France just rejected the far-right and elected Emmanuel Macron
PARIS— French voters faced a historic choice Sunday between a far-right presidential candidate and a centrist — and they overwhelmingly elected the one who embraced the EU, immigration, free trade, and LGBTQ rights. In making Emmanuel Macron the youngest person ever to run France, voters decisively rejected Marine Le Pen, who had alarmed many inside and outside the country by her pointed attacks on Islamic fundamentalism, immigration, hostility to Europe, close ties to Russia, and socially conservative platform. “Europe and the world expect us to defend the spirit of the enlightenment that is threatened in so many places,” Macron told a rapturous audience gathered in front of the glass pyramids outside Paris’s Louvre museum. Read more
Description: You are a curator at one of the many museums in Paris, and have finally earned the bosses trust. But after a strange meeting with a new coworker and his friends, you begin receiving messages from an unknown party.
There is a scene in which a character has a mental breakdown. Read at your own risk.
Taehyung dragged his hand across the hood of the car, sauntering to your door. He placed a hand in his pocket as he opened your side. “You ready for this, baby?” he provoked you, a wry grin forming. You rolled your eyes, evading to look at him as a smile, to your dismay, crept onto your face. Taehyung reached out for your hand, helping you out from the car before closing the door behind you. He pressed his palm against your hip, pulling you closer. You shot him a dirty glare, leaving Taehyung to scoff as he snapped back. “We need to make this relationship believable. Besides, you’re starting to grow on me.”
Taehyung, teasingly, bit his lip as he winked, giving you a small push forward to the entrance of the Louvre.
Yuzuru QA post-FS at Autumn Classic 2017 (combined)
This QA, not the performance nor the circumstances, reminded me of something Yuzuru said in his interview post-Boston World Championship in 2016 (aired 5/14 in full on Figure Skate TV).
Q: You mentioned that what you wanted to eat after returning to Japan was sushi. What do you want to eat now?
A: Hahahaha, back then? Currently… right… probably l would be told to relax, and I guessed that probably I would be asked questions like this. Although I really understand that, well, rather than thoughts about food right now, it’s skating [that’s on my mind] (laughs). (Q: You want to skate?) I can’t help it. Perhaps because something like personality is never going to change in a lifetime (nods), and it’s not going to change even if I were to try and do so (nods)… Therefore, I want to face skating once again, while cherishing this personality [of mine] at the same time. (Emphatic nod)
It may be that core personality doesn’t change much in a lifetime, but I believe the way he works with it and the way it manifests externally can change, and he will continue to grow and adjust. People are beautiful that way. - gladi
Translated by gladi. Feel free to repost with credit. Sources listed below alongside text.
A: I thought two triples right in the beginning was tough. Because no one has done that––this type of layout. It was new territory.
Q: You were muttering something after the end of your performance.
A: “Can’t be helped.” It was the first competition (of the season). I gained regret, a great reward. In terms of the scores and content of the performance in the SP, I think it was able to confer the impression of strength, that “I will win the Olympics.” I intend to chase [this] strong self, and surpass myself with layouts of even greater difficulty.
Q: There were differences in terms of physical condition and mentally?
A: Nothing in particular. I understand that, of course, the free skate after a good SP is difficult. <But, there’s also the separate aspect that it was an unfamiliar layout.> I put in too much unnecessary force. <…> = Hochi
Q: With a difficult layout, you were more mentally invested compared to yesterday (SP)?
A: It’d be game over if we were to say “difficult.” Without question, it was my own insufficient ability. I must train more. There was discomfort in my (right) knee, I lowered the layout difficulty and it ended in a mess. I trained in such a way that caused this discomfort––that in itself was also my lack of tuning. This is a season where I must build up my body for the Olympics, all the while continuing to compete well. <I was also able to learn a great deal about the process towards a competition.> I think it was a good first competition. <…> = Daily
Q: You’ve had experiences of regret up until this point. The level of regret today…?
A: It’s a vexing, frustrating regret. Thinking, too, that if only I had jumped the (quad) Loop. It also wasn’t that the (quad) Lutz was impossible. It was irritating in that aspect as well.
Q: Comparatively, you enjoy challenging.
A: Because I’m an athlete. After all, without challenging myself, there is absolutely no way I can perform like myself.
Q: You tried to get over the performance with your will.
A: <I did in the end.> When I popped my lutz in the beginning, I thought about various things, and my concemtration went poof. The weakness in my ability to focus has always been a theme in my figure skating career. The gap between when I’m good and when I’m bad is extreme. <It’s not about, one by one, [delicately balancing] pieces of glass to build a pyramid. It’s fine even if it’s rough, I can absolutely claw my way to the top––strength like that within oneself is also necessary.> <…> = Hochi
Additions from Hero’s FS Special aired 9/24
“I understand that not being able to focus until the very end and thinking too much about various things were the issues for poor performance this time […] so regret to me could only be a reward. I’m going to keep this regret in my heart and leave it there, properly practice so that I can unleash it at [the next] competition.”
You can also make your own fairly easily too! go grab some sticks outside, tie them together into a pentagram or something, then tie stuff to it that you want attached! Keys, feathers, shells, beads, bones, runes, crystals… get creative! Depends on if you want them to actually make noise as well too, I find that bamboo makes really pretty sounds, but you can also attach bells and stuff like that! Just be considerate of your neighbors.
Mike and Rachel walk in on Harvey and Donna having sex.
I’m clearly not that great at filling out prompts because this is only marginally what you asked - sorry
- hopefully it’s still enjoyabe.
A pale orange
glow seeps in through the ceiling-high windows of his bedroom, a special color,
privy to big city sunrises one can only appreciate from a tall building. It’s a
poetic sight, the way the light refracts through the glass in golden pyramids and
spills onto the floor, romantic even - not that they’re at all interested.
time for poetry when they’ve only slept for three hours and need to be up in
his bed, draped over each other naked with every blanket kicked off to the edge,
completely out. Spent from staying up until 3 am on a Tuesday having sex, because
it’s only been a week since they quit pretending they didn’t want to be
together in every way possible.
and won’t stop initiating contact and it’s great, but not really practical. Besides, all the synchronized
yawning and late arrivals only five telling minutes apart from each other
aren’t helping in the way of keeping their new status a secret.
She thinks they should get over the novelty soon,
he argues they just need to get an earlier start. Either way it’s taking its
toll which is why Donna could just about kill someone when a ringtone fills the
room at barely seven am.
(Drabble.) Stanley explores his brother’s house in the woods for the first time, and comes away with no more answers than he’d gone in with.
The longer Stanley Pines explored his twin brother’s musty, isolated cabin, the more he wondered if this damn thing was actually haunted.
“Goddamn Ford, what the hell did you get into?” he muttered softly, kicking aside the sun bleached and torn canvas portrait he found at the entrance of the attic.
Some sort of creepy black triangle was depicted on it- now faded grey from the passing of time- and surrounded by tongues of scarlet flames. The figure had a single, bulging eye, with which the artist apparently took great care to render in traumatizing realistic detail. Stan’s lip turned up in disgust at the pinkish, almost diseased looking veins that spread across the yellowish sclera of the eye like arcs of lightning, at the shiny catlike slit pupil that seemed to peel away at the walls of his soul in judgement. Its strange resemblance to all that Masonic illuminati shit did not go without notice.
And from all he’d seen, the painting wasn’t the only illuminati-like image in this house. The triangular windows in the attic boasted that all-seeing eye. It was woven into the very fibers of the carpet in the entry hall. On a few walls, he found triangles sloppily carved into the wood frames, with a deep ‘X’ where the eye would normally be. Glass pyramidal prisms sat on shelves, desks, and the top of cabinets in nearly every room. One lay shattered in the lounge with the couch he’d slept in, but on the middle of the floor far from any furniture, as of his brother had personally hurled it to the ground. In anger? In surprise?
Did… did Ford- the brainy twin, the one Stan always assumed would build a grand livelihood for himself- really get sucked into some cult kind of stuff? Was this what he was trying to escape from when he begged him to take that damn journal?
Stan sighed, a worn edge to his voice. The bandaged wound on his shoulder still throbbed from the whiskey he’d poured on it as rudimentary disinfectant this morning, pulsing at the same tempo as the headache that was beginning to bloom at the base of his skull. This creepy house made no fucking sense. Ford’s so-called research made no sense. After hours of failure with the portal, he hoped he could at least glean some context as to what that monolithic machine did- or why his brother was in such danger- but it all seemed hopeless. The contents of the journal Ford left behind didn’t even begin to explain what chaos he got into other than detailing some kooky magical forest biz. His cabin was a maze of smoke and mirrors, fostering questions but providing no direct answers.
Worst of all, he could swear this house was mocking him. The halls felt a little too narrow for his stocky frame whenever he’d pass through them. Doors he never touched would crack ever-so-slightly open the second time he laid eyes on them. The wallpaper would tear further when he wasn’t looking. Ford’s creepy triangular paraphernalia observed him from every angle, its gaze inescapable.