can imagine that not being able to open a window for fresh air is very inconvenient. Additionally, I was not aware of this prior to signing the rental agreement, nor did my landlords inform me about this situation. Do I have to comply as I have not been aware and it is not stated in my contract?

There was no plan, no intricate method or training for Casper to fall back on as he sprinted toward his opponent. The chintian mech lumbered forward as well, getting larger and larger to Casper’s perspective. Qik had only briefly touched upon melee brawling with mechs which mostly boiled down to the simple instruction of; ‘don’t’.
Aside from ‘don’t’, the only other advice for hers was to knock the other to the ground. Either by using one’s own mech and mass to slam into an unprepared target or go for the legs, damage them, and send them into the dirt.
After that, the objective was to merely stomp on whoever was prone. It didn’t matter how robust a chassis was, or how much reactive armour they wore; a hundred tons of force crushing the body of a mech is more than enough to disable or outright kill the enemy.
Or himself.
As he closed in, Casper reared back in an all out punch. There was no finesse or skill, he merely wanted to hit the chintian mech with as much force as he could. He felt the strain in his damaged side as he fully extended then skipped into the final step forwards before throwing his full might into the strike.
The other mech merely stepped aside as if Casper had told him the plan beforehand and jabbed once and quickly into the overextended side of Spectre’s torso, denting the metal and causing a series of warnings and alerts to flash across Casper’s mind. Reeling, having expected at least some resistance, Spectre stumbled forwards.
Casper’s rig, a significant mass, stumbled with the lack of resistance and fell forwards, the human inside throwing his arms up to cushion the fall before rolling away from the other mech and onto his feet once more. The fall hadn’t damaged him. Spectre wasn’t broken, Zeet had fulfilled his promise to make a mech that would keep Casper in the fight for as long as possible, but in a single error, the young man inside had learned two sobering lessons.
Firstly, he couldn’t brute force this, despite the overwhelming power of his body falsely having him believe he was invincible. He mentally admonished himself for falling into the trap again.
Secondly, the enemy was a fighter. That was not the move of a mech pilot, who, as Qik had trained Casper to do, would have braced and tanked the hit, allowing control of the opponent. That was the move of a human. A trained human soldier or maybe fighter. Perhaps one who had been through at minimum basic training and more likely beyond.
Casper recovered, raising from his knees to his feet and brought his fists up, mimicking the chintian mech who advanced slowly, keeping at least one foot firmly planted at all times as he approached.
Casper wasn’t a fighter, he’d never thrown a single punch in anger before. He was the one that got picked on. Who had been kicked into the dirt back home. Back before the Earth had been destroyed, he’d done some basic sparring to remedy this, but nothing that could give him even a moment of advantage over a trained professional. He’d never passed the test of taking a punch to the face and remaining upright.
The chintian mech surged forward and brought the left ruined gatling laser down in a diagonal stroke, braying its solid metal across the top of Casper’s rig causing him to stumble right, his optics shutting, blinding him as he flinched and tried to roll with the hit, expecting the pain of a punch to paralyse him. The enemy had no fists, unlike Casper, but it mattered little.
In that moment of blinding, the enemy swung with the other arm, slapping Spectre’s reconnaissance unit to the left side, Casper still trying to weather the blows rather than retort. Spectre’s head was knocked right into the waiting left arm of the chintian mech that had already begun its second swing, knocking Casper into the dirt once more.
{Move!} Qik fired before Casper had even landed, desperate for him not to make the mistake of staying still.
The Spectre’s jets punched into the dirt, rolling the mech away from the other fighter and sent the wet mud up, splattering the chintian mech as it brought down a heavy foot, intending on crushing Casper into the sucking mud.
There was no time to do more than recover, as Casper scurried backwards, trying to get his feet underneath him, The Pilot offered no quarter, advancing, chasing him and wailing blows down upon him as soon as he was in reach. Spectre’s arms raised up, fending off blow after blow until a backhanded swing connected forcefully across Casper’s back, sending him into the air once more in a shower of sparks and squealing metal.
Casper was near the city one more and reached out into the buildings to offer him leverage to stand back up. The young man was panicking, he had no out, no way to prevent the pain that would come with his beating. He had nothing!
The chintian mech was on him just as the Spectre turned with its arms raised. The chintian mech rammed into Casper, knocking him backwards into the building and sending yet more rubble cascading down into the streets at their feet. The chintian mech fired out a series of blows, a flurry using its right arm to batter the recon unit precariously protected by the Spectre’s arms.
He couldn’t do anything!
{Casper!}
The onslaught wasn’t slowing or stopping. There was no mercy or forgiveness. Just as Casper began to feel the rhythm of the assault, a blow to his mech’s stomach had his hands drop an inch only to receive more damage warnings across the sides of his face, bringing his arms back up in a instinctual flinch.
There was nothing he could do. Casper wasn’t a fighter! He should have never believed what the geckins or the lopeljack had been saying! He wasn’t a mercenary, he wasn’t a pilot.
He was a human. A weak, malnourished human with no hope of winning this fight. He’d always been afraid. Before Earth and after. He hated pain, avoided it his whole life. Casper had only kept getting in the mechs because they made him feel strong. They removed that fear of the pain. He fell into their addictive trap. Hook, line and sinker.
[I can’t win.]
{Stop hiding! You can do this! You’re not even hurt!}
But he was! All it would take was one punch and his face would lance with blinding, horrible pain…
The chintian mech landed another blow into the Spectre’s besieged side.
Casper got warnings, and alerts, but…
There was no ‘pain’ he realised with confusion.
He had flinched, wincing, leaving himself open to more attacks just by expecting it. Blinking with realisation, Casper dropped his elbow to block the next blow only to receive a left haymaker across the face.
He got alerts that one of his optic lenses was cracked, but there was no blinding flare of pain. Only a clinical detached itemised list of warnings and alerts. His mind remained sharp, half expecting the pain, yet receiving none. Even when he didn’t tense, or flinch during the following strikes across his head. He didn’t even close his eyes for the next body shot.
He weather it without fear. The machine’s body sacrificing itself for his own weak flesh.
He was without pain. What was there to fear in a fight if not pain?
After a life of agony and weakness, he had unknowingly convinced himself that the mech was his body again… But it wasn’t.
His body was weak, yes, but the machine he was protected inside wasn’t. The mech might not be invincible, neither was he. But inside the mech he felt invincible. Casper realised that he didn’t need to fear pain, he could go all out without worrying about being scared by it all.
The Spectre unit bent low, around a gut punch from the chintian made machine, before rising with a fist that came all the way from the ground floor. It connected with the enemy mech and knocked its balance backwards, forcing it to take several steps as it jerked itself forwards, to prevent it from flailing.
The Pilot took a step back towards Casper and tried to side step the straight jab that Casper threw, only for the Spectre unit to balance on one foot and swing his leg out, kicking the side of the enemy mech in a lightning fast strike.
Sparks and the sound of bending metal rang out again.
The other fighter stumbled sideways, The Pilot inside, growling in frustration as he had to devote effort in not simply falling over.
Casper on the other hand was shocked that it had worked. He had expected his leg to burn in pain, but all that happened was the enemy had stopped wailing on him. Casper hesitated, watching the other machine right itself before it began stomping towards him once more.
It was heavy. Lumberous. It had more movement than Qik’s around the torso, but it still had to lumber forwards and backwards. Limited in its movements. It couldn’t skip, or leap. But Spectre could.
Casper loosened up. He made the concerted effort to stop tensing his whole body and instead began to bounce on the tips of his toes. The Spectre unit ruined the ‘skis’ on the bottom of its feet, bending the metal as it leaned forwards and forced small craters of mud out from underneath it as it bobbed and bounced, arms up, ready for a fight, emulating the movements of a fearless cage fighter.
The chintian mech launched forwards, seemingly enraged that Casper would find his feet and threw a haymaker after a jab after a strike, but each one had Casper leaning back and trying to keep away from the other machine, slapping the ruined stubs away in moments that he could.
Casper didn’t need to be perfect, even when the other fighter was close enough to clip Spectre, it was only glancing blows and even then, with each hit, Casper realised more and more that he had nothing to be afraid of in the fight. All he had to do was keep the other mech on the attack, whilst he backed off, arms up.
The enemy mech paused for a moment, seemingly taking a breather. Inside the chintian cockpit, sweat beaded off The Pilot, every punch thrown by the machine was a direct mimicry of his own. The puppetry gloves that wrapped around his hands copied his every move. Each missed punch was one that The Pilot had also physically thrown and wasted the energy.
Casper grinned deep within his pilot casket.
The Spectre unit kept one arm up, protecting his head, just out of reach from the other mech, as his other arm waved in front of him. Suggesting the other mech keep coming, beckoning him. Taunting him.
This didn’t trigger the enemy, there was no sudden enraged leap forwards. The chintian mech came forwards again, steady and ready, throwing out another series of punches that hit nothing but air as Casper backed away, just out of reach of the mech. Evading and escaping, leaning heavily on the one advantage he had over the more experienced enemy.
[You can’t catch me, can you? You’ve nothing for this. You didn’t stop us from destroying the tanks. You can’t beat me. You only took out Scrub via surprise. You’re a disappointment aren’t you?]
((Kiep odmawia, gdy nie Kiep prosi…))
The chintian mech suddenly lurched forwards as its own back mounted jets ignited and sent it toppling forwards and careening into Casper’s middle. Not expecting this, but rolling with it; Casper’s own jets fired and launched him backwards and up, absorbing the blow and mass of the other machine into a hug as the two machines connected.
Spectre put all its energy into its own boosters and raised the pair of them up.
The two fights, still clawing at one another, lifted into the air, until they collided with one of the buildings. Both packs still firing forced them upwards, sending concrete and debris flying as the pair of machines clutched at each other whilst dragging one another into and through the various floors.
Eventually they broke free of the buildings and the cityscape fell away beneath them. Rain pelted them and lightning forked in the distance.
Casper had been afraid his whole life. Fearing for his body. Fearing for his mind. Fear for his whole species. He was afraid of the mere thought of being in pain that he had grasped at the first thing that had not only promised to take away his physical pain, but also his mental anguish.
The thought of Qik getting hurt or doing this on her own abhorred Casper. He had to win, he had to get back to her, he had to eat and care for himself, because if he didn’t; who would look after her?
This pilot that faced him, that snarled at him from within the chintian machine might not be his ‘enemy’ in the grand scheme of things, but right now he represented the fear that Casper alone had to wrestle with every day of his life.
But he wasn’t alone now.
Qik was with him.
Her company would be his.
He wasn’t Casper when he was piloting.
He was Spectre.
The dark grey mech released its grip on the other mech’s with one hand whilst holding the enemy closer to him with the other, bringing the two together.
With his free hand he reached for the other machine’s back. He felt the sensitive jet pack with its intake and slapped his hand directly into the yawning maw of the engine.
In seconds Spectre’s entire hand was torn from its housing and sucked into the sensitive inners of the jet’s engine. Instantly the large reactor housed within the pack exploded, a huge firestorm that blew most of the enemy mech’s torso to smithereens. It was only because of the mass of the other mech that Spectre remained unscathed.
Casper brought his legs up, using his knees to force the two of them apart as he shoved and straightened his whole body in one herculean effort.
The now limp chintian mech’s arms broke apart, servos disconnected and shattering with the force as Spectre backflipped away and straightened, aiming to land back into the city as he would jumping down from a raised platform.
Casper’s jump pack burned even hotter as he neared the ground and softened his fall as Spectre’s knees absorbed the impact with a natural grace that hadn’t been seen by any mech pilot before now.
The Spectre’s head looked up, optics clicking and watched as the out of control jet pack continued to circle and spin in a completely wild, unmanaged death spiral.
Up to the point where the reactor that fed the jets exploded.
The sky lit up and long shadows appeared everywhere as the chintian mech exploded with such force that the very air was blown away and rushed back in, toppling already damaged buildings and causing a domino effect as they collapsed.
[Qik!]
Casper’s jets ignited again and sent him flying towards where Qik’s mech still lay as the building she had fallen into began to collapse. Casper wasn’t fast enough as the building began to bury the red mech from sight.
[Qik; say something!]
{I’m fine. You have to drop more than a building on me to take me out.}
Casper skidded to a halt as the dust began to settle over the new rubble pile where Qik’s mech was buried.
[I thought, god I thought after all that, it would be the building that gets you.]
{Nah, but do you mind getting me out though? This will be embarrassing if anyone shows up and sees this.}
Casper would have laughed if he was able and reached down to start shifting rubble with his one remaining good hand. By the first fist full of ruined concrete, the scratched and dented red paint of Qik’s mech appeared, a stark contrast to the muted greys of the burnt and now destroyed building materials.
As he worked, Casper turned his head to a sonic boom in the distance. His optics zoomed in and he got a bad feeling creeping up his spine.
From the skies, a trio of ships broke through the clouds and levelled out, screeching towards where Casper stood and Qik lay. They were moving low and fast over the terrain.
[We got inbound.]
{We’ll be okay}
They didn’t look friendly to Casper, nor did they appear like any of the models of geckin ships that Casper was now familiar with. They were of sleek black metal with sharp angles and wings and tails that ended in dangerous looking spikes and points. The geckin crafts looked functional, these looked animalistic.
Casper sped up his actions, clearing the ejection tube for Qik’s pilot casket.
[Eject, I’ll get us away.]
{No need Spectre.}
Casper growled, frustrated that the lopel didn’t seem to get the urgency of the situation! The ships were right on them!
[They’re right on us Qik!]
{They’re friendly Casper. Meet your new family.}
[What?]
Casper, still crouched over Qik’s exposed mech, watched the aircraft carefully as they approached the city limits and the pair of damaged mechs. Just as they got within a few hundred metres, the crafts pulled up their noses sharply, and the engines tilted, pushing down against gravity and inertia, rather than pushing the aircraft through the air.
The VTOLs all landed very close to both the Spectre and Scrub units. Casper watched them very closely, ready to lash out the moment they did something he didn’t like. From the bellies of the ships came several lopels, each rushing over to Qik’s disabled mech and toward Spectre.
“Youz two ready to leave? Contracts done and we got a nice big fat bonus for takin’ out that there other pilot. Some crazy human that folk have been having trouble killing apparently.” Came a new rough and ready voice over the open radio. Casper couldn’t tell who was speaking, and turned to Qik’s mech.
[Qik?]
{Power down and disengage. Put yourself in their hands.}
[Are you sure?]
{Trust me Casper, these guys as Tactical Solutions Co, they’re our company. Our family. This team’s job is to keep you safe. Let’s go meet the family, yeah?}
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Should I buy the top half of the battery tray? Would i also need a bracket to hold it in place or is just buying the tray fine?

I want to write this as it's been eating away at me for over a year now, so I kind of want to get it off my chest. Kiep****, Hend***, Elv**, Whiz** - it's me if you're reading this. For reference, this happened in December of 2022.
I'm a DM who has been playing for around 4 years now, I enjoy it and its been my favorite hobby since I was introduced to it. I decided to try out being a player, and joined a group playing 5e DnD in lfg.
Honestly, it was great. At the start, I struggled to get out of the DM mindset and came up with crazy ideas that I'm sure were a bit disruptive to the other players, but the DM was super friendly and courteous, and I began to tone down my playing style and try my best to appreciate the other players at the table.
We all got along very well, I had some very minor gripes at some story moments but it was barely anything worth mentioning and it wasn't hindering my enjoyment at all. Now unfortunately, outside of DnD, especially at the time, I was super stressed IRL, nothing was going right in my life and I was bitter and angry. Of course this all came to a head in December, where I had a huge falling out with some close friends in real life, which might be my fault as well... Needless to say I look at that month as one of the worst months of my life.
This is where it all goes wrong - I'm in bed, I can't sleep, it's 5am, I have all this bitterness inside of me, all of this anger, and I have no healthy outlet to let it all out. And I decide to do the worst thing possible, I go to the DnD discord group and I write a full gigantic rant about everything that's bothering me about the campaign - whether it be story related or player actions - it's all there, and it's all horrible. After writing it I leave the group before anyone responds, and because of the discord rule people can't message you if you don't share a group with them I don't receive any messages after.
My message was hurtful and disgusting, the writings of someone who was hurting and lashed out at those around him, it hurt other people who had nothing to do with it and people I considered friends and who were nothing but friendly and kind to me. I was enjoying the campaign, and none of the things in the message had any effect on my enjoyment of the campaign, I was just depressed and angry at myself and let it out on others. I reached out to the DM and sent an apology message 2 months later in February, and I tried reaching out to the players but the discord thing about sharing a server means my messages didn't reach them.
I'm not asking for forgiveness nor am I trying to justify my actions, what I wrote was horrible and hurtful - I am writing this to share my story, and show how when you have all these negative emotions bottling up inside of you, you end up hurting people and furthering your own isolation.

Aan het begin van de zomer in 2023 is mijn kiep raam gecontroleerd door mijn verhuurder en is er geconstateerd dat deze niet meer dicht kan.
Ik heb inmiddels meerdere malen geprobeerd om een reparateur langs te laten komen, en dat is tot nu toe slechts één keer gelukt, en destijds had hij niet de juiste onderdelen mee om het raam te maken. (Dan vul je dus een online formulier in met precies wat er mis is en dan bellen ze je vervolgens na 2 weken op dat ze een ander bedrijf moeten inschakelen, die vervolgens na weer 2 weken pas langs komen en alsnog de onderdelen niet meenemen?????)
Hij vertelde me vervolgens dat ze een vervolgafspraak zouden maken om mijn raam wél te maken, maar dat is weer nooit gebeurd. Inmiddels wéér een maand verder, en ik heb nog steeds niks gehoord.
Ik ben al maanden gas aan het opstoken om mijn kamer nog enigzins op temperatuur te houden in deze koude tijden. Ik vind het echt niet kunnen dat zo'n simpele reparatie nog steeds niet gedaan is. Het is al 7 maanden verder! Ik wil mijn raam gewoon dicht kunnen doen!
Mijn energierekening is veel hoger dan die zou moeten zijn. Ik begin er al over na te denken om die kosten te verhalen bij wooncorporatie. Is dat überhaupt mogelijk in zo'n situatie?

I’m interested in 2 types of dresses (both fit and flare/mermaid/trumpet):

1. Some Lacey mesh detail but not full lace
2. Really plain with no detail at all like a bridesmaid dress

I like sweetheart necklines an cap sleeves. I love some Sophia Tolli dresses. “Aleena” by Sophia Tolli was my favorite but it’s discontinued. Some of her dresses have a bit too much lace for me though.
Any designers for inspo?