#lady buxton

[vintagepromotions]

Advertisement for Lady Buxton leather goods (1961).

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

[moratoirenoir]

[loz37]

Period drama week 2023-

Lady Violet Crawley (Maggie Smith), the absolute queen of Downton Abbey. What more can be said?

Best line: I'm a woman Mary, I can be as contrary as I choose.

Day 6: Favourite characters.

William Buxton (Tom Hiddleston), Cranfords resident dog dad. Have to give a shout out to Sykes, Hiddles may have been my teenage crush but he will forever be my favourite actor RIP.

Best trait: Hopeless romantic.

Elizabeth Butler (Charlie Murphy) she has it all talent to sing, brains to train as a doctor, born into money yet has a heart for those "beneath" her. Truly embodies the spirit of Rebellion, I wish she was in the second series or at least had more than that one line mention.

Best feat: Joined the Easter rising faught and healed, all while looking stunning in her wedding dress.

This is in no particular order appart from definitely number 1.

Best line: Wouldn't dream of it *sassiest head wobble known to mankind*

Captain Declan Fraser (Frank Blake), Sanditon season twos real heartthrob. Them eyes you could swim in with the sarcastic smile, why did any of the ladies look at anyone else? Heroic, intelligent, dry sense of humour and sensitive to boot. Austinesque swoonwodthyness at its peak.

Abigail Hill (Emma Stone), so pure yet so evil, no wonder she is The Favourite. Amazing characterisation, still can't figure out if I love or loath her but I'm here for it.

Greatest feat: Changes the course of a war whilst holding the position of a maid.

Benadict Bridgerton (Luke Thompson). If Colin is the labrador of the family, Benadict is the cat. Appreciative of the finer things in life, values aesthetics, is willing to play by his own rules and is very loving to his family (I especially love his relationship with Eloise, he doesn't understand her struggles but he still wants to listen and share a cheeky cig).

Best line: Poetry is the art of revealing precious truth with words.

[daenakills]

His dark eyes.

Tom Riddle x reader, might delete.

Part 2

warning: obsession, angsty, mentions of death, tom being up for no good. tom being tom basically. short.

'The perfect couple' you were told by your classmates and even teachers when you walked down the halls.

Tom and you had started dating three months ago, three months ago when you declared your love to him and he with an expressionless face told you to date. At that moment, you were very happy, feeling like it was the best day of your life. You were sure many girls wished that they were you.

Before that, you looked at him from a distance, wondering why he stood out among the others. Little by little you realized that his presence invaded your senses, clouded your vision, and innumerable thoughts about him blocked your normal ideas.

The moment he said yes, you got really excited. He was beautiful, with those almost black eyes that looked at you intensely, with black hair that was styled in a very elegant way, and with an intelligence superior to the others.

You still remembered the first month of the relationship, those vacations he spent at Hogwarts since he didn't want to go back to that orphanage where he grew up. You convinced your parents to go on holiday to England alone, after all you went there every summer, and what better time to be with your boyfriend than on holiday.

In the afternoon you found a way to enter his room without some nosy coming, you sat on his bed while he was sitting studying some things. He had many papers on the desk, all neatly arranged by category. He hadn't even flinched at your presence, as if he was something routine. You got up from the bed and proceeded to approach him.

“What are you doing studying? It's the holidays, there are no subjects to study.” You put your hands on his shoulders.

“There is always something to study, wisdom is eternal.” he muttered, as if the words coming out of his mouth were normal for boys still going to Hogwarts. You tried to talk to him a few more times, and each time he found an excuse to answer you curtly but calmly.

You were like this all month, until he confronted you near the ladies' room.

“Look, I'll tell you a few things and I want you to listen carefully. I don't have time for you all the time.” Silence. Silence is what there was when he whispered those words to you.

You waited for that to be all, but he continued. “I don't want you there all the time, either. I thought it would be enough for me to say that I was your boyfriend and to talk to you. But no, it doesn't seem to be enough. This alliance suits us both. You, because you want to be with me and me, because it keeps the professor distracted, who thinks I don't feel anything. So, tell me once and for all if you want to continue.” You were paralysed, until you let your heart win, and you decided that yes, you were going to continue. “I'm surprised you don't cry. At least that's a change.” Yes, you too were surprised that you didn't cry. You had the feeling of crying the whole day, wondering how to hold back the tears and make the words come out.

Tom never specified which teacher thought he didn't feel anything, but after dating him for three months, you came to the conclusion that that professor, whoever they were, was right, Tom doesn't feel.

Now you walked with him through the halls, letting his henchmen (whom he called friends in front of the others, or well, they claimed to be his friends) were a few steps away from you. You didn't talk to Tom. The both of you exchanged the odd word from time to time, just to avoid suspicion.

You used to be unable to keep your feelings, but now you have your hiding place. Behind Tom's back, you had started dating Simon Buxton, from Gryffindor. At first, you avoided Simon since he was always giving you hints that he wanted to be with you.

You were afraid that Tom would find out and do something to you, which was not a surprise. Sometimes at night you would find Tom reading things that were not correct, things about sacrifices.

But after a while, you realized that Tom really wasn't interested in you or your life. So you started sneaking out with Simon, that's what you were headed for right now, you walked away from Tom telling him you were going to find your friends, he kissed you on the forehead and let you go. The other girls around made cute sounds, telling you that you were very lucky, you ignored them.

In a short time you arrived at your hiding place with Simon, that place where they saw each other when they didn't want to be seen, that is, always. You found him already waiting for you a few steps beyond his hiding place, without waiting for him, he pounced on you.

He started kissing you and touching every part of your robe, you tried to stop him, since they weren't in the hideout yet. Without you realizing it, someone else entered the scene. It was Abraxas Malfoy.

He saw you and Simon, and he only needed to see them to go out and report the event to Tom. You continued kissing with Simon, you didn't know what was waiting for you.

-

You made it to the room after all your classes, thank Merlin that Simon released you minutes after you told him to stop.

You started to open the door of the room when you realized that it was already open, you went in anyway, thinking that it had only been your mistake. Freaking out when you see Tom, standing up, staring at you in the middle of your room.

“Tom, what are you doing here? Or rather, how did you get in?” You knew the answer to that last question, what you wondered was why he was there.

He completely ignored your two questions, “Do you know what would have happened if it hadn't been Abraxas who saw Simon and you kissing? Total chaos, they'd be out there saying that the perfect couple isn't so perfect. Do you know how it makes me look?” So that's what it was about, how it makes him look.

“I'll be more careful next time.”

“You are funny.” He looked at you with a serious face, he didn't find a hint of humour in it. “It won't happen again because you won't see Simon any more, that disgusting blood traitor.”

“Don't call him that! Besides, if I'm careful, no one is going to find out and no one is going to ruin your oh so precious reputation.”

“It's not just that, darling.” You didn't know why, but that flattery felt full of poison. “You are mine” he came closer to you as he spoke, “You are mine from the moment you first looked at me. I remember your face when I told you that I would be your boyfriend. You looked so excited.” he'd say with fake preoccupation as he touched your face, and for some reason you couldn't bring yourself to remove it, “It doesn't deserve to see that.” His face changed from fake shock to looking completely serious, the more you looked at him, the emptier his black eyes looked.

“Simon pleases me, he listens to me and understands me. He does everything you don't. I think you should find another girl for this.” You said with teary eyes.

“I don't want another girl, I want you!” He grabbed your shoulders and slammed you against the door, a few steps behind you. “And I have you, and I won't let you go. Ever. Do you hear me? Ever.”

----

You ate your food while you listened to the other girls talk about how tragic the news about Simon were. He had been missing since the day Tom threatened you.

Since that, Tom has wanted to sneak into your room to bite your neck while you cry over Simon at night, taunting you with small whispers, “Are you still crying over the traitor? Mm, too bad, I think you should stop thinking about him, he's not coming back” as his hands encircle your entire body.

At that moment you realize that the professor was wrong, Tom does feel something, the problem it's that it isn't love.

[panelshowsource]

rather than who you would like to see on the next taskmaster series, who do you think will be on it? like just your predictions or any inklings you may have!

anon if you're still around then you'll know i really took my time with this hahaha so sorry! i hope anyone reading this takes it as just a bit of fun and nbd, who knows who we'll get or who alex & the network have in mind! i'm answering thoughtfully (bc i always feel guilty not to 😩 so sorry this is long lol) but it's really just fun!!

i will say, of the more recent-ish series, i did get a few right!!! krishnan guru-murthy, nicola coughlan, alan davies, judi love, sue perkins, john robins, and joanne mcnally were people i just knew would eventually be on if the show could get their schedules right, and i was also certain sarah millican and dara ó briain would be asked — though not necessarily that they'd actually agree. when you have a level of seniority and esteem, the "it's such a great opportunity" aspect of the show isn't such a draw 😅 for some reason i feel SO PROUD about guessing nicola! i was just WAITING and wish sooooo much she had done a full series 😭😭😭 (how fun would saoirse-monica jackson be too!)

anyways, as for people who haven't been on yet — and this isn't to say i want them all to be, just that i think it's likeliest they have been asked or will be asked; i talked about who i want to see a little while ago here — it's important to consider the casting 'roles' the network has in mind when working with the producers to form a series, so i will keep that in mind too!

established comedian, typically a straight white man over 40: bill bailey, vic reeves, harry hill, geoff norcott, kevin bridges, adam buxton, ade edmondson (god i feel bad for not saying ed byrne but why do i feel like he's not gonna make it in the next few series? i'm on the fence with nick helm — unless he's friends with alex, then his chances go up significantly imo — and tom allen for some reason, and i feel like john bishop is almost too much of an ask?)

fresh talent comedian, typically a man under 40: rhys james, huge davies, ahir shah, darren harriott would be my top guesses but tbh any of the semi-recent edinburgh comedy award finalists are good bets as a majority of the winners from the last ~10 years have been on the series + throwing out tom rosenthal (i know he's not fresh fresh and also mostly an actor)...and, like, jazz emu?...just because if taskmaster know how much its audience adores weird little white twinks then they'll cast them

female or non-binary comedian: 100% sarah keyworth + harriet kemsley, maisie adam, jess fostekew, suzi ruffell. i've shifted away from betting on cariad lloyd and catherine bohart for some reason... (joanne was my no.1 lady bet for the last like 4 series hahaha)

non-comedian: this is very, very hard to predict because between comedy actors, non-comedy actors, tv presenters, news people, reality & social media stars... the potential predictions are just so endless! logically, the most likely is an established actor with a lot of comedy connections (think sally phillips, lolly adefope, liza tarbuck, sian gibson, daisy may cooper, susan wokoma; this category is where tm gets quite a few of its female contestants): matt holness, kevin eldon, amanda abbington, tom davis, sharon horgan, kathy burke, georgia tennant (also friends w alex?), su pollard, tom basden, apparently anyone from the cast of ghosts, and so on and so on and so on... + i'll also throw out maggie aderin-pocock as a serious contender + i really feel like one of the spice girls will be on new years treat

friend of alex: john robins was the prediction for the past few series, so just worth keeping in mind other people in this circle include elis james, matthew crosby, tom neenan, and so on

freebie answers because alex/greg have mentioned them before: jack dee, lorraine kelly, joanna lumley (i want jennifer saunders SO BAD give us an epic series w both ade and jen pleaseeee tm gods!!!!)

complete wild card bets that are either my instincts kicking in or my bias taking over: limmy, adam buxton, paddy mcguinness, diane morgan, daniel sloss, jess hynes, spencer jones??, alasdair beckett-king or josh pugh + if suzy izzard wasn't doing a big nyc show i'd say that's a good guess if only bc you know greg & alex grew up big fans

did i mention too many people?? if i had to put my money behind a single person it would be either ahir shah or sarah keyworth

these are almost all of my fr big heavy hitters when it comes to placing bets! but there are of course so many people i didn't name who i could totally see on either a main series or the ny treat — so many people just make sense and that's the beauty of taskmaster!!

[smolvenger]

Our Society At Cranford (William Buxton x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As Miss Matty's companion, you struggle to gain the attention of the handsome young Mr. Buxton. It appears you need a little help from the ladies of Cranford...

A/N: Not my best or most edited work. No stakes (unless you count marriage for women in the 1840's as stakes which back then it was) and only vibes. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Technically none other than some angst and attempts at Victorian-era accuracy. But then nothing but fluff and vibes. If I miss anything, let me know!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were infatuated with him since the day his dog ran into the church and urinated on the altar.

That morning, you thought you heard the sound of tapping paws and opened your eyes to see a little dog in the church. Everyone was dipping their heads down in prayer. Oblivious to a little mischief. It was everything in you not to laugh at the little dog. 

But the little dog ran right in like he owned the place, running and excited to be about. The prayer droned on, repeating the same phrases everyone said every Sunday.

In your reticule was a plain biscuit you saved from Sunday school. Slipping it out, you knelt, waving the treat to the dog. Daring not to speak to alert anyone.

The dog trotted forward and ate it, then you scooped him up into your arms. You held onto him, even though he struggled. If he got out he could run into the wilderness where all sorts of nasty ends were waiting for him. Once Mrs. Forrester’s cow was found stuck in the mud for hours and nearly died! Now the bovine was kept to wearing, for lack of a better word, pajamas all hours of the day to keep warm.

As your family opened their eyes next to you, they gasped. People smelled the urine and heads turned towards you. Surprised to see the little thing in your arm. Heads did turn and Reverend Hutton had to wave everyone’s attention back to the service.

But the scruffy white and brown dog settled and calmed down after a while. If you stroked his front legs and chest gently, he would become calm and sleepy like a charm. 

As soon as it ended, you hurried outside. The dog began barking and wiggling. The widows and spinsters of Cranford you had befriended- Mrs. Forrester, Miss Pole, and your favorite, sweet Miss Matty all gathered around. They chatted about Reverend Hutton. Their chins up and talking as fast as clucking hens. All wondering about the dog’s urine and the shock.

“The altar cloth was made by Miss Matty’s mother! We shall have to find an apothecary or-”

“Napoleon! Where are you- I’m so sorry to interrupt ladies and reverend!”

All of you turned. The women kept silent. You were struck silent.

A young man entered as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale. Tall and lean. He had beautiful curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a rich baritone voice that halted your every thought. 

“Master William Buxton!” whispered Miss Pole.

“I think we ought not to call him master now…” Mrs. Forrester replied you noted the flirtatious shift in her tone. “He’s so much…broader than when we saw him last.”

You noted he had broad shoulders indeed, and he was well fit beneath his waistcoat. It made you feel even warmer beneath your sun and your bonnet.

You and the ladies dipped into a curtsy and he a bow.

“I believe that is my dog, he escaped the house an hour ago and we’ve been searching for him ever since!” he explained.

You walked forward.

“Oh, thank you, Miss?” he asked.

You gave him your name, though your voice felt half of itself. “I…I only wanted him to be safe and not get hurt if he ran out.”

“That is much kind of you, miss! Could I have him?”

Walking over, you handed the dog to him. As the weight shifted, you felt his arms and hands brush against yours and as silly as it was, it nearly knocked your breath away. Young men here were few and far between to where one considered Cranford a city of Amazons. But here he could be something of a Hercules in the flesh.

“Oh, I am sorry! He is a bad dog!” he apologized again.

“Here you go” you offered.

“William Buxton!” Miss Matty gasped as she went forward and shook his hands. He grinned at her, greeting his old friend.

“We are so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing, but we are glad you could be here!” she continued. 

“I am only here to open up the house, and attend to this bad dog,” he scolded, holding him up. Napoleon only smiled and panted in response.

“Well, we are glad you are here,” you replied.

After curtsies and bows, he scooped the dog up in his arms and continued back home. But you couldn’t help but stare at him, his curls like a halo around him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Cranford, though a small town, was filled with all sorts of likable people. If you were feeling lonely, you had to go about and soon would find a friend. And there was no better friend in town than Miss Matty. 

She was the unmarried daughter of the previous rector and lived a life of genteel poverty- acting like she was still a lady who did not need work or seek employment… despite not being anything more than middle class. She was lonely too. Her sister, her maid, and the love of her life all died within two years. In light of this, you offered to be her companion. Not accepting a penny for her for payment. You both were lonely souls needing company, even in the guise of her feeling like a true lady again.

You enjoyed sitting and drinking tea with her. The clock ticking as she chuckled that this was always the time one expected visitors. One had to take a walk about twice a day. Both of you enjoyed looking through the windows of the shops to see what new fashions were arriving- that was the most excitement one got around town when it wasn’t Christmas!

“What do you think of this French style?” you asked, pointing to one illustration of a gown.

“Very impractical, but very pretty!” Miss Matty replied.

“It’d be nice to wear it to one of our dances here…if we had them again…” you sighed.

“I’m sure if the time comes,” she replied. “They are quite fun- there is one around Christmas Eve and another around Easter.”

“Oh, you should go too! Do you still remember the dances!”

“All of them,” she said with a smile. 

Her sister would insist on sitting in the parlor for two hours every day from noon to two to receive any visitors. Sometimes you only sat in a chair doing nothing for two hours. 

But lately, you kept staring at the window. Staring at the door. Hoping, praying…that perhaps Mr. Buxton would arrive again.

You couldn’t help but admire him. He would always tip his hat at you and smile when you passed in the street.

Everything in you was bursting when you saw him. Freezing and burning at once. Part of you wanted to run up to him and blab about anything. The other part of you wanted to run, to hide, to faint, to make yourself away when he was near. It was both at once and it was unbearable.

There was one day, as you took your second walk of the day, that a familiar sight ran forth. A high feather- only one lady in town wore such a high feather in her bonnet.

“Miss Matty! Miss Matty!” cried Miss Pole.

Both of you curtsied.

“Why, what is it?” she asked.

Miss Pole held her chin up and began to speak in a soft, but piercing tone.

“I hear Mr. Buxton plans on keeping his son here for two months, but soon he will be sent to London. Just in time for the season.”

“Oh, the season!” you gasped.

Then…the season…that was for all the well to do…but it meant…

“He wants his son to attend every ball and dinner and gathering he can- he hopes to find a nice girl from a good family who came out! And I hear Mr. Buxton is already writing some letters!”

You nearly dropped the packages in your hands. Shaking, you kept quiet.

“Why then, that is something! I only wish William well- it is not what he wants at all. But he isn’t our little Master Buxton anymore, he is a man and should find those,” replied Miss Matty.

“I can just imagine it. Our Master Buxton! Dancing the polka with some lady in silks fluent in French!” Miss Pole added.

You were silent as you returned. Your head spinning. You took off your bonnet and outer coat to go inside, but you hardly heard your footfall. It was as if the world was entrenched in water and you were just barely rambling it.

Again, you sat down from noon for calls. Miss Matty got out her needlework and sat down. But you could not do anything. Not read. Not sew. Not eat, Not drink. Anything. Your heart hammering in your ears.

After a few minutes, it became clear that no one was going to immediately arrive. Miss Matty set her things down, her gentle eyes over your face.

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” she asked.

You looked down.

“Nothing, miss,” you replied.

“But look at you- you’re trembling. You seem a little faint even though you’re sitting…is something the matter?” she asked.

“It’s…it’s only something silly… I will get over it. I am resolved..” you said.

“I feel you wish to speak it,” she said. She stepped forward. “I may be just one 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I….I don’t…” you had to be careful. This was a small town and gossip got around like fire to dry wood. You fidgeted and rubbed your own hands to try to remain calm, looking down at your plaid skirt as you began.

“I only feel like…there are good men out there. And I..should like to someday…someday find a way to love, to be courted, to…to know what that is like…I only hope it should happen someday…”

Perhaps that was rude. Miss Matty wasn’t married. But she only smiled and continued with a soft, compassionate tone.

“That is normal…I remember back in my day how my heart would race when there were gentlemen callers. But there isn’t a rush…and besides, many a woman has been trapped in an unhappy marriage from rushing. And I will tell you…there are worse things in life than being a spinster!”

“Yes, indeed, I agree!” you replied. For it was truly the spinsters and widows who were the ones in charge of the town.

Though, you found yourself looking out the window. Your heart leaped at the sight of a familiar bowler hat and a mop of blonde curls. William Buxton passed by in his coat and gloves. He looked about the town. 

You felt a small gasp in your throat. Behind you, there was the creaking of the floor. The timing was just too perfect.

But he only smiled and tipped his hat and you bowed down in a curtsy in turn. Oh, his smile could make rosebuds bloom! 

Then his head turned towards his path and he continued.

You felt a soft, cold hand touch your shoulder and you flinched.

“Why, what was that!”

You felt yourself tear up. “Miss Matty! It’s nothing! It truly is not!”

“Why, my dear-I see the way you’ve been acting. And now this confirms my suspicions. Do you…love William?” she asked.

Words stammered out of you and a clamminess shook your hands, you could barely form a sentence.

“I…I…let me put the kettle on for some fresh tea!” you insisted.

You turned to leave. Putting the tea kettle onto the stovetop. You merely sat, watching and waiting until steam came out of the spout. But tears were going down your face. Miss Matty followed behind.

“Do you…have feelings for him, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked again.

Looking up, you felt more tears fall down your cheeks, growing hot and tight. Then you folded your hands, reaching one to touch the counter for support. Then putting one to your face you began to cry.

Miss Matty hurried up, giving you one of her handkerchiefs. She embraced you like a daughter and let you sob.

“It’s the talk with Miss Pole today that worried you, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes…yes it was…but Miss Matty…please! I need help! I don’t know who will introduce us or where to see him!”

“Don’t worry…it’s time we took another call onto the Buxtons…” she said.

The next day, your heart raced as you entered that fine house. As you got inside, servants took your bonnets and cloaks.

“Napoleon! Napoleon, come here!” cried a familiar voice.

Looking up, you saw William Buxton tumbling down. But he was undressed to a degree- he had his pants and suspenders and his white blouse open down. You could see his chest lying open. Your heart raced hard and he stopped, looking at you.

“Miss Matty! Miss…Miss Y/L/N! We weren’t expecting visitors!” he gasped.

“Well, we only hoped to surprise you! Miss Y/L/N is my companion and it seems fit we should see each other!” she said.

All of you bowed and curtsied. You tried to keep your eyes as much as you could on his face and not his chest.

“Why then- let me get dressed before Father scolds me. Then I’ll be back!” he said.

He bounded back up. And then you let yourself see more of him. You silently sent a thousand thank yous to Miss Matty.

Sitting down, you had tea and biscuits. And the promises of more meals. There was much talk of the new train station and the mobility it was going to provide for everyone. Of the great spring party that the great Lady of the town threw. Everyone got to see her manor house and be attended to by servants. There would be games and rowboats and every guest was going to be given ice cream- a rare treat. William was excited about that especially.

You paid calls almost every few days, even for at least fifteen minutes. And Miss Matty advised you to dress well. Not that you would ever dress poorly if you knew William would be around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Walking down the street the next week, you saw that familiar high feather in her bonnet scurrying down. No doubt it was Miss Pole, hopping about and running like a rabbit. Only she was heading toward you. It was later, Miss Pole scurried down the street.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N! There is such excitement! There is a Miss Ermina here and she is showing us how to order all the French styles! Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Well, I-”

You didn’t have time to answer. Miss Pole grabbed your arm.

“Oh, you must hurry! I insist you do!” 

She practically dragged you to her house. There in the kitchen sat a young woman with ivory pale skin and beautiful dark brown hair done up in curls. Her smart jacket and skirts were of fine material, but her eyes warmed as they looked up at you. She introduced herself with a smile as Ermina. Getting out a paper, she helped you and Miss Pole and Mrs. Forester all translate an order down onto paper. You looked through catalogs and showed what you could get and what to not get. Even if you weren’t spending money now, it was good to know!

Though Ermina’s eyes sparkled at you. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ran into each other, are you just moved in town?” you asked.

“I was just finishing school. And yes- with my father and brother here! Well, they aren’t family by blood but they are in my heart!”

“She is Mr. Buxton’s ward, you know!” Miss Pole interjected.

“A ward!” you cried.

She nodded. You felt the blood drain out of you. “Why, the Buxtons are neighbors and friends of ours, I am acquainted with them.”

“Miss Ermina was finishing her education in Brussels. She is also an accomplished piano player!” Mrs. Forester boasted.

Miss Pole leaned in, her eyes having a twinkle in them.

“But Miss Matty was telling us that it is important for ladies to be more varied in their education .”

“I agree!” Ermina said.

“Why, as do I!” you cut in.

Miss Pole continued, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“And as for our Miss Y’LN,- could you show her a little piano, perhaps? Help her in her accomplishments!”

You shook your head. Why, were they just stealthily insulting your piano skills? What was happening? Ermina only kept her sweet smile. 

“I fear I cannot afford lessons,” you said.

“Oh, not at all! I can show you a few simple cords and phrases! Come by, please!” Ermina replied.

Sure enough, you were having lessons at their house. Ermina herself became a dear friend to talk to. She was kind and not arrogant about her station. You found you both agreed on all sorts of matter regarding women, what they should have in their lives, and ways that things should be better, and different. She of course would tell you tips she noticed about fashion and the piano pieces she found moved her to tears. 

Her presence was enough. You felt guilty, having an agenda. But at least if you lost a potential lover, you had gained a friend.

If it meant more of a chance for William to be in your circle, you agreed. You could have sworn, there was something a little different in how he smiled at you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Then it came to the garden party with Lady Ludlow’s. It seemed all of the town was about there enjoying themselves as much as they could allow. Her whole yard could have made up half of the town! Her mansion towering above you like a giant about to squash you all. But the locals only chatted and laughed like normal. Some of them, Miss Pole, Mrs. Forrester, and one other were gathering to sit on chairs and rest their “weary” feet. Miss Matty was making her rounds of greetings, leaving you alone.

 Sure enough, there was the promised ice cream. William, to your astonishment, brought you a cup of the dessert.

“Oh, thank you!” you replied. You took the cup from his large, white hand.

“Here you go, what do you think?” he asked.

Out of the corner of your eye, the women emerged from their chairs. They hurried about like a pack of ducks looking for crumbs in the grass.

It was cold, creamy and sweet. Though it was melting in the sun and you were tempted to eat it all at once.

“I…I never had something so delightful!” you cried.

However as you walked about, you realized there were rowboats but they were far limited. One had the Reverend’s daughter, Sophy, and her new husband smiling at each other as if no one else existed. They were already far off.  Mrs. Forrester and Miss Pole claimed one another and fought as they kept rowing, chatting about this and that to echo off to everyone. \\

And there was only a third left. Miss Matty appeared, her own ice cream cup in hand.

“Why- it’s a bright day. And there is nothing as wonderful as a rowboat! Why don’t you two enjoy it- William, do be a gentleman and row for her!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” you shook your head. 

“Come on, it will be fun!” cried William.

He opened his hands and you accepted. You followed him. Stepping into the rowboat, you realize how close you are. 

And you were alone. Nothing but the still, navy blue river twisting around like a ribbon and the rich green trees that rippled their leaves with the breeze.

 You tried not to notice the build of his thighs, his sleeves rolled up, and his smile and cheeks glowing with the exercise. The boat moved and he grinned at you. Handsome as always, if not more.

“You’re not worried you’ll get splashed! Or fall into the water and have to swim!”

“Oh, not at all!”

You smiled at him and he at you.

“I still recall that day you caught Napoleon still. I should call you My Little Catcher.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all a bit!”

“What’s been occupying your mind?” you asked him quietly.

“The…the…the trains,” he answered.

“Trains?”

“Yes, we are about to open our railway station. I was thinking, all of my life, I never had to work hard. To earn anything. I sat by and others did it. And I was content, but I’m no better than my own dog,” he replied.

You let out a small laugh, smiling at him.

“I would…like to try to make something of myself. Isn’t that silly for a gentleman?”

“Not at all, it’s noble. And one shouldn’t be ashamed of work.”

“I should go to the captain, and ask him for a position as we’re developing it. Then…I should think of myself as lucky, as earning something, and not letting this guilt consume me.”

“You have done nothing wrong. And there is nothing wrong with purpose. It will be a change, it will be hard…but nothing worth having is easy…” you said.

He smiled at you.

“You’re right, my little catcher,” he replied.

You grinned, then looked down for modesty's sake, as well as for your racing heart. Hope glimmering within you.

It seemed too soon when he turned around and asked if it was time to row home. You agreed.

Though he held out your hand, allowing you off. His bare hand bracing your skin- the warmth, the softness. How large they were yet so protective. Something forbidden inside you was tingling as his bare skin brushed your bare skin.

You had to let go, you were glad to let go and be on the grass. It lasted so shortly, yet you felt the world spin. You wanted him, and it both scared and thrilled you.

Soon enough, another woman hurried by. The honorable Mrs. Jamieson approached you two, with her fine dress and holding her Bischon Freise dog who was also donned up in a little blue waistcoat for today. Stifling a laugh, you greeted her. William bowed his head in goodbye and left.

“Why, I must tell you. The assembly hall will be open for spring. And there shall be a dance, will you go? We are all insisting it happens!” She announced.

Blinking fast, you caught your breath.

“Oh…that is fantastic!”

“It will need work…it’s a rather patched up dreary old place…” she clucked. The dog in her arms barked as if he agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Though, then there was a dance. Just in time for Easter, as promised. You arrived in your new dress, bought with Ermina’s advice in your head. You took a deep breath- Miss Matty being your chaperone. 

“I must tell you we spent weeks all organizing and helping it. I haven’t danced one step and we haven’t danced one step!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, it’s all paid off! It’s lovely!”

Occupying them, and trading dance cards. But Miss Matty immediately insisted William have the first with you. And he agreed.

Your heart raced. It was a more intimate dance, almost like an embrace. He looked right in your eyes. And you had to look at his. It felt warm. You felt yourself tremble a little in his arms, feeling the warmth of his breath and his eyes, bluer than the sea, the sky on you. How could you dance with anyone else after this? How could you come down to earth?

The chords of the violins finished the phrase- and the song was done. You were still looking at him and he at you.

Glancing down, he saw that his arms were still around you in the position. Hesitantly, he let go and you both bowed, your hand still in his.

But his hand remained there, And his eyes were still on you.  Leaning down, he gave it a kiss that nearly made you gasp. 

“May I have you for the next waltz then, Y/N?” he asked.

Part of you froze and you saw he did too.

He didn’t call you Miss. Not even “Little Catcher.” He called you by your first name.

Handing your card, you smiled at him.

“You may,” you answered.

You turned around to see the ladies of Cranford- Pole, Matty, Forrester, Mrs. Jamieson, and the others, smiling and nodding their heads.

This could not be coincidental. But you could never complain. 

 There would be time to thank them, but for now in a Cranford Ballroom where everyone was easily overheard, you gave them a smile in thanks.

It was next spring there was another happy event.

In the shadow of a church, you looked at William right before the Front door and he at you. He was in as nice a waistcoat as he could now afford for today as an apprentice for a railway. He lowered his hat to look at you and hold his hands in yours. Your own gown was now of white muslin with tiny pink flowers decorated on the blouse, the skirts so light and airy you felt they were made of angel wings. You had worn a bonnet, but one with a long lace veil.

The ceremony was done, and it was time to face the crowd. William cupped your face and kissed you, tasting a little of the sacramental wine and fresh cologne.

From the brightness of his eyes, from his presence- you both had the strength to face anything. 

 is lifting your veil outside the church doors of your bonnet and smiling. He squeezed your hand, and as you walked out, the bells rang over you.

Everyone tossed petals and waved their handkerchiefs, cheering and clapping in celebration, in your shared happiness. Your heart full, you handed your bouquet of roses to Miss Matty and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled at you and then handed you to William. He wrapped an arm around you and all began to gather. There would be a celebration with cake, a little ice cream, dances, games, and joy until it was time for the short honeymoon his job allowed him, and then a return to the beautiful little town of Cranford and the new phase of your life together as a man and wife. 

[pabsterthelobster]

Nick Mag's SpongeBob Character Contest

In the August 2009 issue of Nickelodeon Magazine, there was a contest to see who could come up with their own SpongeBob characters, and the winners would get their characters drawn by one of the official artists. These characters, as well as a number of runner-ups, were showcased in the December 2009 issue, the last issue of the magazine's original run. Unlike the Avatar character contest that ran in the magazine beforehand, these characters were never utilized elsewhere.

Winners

Fredrick*

Personality: Very old-fashioned.

Often says: "I disapprove of this."

Likes: A good cup of English tea (virtual).

Dislikes: That his daughter (Karen) married Plankton.

More facts: He makes old jokes that no one likes. He lived in a computer store, then moved to the Chum Bucket after his wife shorted out.

Brenton M., age 12, Cumberland, Virginia

Stanley

Personality: Plain and boring.

Often says: "Why does everyone assume I'm funny?"

Likes: Nothing. Even Squidward is more cheery than he is.

Dislikes: Popcorn, his job, being stereotyped as a happy, smiley, stupid clown.

Funny because: Everyone assumes he's funny because he's a clown fish, but he's not.

More facts: He sells popcorn at a Bikini Bottom movie theater and lives in an empty tissue box.

Jessica and Adam M., ages 12 and 10, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Roberto Poncho Eelinski the 27th

Personality: Arrogant, sexy, bound to break out in song.

Often says: "Ladies, ladies, please! There's enough of me for everyone!"

Likes: Attention, exercise, flamenco dancing, ladies.

Dislikes: Larry the Lobster (who steals his spotlight).

Pet: Magestico the sea horse.

More facts: He has a Latino feel, has a 172-pack of abs, and lives in a beautiful mansion. Pearl loves him.

Emily R., age 11, Ankeny, Iowa

Honorable Mentions

Sal

He owns over 500 different Hawaiian shirts.

Stephanie D., age 14, Los Angeles, California

Shelby

He has a pet piranha named Fangs.

Amelia T., age 13, Buxton, North Carolina

Mermaid Man's Daughter

She lives in the Merma-lair.

Morgan J., age 8, Uncasville, Connecticut

Crazy Marv

He lives in an old Converse shoe stuck in a forest of coral.

Jax S., age 13, Aptos, California

Johnny Wings

He owns an eco-friendly restaurant called Algae Grub.

Austin F., age 12, Baltimore, Maryland

----

*The original drawing has his name written on his body, calling him "Fredrick 2000"

[carminavulcana]

The Toy

For the prompt Lady Catherine Buxton X Toys for @ladydarkey

Women like her were born women. Toys were for little girls.

Women like her were expected to make good marriages. Women like her maintained their looks, coiffed their hair, powdered their cheeks, and dressed themselves in fine gowns with lace petticoats and whalebone corsets underneath.

Women like her wedded for power and wielded it through their husbands.

Jenny had been sent to India with the same purpose, but she had shown no interest in any of her suitors so far.

Instead, she remained absorbed in trying to sing songs for Malli or teaching her to paint and other such nonsense.

Lady Catherine Buxton also did not understand her niece’s strange obsession with buying toys for the little jungle chit that they had brought back from Adilabad. What use did the girl have for toy elephants, lac dolls, and glass beads?

She, Catherine, had never played with these as a child herself. If anything, the sight of toys annoyed her. In fact, she had instructed her own children’s governesses to never give them even a rattle or a teddy bear. Her children, Gordon and Caroline, were the epitome of quality British parenting. And she was proud that all they had had in the way of playthings as children, had been her old books, models of trains, and replicas of great ships of old that had paved the way for the English flag to fly high around the world.

But she allowed her niece the indulgence of toys for Malli. Malli was after all, just a songbird. It was understood that soon after puberty, her pretty nightingale-like voice would darken to the dulcet tones of a woman. And then, she would have to be relegated to the role of a maidservant.

No way was she going to allow a young temptress to live in the palace with herself and her husband. Not when she knew that any fledgling beauty would catch his unfaithful eye.

In fact, she sometimes wondered if it would be better to return Malli to her tribe. After all, she was no longer as interesting or as exotic as she had been in the beginning. However, the knowledge that her tribe’s protector was out there somewhere, looking for her, had put a dent in this thought.

To give up the girl now, would be seen as an act of submission. And that was unthinkable. Even if she had to throw the wretched little brat to the streets, there was no way they were going to return her to her tribe of worthless brown buffoons.

The day her husband was knighted, she felt a great swell of pride in her heart. It was yet another pearl in her chest of treasures. She could hardly wait to return to England for the summer and gloat about it.

But before that, she was excited for the celebration she had planned here in Delhi. It would be an affair to remember for years to come. Her dress, of the heaviest brocade from Benares, bright as a drop of sunshine, would be the talk of the town for the entire season.

It was a blow to her like no other, thus, when her extravagant gala was put to an abrupt end by the appearance of the beastly tribal with his pack of wild animals.  As she hurried inside to the safety of the rose garden in the inner chamber, she heard Malli call out for him.

“ANNA…..”

Her blood boiled! The little titch! How dare she?

Eventually, as the dust settled upon the arrival of her husband, she swore that this time, she would ensure that an example was made out of the so-called shepherd.

As she sat high up in her balcony, she felt something deep stir within herself; an almost childlike joy that she had forgotten even existed. She wanted to watch the toy before her break and bleed and beg.

It irked her that despite the bloody gashes peeking through the torn folds of his shirt, there was hardly any blood at his feet. And how dare he not scream?

She had a toy to break other toys, didn’t she?

It took her but a moment to grab the whip that she knew was never meant to be used against another human being. She had been told as much by the fashioner of the whip when he had presented it to her in London.

“This will look very nice on the wall in the governor’s study, right alongside the head of that magnificent antelope he shot last autumn. Of course, it is just a piece of decoration… can’t be used for real unless you want to use it to shred the meat for your beef casserole….”

The shepherd was hardly a man, was he? Why couldn’t she have the pleasure of seeing her dangerous, beautiful toy in action on something that wasn’t even human.

And that too, in the service of the crown!

“OFFICER,” She called out just as the mustachioed man raised his bullwhip again. “Try this one!” she smirked and threw the barbed bullwhip down. “Use it on the pillar first, officer! Let the wretch see how it will rip him!”

Giddy with pleasure, she sat down and watched as the thorns on the whip sank into the wood and tore out numerous chips and splinters from it.

Her mouth salivated as the new whip whistled through the air and landed with a sickening splatch into the skin and muscles of the beast.

Oh, she was finally enjoying herself. And to think, it was all because of the stupid girl she had been thinking of returning!

How could she have even thought such a thing! Thanks to the girl, she was watching a spectacle that she had never seen before. The beast could sing all he wanted! At some point, he would fall to his knees.

And there would be not just blood, but also screams.

Women like her were born women. Toys were for little girls.

Or so she had thought.

She had finally found a toy she liked very much, especially as it bled and quivered and cried out in torment.

It would bend eventually; she was sure of it. Or else, it would break.

Either way, she would relish it. What a wonderful way to celebrate her husband’s knighting!

@vidhurvrika @bleedinknight @fangirlshrewt97 @rambheemlove @rambheem-is-real @burningsheepcrown

@kookiries @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @fadedscarlets @hufhkbgg @connerwrites @rorapostsbl @ronaldofandom @ronika-writes-stuff @pine-breeze

@bromance-minus-the-b @obsessedtoafault @jrntrtitties @tulodiscord @rambheemisgoated @dumdaradumdaradum @sulthaaan @stanleykubricks @mizutaama @thewinchestergirl1208 @jadebomani @sally-for-sally @waywardmorgan @annieginny @voidsteffy @stuckyandlarrystuff @meastradeur

@mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @doodlesofthelastpage @badtabbywhitecat @bitchy-bi-trash @braveheartinthedark @yonderghostshistories @veteran-fanperson @yehsahihai

@eenadu-varthalu @budugu @ssabriel @teddybat24 @chaanv @jjwolfesworld @milla984 @boochhaan

If you'd like to see a story written on a prompt, check out this post

My askbox is open :)

[mistressemmedi]

fernando sleeping his way through the whole media pen rumors are will buxton is next

Will Buxton is absolutely whipped for his lady, I don't see it happening 😂

[vintagepromotions]

Advertisement for Lady Buxton jewelry boxes (1962).

[walnutcookie]

okaywait heres everyone in the blue cheese manor residence (AS OF NOW)

- cambozola cookie

- rochebaron cookie

- buxton blue cheese cookie

- silver needle tea cookie

- [to be developed]

- cream cheese cookie

- cheesecake cookie

- roquefort cookie

- earl grey cookie

- eclair cookie

- palmier cookie

and outside of the manor

- lady grey cookie

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

[moratoirenoir]

[landonorrisracewinner]

I'm a socially awkward english woman. I also can't stand Will Buxton. Blocked him on twitter so I didn't have to see him, you know? I then somehow ended up alone in a lift with him. Imagine being trapped in a lift with someone who you can't stand, even though they haven't said anything to you personally, and they don't know that you can't stand them so they're being friendly and trying to make small talk and you're socially anxious and awkward and hate small talk with strangers, let alone someone like Will Buxton who you can't stand. And then you're in a lift with them and you can't tell them to shut up and it's just the most incredibly awkward lift ride of your life. I have lots of awkward f1 lift stories if you need more. I'm very cringe.

Sdjlkfhsjdlkfklajsfklhjsdlkhgfjlsd this cracked me up like firstable why do you have so many f1 lift stories secondly that's So funny that he was trying to make convo with a random lady on a lift like we need to eliminate small talk in confined spaces!! I'm tryna think of what I would do in that situation but I'm fine being mad rude to terrible people up front so I would actually be like 🗿

[detectivejigsawpines]

RRR Analysis

Okay, I recently watched RRR for the first time, and it was like a massive shot of dopamine directly to the brain.

Literally, the show continually ignores all laws of physics and statistics (as pointed out by Pitch Meetings), and I just enjoyed it too much to care.

But there's a particularly angsty part about halfway through that I wanted to talk about: namely, watching Ram during Bheem's flogging.

To the unfamiliar eye, and most likely to the British, Ram seems pretty callous about the whole thing. But if you pay close attention, you can see that the whole time, he's trying to subtly put a stop to this.

Before the flogging even starts, Ram tries to tell Bheem to kneel.

As he's flogging him, he finally steps on his chain and subtly pulls it back, trying to force him to kneel.

When Lady Buxton tosses down the spiked whip, Ram (in a relatively stern voice, but you can tell there's a hint of pleading behind it) tells Bheem that he'll be killed if he keeps this up, and to save himself.

He even tries to push down on his leg at one point, in a way that looks like yet more abuse but was probably one final attempt at saving his tam'mudu's life.

And let us not forget his behavior once Bheem collapses and the rioting breaks out:

To the eyes of anyone unfamiliar with this situation, he probably looked like a perfect soldier disciplining a vicious revolutionary.

But to our eyes, he's being forced to hurt his adopted brother, and it's killing him.