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tutuandscoot · 11 months

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I wanna preface this by saying I mean no offence to the skaters and people I’m about to mention, just the programs, costumes, overall spectacle..

So.

What a freaking mood kill it must’ve been watching the 2010 FD event live (there in person but on tv as well) to watch VM deliver THAT performance, in their home country with the crowd going nuts, then to follow with the two programs by BA and DS..

It’s like stepping back in time 10 years in a matter of moments. The contrast between the future and the past in just.. 15 minutes or so. Now it’s not as though the atmosphere in the arena totally dies in tha arse.. being two top teams there was a fair amount of applause, it’s just the artistic mood kill it must’ve been. Like going from watching a performance of Swan Lake, to… some low budget horror movie. I watch it and just think what the hell were you people (these more dated style teams and their costumers/choreographers) thinking?? Was it not embarrassing to come out after VM- a boy and girl dressed so simply in a blouse and trousers and a white dress wearing…. What they were wearing?? For DS: a trash bag looking cape thing??, BA: him in that all white… elvis-esk get up. THE WHITE SKATE COVERS 🫣🫣🫣. (Also the first two teams in the final group-DW and FS were dressed more simply/appropriately to the sport and character of the program.. not to just say VM are the only ones who get it- but they ARE the best example).

I was watching 2002 worlds the other day- the one after the Salt Lake olys and Rod and Tracey are talking about the “costumes” and how something needs to be done about it (Rod asking ‘wasn’t something done about’ it and Tracey responding ‘yes’ but clearly no one listened) and/or teams should be penalised for excessive costumes. Part of me thinks, as the person skating in this stuff, just.. how do they do it?? Like isn’t it uncomfortable, restrictive, a headache to partner in?? And then the spectator in me thinks you look like idiots! I find it so difficult to watch bc you can’t make out hardly anything that’s happening. These were two (at the time) highly ranked teams with obviously good skating skills but just the visual- the first thing you see- those costumes already gives you the impression of sloppyness. I’ve said before, it’s not like these people are on stage with sets and lights and other people dressed like them so it makes sense, they are just two people in a sports arena with no prior context for what they are portraying, coming out dressed, as these two teams (and there were many more at this event, I only point out these two bc they skated after VM and were medal contenders) did… it just looked ridiculous.

VM come out just as themselves dressed stunningly and there is no distraction whatsoever to their skating and dancing, even in other programs of their’s- more specific character ones the costume is never a distraction- it always aids in it.

BA were skating to Ava Maria, now why couldn’t they dress in something like VM?? White- the angel/heavenly. There could still be some reference to wings or whatever, but not to the point where it is a complete distraction.

DS.. just.. omg. That PLUS the aboriginal dance (like guys it was so bad there were Aussie news reports with aboriginal elders talking about how offensive and not representative of their culture it was). So their music/ story was ‘the double life of Veronique’. I looked it up and apparently it’s a movie about a woman who leads a double life/has an identical twin? Idk.. Now why did they dress like a fabric shop went through a garbage disposal machine??? There were rhinestoned faces on both their costumes but you could only make those out up close. Why couldn’t they just dress her in a simple dress and him in something similar (maybe different colours) to Scott and tell the story through movement.. bc the program makes ZERO sense.

[Also: nothing says you have to use music from a movie or theatre show or ballet and skate as the character/s from said production. You can use the music just as music and create your own story, or have no story at all (VM once mentioned this about wanting to skate to R+J but we’re told they were “too old” (which is bullshit) but considered using the music and just dancing to it.. SEE WHY I YELL SO MUCH ABOUT VM GETTING IT). ]

Take something like VM’s Moulin Rouge. Their costumes are reminiscent of the film/stage show, but they weren’t confined to that story in those costumes- they could’ve worn them for a number of different stories/music selections. But they told the story through their movement and interactions together. The lifts (as I’ve detailed) tell the story. The way they touch and hold each other, look at each other. It makes complete sense yet it is also up for interpretation.

With these older programs.. this ‘style’ there is so much going on; either the program doesn’t make sense, they try so hard to make a vague theme seem literal that the skating and athleticism suffers… it’s one thing watching it in 2002, people saying this is ridiculous, but most teams were doing this sort of ‘style’, but in 2010.. I mean VM really were the most “bare”, simple team.. and did it not look the best?? To the untrained eye who can’t really tell skating details apart (me): it is soooo much more pleasant to watch Valse Triste over the majority of programs that year. Just a girl and boy dancing to beautiful music, dressed beautifully- showing off their beautiful posture, long, straight pointed legs and feet, no distractions from their musicality and connection to each other. Stripped down to the bare minimum and everything that should matter in their judged sport can be judged without distraction. Same with Umbrellas, but this time with a theme and story. Same with Pink Floyd- (worlds) themeless, all about the movement and musicality. Same with Mahler.. are we seeing a pattern here?? SAME WITH ALL THEIR PROGRAMS. Every time they came up against (top) teams wearing too much with two much going on.

I guess my gripe is; how did it take this long to realise dressing like that looked ridiculous?? It’s just crazy to watch, and getting back to the original point, it must’ve been so strange, and I wonder if people watching live could make that distinction that just visually, forget athletically, what VM were doing was stratospheres better. And STILL stands up today as one of the greatest ice dance performances of all time.

So yeah…

Here’s VM expressing my exact reaction:

#just wee little rant #VM really did revolutionise ID didn’t they..#my beautiful dancing bbys #please go watch these other skate after VM on the full replay #SS don’t do the disaster justice

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wilt3d-r0zes · 7 months

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Fic Name (and link): A Fox is a Wolf who sends Flowers Series: Teen Wolf Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Melissa McCall, The Nogitsune Pairings: N/A Trigger Warnings: Standard Season 3b TWs Important Tags: Spark/Magic Stiles Stilinski, Slow Updates, Season Rewrite Summary:

"Do not meddle more, Mieczysław. We will wait." The world tilts, the white fading into grey to black. His bed seems to reach up and yank him downwards until suddenly he’s screaming himself awake in the early hours of the morning. Or, The Nogitsune is not what it seems, and also sassy

Official Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/wilt3d_r0zes/a-fox-is-a-wolf-who-brings-flowers/

Official Acronym: FWSF

Official Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mqurPYscPgQacj4VpKfeH

The key he found on his keyring fits into the chemistry door. It isn’t that he didn’t expect it, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t hopeful. Hopeful that maybe it’s just a coincidence, that maybe he got paint on his fingers and they got on the key sometime at the rave, or maybe someone tried to steal it with paint or chemicals on their fingers, and only managed to grab it but not take it.

But no, the chemistry closet door responds well to the mystery key on his keyring. He stares at the now cracked-open closet door. Surely not. There’s no way, maybe someone put it on his keyring somehow, somewhere, somewhen without him realizing, to frame him for it.

Right?

(He’s losing his mind again.)

He turns back to the blackboard, to the riddle still written in chalk for their teacher to wipe away the next morning. Stares at it in hopeful, frail denial and listens to his sneakers squeak on the tiled floors.

(He thought it was over.)

Picking up the chalk reveals just how shaky his hands really are, when it almost falls and shatters on the floor upon being picked up. His fingers don’t want to hold it like he’s telling them to, but he manages to write on the board anyways.

(He thought he was free.)

It’s the same handwriting.

…

Transition

He’s waking up in his bed.

He’s waking up in his bed?

Why is he in his bed?

He’s not in his bed.

Well, technically he’s in his bed, but when he looks up and explores the room with his eyes it’s that same weird all-white parking garage-esk room he remembers from the sacrifice they did to find their parents. His bed isn’t the only furniture in the 'room,' however. His desk is in the same spot it would be if he were in his room, except there’s someone sitting in the chair, reading through a book he doesn’t recognize.

The first thing he notices is that their head is wrapped in old, browning bandages with dried blood and dirt soaking through some of the less wrapped areas or the crevices. It fills him with an uncanny feeling of discomfort and fear that grips his heart and shakes it. Still, he looks around again before saying, "Hi?"

His voice cracks enough for him to wince and clear his throat. Logically, he knows this is a dream-- what else could it be? So it doesn't matter if he angers this weird creation of his subconscious. Yet, he's filled with a level of fear that feels disproportionate to Some Dude sitting on the other side of a non-existent room.

"Hello?" he calls again when he gets no response, the being at his desk slowly turning the page of an old book made up from tarnished leather and browning parchment, "Where am I?"

"Where dreams are made and come to die, clear or full will it be," he(? The voice is masculine, so is the build he can make out from around the chair and under the brown bomber jacket) rasps. Man. Stiles hates riddles.

“Uh, okay, that… makes no sense. Who are you?”

“Watagushi, na ke de wa nai.” He responds, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that that wasn't English. Considering the only other language Stiles knows is Polish, and it certainly isn't that either, he decides it's something made up by his brain-- or, maybe it was a language Stiles knows and was just muddled by the bandages, surely those go all around his face?

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that, man," the human responds, sitting up full in his bed from where he'd barely propped himself on one arm.

“Kore wa wa re ran ogu tu na no cha.”

"Still not a language I know."

The man(?) turns another page in the book, and this time it creates a horrible, gut-wrenching ripping sound, that screams into Stiles's ears and drowns out the rest of the world regardless of the lacking sounds of life. When the page is carefully released, Stiles is left with ringing ears, “Not ‘Who are you?’, Mieczysław, ‘Who are we?’”

"What the hell was that?" he squawks, fumbling to get out of the bed. He can't move his legs, though, in what he assumes is dream logic. Somewhere in his brain he thinks it's because he's tangled in the blanket.

"We were getting too close." Mummy Man responds, voice growing no less raspy despite how much he's talking. Stiles almost wishes this is the kinda lucid dream he can control, just so he could summon a glass of water.

"Who's we?"

“We are us. I am we, you are we,” he sounds like he’s thinking, tilting his head to the side and looking up from the book, “We are meddling, we need to stop.”

Stiles stares. What? That makes no sense. Actually, that makes less than no sense, even his not-english-polish gibberish had made more sense than that. Yet, he's filled with fear at the statement. He thinks back to what he was doing just before this dream, the chalkboard, the chemistry closet--

This must be what's causing that. The part of his subconsious or brain or whatever that's doing that, killing people. Even if indirectly. He saying that he is Stiles, and that Stiles is meddling in his plans of murder.

"No!" Stiles yells, struck with a startling amount of indignant anger, "I'm not just gonna sit- sit idly by while you kill people!"

The Mummy Man turns slowly, an unnatural creak, not unlike the sound of a rusty door hinge, following the movement. He reveals his 'face', something obscured by bandages save for what can only pass as being described as a mouth. It's a gaping hole in the bandages, with teeth and tongue and black goop. Blood and black stain the bandages surrounding it, like he'd eaten something alive and not tried to clean himself up after. He doesn't even have any lips.

More fear surges through him, warring with the anger for a place in his actions.

"In due time, Mieczysław."

"You using my name is fucking weird, Mummy Man," Stiles snarls, drawn back into himself and pushed to the far side of the bed like the mere foot of extra distance will save him.

"Do not meddle more, Mieczysław. We will wait."

The world tilts, the white fading into grey to black. His bed seems to reach up and yank him downwards until suddenly he’s screaming himself awake in the early hours of the morning.

…

Silver finger

“Scott, hey!” Stiles skids to a stop, only to grab his best friend by the elbow and drag him down the hallway, free hand waving about as he starts talking, “Remember the key I was telling you about yesterday? Well, when we were at that rave I was talking to Caitlin– the girl who's girlfriend died recently– and when I pulled out the bottle opener I’ve got she saw the key and, apparently, it had phosphors on it- which means it glows in blacklight, right?- and then I asked why I would have phosphors on my key and she asked if I’d been handling chemicals and so that got me thinking about the chemistry closet,” he rambles, pushing open the chemistry classroom door and taking in a gasp of air, shaking out that same free hand, “And the fact that someone had to let Barrow in, and once I got here the key worked on the door and–.”

He wilts. The blackboard had been erased.

“It’s gone,” he knows he sounds unreasonably defeated, bumping his palms together anxiously before spinning on his heel from where he’d gotten halfway across the room, “Well, that’s fine, I still have the key and– what the hell?” The key’s gone from his keyring now. It makes him think back to that weird, stupid dream he had last night. Was that real? Did the other in his head really take action in getting him to stop meddling? “I had it. I had it, right here,” he holds his keyring up and shakes it for effect, the sound rattling almost painfully around his skull, “I swear to god, I had it here this morning.”

“The key you were talking about last night?” Scott has that very confused, lost puppy dog look on his face and in normal circumstances Stiles would laugh at how easy it is to compare his werewolf best friend to a puppy, but instead he’s starting to verge on a panic attack so he just keeps talking.

“Yes! Yeah, that, I showed it to you, didn’t I? Please tell me I showed it to you.”

Scott’s head shake makes his chest squeeze painfully, “No, you told me about it but… I never actually saw it.”

“I was here, Scott! And just a few hours ago I unlocked the chemistry closet door and there was Kira’s name in atomic numbers in my handwriting on the blackboard.”

“So… you unlocked the chemistry closet so Barrow could hide from the police, and then you wrote him a message telling him to kill Kira?” He sounds so beyond disbelieving and it’s not helping Stiles in feeling like any of this was real. He glances down at his hands, wanting to count his fingers in the way he’s started doing too many times for too many days. That’ll just make him look more nuts.

“I know how it sounds, Scott, but– but look at this!” he scrambles to pull the news report he brought with him for extra proof, hands beyond shaky and nearly ripping it on its violent trip out of the bag, “This is the news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this, see what he did? He put nuts, bolts, and screws, and then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?”

“Coach… It sounds like the joke we played on Coach.”

“That was my idea, remember? That was my idea, that can’t be a coincidence, it can’t be.”

Scott winces, gesturing vaguely for Stiles to quiet down. The human blushes, not even realizing how loud he’d gotten in his growing panic, “I don’t want to tell you that you’re wrong, but I don’t think you’re trying to kill anybody either.”

“It was here,” he runs a hand through his hair and turned back towards the board, “It was all here.”

“Dude… are you feeling okay?”

(He’s losing his mind again, please, please, he thought he was better.)

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Why don’t you go home?” Stiles turns back around, confused, “Take a sick day?”

“...Yeah, yeah,” he sighs– again, “Yeah, maybe I will.”

(He thought it was over.)

…

“Well, Dr. Gardner’s not back until next week. Do you want to try and wait for one of the other Urgent Care doctors, or…?” Stiles shakes his head, pushing off from the desk and trying to keep from losing himself. He’d come here straight from the school, because he feels like he’s falling apart and some part of him urged to come here, “Stiles? Are you okay?”

His eyes sting with tears and he feels like there’s a dull knife sawing away at whatever is keeping him from going nuts and getting locked up in Eichan House. He brings a hand up to his chest and thumps it against his ribcage, like it’ll slow down his heart rate if he shows it how to work, “I guess, uhm,” thump, thump, thump, “I guess not really?

“Alright,” it’s the way that she says it that makes Stiles want to melt to the floor and cry, while simultaneously making him want to lash out at the way she sounds like she’s handling a feral cat, “Alright, kiddo, come with me.”

He feels like his limbs are going to fall out from under him while they walk through the halls until she stops outside a door, giving him the chance to shake out his hands and rock back on his heels.

She gestures for him to sit on the bed while she grabs a clipboard, “Can you tell me your symptoms?” she glances towards him, then back towards the papers on the clipboard. He’s rocking in place, arms crossed over his empty-feeling chest and flexing his hands to keep from freaking out.

“Blackouts,” he clears his throat and looks away, “But not for that long. Uhm, and sleepwalking, which I used to do a lot as a kid. Some really bad anxiety, too.”

“Panic attacks?”

“Yeah, a couple,” he breathes shakily and it feels like he’s electrocuted his heart in the way it races, “I also temporarily lost the ability to read but, uhm, that might’ve had more to do with the whole human sacrifice and- magic tree thing.”

Melissa is looking at him with an amused smile when he glances over at her and the paper she’s still writing on, “I seem to vaguely remember something like that, yes.” she looks back towards her paper when he doesn’t respond or react, “How many hours of sleep are you getting?”

“Eight.”

“A night?”

“In the last three days.”

He sees her turn to him with the kinda face he usually associates with him having done something wrong in his peripherals, but he’s looking down at his hands and counting on his fingers, cataloging all the times he woke up from nightmares and each night he stayed up until the sun rose only to pass out in class.

“Have you been feeling irritable?”

“Yeah, uhm, possibly to the point of homicide.”

“Inability to focus?”

“No, the adderall’s not working.”

“Impulsive behavior?”

“More than my usual? Hard to tell.”

“Vivid dreams during the day?”

He huffs nervously, “Okay, basically all of the above. Do you know what it is?”

(Please be something normal. Please.)

“I think so,” she turns away, setting the pen down with a deafeningly loud tap that reminds Stiles he’s been in sensory overload for the last twenty-four hours and it’s been slowly dragging him further into the pit of insanity.

He shakes his head, feels his brain rattle around, and then looks up towards Melissa and the needle in her hand, “What’s that?”

“Do you trust me?”

“When you’re not holding a needle.” and when his mind isn’t slipping through his fingers like old jell-o.

Still, he doesn’t stop her when she wipes his upper arm down with an alcohol wipe and sticks it into his skin, “It’s midazolam. A sedative.”

More panic tries to spark, his lungs quivering and his rocking resuming once she’s removed the needle and he can self-soothe again. What if this isn’t real? What if he’s hallucinating again and really he’s acting nuts and this is his hallucination telling him he’s being sedated? “Why are you giving me a sedative?”

“Because you, Stiles, are one profoundly sleep-deprived young man. You need rest, and you need it now.” she puts her arms on his shoulders, effectively stopping his rocking, “Lie down.”

He stares at her, because now it feels like reality is far away and nothing is quite real, like it’s taking years for everything to process while simultaneously not even taking a second, “How long’s it going to take to–,” she pushes him back and he falls with the light pressure, losing the ability to hold himself up with the sudden exhaustion that ripples over him, “Oh. Not long at all.”

“Get some rest, Stiles,” he hears, before reality slips between his fingers.

(Thanks, mom.)

…

It’s startlingly dark when he comes to, wide awake, in the hospital room however long later. The blinds are shut on all the windows but it’s still obvious the sun has set, leaving him in almost pitch black.

At least, it would’ve, but there seems to be a yellow-ish green light coming from somewhere in the room. There’re little specks of opaque something floating in the air, like how you'd see dust particles in a camera. His first thought is that maybe this is another dream, and it makes it that much harder to force himself to sit up.

Instead, he clenches his hands and counts them without looking at them.

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine- ten.)

He sits up.

On the folded heavy blanket at the foot of his bed, there’s a fox curled up. It’s not a real fox, no, it’s more like the shape of one made out of yellow-green neon lines. He furrows his brows at it, counting his fingers in the dark again.

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.)

It moves. One of its ears twitches. Once, twice, and then it slowly blinks its eyes open. There are two startlingly black dots where its iris and pupil should (probably) be, and they lock onto Stiles.

They stare at each other for a long moment in silence. The restless fidgeting and stimming that Stiles is almost always doing slows to a still while they stare at each other, completely unmoving.

Then it blinks, and its ear twitches again. It turns towards the door, pushing itself into a sitting position.

“They are coming.”

Stiles jolts, breaking out of his trance with a surge of panic, “Who?”

“We are in danger. We must not be caught.”

“Who’s we?”

“They are coming.”

Stiles looks towards the door, and counts his fingers again.

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.)

“What do you want me to do?”

It’s weird, the way he knows it's the fox speaking into his mind. The way he doesn’t feel confused or alarmed by this creature, like it’s something he’s gone through hundreds of times–

Something familiar.

“Do not let them touch us.”

“Who’s us?”

“We.”

The fox turns back to him and stares. The statement itself reminds Stiles of the dream - the one with the mummy man. The way he connected it to a potential part of him that aided the mass murderer– maybe it’s something more than that. Something supernatural.

Maybe that’s why there’s a fox here, in reality and not a dream, talking to him in his brain. That means the fox is talking about him, and not itself.

“How do I do that? Who are we talking about?”

“They will come out of the shadows.” the fox rasps into his brain, turning back towards the door, “Bide our time. He will help us.”

“Who’s he?”

“The wolf. He will hide us.”

Stiles looks back at the door, at the closed blinds that hide the light from the hallway. “Should I stay here?”

“There is only one exit.”

“That’s a no then, got it,” he pushes the blanket off himself, disturbing the fox into hopping onto the table by the foot of the bed. It leaps onto his shoulders as he passes by, startling him in the fact it seems to have a weight despite being nothing but a spirit-like creature.

The hallway is empty. Shockingly so, he remembers hospitals always being so overpopulated by nurses and doctors in every hallway. Yet, it’s silent. Not even the sounds of patients in the neighboring rooms reach his ears, and it draws unease into Stiles’s chest.

“Melissa?” he calls, as if she’ll suddenly appear from wherever it is she is. Possibly at home, maybe on the other side of the hospital. Of course, she doesn’t appear, leaving him alone in the hallway with a ghost fox on his shoulders.

He stays close to the wall, praying that the fox is watching his back because it’s going to drive him nuts to keep looking back and forth with the groggy remnants of sleep and a sedative still dragging him down.

Only the faint buzzing sound of fluorescent lights that he normally wouldn’t notice unless already in sensory overload is heard in the hallways. It’s almost funny, actually, how once you hit sensory overload your brain just collects more sensory input for you to notice. Why is that?

He pushes open a door and it brushes against the ground but doesn’t creak at the hinges like he expected it to. It feels like he’s in a horror movie when the double swinging door reveals a small, dark hallway.

“We should turn back.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Stiles backs up, letting the door swing shut, “If they come out of the shadows, does that mean we’re safe if we stay in the light?”

“Without shadow, there is no light.”

“Okay, then what’s the point of avoiding the creepy hallway?” he gestures behind himself toward the doors he’s actively walking away from. He’s moved away from the wall, now standing in the center and under the lights, hopefully giving him enough space to avoid whatever when it ‘comes from the shadows.’

(Why exactly is he following the instructions of a weird ghost fox that appeared after he woke up from a sedative?)

“More light means less shadows, it is harder to reach us in this light.”

“Got it,” he swings around a corner, pushing open another door and thankfully revealing a lit hallway. He makes it about four steps in before the fox on his shoulder pushes itself into a sitting position, ears perking up and mentally alerting Stiles to a threat.

“They found us.”

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he lowers his voice, turning in a slow circle and surveying the area. Nothing has appeared yet, but he can hear a quiet grumbling coming from the walls. When he squints at them, the shadows almost look like they’re shimmering. Something seems to tap, tap on the shadowed wall, and it ripples like when you throw a pebble into water.

A gloved – is that a glove? or is it bunched up skin? -- hand reaches out in a sharp, singular movement before halting just below the wrist. Stiles startles backwards, signaling him to turn around and see two more hands coming from the wall behind him.

“Shit. How likely am I to die if I run out the door?”

“The wolf is waiting.”

“Not very, then, awesome,” he stumbles over his shoeless feet, socks sliding on the tiled floors uselessly, but successfully makes it out of the creepy room and into the next hallway. He looks both ways, still seeing no nurses or doctors and being invited into an eerie silence punctuated by buzzing lights and growling walls. Internally, he feels a nudge, and turns on his heel toward the left.

He’s sprinted halfway down the hall when Scott turns the corner ahead of him, “Scott!” he shouts, sliding to a stop and looking back at the way he came to see a trio of black clad beings with swords and weird masks that he can’t make out the details of.

“Stiles! Mom said you were asleep!” Scott breaks into a jog, if his sped up footsteps have anything to say, before he appears in the side of Stiles’ vision.

“I woke up,” he flashes a grin.

“We do not have time for this.”

The creatures take a step forward, so he grabs Scott’s wrist to start dragging him away, “We should go!”

“No, wait,” Scott sounds startlingly calm for the actively approaching demons in front of him, “...Why are they after you?”

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sataniccapitalist · 2 years

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#republicans

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featurenews · 5 months

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Three men who died when 4x4 swept away in Yorkshire river named by police

Scott Thomas Daddy, 28, Leslie Forbes, 70, and Kenneth Patrick Hibbins, 59, were in vehicle that was submerged in River Esk Three men who died when their 4x4 vehicle was swept away at a river crossing in Yorkshire have been named by police. Scott Thomas Daddy, 28, from Hull, Leslie Forbes, 70, from the East Yorkshire area, and Kenneth Patrick Hibbins, 59, known as Patrick, from York, were found dead inside the vehicle after it became submerged in the River Esk near Glaisdale shortly before midday on Thursday. Continue reading... https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2023/dec/29/three-men-who-died-when-4x4-swept-away-in-yorkshire-river-named-by-police?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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afactaday · 9 months

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#aFactADay2022

#590: there is a hill in cumbria called torpenhow hill. and this hill is 33% more interesting than mount fujiyama. fuji means mount*, yama means mount, and mount means mount so mount fujiyama is mount mountmount. tor is an old name for a hill, pen is an old name for a hill, and how is an old name for a hill. so torpenhow hill is hillhillhill hill**: 33% better than mt. fujiyama (2sf). *fuji could also mean fire, abundance, ear, unparallelled, inexhaustible, immortal or high-status. **torpenhow hill isnt marked on any maps, its just a tourism thing. tor, pen and how also have more complicated meanings, and its pronounced "trepenna", indicating the name actually comes from something else, and the hill isnt really much of a hill***. ***tom scott debunked this debunk but ive conveniently run out of space.

the river avon, river ouse, river axe, river exe, river esk, river humber and river tyne (all in uk) all mean river river. the river paraguay (paraguay) means river riverriver and the yenisei river (mongolia/russia) means bigriverriver river. the dal lake (india) means lake lake and lake nyasa (tanzania) means lake lakelake. the sahara desert (africa) is the desert desert and the boutros boutros-ghali (egypt) means peter peter-expensive.

now "river" doesnt make any sense.

#afactaday #aFactADay2022 #fact of the day #fotd590 #this post was auto-posted by flanbot

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alphareleasemedia · 1 year

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Young Lochinvar -- Sir Walter Scott

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Esk river where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I longed wooed your daughter, my suit you denied-- Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-- And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar-- "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

#poetry #sir walter scott #young lochinvar

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scottiestoybox · 2 years

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WTF: Texas Paul REACTS to Republican Candidate who supports STONING LGBTQ people

Scott Esk, a Republican candidate running for a seat in Oklahoma’s state House once said it is “totally just” to kill gay people in comments that have recently resurfaced amid his campaign. Meidas Contributor Texas Paul Reacts.

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pashterlengkap · 2 years

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GOP candidate who said it’s “totally just” to stone gays to death loses election

Scott Esk, a candidate for the Oklahoma House of Representatives, just lost his primary runoff election two months after beating his opponent in the first round of primary voting. The loss comes several days after comments Esk made about stoning gay people to death resurfaced in the media. In June, Esk got the most votes in the Republican primary election in Oklahoma House District 87, ending up with 37.0% of the vote, more than second-place finisher Gloria Banister’s 35.7% of the vote. Since neither of them got over 50% of the vote, a runoff was held yesterday. KOCO is reporting that Banister has won the primary election with nearly 58% of the vote, an upset considering she got fewer votes in the first round. In 2013, Esk was commenting in a Facebook conversation about the Pope saying that he couldn’t judge gay people. Esk posted some Bible quotations, including the part of Romans 1 where the Bible says that a long list of people who sinned is “worthy of death.” Another person asked him: “So, just to be clear, you think we should execute homosexuals (presumably by stoning)?” Esk responded: “I think we would be totally in the right to do it… Ignoring as a nation things that are worthy of death is very remiss.” A year later, a journalist asked him about those comments. He said it was “totally just” to kill gay people. “What I will tell you right now is that that was done in the Old Testament under a law that came directly from God,” he said at the time. “And in that time, there was, it was, totally just came directly from God.” Esk made several videos over the intervening years where he promised to “set the record straight” on those comments. He didn’t take back or apologize for the comments in those videos. In fact, even though he insisted that local media published a “hit piece” on him when they reported his comments, he doubled down. “Any Christian should be in the position to say that this is sin or this is good. If we don’t make that distinction, we’re not going to help people,” he said in the first video published in 2015. “Well, does that make me a homophobe? Maybe some people think it does,” he said in another video published earlier this year. “But as far as I and many of the people, the voters of House District 87 are concerned, it simply makes me a Christian. Christians believe in biblical morality, kind of by definition, or they should.” “The fact is, that it’s much more offensive knowing what obscene things homosexuals do with each other than it is for somebody to hold the view that it is indecent.” The Oklahoman asked Esk about his comments for a story that was published on Saturday, August 20. Esk pointed the paper to his videos. “I’ve stood up for what is right in the past, and I intend to in the future and I am right now,” he stated. “That’s got me in trouble. The media are not my friends, as far as I’m concerned.” On Tuesday, Republican primary voters picked his opponent over him by a large margin. http://dlvr.it/SXBkhY

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trop1cal-punk · 1 year

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Intro time B)

Good whatever time it is to you currently, Im Eske welcome to my silly little blog. I use it/its pronouns and I identify as aroace, Cupioromantic and Agender.

Im super duper into dnd, Planet oelios, writing, world building, but im trying to get back into Empires smp and Hermitcraft because I got way too focused on Oelios. I’m in college, My major being Political science and my minor being Philosophy. What your gonna find here with what tags that are mine:

Planet Oelios: This is my custom homebrew dnd planet. I will be trying to post lore here more often because my brain rot knows no bounds. There will be a lot more interconnected tags to this one so, that might have to be a completely separate post.

DND ES1!Scott: It was a night before the frist session of a campaign I was burnt out on making characters had no clue for ideas. Decided, “Fuck it we ball” and said im gonna play Empires smp season one scott. S.S. Silly Squad: The Campaign im dming that takes place on planet oelios Wake the Sleeping City: The tlou campaign im apart of as a player, playing a character named Miigwen Hardy

Dnd 3rd Module: im making a dnd 3rd life module you can find the FAQ and master post there in the tag.

#Planet oelios #DND ES1!Scott #S.S. Silly Squad #DND 3rd Life

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tutuandscoot · 1 year

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It’s really hard to narrow down my asks for your favourites bc I want to know everything but here goes: fave VM lift, and then your fave bit of individual chore in a program for each of them.

Ohhh ok 😏

So for favourite lift I’m gonna say this one:

(I don’t know if it’s my all time fave but it’s way up there). Their combination lifts deserve more love. The flow, the musicality, how far they travel, the fact that you don’t look at it and go ‘oh, a lift’ like it’s sticking out so obviously out of place with the rest of the program, it’s just all dancing- you forget about the ‘elements’.

I particularly love this one because the first part of it is a very ballet-esk lift. He throws her over his head, she turns mid air and he catches her in a fish: ironically it’s very similar to some lifts in the Manon pdd that they took inspiration from for moulin rouge. 🤔

I don’t know why I just thought of this it’s really random, but this program in moments gives me Bridge to Terabithia vibes.. (anyone else see that movie?) no ok so the moment after the fish and she ever so gracefully throws herself upside down, then wraps around him, and that moment where’s she’s cradling on him like a baby koala- wrapped around his shoulders with her legs tucked up… (like they’re crossing a river and he’s carrying her across) there’s kinda these vibes of exploration and discovery in Mahler. The moment when they pause and look out, The Goose™️ where it’s like she’s flying.. maybe BtT wasn’t a good example but there’s sort of these themes of discovering the unknown and going on this adventure together. It’s also a very romantic program and it’s about an engagement and falling in love, but yeah idk why I just realised that but there’s these vibes of venturing into the unknown.. (kinda makes sense they were these kids discovering their future in the moment).

Then he’s just like ‘flip, over you go’ and again they make these’s crazy acrobatic things (On IcE😬) look so graceful, never any hesitation, mis- calculation, all their movements so connected to the other’s. Then also choreographically the last rotational position as the music falls from that top note, and they go straight away into their spin (sometimes putting elements back to back like that can be jarring but not with these angels!).

Ok fave bit of chore:

For Scott this was surprisingly easy.

He NAILS this chore. In the second gif especially you can see their differences in their movement quality which is so rare for them, on one hand I want to play devils advocate and say it’s purposeful on part of their different characters but honestly (because I love them and will say when something isn’t quite good enough), Tessa doesn’t really sit well in this type of movement like Scott does. It’s hard to explain without demonstrating (see me in my living room tryna figure this chore out 🤦‍♀️). He just feels it better, he takes his time to move through each position, there’s more strength in it, the fist thing, melting forward, his hand positions, the lift in that little jump. Now T does have the worse end of the deal here being second in the canon she has less time, but still she kinda rushes through the movement and is too sharp and small- it’s like what I said the other day talking about Maneater, how for quick, fast movements holding tension will make it harder. So yeh I always watch Scott in this dance break moment, he just really owns it, he’s so comfortable in the movement and his character. Yay him! when he’s dancing in his element he is an incredible dancer.

Ok let’s give T some love:

Originally my brain when to something from The Seasons.. because Tessa is a ballerina. She may not have chosen that occupational path but she still became one. And she had a partner that let her become one by being there to make her shine.

But I couldn’t find any specific piece of chore so instead I’m saying this:

Scott isn’t kidding when he says she was a terrifying athlete. But T really took this role where she’d be playing a prostitute who is abused and violated only to die in the arms of the love of her life and said ‘let me show you terrifying’

It’s one brief moment but you know exactly what that movement is and what it’s implying and while it’s not some actual X rated move they actually wouldn’t been able to show on 📺 it still gives you chills and kinda shocks you. The looks on their faces, her laser like eyes staring you down. Her actually pulling her dress up, (the fact he’s looking at her a$$ 😰). Like it kinda scares you and makes you uncomfortable in the best way possible and I LOVE that for her, coz on the other end I could’ve gone with some Tutu Tess chore but the fact is I could go with almost anything coz she is just that amazing.

I endith this essay🫡

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