View allAll Photos Tagged stutter
Once upon a time, in a land not too far away,
There lived a girl who was pale, short and a little too gray.
Always dressed in red and somewhat creepy,
She made even the sunniest of days seem gloomy.
Around humans she stuttered and was nervous,
They made her feel self conscious, anxious.
Oh she was naive and shy, they would say
Quite odd too, to her parent’s dismay.
She would sit for hours staring into nothing,
But in her mind her thoughts were racing.
In a hundred different worlds was where her mind dwelled,
In reality she stayed disinterested, withheld.
In her dreams she painted the sky dark gray-blue,
Roses black and violets too.
It was tenebrous and stormy,
Perfectly suited for her constant melancholy.
While she was contented with her own privacy,
People started getting peeved at her obsessive secrecy.
They demanded to know what she was hiding,
But she would not speak a word, defying.
The girl remained detached and silent,
But her thoughts bordered on getting violent.
Infuriated that people were becoming intrusive,
Because she preferred to lie low and elusive.
And there came a day where she vanished,
So suddenly everyone was astonished.
She was never heard from again, never found,
Everyone assumed she might have died and drowned.
But the girl was alive, still as enigmatic,
Or maybe even more and much less pragmatic.
Maybe she had lost all her sanity,
And the rest of her humanity.
But she was finally where she desired.
In her Wonderland, she was inspired,
There she would live forever,
With no one to disturb her ever.
In her desolation she drew, painted and wrote,
Not masterpieces or intelligent quotes,
But ludicrous poems and macabre drawings,
To satisfy her inner bizarre cravings.
A solid class 50 turn at the time this local stopping service provided plenty of thrash in the Duchy as here on the climb from Par to Treverran. Alas by the start of the summer timetable it would all be history as the Sprinter revolution made it's stuttering start.
and the very gradual letting go.
Remembering forgetting how to smile for the camera.
Duh! In that get over yourself sort of way.
A circle was carved into the air
not to open a passage,
but to erase the idea of elsewhere.
The bird did not fly.
It was extracted
from the grammar of gravity,
its wings still beating
out of habit,
out of error.
Around it, the horizon stuttered.
Fields repeated themselves
like corrupted memory sectors.
The tree stood witness,
rooted in a language older than light,
unable to intervene.
This was not ascension.
This was archival deletion.
Smoke rose where intention collapsed,
a black residue of unrealized futures.
The ring shimmered; a perfect algorithm of return
that never returns anything.
Here, myth was rewritten
as firmware.
Here, transcendence became
a closed loop
that feeds on its own promise.
The bird understood too late:
the sky was no longer above.
It had been compressed,
folded,
and sealed into a symbol
that pretends to mean freedom.
What escaped
was not the body,
but the error
that still remembers
how flight once felt.
It was followed by quite a bad smell of not optimal burning fuel. Driving behind it, even my BX didn't like it. It suddenly started stuttering and didn't run stationary any more. It disappeared as quickly as it came...
from cornell
The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America.
A new-to-me Argus C2 (the ubiquitous "Brick"). A gift from a neighbor, who just wants it to be appreciated and put to use. Shutter stutters at low low speeds, lens needs some cleaning, but it's not a lost cause. My first Argus somehow.
Herman's Pond, Rancho San Rafael, Reno, Washoe Co, Nevada (May 17th, 2018). 21. Large county park in NW Reno.
Male, in the throes of the comical swollen-neck, tail-up bubbling/stuttering courtship display, beating the water into foam with its big expanded-end bill to the accompaniment of staccato popping noises. The photo shows the display at its height with the water at its bubbliest.
More shots of the bubbling display--
www.flickr.com/photos/fugl/35185735265/in/album-721576818...
www.flickr.com/photos/fugl/39828318910/in/album-721576818...
www.flickr.com/photos/fugl/50941115392/in/photostream/
More Ruddy Duck photos--
2 BBY
Raxicorus Prime
Oceanview Trade Port
Ships blaze overhead as I trudge through the crowd of merchants, customers, and Imperial officers that usually fill the streets. I adjust the parcel slung over my shoulder. Dad’s going to be pissed if I don’t get these parts to him in time. My feet pick up their pace and I practically jog to the front of his hut. My dad, Markus Corporus, has run a sort of antique outpost since we moved here about a decade ago. It’s a fun place to work, and I’ve been picking up stuff for him to sell or tinker with since I was old enough to learn how to pilot a speeder. I’m sixteen now, which kind of worries me. The Empire has been cracking down on drafting regulations since their conflict with the Rebellion has increased to all new heights. Luckily, they’re not too worried about getting troops from the Outer Rim territories like Raxicorus, but still. It’s enough to make someone scared.
I look up and smile as I see the dusty, rusted surface of Corporus Curiosities, my dad’s shop. Quickly, I move under the roof of the hut and look around for my dad. Not seeing him, I call out into the empty store front.
“Hey, Pops?”
A crashing sound comes from somewhere in the back, and I see a part of the back wall slide open to reveal my father walking out. His emerald work robes were spattered with oil, and he was wiping grease off his forehead. He looked over at me and smiled.
“Jaxon! Afternoon, son. I was just helping some of the other venders fix up the converters on the market’s generator. It’s been running a little funny for the last couple of days, and we figured out what was wrong just a little while ago. Anyways, what’s that?”
I hand him the bag and he begins to sift the contents.
“Uxam had some extra parts he was willing to spare. I figured we could use them to spruce up the engine on the Fox. Maybe work on doubling its power?”
He chuckles, “You really are the son of an engineer. Sure, we can work on it once I close shop tonight. Maybe play a couple rounds of Sabacc too?”
“Sounds like a plan. Maybe I’ll join in as well?
We both turn around in reaction to the new voice, crisp and somewhat chilling. I felt my face bring on a look of disgust, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. Not after what he did.
“A-ah, Tarum. I, um, I didn’t think you were scheduled to come home so soon,” Pops stuttered. My older brother, Tarum, was standing there with his usual black outfit signifying his rank of Imperial pilot. He ran his hand through his slicked back ginger hair, and cracked a smirk.
“Well, the Emperor believes that we should get at least an occasional break. Hunting down Rebel cells is rather tiring, after all.”
My father shifted uncomfortably as his eyes scanned the area, and I looked over to the end of the alley our shop was located in to see a woman in grey Imperial clothing flanked by two troopers. They march over to us, the woman walking up to Tarum.
“Is this the man you wanted me to meet, Officer Corporus?” she asked, her voice hinting at slight loathing. I could pick up something about her. She feels like my brother is wasting her time. You can tell by her body language.
“Yes, Admiral Geeris. This is my father, Markus Corporus. Father, this is Admiral Yvette Geeris, my commanding officer.”
“P-pleasure to meet you.”
Pops was practically shaking as he reached his hand out for a handshake. Geeris hesitated before accepting it. The troopers just stood there silently, their blasters resting in their hands. Why did Tarum bring them here?
“I’ve heard much about you, Mr. Corporus. The records on you are outstanding. You were possibly one of the best engineers for the Republic during the Clone Wars. A true war hero, if you ask me. It’s a treat for me to get to see your son rise in my ranks. He’s a gifted pilot, possibly the best in my entire brigade.”
Pops just nods his head awkwardly while Tarum stands there, beaming. What a suck-up. Geeris looks around my father’s shop.
“Battle droid parts...firearms from what I’m assuming were Naboo smugglers by the shape...engine parts…”
Her eyes rest on a white and red suit of trooper armor my father has displayed.
“Shock trooper armor? Looks like an early model. Right at the beginning from the Empire’s formation?”
“Eh, I don’t know where or when it’s from,” Pops shrugged, “Won it in a bet from a podracing tournament on Tatooine a few years back. Figured I could fetch a few credits for it.”
“Yes...well, the reason we’ve arrived is because of a transmission. One of our fleets intercepted a message to the Rebels on this planet. Given this outpost is the most populated area, we figured we’d check here. You haven’t happened to have seen something unusual, Mr. Corporus? It would be in your best interests to tell us. The Emperor himself would be most grateful.”
“Rebels? Here? No, I don’t believe so,” Pops quickly spit out, "I haven't seen anything."
Geeris made a slight attempt at a smile. She nodded, bid my father good day and thanks for his help, and began to walk back towards the ship bay. The two troopers stood there for a moment before following her. Now my brother just stared at us, agitated.
“Well, it was so nice to see you two again. Goodbye, father. Brother.”
He strides off, and my father lets out a sigh of relief. We both begin to set up the new equipment he wants to sell, until a shock of cold goes up my back. I look down at my arms and flip my jacket sleeves back to see rows of goosebumps forming. Pops looks at me.
“I have a bad feeling about something,” I mutter. He nods and rushes over.
“Here. Take these parts with you to the Fox. Gather anything you can from the house you think we’ll need, and get to the docking bay immediately. Don’t look back. If I’m not there, then you start the ship and leave to Dantooine. Understand?”
“Yes,” I say calmly, but my body is shivering. In the distance, we hear the familiar roar of twin ion engines. Pops grimaces and pushes me to the wall, opening the secret door that leads to an underground passageway. Few know about it, but it was used to hide supplies during the Clone Wars. The tunnel is one of a large system, snaking through the entire trading post and living areas. It’s not on any Imperial maps, making it non-existent. As I head down the dark passage, my ears pick up sounds of screams and blaster fire. I feel my eyes start to burn as a tear runs down my face. Pops worked so hard to keep his involvement hidden. It was Tarum who was blinded to the true workings of the Empire. He can’t see their true faces. He betrayed our father, and he betrayed me. I grimace as I think about what he’s done. Now isn’t the time for vengeance, though. I need to get to Dantooine and give Vuldrix the news about what’s happened. I don’t know what I’ll do then, but I’m clear of one thing. This is where it starts. My fight. My quest.
My rebellion.
- Edgar Allen Poe.
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I took this picture just before the tribute in light ceremony at the WTC memorial on the 11th year anniversary of 9/11.there were a bunch of NY's finest photographers at the Brooklyn bridge park in front of the dismantled pier.
As we were all waiting for the lights the sun started to set and lit up the sky beautifully. Fortunately I had my Lee big stopper with me and decided to use it along with the .3 Hard GND and got this amazing result. The only wish i had was to have some more clouds in the sky. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did making it!!
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots.
I tried using HDR for this photograph but due to cloud movement, which results in an unsightly stutter effect, I simply masked the lower half onto the upper half to create a proper toned image.
18 years ago, I saw James the band for the first time live. They are my favorite band and they have been with me for more than half of my life. This is my record collection and a rendition to them. Thank you for the soundtrack of my life.
Five-0: youtu.be/rOBriyEH-dc
Olney State Forest, The Watagans, New South Wales, Australia
Vulnerable
Contact me on jono_dashper@hotmail.com for use of this image.
Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia) at the Richmond Nature Park.
"A rich, russet-and-gray bird with bold streaks down its white chest, the Song Sparrow is one of the most familiar North American sparrows. Don’t let the bewildering variety of regional differences this bird shows across North America deter you: it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area. If it perches on a low shrub, leans back, and sings a stuttering, clattering song, so much the better.". - www.allaboutbirds.org
Quickly, Mirror Master jumps out of the Mirror World into our world. He grabs a large metal bar and gets ready to swing it at the mirror so that Barry cannot leave the Mirror World. Inside the Mirror World, Barry jumps from mirror to mirror quickly to get to the portal before Mirror Master can break the mirror.
“Run, Barry, run!” Iris yells out
Barry gets to the last mirror and launches himself into the air.
Mirror Master begins to swing the metal bar.
The bar crashes into the mirror, but not until the Flash gets his head out of the mirror. Barry jumps into our world as the mirror shatters into a thousand pieces. A large shard lodges itself into Barry’s neck and thus causes him to drop to the ground quickly.
“Barry!” Iris yells as she runs to Barry’s side. She grabs him and lifts his back up into the air. “Barry, it’ll be alright! Wally! Hurry!”
As Wally approaches, Mirror Master aims his gun at another mirror and quickly shoots it so that he can leave quickly. He brings the pipe with him so that he can break the mirror behind him. He successfully does this before Wally can arrive next to Barry and Iris.
“Barry! What happened, Iris?”
“He got hit by the mirror.”
“I’ve got to get him to the hospital!”
”D-d-don’t… Iris... I…”
“Barry! Don’t leave me. Barry, you can’t do this.”
”Iris, I-I can’t feel my legs…”
“Don’t worry, Barry, I’ll get you help.”
”Don’t b-bother…”
“What?”
”It’ll be too… t-too late.”
“No, Barry, don’t leave me!”
”I can feel it… My heart is slowing… By the time I get there, I’ll be gone…”
”Stop that, Barry! Let me take you to the hospital!”
“Barry, I love you. I don’t want you to go.”
”Let me take you to Bruce, he has to have some kind of device that will help you.”
”No, he can’t help. No one can.”
“Barry, I love you.”
”I love you too, Iris… I always have…”
”Barry! Let me take you.”
“We were supposed to grow old together.”
”I’m so sorry.”
“No I am… It’s my fault…”
”No it’s not. I-I… should’ve st-stopped him when I-I had the chance… (COUGH)(COUGH)”
“Barry, don’t do this.”
”I love you, Iris.”
”Barry…”
”Take over here, Wally. I trust you.”
Barry Allen’s heart beat begins to stutter. Wally tries to check it, but he cannot feel it any longer. Wally jumps to his feet and grabs a metal chair. He throws it into a wall. The chair flies through the wall and into the next room. Iris begins crying uncontrollably as Barry’s eyes close.
“I love you, Barry.” Iris says as Wally takes Barry into his arms and begins to run him to the nearest hospital. He barges into the building and sets him onto a gurney. He yells for help and a nurse runs to his side.
“What happened?”
”He has a glass shard lodged in his neck. You need to help him.”
“He has no pulse.”
”Can’t you help him?”
“I can try. I need a doctor over here!” A doctor runs over to the gurney that Barry is laying on. The nurse rolls him into an operating room and closes the door behind her. Wally slumps down onto a nearby bench and waits for results.
Moments later the nurse slowly comes out of the room and sits next to Wally.
“We… We got the glass shard out of his spine, but unfortunately…” Wally doesn’t let her finish. He wraps his arms around her and begins crying on her shoulder. The shocked nurse wraps her arms around Wally to comfort him. The two sit there in silence as the nurse comforts Wally. “It’ll be okay…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, yeah... Almost (if not more than) two years have gone by since I began writing Flash stories for the DCSG. When I first started I was promised to write Wally, as well he's my favorite, but we had to somehow kill off Barry to make way for Wally. This led to one of the main things that was supposed to happen in the group wide event "DOOM." If you remember about a year ago, me and Chris, SupremeDalekDunn, had began kicking off this event with the small Batman&Flash and Superman&Flash stories entitled "Countdown to Doom" and well... the countdown seemingly never stopped.
So here we are today, I asked Chris just a few weeks ago if it would be alright if I went ahead and did this myself, and he surprisingly (at least to me) said yes. So, I got to writing and building to make this volume one of the best things I've written, and while I'm not 100% sure if I accomplished this, I really had fun writing this and cannot wait to write Wally in the near future.
Oh, one more thing, there are still a couple issues left in this volume, so stay tuned for those. :D
IF YOU VIEW THIS ON BLACK I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER :)
THIS IS VERY LONG. BUT IT’S ONE I REALLY SUGGEST YOU READ.
My body swayed as the heat caressed every part of me. Absolute white pierced my vision when I looked into your face. It was so bright that my eyes couldn’t stay open but somehow I still saw you. Light radiated out of your skin so vividly that I couldn’t make out the details. In that moment though, the utter awe that consumed me silenced everything else.
“Come away with me.” Your words…your voice. There are no words that I could use to describe the pure beauty of it. Like water and thunder. There was such a beautiful tenderness yet still, such power, in those four words. I always imagined your voice to echo off of mountains and for birds to flock in fear as they flew in all directions. It was more than that. It was so much more. The stuttering of my heart had the faintest whisper of all those people lifting their voices. All those people crying out your name.
Your hand reached for me. I was frozen still as your fingers touched the boney part of my chest. I gasped. It was like I had walked head first into a hurricane. This wall of pressure swallowed me in such a peaceful way. The workers that beat my heart were swallowed in this tsunami of feeling. All the colours, all the light, all the emotions of the world rolled into one beautiful fusion that rushed through the wires of my veins. I could no longer breath on my own for the air that filled my lungs was much too sweet. Strength prickled down my spine. I tried to open my eyes, I tried to speak but you were just too overwhelming. I never truly appreciated or understood the term ‘beautiful’ until your presence seeped through my worldly flesh and bones. I never honestly understood your love until your arms embraced me and your lips, covered in sweet honey, spoke into my ear. “Open up your heart and let me in.”
Before I could understand any of this you were fading from my grasp. I swear, I swear I saw you smile. Or maybe it was simply the reflection of my own upturned lips. All I know is that when the light left after you and all I had to breathe was the stale air of my bedroom, I was certain that I was loved.
Come away with me, come away with me
It’s never too late, it’s not too late, it’s not too late for you
I have a plan for you. I have a plan for you.
It’s gonna be wild. It’s gonna be great. It’s going to be full of me.
- Jesus Culture, Come away with me/Let me in
Maddie sent me a really interesting flickrmail, simply asking for some guidance as to what to do to strengthen your faith. Where to start. All that jazz. Honestly, it’s all pretty overwhelming and it all seems so crazy. I’m one to doubt everything about my faith because of how logical I am.
So Maddie and any one else who’s interested, my honest truth is that I’m not sure if I would believe in God like I do, or even at all if I didn’t feel him. So many people have this strict christian regime. You read your bible. You go to church. You call yourself a christian. You believe god died and came back to life. Okay cool. But here’s the deal…sure those things are important but what happens if that’s not even the point? What happens if there’s so much more?
Matthew 7:21-23 ““Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’”
I know I’ve used this verse before but it’s always on my heart. It has bothered me for a long time and no, I don’t know the complete meaning but God has given me a revelation. Your “Christian 101” book isn’t going to cut it. The beauty of having faith is having a relationship with God. Do you think someone who loved you enough to give their only son only wants to hear you say “God, You are Lord.” ? He doesn’t need us. He wants us. He wants our love. He wants to love us. Your faith will not grow or be strengthened because sooner or later you will have had read the bible through, said all the prayers your pastor says, proclaimed God is real. You won’t see the millions of messages God can give you with only one verse if you don’t have a relationship with him.
My writing simply tried ( and I mean tried because it’s nearly impossible) to describe the beauty of the holy spirit. The way God absolutely consumes you.
But if you’re looking for tips right now, my advice:
Listen to Jesus Culture. (especially their new album come away) (or any Christian band ha). Listen to the lyrics. Let his beautiful power move through the praise and worship and touch you.
Go to your bible. Read whatever’s there. Get a bible reading plan maybe. You’re not going to be able to necessarily find a verse that fits your situation in life until you get to know the bible really well. But a good place to start is 1 John chapters 1 through 5. It’s almost like a handbook to our faith. It’s pretty awesome and reassuring.
Pray. Pray like never before. Blast music. Get quiet. Do what you want but really try praying. Don’t feel dumb or try to use big words just because your pastors do. Talk to God like you’d talk to anyone. You might not hear him, you might feel weird as if you’re just talking to the wall. Keep praying though. He will touch you. But remember our faith isn’t about feeling God and getting, getting, getting. It’s about giving praise to the most glorious God.
Overall, those steps are simple things you can do. But if you don’t allow yourself to have a relationship with God you risk not feeling him in a way that is so powerful. In a way that my writing just can’t do justice.
The love you’ll feel for and from God is unlike anything ever. I hope this can remind you of that. I hope this can touch you in a way that reminds you how much you just want god.
All three photos posted this morning were taken yesterday, 14 May 2016, when I went on a morning walk with birding friends. We met at the Boat Launch in Fish Creek Park and walked in the Sikome and Lafarge Meadows areas. This included checking on the usual Great Horned Owl family - all four members were way up high in the trees, more or less hidden from view. Later today, I will add the list of bird species seen.
After this walk, I drove a short distance to see a different family of Great Horned Owls, presumably the same pair of adults that we had seen last year, nesting near the Bow Valley Ranch. Amazingly, this pair had four - yes, four! - owlets this time. Somewhat better views than of the first family, at least for the short time I was there. My photo shows one of these young ones, busy preening. They are still at the unsteady stage when they move along a branch. Love how the camera makes it look like the owl was right in front of me, when it was actually very high up in a tree.
"With its long, earlike tufts, intimidating yellow-eyed stare, and deep hooting voice, the Great Horned Owl is the quintessential owl of storybooks. This powerful predator can take down birds and mammals even larger than itself, but it also dines on daintier fare such as tiny scorpions, mice, and frogs. It’s one of the most common owls in North America, equally at home in deserts, wetlands, forests, grasslands, backyards, cities, and almost any other semi-open habitat between the Arctic and the tropics.
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots." From AllAboutBirds.
www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Great_Horned_Owl/id
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_horned_owl
Bird list from our leader, Melanie S:
Fish Creek PP--Boat Launch, Calgary, Alberta, CA
14-May-2016 9:00 AM - 12:10 PM
Protocol: Traveling
3.5 kilometer(s)
Comments: 10 to 15 deg C. Sunny. Nature Calgary field trip, leader Melanie Seneviratne.
46 species (+1 other taxa)
Canada Goose 24
Gadwall 8
American Wigeon 10
Mallard 22
Blue-winged Teal 4
Northern Shoveler 1
Canvasback 1
Redhead 7
Lesser Scaup 6
Common Goldeneye 2
Common Merganser 2
Pied-billed Grebe 1
Double-crested Cormorant 4
American White Pelican 5
Great Blue Heron 1
Osprey 4
Northern Goshawk 1 Flew over car park as we were leaving.
Swainson's Hawk 4
American Coot 4
Spotted Sandpiper 4
Wilson's Snipe 1
Franklin's Gull 3
California Gull 1
Rock Pigeon (Feral Pigeon) 2
Great Horned Owl 4 2 adult 2 juveniles
Downy Woodpecker 1
Northern Flicker 2
Northern Flicker (Red-shafted) 1
Pileated Woodpecker 1
Black-billed Magpie 2
American Crow 2
Common Raven 5
Tree Swallow 250
Barn Swallow 1
Cliff Swallow 20
Black-capped Chickadee 1
White-breasted Nuthatch 1
American Robin 12
European Starling 10
Clay-colored Sparrow 2
White-crowned Sparrow 1
Savannah Sparrow 3
Song Sparrow 1
Red-winged Blackbird 30
Yellow-headed Blackbird 6
Brewer's Blackbird 1
Brown-headed Cowbird 5
Lazy attempt at stop motion.
Sorry about the stuttering... I need to invest in an intervalometer... or just a plain old stop watch.
Keep an eye on the lower left branch - there's a recurring visitor.
The French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA.
After New Orleans had been founded in 1718 by Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, the city developed around the Vieux Carré ("Old Square"), a central square. The district gained its name after the changes to American immigration after the 1803 Louisiana Purchase. Most of the extant historic buildings were constructed either in the late 18th century, during the city's period of Spanish rule, or were built during the first half of the 19th century, after U.S. annexation and statehood.
The district as a whole has been designated as a USA National Historic Landmark, with numerous contributing buildings that are separately deemed significant. It is a prime tourist destination in the city, as well as attracting local residents.
The French Quarter is one of New Orleans' most historic neighbourhoods. Alongside the history there are also a reimagined French Market, modern boutiques and artisan cocktails mix with beloved antique stores and old restaurants.
Like the Creole aristocrats lining the galleries of the Historic New Orleans Collection, the French Quarter is a timeless portrait – especially come dusk when swallows glide above the fortune tellers on Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral’s butter-crème-coloured walls reflect the fiery sunset.
Ghost tours troop past mad Madame LaLaurie’s mansion while neon signs stutter to life on Bourbon Street where syrupy red Hurricanes, slosh in famed ‘go cups’– those plastic tumblers responsible for uncountable roadside parties. Night falls. Horse hooves clop, music throbs and gaslights flicker in a place full of long-told legends and those waiting to be born.
Information Sources:
This craft is not the venerable T-65B from the the original trilogy, nor is it the T-70 from the new trilogy. This X-Wing is the XJ-3 model featured in the old Star Wars Expanded Universe material of the 80s and 90s. The XJ-3 was built by Incom to supplement the newer, more advanced, but considerably more expensive and complex E-Wing fighters. The advancements made over the T-65 model are newer engines, bolstered shields, and a better armament. The XJ-3's laser cannons could be fired in "Stutter-fire" mode, which allowed it to shoot through the shields of Yuuzhan Vong ships (which also means that it shoots blue pew pews instead of red). Instead of 2 torpedo launchers, the XJ-3 had three.
PLAY YOUR PLAYLIST*
1.List nhạc gồm ít nhất 30 bài.
2. Đặt máy nghe nhạc/chương trình nghe nhạc của bạn ở chế độ Ngẫu nhiên (shuffle/random).
3. Với mỗi câu hỏi, ấn next song để biết câu trả lời.
4. Bắt buộc phải viết tên bài hát dù nó ngu si như thế nào đi nữa so với câu hỏi.
5. Tag thêm 10 nạn nhân.
...
1.Nếu ai đó nhận xét rằng "Bạn rất ổn!" bạn sẽ nói
- Soom – B2ST =))) * breath in breath out *
2. Bạn sẽ tự giới thiệu như thế nào về bản thân?
- Say no – B2ST =)))
3. Bạn thích điều gì ở 1 chàng trai/cô gái?
- Wanna B – Block B
4. Hôm nay bạn cảm thấy như thế nào?
- Fucking Perfect – P!nk * AAAAA *
5. Mục đích sống của bạn?
- Imagine – CNBlue =))) * đúng ghê *
6. Phương châm của bạn?
- One last cry T_T : N-Train
7. Bạn bè nghĩ gì về bạn?
- Danger – F(x)
8. Bố mẹ bạn nghĩ gì về bạn?
- Perfection – Super Junior M * A điuuuu * =))
9. Dạo này bạn hay nghĩ đến chuyện gì?
- Lonely – 2NE1
10. Câu chuyện cuộc đời bạn ?
- One fine Spring Day – RyeoWook =(((
11. Khi lớn lên bạn muốn làm gì?
-Ice Cream – JOO ft Teuk =))) * loool *
12. Bạn nghĩ gì khi nhìn thấy người bạn thích ?
- Don’t Move – Block B =)))
13. Bạn sẽ hát bài gì trong đám cưới?
- Sunshine – Kan MiYoun feat JunSu
14. Trong đám ma của bạn, người ta sẽ hát bài gì?
- Clap your hands – 2NE1 * Lol =)) Tui đã làm nên tội tình j` =(( *
15. Sở thích của bạn?
- Hoot – SNSD
16. Bí mật lớn nhất của bạn?
- Fly – K.R.Y [ Lol tui biết bay =)) ]
17. Nỗi sợ lớn nhất của bạn?
- Lucifer – SHINee =)) [ Yup ! ]
18. Điều bạn muốn ngay lúc này?
- Little Dimple ♥
19. Bạn nghĩ gì về những người bạn của mình?
- Angel – Super Junior =)) [ Never =)) I’m an Angel . You’re EVIL =)) ]
20. Nếu bạn nuôi một con chó , tên nó sẽ là?
- You You – Untouchable =))
21. Bộ phim yêu thích?
- Black and White – G.Na =)) * ý nói tui thích chó đốm =)) *
22. Hành động điên nhất vừa làm?
- Calling You – B2ST
23. Nhạc công sẽ chơi bài gì trong tang lễ của bạn?
- Stuttering – Fefe Dobson [ ?? ]
24. Điều gì khiến bạn cười?
- When the doors close – DongWoon feat DooJoon
25. Điều gì khiến bạn khóc?
- Without you – 2PM
26. Bạn đã kết hôn chưa?
- Virus – B2ST =))
27. Điều gì làm bạn sợ nhất?
- Just a dream T_T
28. Có ai thích bạn không?
- No other – Super Junior =))) [ What the … ? =)) ]
29. Nếu được quay ngược thời gian, bạn sẽ thay đổi điều gì?
- Replay – SHINee
30. Ngay lúc này điều gì làm bạn tổn thương?
- Like this or that – 5Dolls
(*) Ai bị tag vô thì tự động trã đêeeee =))
- Pon
- Khỉ
- Kà
- Sue =)))
- Annie
- Min
- Yun
- Myn em =))
-Pông
Sáng chưa nghĩ ra h` bo64 sung cha chẵn 10 nhé =))
I was thinking about the river's flow and how it doesn't know why, but it never stops
And the ocean's tides they rise and they drop, but they never stop
And this world is spinning without end or beginning and it never stops, I hope she never stops
So I love you for nothing, one of natures hidden something and I'll never stop
the photo was taken from Lalmohon , barisal , bangladesh .
its a lonch terminal , but now its empty but every things goes on .
"Nine"
I recall once on the church steps,
When I moved to kiss your chest,
How we paid such close attention
To each sweet and stuttered breath,
I should’ve stopped to paint our picture,
Captured honest pure affection,
Just to document the difference
between attraction and connection.
I can see all of my friends and
I break into empty buildings,
When the coast was clear,
With backpacks full of beer,
We’d throw our bottles from the rooftops
At this city-it looked endless.
Guess I still don’t see the difference
between real purpose and that urgent adolescence.
And I remember in a basement sharing sweat
With all these stranger boys and girls,
“We’ll change the world!” We sang,
“We’ll change the world!” But,
Nothing seems to change and
They say none of them will listen,
But I still see much more power in that basement
than in heartless politicians.
And if we get beaten by this winter,
If we get strangled by regret, just
Let our love of life and tension
Gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths, and
Have them lay us in a basement,
Smash some bottles on the ground, and
Say we couldn't tell the difference
between the feeling and the sound.
Remember not our faulty pieces,
Remember not our rusted parts,
It’s not the petty imperfections that define us but
The way we hold our hearts,
And the way we hold our heads,
I hope they write your names beside mine
on my gravestone when I’m dead.
And when we’re dead let our voices carry on
To find a better song.
To find a better song and sing along
by
la dispute
Always up or down, never down and out
Dream of demons while you sleep
They make you stutter when you speak
Speak now or forever hold your piece in pieces
Now that I'm grown I've seen marriages fall to pieces
Now that I'm grown I've seen friendships fall to pieces
Weekend warriors and our best friends
The writers weren't kidding bout how all good things must end
Then again some things, then again some things are far too good
Some things will far too good, to go and let go
The Academy Is...--"Down and Out"
for the record, i did not intend for this to look like steven's picture. it just sorta happened. =p
anyways, i love it.
Mood: Natalie Walker - Colorblind
Taffy stuck and tongue tied
Stutters shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America.
"What you say might be too much for some people. Maybe it will come out all wrong and you'll stutter and walk away embarrassed, wincing as you play it all back in your head. But I think the words you stop yourself from saying are the ones that will haunt you the longest.
So say it to them. Or say it to yourself in the mirror. Say it in a letter you'll never send or in a book millions might read someday. I think you deserve to look back on your life without a chorus of resounding voices saying 'I could've, but it's too late now.'
There is a time for silence. There is a time waiting your turn. But if you know how you feel, and you so clearly know what you need to say, you'll know it.
I don't think you should wait. I think you should speak now."
--Taylor Swift
This really hit me for some some reason. I just felt the need to share it for anyone who doesn't have Speak Now yet.
I am color...blind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am
taffy stuck, tongue tied
Stuttered shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding
I am
colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am.... fine
I am fine !!
(+2)
All rights reserved. Copyright by V.Bures. Pictures taken by V.Bures. For any questions please contact me.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGFFl38STBk
I'm the guy in the sky
Flying high Flashing eyes
No surprise I told lies
I'm the punk in the gutter
I'm the new president
But I grew and I bent
Don't you know? don't it show?
I'm the punk with the stutter.
Rachel told me her VW bug "Stormy" had just been in a Christmas parade near Nob Hill in Albuquerque, New Mexico
Location: Starbucks, 4601 Wyoming Blvd NE just north of Montgomery Blvd NE, 7:23pm
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
Also at this Starbucks:
To all my Flickr friends, a very Merry Christmas to each of you. May you all have a safe and joyous holiday!
©D.Tranovich - All Rights Reserved
After Tara in Gone With The Wind, but with a speech impediment and an odd stutter from the glob of sweet orange packing into my right cheek.
Cara Cara Oranges. The world's most perfect fruit.® (Patent Pending)
Olney State Forest, The Watagans, New South Wales, Australia
Vulnerable
Contact me on jono_dashper@hotmail.com for use of this image.
Quite inadequate, awkward, shy and stuttering.
Bitting his lips til they bleed and sitting with tennis shoes on the couch.
In the Kingdom of the Ordovices……………
His mother had proudly named him Raglan. Sadly it had been years since he last saw her, her body lying peacefully in a splash of sunlight amongst the tall dark pines of the ancient forest. But it had broken his heart to see her there, especially when the black crows had cruelly pecked her eyes out. They cawed and danced on her body as they stripped her of her dignity, delighting in their feast as the herd sombrely moved on from the southern side of the great mountain, Yr Wyddfa. By day they trekked north through the pass, grazing on small patches of heather and wild grasses amongst large grey boulders that had tumbled and rolled from the heights above. At night they sought protection behind these rocks, lying silently under heavy scudding grey clouds that regularly released cold showers that chilled them to the bone. Or on other nights they lay under inky black heavens full of sparkling diamonds that let icy crystals form on the grass and mists to soften the sight of dawn in the morning. But Snowdonia was always beautiful, tall and rugged, grey and dramatic whatever the weather it was blessed with, and these goats were part of that magnificent landscape.
They had found their new home by chance, coming down a narrow green valley from the mountain pass above. It was punctuated by a pair of silvery lakes that turned turquoise blue under a sunny sky and were fringed with Welsh oak, mountain ash and birch trees. They had been there forever forming ancient woodlands green with mosses and lichens due to the considerable rainfall and humidity. And rising above was the big dome of Elidir Fawr rising over 3000 feet, it's dark side a multitude of slate greys. With water to drink in the lake, trees to strip leaves from, mosses, lichens and low lying gorse to munch and chew on, and multiples of high ledges and terraces to retreat to or sleep on, Dinorwic was the perfect home for this herd.
Life had been pretty good so far, Raglan thought. Things were fairly relaxed although they had a daily routine, which made one day much the same as another. They didn't rush to get on their feet in the morning but would gradually saunter down through the quarry towards the wooded glades on the levels down towards the lake. Sometimes they loitered around the ruins of the old stone barracks, or on other days would head over towards Vivian quarry and trek along the track of the narrow gauge railway down the side of Llyn Padarn. There was no danger for them anywhere, and even the sound of Hefin, in his little brightly painted steam engine, Dolbadarn, rumbling on the rails wasn't enough to make them scatter. After all this was their kingdom as far as they were concerned. Most of the people who crossed the fences into the quarry were regulars and it wasn't unusual for no human to approach to within less than 200m of them. The quarry layout, huge as it was, with so many vertical edges, giant holes and natural barriers made it hard for humans to approach without being detected, and as far as the goats were concerned, well, they knew the place like no one else. They just roamed where they wanted. Although there are fences all over the place, the main ones very well maintained, these goats could cross them easily. They had learnt how to work as a team, one adult goat standing alongside a fence so that the others could run and jump, up onto its back and over the top strand of the fence. And when the herd had crossed that just left the 'runner'. Raglan had been a runner for the previous two years, meaning that when the rest of the herd had jumped on his back and over the fence it left him stranded on the other side, and so he would run the long way round to meet up with them again often using the quarry's tunnels to catch up.
He hadn't minded doing it on a regular basis as it got him noticed by the females for being 'special', and a male they depended on. And the herd leader, Arnold, recognised Raglan's contribution too, silently appraising Raglan as his Number Two, and potential chief. Mind you they were only a small herd and the choice was not great. The girls, amongst them Gwendolyn, Isobel and Marianne, would chatter quietly while chewing their cuds on a sunny ledge, they would have anyone as leader as long as Steve didn't get the job. They would concede they found his antics funny, but the goat was stark raving mad! He had a habit of disappearing for hours, they thought down behind the Ceiliog plume. It was well known there were some rare and strange plants down there, but Steve always reappeared lurching, with glazed goat "Come to bed with me" eyes and smelling of funghi….that strange musty aroma, that Isobel confessed she found arousing. No, they were agreed, the leader in waiting, the goat they would most like to mate with one day was Raglan with his gentle smile and slightly weird behaviour and wild horns. The males tended to sit separate to the females, protectively around the outside of the herd. Arnold told each of the males which was their arc to watch. He was careful not to rely on Steve too much, taking up his own position to allow Raglan to be a little nearer Gwendolyn than might have been appropriate. But he had noticed how the two seemed to have some connection between them, sharing a little smile, perhaps bumping shoulder against shoulder on the narrow tracks in the quarry. He didn't mind: Raglan was a good guy and he deserved some happiness. He knew he could trust him. Mind you he had to admit to himself Gwendolyn was the 'looker' in the herd. She looked so classy with a white stripe down either side of her beautifully sculpted nose, lovely eyes, multicoloured scraggy hair, such elegantly curved horns and the most amazing zebra-like black stripe down the front of her white legs. Yes, Raglan seemed to be making a cracking choice, if she would have him.
Both Isobel and Marianne had kids, sired by Arnold but they preferred not to talk about how that came about, but under their breath had told Gwendolyn it was nothing to look forward to if he came to her. Looking across at Arnold they knew he had their respect as he had always made sensible choices for the herd, but boy, there wasn't much fun! Every day was pretty well the same. They had food, water, shelter amongst the trees and in the old quarry ruins and a corner of the world to themselves that was just perfect for their way of life. Seasons came and went. Sometimes it was idyllic and they bathed in the warm sunset light. Or were bashed and washed by gales and rainstorms. Or sometimes the land turned white and icy cold. But their lives never changed.
Until one night.
It was a filthy night. The wind had been getting fiercer all evening, as it rushed in over the mountains, bringing the darkest, noisiest night and the heaviest rain. The water washed down the slate all around where the goats lay hunkered down, faces tucked round towards their legs away from the wind. It was horrible...an evil night. And then there were flashes of lighning and crashing thunder that boomed and echoed through the stony bowl of the great quarry.
Raglan had closed his eyes against the lashing rain and he just wanted to sleep. But the night wouldn't let him. Crashing sounds all around. Howling wind. Falling rocks. A grunting noise. The sound of cascading slate. More grunting.
Whaaaat! Grunting??!! His ears pricked up and he strained to make sense of the sound. And he was listening to hear the next sound when two terrifying yellow eyes framed in a big black bearded face with huge sharp horns appeared in front of him as lightning arced across the sky. Raglan was shocked out of his wits but he immediately stood, letting out a loud cry to wake the others. He tried to block their path but the dark shapes pushed past him into the middle of the herd. He counted five, all dark and shady in the night, threatening and scary. Henchmen. He moved round the side of them as Steve joined him to form a protective wall in front of their females.
"Who are you?" demanded Arnold from the other side.
The biggest, much bigger than Arnold, rounded on him aggressively. "I'm Backbeard! And these are my men. You will do as I say now: for your own sakes!"
Arnold dared to ask, "Where have you come from,...and why in this weather?"
And a snidy sidekick they soon would learn was called Rory, answered. "We're from the mountains by the coast down at Nant Gwrtheyrn. Lived there all our lives. But four days ago some Italian trophy hunters came with an English guide and shot at us with crossbows. Two of our guys took bolts to save Blackbeard here as he was obviously their main target. But we got away, out of the hidden valley and over the top to Castell Trefor. We've been on the move since then. But the hunters will come here soon. 'Culling' they call it. Bastard murderers, I say!"
The herd were shocked and uneasy at the intruders. There was a menace in the air. They gathered a little closer in the dark and Raglan made sure he got Gwendolyn snuggled up behind him to sit out the storm, his body between her and the incomers. Gradually the wind eased and the howling stopped, and sleep came to them eventually.
And so they were late to rise in the morning. and the herd rose to trek down towards the woods to find food as it always had before. But as they moved Rory blocked their way. "You're not going down there! The hunters will come!"
"But we have to eat!" said Arnold.
"No, you will do as you are told!" barked Blackbeard. He had looked scary in the dark, but now that the others could see him in daylight they could see just how sinister he looked, and henchman Rory was pure evil on shifty trotters. And always in the back ground were three silent dark goats hovering. Our goats were prisoners in their own home.
By early afternoon they were all starving. Arnold had been pacing up and down looking over the edge down towards the lower levels. There had been a few walkers but no one that looked like a hunter to him. Everything looked normal. Making up his mind he commanded his herd to follow him down to the trees.
But what happened next, happened so fast that they were all left in utter and total shock. As Arnold turned to lead, Blackbeard leapt down from the rock he was resting on, bounded two paces, lowered his head and hit Arnold at full pace and with all his mass behind him and butted Arnold in the side so hard that he toppled off the path and over the edge, and was gone. Straight off a vertical edge. One hundred feet down onto jagged rocks. Death was certain. Eyes wide, and speechless in stunned shock the others were rooted to the spot in complete disbelief. Isobel wailed first, then Marianne and Gwendolyn. Raglan stuttered, gasping for breath, but then moved forward, but Steve leapt in front to hold him back.
"Now, come on guys, no need for that aggro". he said. "Why don't you leave us in peace and go find somewhere else? There's a nice pad over at Rhosydd: ruins, tunnels, nice lake....eh?"
"No!" said Rory "We're staying! You do as we say. And your girls are ours now!"
As the girls recoiled in fear, Raglan thrust forward, pushing Steve aside to confront the monstrous Blackbeard. Face to face with the thug, it was pure anger that made Raglan shout. "Touch any of them and I will kill you!" he spat. And he meant it.
It caused an immediate reaction. The three dark henchmen rushed in between Raglan and Blackbeard, collecting Steve as they went, ramming him towards the edge. He fought back, twisting and turning, frantic to save himself, a cry strangled in his throat, as he teetered on the edge......and then he was gone falling down, bouncing on the rocks to lie, lifeless, beside Arnold.
Raglan couldn't speak. Eyes wide with horror, all fear vanished, all care for life was gone. He flew at Blackbeard. But he was like a rock. Their heads cracked against each other just once but then the henchmen piled in. It was an unfair fight, four against one. He took a heavy blow to his side and another in his shoulder and suddenly he knew he couldn't win on those terms. It was an involuntary reaction. He turned and fled, but for that he had the advantage: he knew the quarry. He sprinted up the nearest scree, sending loose slate down on his pursuers. Quickly he ran along the level at the top, finding the rusty old steel quarry workers ladders bolted to the cliffs. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the three henchmen advancing at a gallop. This was going to be tricky, but he knew how to do it.
Fortunately the 150 year old ladders had corroded, the dry rust being quite rough and grippy and he hooked his forelegs over the upper rungs as he started to climb with his rear feet on the lower rungs. He had learnt to do it years ago when a passing tourist had shown him a photo of Moroccan goats that climb argan trees (and eat the fruit so that the kernel passes through their system and drops out in their poo which is then collected by village women, dried and ground up to extract argan oil to make into expensive ladies facial beauty products).
Any how I digress. Raglan quickly made it up the three rusty ladders, seventy feet up to the next quarry level, and then on to the next set of ladders. None of Blackbeard henchmen were able to follow. He had escaped. But he continued to walk round the top of the quarry and down the other side to eat in the woods above Vivian, his thoughts very much on what had happened. Isobel, Marianne and Gwendolyn were at the mercy of the invaders. He couldn't abandon them. Leaving Gwendolyn to those thugs was unthinkable. He had to do something.
As the evening approached he moved carefully down towards where they lay on a ledge. He kept downwind and out of sight, sniffing the air as he got near to check who was where. He worked himself silently into a position, from which he could see them yet remain concealed. He watched and observed, disgusted how that vile Rory herded Isobel and Marianne towards Blackbeard who seemed to have requested their company. No doubt that vile Rory thought he could have Gwendolyn for himself. They must all be terrified what the males might do, he thought. And very hungry. It had been an horrendous day. Arnold and Steve murdered
The night sky was clear. There was a bright moon. Just a light breeze. Raglan waited. He let himself doze a bit. He wanted to be awake later.
When he awoke the moon was high, it's glow shining silvery on Llyn Peris. Looking down on the level where the herd were he could see the white of the two girl's coats but he had to watch intently for a while to work out which dark shape was a rock and which were the rival goats. He could see that Blackbeard had Isobel and Marianne hemmed in against the rock face, his side-kick Rory only a discreet distance away. Gwendolyn, with her smaller patches of white, he made out, lay in the middle of the ledge, three dark shapes of the henchmen outermost and fencing her in with the rest. But Raglan's mind was in turmoil. What could he do? Any attempt to release the girls would be nothing but suicidal. Agonising, he knew he had to do something but...………… He could just turn his back and wander of the mountains. He would find a herd somewhere, and perhaps live peacefully. He had heard rumours of trophy hunters but never actually seen any. Surely there was somewhere he could live happily, free from danger. Wasn't there? But what about his girls....Gwendolyn? He would never find another goat like her. No. He would give his life up for her. And that made his mind up. No matter what the outcome, he was going to try.
Slowly he backed out of his observation point and skirted round the lip of the quarry using the light of the moon to move carefully and quietly. He would approach from downwind to carry away any slight sound he might make on the crinkly slate and prevent his goat smell being picked up by the guarding henchmen. Hardly daring to breath, he came down the incline, zig zagging to use tumbledown ruins and rocks to keep him out of line of sight and away from being silhouetted against the horizon. But damn his big horns! He could lift his head slowly over a rock to look, but his horns stood eighteen inches above his head, or peer from around the side of an old slate buttress but the tips of his horns, two feet out to the side of his head, were always exposed first before he could look at his quarry.
But as he got close he stopped at an old ruin and went inside. In the dark shadows inside he was able to look through an old window directly at the herd just sixty yards away. They all seemed to be asleep with just Rory letting out a rasping cough every so often. But then...…………….was it his imagination?...…...he watched...…..was his eyesight deceiving him in the dark? He was sure Gwendolyn was further to the left before...…...but now she was closer to one of the henchmen.
Raglan watched......hardly daring to believe...…….and then he knew....Gwendolyn was moving! Very slowly, and silently! His heart leapt! What a woman! So as not to stand up, she was inching forward on her front knees, pushing with her back legs, between one dark guard and another. God, he willed her on! Now she slowly glided to the side of the last sentry. He didn't even flinch, no doubt tired out from the march over from Nant Gwertheyrn. Gwendolyn carried on on her knees another few yards before standing up and striding very carefully away from the herd. Raglan hurried out the back of the ruin almost colliding with her as she came by. But she showed no surprise, no shock, no fear, whispering to him, "Follow me!" It stopped him in his tracks: how had she known?
"Come on!" she hissed, and turned to go. Behind Rory let out one of his horrible coughs, it catching in his throat. It stirred one of the henchmen mid-dream, who just caught a lingering whiff of Gwendolyn's fragrance hanging in the air. That switched his mind on and suddenly he lifted his head and looked around. Where was she? He swung round the other way and just caught the movement of a shape moving away further down the level. He jumped to his feet, blaring out an alarm and raced off in pursuit.
Now there was no need for stealth. Gwendolyn raced ahead, speeding across scree, leaping off stone buttresses, running across levels and down the inclines. Raglan fought to keep up but she was more nimble than he, and less bulkily built who was hampered with those ridiculous horns he carried everywhere. Behind the three henchmen hurried as best they could, unfamiliar with the terrain, tripping and tumbling on the jagged and disrupted landscape. Their bloodcurdling threats and sheer fear made Gwendolyn and Raglan fly! Together they knew this quarry inside out, leaping fences, hurrying down tunnels, twisting and turning to throw off their noisy pursuers.
By the time they reached the trees they knew the worst was over: they had almost made it. The chasers were floundering around in the dark high up the mountain, long ago fallen off the scent. But, Raglan thought, in the morning, in the light they would make a proper search. They would have to make sure they couldn't be found. They eased down from a run to a steady walk once they were amongst the Welsh oaks, with the moonlight filtering through the dark shapes of the trees, allowing them to catch their breath. Raglan was the first to talk. "How did you know I would be there?" he asked her, and she just turned her head without stopping, and smiled. "I knew", she said, and carried on. He just stopped on the track for a second, unable to comprehend. She had always amazed him, but now he just could not believe the way things had worked out. But his mind turned to more practical things. "Where are we going?" he asked. Her answer, when it came, was unconvincing. "Just away. Anywhere away from those murderers!"and he thought he heard a stifled sob, a crack, in her voice.
"It's OK" he said trying to console her. "I know a place. I know where we can go. We'll be safe. Follow me!" And thirty yards down the track he added, "We mustn't leave a trail. Don't leave any droppings. And we will have to wash our feet in the lake.
And so they made it down through the old Anglesey barracks, and down the zig zag slate paths to the lakeside. There, they trotted along the railway track way down to Fachwen where they entered the water. "Just wash your legs" he said. "Don't get your hair wet, as we don't want our scent dripping onto the ground". satisfied she had done as he asked they cleared the bank and set back off up the railway track, the way they had come. By backtracking any searchers would be led off far in the wrong direction. Back at the head of Llyn Padarn the two goats skirted around the slate museum, walking in the shallow water where they could until they were round the far side of the lake and approaching Llanberis village. It was still pretty dark, and there was no movement amongst the houses. They spotted a fox raiding some bins, and a few cats waiting near front doors, but Raglan led Gwendolyn through the streets to Capel Coch Road where it narrowed and climbed uphill between small dark slate worker's cottages. Up they went, further, and into Ceunant Street where it became a narrow lane hemmed in by rough stone walls. There were scraggy hill sheep asleep on the dewy grass to either side, the odd farm house, and the looming shapes of the surrounding mountains growing as the dawn light appeared.
She had been silent all the way, probably horrified by the turn of events, and the violent deaths of Arnold and Steve....and her fears for her girlfriends left behind but now Gwendolyn spoke in a weary voice. "Where are we going?" Raglan stopped and looked at her. "Not far now, I promise. We'll be safe and we can rest when we get there." He saw her eyes fall and she looked like she didn't have much faith in his words. But he had never let her down before, and so they trudged onwards, up the hill to the top of the track. It ended by a house sitting high up above the village, at the mouth of another great valley, Moel Eilio to one side and the massif of Yr Wyddfa in the distance. Turning south, the trail led into that valley and once again they walked on. It wasn't far, but suddenly they could look across towards a dark shape across a small river, sat between two trees either side of it. Gwendolyn couldn't make it out too clearly in the pre-dawn light but as they neared it she could see it better: a little old cottage covered in ivy, sat isolated in the middle of the valley, mountains all around, two trees, a river...………..it was Bobblehat Cottage! Raglan led her inside, and she collapsed in a corner in exhaustion. He fell beside her, holding her close. And he put his head against hers, their souls touching each other as they fell into a deep sleep.
They were woken quite suddenly. It was bright daylight. A dog had barked nearby. An excited bark. A voice called. Quickly they got up and went to the window. A man was approaching, a bright orange coat and baseball hat. A small grey dog was bouncing up and down as it bounded through the long grass and rushes, excited at the scent she had detected. She was the Goat Hunter! They retreated and backed into the far corner as his shadow fell on the empty doorway of the ruin. And then he was there, peering in, his eyes lighting up as he spotted the two goats there. Raglan and Gwendolyn looked back as slowly a kind, friendly smile appeared on his face and widened. "Hello!" he grinned, "Don't I know you two?"
And he stood, before them, a friend, just thinking things over in his head. And after a moment, a little nod of the head as he seemed to sum things up before he looked straight back into their eyes. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me! Be good to each other" and with that, he turned and was gone, calling "Come on Darcy. Let's go find some squirrels!"
I've discovered that I can't change the Safety setting on any of my shots.
Can't change the settings, and thus cannot "fix" my stream for review.
Can't get it reviewed, and thus can't get it un-Restricted.
AHAHHAHAHAHAHA.
Anyway.
Some scenes I look at through my 5D's viewfinder, and what I see is just too much. Too much to be adequately captured with that camera.
So I'll get slightly frustrated (I hate switching cameras, I want one camera I can use for everything, switching cameras means a stutter in the flow of the shoot, means everything stops while I dig around in my camera bag and find the right camera), then I'll huff and puff while bringing out the Mamiya.
The square frame. The ability to capture that subtly bright light both at the top of the shot and on the leaves. All a bit smoother.
Though I wonder if having different camera options limits me. Keeps me from having to force my point of view into whatever camera I'm using. Getting it to work, rather than finding the Best tool for the job...
.....or how far can I throw a MacBook Pro! Cause its driven me bloody mad trying to process this panorama,blue wheels, rainbow wheels, stuttering, freezing, the damn lot! How it would cope working wit mages from a Cany 5DArMk4d with mega - megapixel images. Grrr Looks like I need an upgrade. Anyway moan over. This is a Panorama taken at Milvale Street Middleport, Stoke on Trent. All these derelict and deserted buildings face onto the Trent and Mersey canal. The main Kiln in the middle (ish) is a square calcining kiln. To the far right you can see the end of the shell of the building that once was Port Vale Mill, which milled flour.
The Kiln is a listed building, but the Mill is not!
This site is a mere couple of hundred yards from the Prince of Wales Trust sponsored "Middleport Pottery" site home of the recent BBC2 series "The Great Pottery Throw Down".
Alias: Waysider
Real Name: Zane
Gender: Male
Alignment: Villain
Faction: Sons of Silver
Personality: Loud, boisterous and arrogant. He can be quite brutal when he wants to be. However, he is rather loyal to the Sons of Silver gang. Also, when around girls, Zane/Waysider is rather nervous, often stuttering or avoiding eye contact with them.
Powers: Can create a flame based aura, which can enhance his skateboard's speed.
Combat: Is never seen in combat without his baseball bat, or his skateboard. He's constantly traversing using his skateboard, even using it to deflect blows during fights.
Backstory: A skateboarder, who has always had problems with authority figures. At his core, he's just looking for a place to belong, and has struggled finding such a place. People tend to throw him to the wayside, due to his offputting personality. This would cause him to pick fights with others frequently, armed with only his baseball bat and skateboard. His skills would eventually catch the attention of the Sons of Silver. His admiration for the leader of the gang would be almost instantaneous, and his loyalty would often be tested. However, Waysider stayed strong to the Sons of Silver, never giving them up.
Just a few seconds ago, Hank was slowly dying, until he heard something that knocked him out. Everything was black, hollow, like a cave. There the paneling looked metallic, yet, felt like cement. And then he heard something.
-/Hello Hank/- he heard the same voice from before.
“Who’s there?!?” he yelled out.
-/We are./- A hologram of what appeared to be a skull appeared before him.
“Wha-What the hell are you?” He asks, frozen in fear of what’s in front of him.
-/Consider us an ally for your cause. Although, we wish we could’ve met through…… different circumstances. However it is how you humans say “Better late than never.”/- the voice responded
“Who are you?” he asked nervously.
-/Someone who is a fan of your work. Someone who saved you from your previous condition./-
“C-Condition?”
-/Observe/- it said as multiple screens were appearing around him, showing the news reports him being missing, Lex being arrested, breaking out, and being defeated by Superman.
“H-How long have I been gone?”
-/Long enough to lose your goal to that kryptonian. He took away the one thing that kept you alive…. Vengeance. You humans normally have that desire to fuel you. But he took it away./- He doesn’t respond, just looking to the nonexistent ground beneath him. Tears running down his cheeks.
-/Thankfully, We can help you get that vengeance from that kryptonian./- It interjects. He looks up and stands before asking.
“I must ask, why do you refer to yourself as we?” Suddenly, he hears a humming before turning around to see a red glow coming from behind him. Then he sees two more, they get closer to reveal themselves as robots that had an uncanny valley of looking human, yet non-human.
-/How about it Hank?/- a light appears, shining on what seems to be the remains of his body, surrounded by a liquid metal of sorts.
“Wha-what is it?” He stuttered out.
-/What we could save, but now, we can help you acheive your goal, to kill superman./-
-/Will you claim your vengeance? Will you become our avatar and claim your second life?/- He stares at it before responding.
“Y-Yes, but never call me Hank again. Hank died years ago, now Cyborg Superman lives.” The liquid metal then forms the superman symbol on his chest.
The sudden bone-chilling blast of ice hit Caelan’s giant wooden shield like a tidal wave, almost knocking him over. The Ice Wizard’s incantation spilled over the shield’s edges and began to freeze everything, even the air around him. If it wasn’t for the wooden shield in front of him, or if it had been metal instead of wood, he would have been frozen instantly, just like Lord Bajads and his staff had earlier been frozen solid. Even with the shield’s protection he began to shiver and lose focus, slipping into a daze, with memories flashing in his mind.
Everything the spy had told them back at Durrough was true. Unfortunately the expedition leader, Lord Bajads of Durrough, not only didn’t believe him but publicly embarrassed Sir Caelan for consoling with a lowly, Outlaw spy. Caelan and his fifteen men were placed in reserve, the least honorable position. Once the joint Lenfel-Loreesi army had landed on the beach of the northern-most point of the Island of Lost Souls, Lord Bajads led the way with his three dozen men. The Loreesi contingent of two dozen was placed second in line, with the very capable Sir Emdell of Loreos in command of that element. During the entire venture Bajads refused to listen to any suggestion of caution by Caelan or Tavish, his wise archer. He did consult with Sir Emdell, who advised a screen of Lenfel archers to go on ahead of the main force.
So Caelan was forced to make do by ordering his men to avoid metal shields, just as the spy had said, and wear leather armor coated in animal fat where possible. He himself had procured a giant wooden shield and dragged it along determinedly. He also went without his usual metal helmet.
The Lenfel archers were the first to report the news of a force of Outlaws, twice their numbers, awaiting them in a glade between a jagged peak and a large oak tree. Lord Bajads happily declared they move to meet them and confidently predicted their victory, even after a strange man clad in white had emerged from a cave to stand on a ledge which commanded a view of the entire area. The first wave of Lord Bajads’ Lenfels charged forward only to find out this man was indeed Jens Valtyr, the Ice Wizard. The wizard chilled them with a wave of oppressive cold so that they could barely hold on to their weapons. Then the Outlaws swept forward and the results were ugly. What made the situation so perilous was that the Lenfels’ famous archery skills were of no use against Valtyr. The wizard had some kind of incantation running which allowed him to cast his spells while simultaneously deflecting any shot that was taken at him.
Lord Bajads was a courageous man, and he immediately charged toward the wizard, but then Valtyr released his ultimate spell, the ice blast, and froze him and his retainers on the spot. The Outlaws moved in and the rest of his staff perished trying to protect him. The Lenfel line wavered, but then Sir Emdell ordered his Loreesi in and they bravely took the fight to the enemy. Even with the Ice Wizard’s spells it looked like the joint force was making headway, but then Valtyr sent in his bodyguard, a large and brutal minotaur. The vicious beast went straight for Sir Emdell and hammered him mercilessly. They wounded each other, but Emdell got the worst of it and staggered back to the shelter of the oak tree. The minotaur pursued him, intent on finishing the Loreesi nobleman. That was when Sir Caelan acted without orders, charged his entire retinue in reserve and made straight for the beast.
Caelan had never fought a magical creature before, yet he instinctively knew what he had to do. Pushing the great wooden shield before him as a distraction, he let go of it just as it slapped into the minotaur and drew out his dirk. The longsword in his other hand barely held the beast’s battle axe in check, and aiming for the same wound Emdell had previously given the creature, Caelan drove his dagger into the minotaur’s gut all the way. It was over in a moment; the giant beast fell back in agony and lay writhing upon the ground. There was no time for any joy however as Caelan looked up to see a horrific sight: that of the Ice Wizard intent on revenge. Caelan barely had time to pick up the shield and duck behind it before the blast hit him…
“Wake up...stand up and get some blood flowin’ while I build a fire.”
“Wha-wha-what?” Caelan was shivering so badly he barely managed to speak.
“You were hit by the ice,” Tavish said as he began to pile up wood and shavings. “Looks like the shield did it’s work. How are you?”
“Fro-froz...headache. Ba-battle?”
“Over. I shot him in the knee and he fell.”
“Ha-ha-how?”
Tavish grinned. “Anythin’ we shot directly at him flew off. I got so frustrated I started shootin’ at rocks at his feet. One deflected and hit him in the knee sudden-like. He maybe a great wizard but he canna take any wee bit o’ pain. Crumpled like a little girl and fell off the ledge. We have him alive and tied up over there. Makes for a nice present to the king. The Outlaws were so shocked they turned and ran after they saw him fall, and our men chased along right after ‘em. How about those Loreesi, eh?”
Caelan stuttered, “They fight even harder than they party. How are our own men?”
“Murdoch took a battle axe to the head,” Tavish stated soberly. “Good that he had no relatives. Five others wounded but not bad. They’ll see green Lenfald again. The Durroughsmen are much worse off.”
Caelan shook his head in disgust. If they had only listened.
To cheer him up a bit Tavish congratulated him, “That bull-man was a true bit a work. I’m havin’ the lads lop his head off for stuffin’. You can mount him over the fireplace when we get back.”
“Lovely.”
Having gotten the fire going, Tavish helped Sir Caelan over to it and whispered conspiratorially, “Ya know, with Lord Bajads an icicle and Emdell wounded, we ain’t got no orders.”
“So?”
“Well, that spy was right on ‘bout that wizard, an maybe he’s as right on ‘bout that tower full o’ silver too.” A gleam crept into his eye.
“You want to go on a treasure hunt at a time like this?”
“Of course,” the always practical archer stated. “After all, you owe that spy fifteen more Draken. An you ain’t got even ten to your name now.”
Caelan scowled, “Can I warm my bones first?”
“Ach, now you’re whinin’ like that wizard. Fine, warm the cockles of your heart.” Tavish nodded slyly, “Then we be after that tower.”
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This is the first land battle scene I’ve ever done, so I'm fairly amazed it won LCC's Global Contest 3. The whole ice spell set up was the most challenging part.