#will buxton sometimes you have rights

[slythereen]

christian saying “theoretically they (the ferraris) should work as a team” lmao call them out king

[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.

[formulatrash]

Hazel! It’s me the stupid fanfiction writer anon again. Here on your ask to bother you again. I’m sorry.

I guess I dont really have a question but more like I want to know your thoughts/opinion on this. In terms of professionalism or work ethics, what is your opinion on f1 driver and engineer romantic relationship? Like do you think that there are team rules that prevent that from happening? Is that a conflict of interest? I knoooowwww the plot is so tired and corny. But like personally, I also want to know your opinion on this. That would be weird right? Especially with how shitty women are treated in motorsports. Like you go through university and finish an engineering degree and maybe even masters/phd, and it’s stupid to risk your rep for a cute f1 driver. But I wonder if that ever happens? Not just in F1 but in any motorsport. Imagine the driver’s race engineer is his girlfriend lmaoooooooooooo.

Anyways. Just thought I’d ask your opinion if you dont mind.

so various series have various rules about this and also between teams. it used be the case that, in F1, you could not be in a relationship with anyone else in F1 and if you got caught at least one of you would have to leave your job.

but there certainly are people in F1 who are in relationships - of public ones, Will Buxton's wife works for a team and there are a few mechanics in relationships with each other. (it feels odd to name them because they're not like, "known" people but they're totally public about it on insta)

so that rule has certainly relaxed. equally, although it's also a bit of a fanfiction trope drivers certainly do get with their PRs sometimes, there's a few times I know about for sure in FE and WEC.

what's common about all of those relationships is that they're male-female. there are not many women in the top engineering jobs in motorsport - there's a few in FE, XE and WEC but none of the engineer-over-the-radio roles in F1 are occupied by women.

(saying engineer-over-the-radio because between teams that person has slightly different roles; sometimes it's their performance engineer, sometimes their race engineer, etc. each driver has at least 3-4 trackside engineers specific to them, sometimes more in the bigger teams, as well as their side of mechanics)

I think people'd be surprised but not scandalised by a driver-engineer relationship (overlooking the likelihood it would be same-sex) - the bond between driver and engineer is very strong and they have to get on, work closely, etc. there's a lot of general incestuousness in paddocks in terms of people not knowing anyone outside them so even in the days when relationships were banned there's always been a lot of fucking and whatever. hard to meet anyone else when you're on the road that long, innit.

[blamemma]

Emma, I'm worried about what Joe Saward said????????? Alonso to Red Bull is real?

right before anyone PANICS let's break this down. now my delivery of this is going to sound condescending because i'm gunna break it down bit by bit, but what i can understand and respect is not everyone is a native english speaker, so some of the nuance of what Joe is saying can be lost in translation.

"it did not take long to hear from spain" - spain, the country alonso is from, the country that reps him, took a hold of what albert fabrega said and decided to push the alonso -> red bull agenda with little to no evidence apart from a few paddock photos. "The word is he could pop up next year at Red Bull." tag on to the end of this sentence, 'from Spain' and that alleviates the worry. Spanish media saw Fabrega say that and pushed a media cycle that suggested that Alonso was going to Red Bull, that he could POP UP at Red Bull. Joe isn't saying here that he is going to. He's saying that's the rumour.

you've also gotta realise, Joe Saward has never been favourable towards Daniel. His words towards Daniel have usually been quite scathing, and although he tries to remain neutral, you can tell it from the undertones of his writing (again, I think this is sometimes more obvious when you are a Native English speaker, so I can understand and respect why some people miss this).

What Joe is presenting in that Notebook is the rumours that have been built from Albert Fabrega's tweet. Joe never alludes that he actually knows what the rumour is. He just discusses the discussions that emerged from that tweet?

Now this tweet.

What he's saying here is yes, it's possible. it is possible. it is something that could happen. it's possible. just as possible as me getting hit by a bus tomorrow, or winning the lottery. in the realm of possibility, si, it is something that could happen. again, nothing confirmed, nothing denied. like albert, like will buxton, like what every other f1 journalist is currently doing, joe is shit stirring to get engagement because engagement = money.

this isn't something to panic about. this isn't happening. remain calm. it will come to us eventually x

[walnutcookie]

tell me your headcanons for mac n cheese and cheddar RIGHT NOW!! /nf /silly

HI THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK AGSJDBDKFBSKRB /GEN THIS MAKESME SO HAPPY ,,,,

i think that if i were to go in depth about my headcanons and lore for them this post would be a bit long so heres some of the simpler ones X]

links lead to drawings ive made relating to my headcanons 👍

Cheddar Cheese

• cheddar is very. VERY tall. like 6'9" (funny number). Makes it worse because sometimes they like to wear heels

• uses all pronouns but mainly they/them :3 male/female honorifics

• a lesbian. Question mark ? still debating

• rogueforts cousin!!! Survived the blue cheese manor fire (which happened when it was just a teen)

• related to above if you know anything about my roguefort lore they grew up in a Not so great rich snobby family!! they were buxton blue cheeses child which makes cheesecake their sister as well. Dont ask where the accent came from let me have this JZVDKFBDK

• intersex and bigender - when growing up they were forced to fit into either "boy" or "girl" and didnt exactly fit either stereotype biologically or through their behavior so their parents were very frustrated with them. Turns out theyre both!!!

• it started as a joke because of ratatouille but. i am a firm believer in ratmouse cheddar. are they a rat? is he a mouse? both? Neither? no matter what they hide ears under their hat and paws under her gloves and a rat tail under their coat because i think its fun💥💥they should have rat/mouse features as a treat

• they have legs that are way too thin and not at all proportinate to tjeir body. i cannot stand drawing them because of this.

• resting :3 face

• very much cursed (it would take a few posts to explain this one)

• whatever this is

Macaroni

• shorter than cheddar but still on the taller side!! 5'11"

• uses he/him pronouns but he doesnt really care what pronouns are used on him. fem honorifics or anything he doesnt mind that either

• amab and genderfae :] (basically genderfluid without the masc part of the spectrum)

• lesbian

• older sister of my oc maccy cheese cookie (who was made before mac and cheddar were introduced HXBFJ). macaroni is 6 years older than them

• parents just Straight up abandoned him and his sibling as kids!! i could explain this one further but probably in another post

• it may be hard to believe but he is older than cheddar

• CANNOT STAND unsolved mysteries. having unsolved cases or puzzles makes him physically ill and he cant stand to eat or sleep when he doesnt know the solution

• related to above he despises cliffhangers and surprises and if he cant read a mystery novel in one full sitting it will EAT HIM ALIVE

• also related. Loves math! fun little puzzles that (almost) always have one logical solution. he does NOT however like math problems with multiple/no solutions

• easily startled by sudden loud noises or actions

• a lil chubby!!

• he has a little macaroni tail. sorry

as for my mac n cheese (ship) headcanons,, i cant explain them very well without context to my Full lore for the two but heres my attempt HVDKFB

• started as INCREDIBLY one sided (cheddar had romantic feelings for mac while mac had feelings of. Hatred)

• cheddar is incredibly easy to fluster because shes not used to being on the Recieving end of affection (cough cough for curse reasons cough)

• cheddar is also incredibly touch starved (cough cough for curse reasons cough)

• macaroni can just. Use cheddar as a bed. they are so fucking tall and wide he can just snooze on them

• they are so doomed toxictragic yuricore im going to kill them

YAAY thats all ill do for now but if anyone has any further questions i would love to answer

rbs ok!!!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Yesterday I watched this wrestling thing, and it featured Matthew Crosby, and that reminded me of how much I like Matthew Crosby every time I see (or hear) him, which isn’t all that often. That made me decide I should listen to some of his actual comedy, which I’m now going to do, but before I do that, I thought I’d make a list of everything I know about Matthew Crosby:

- Turned up in Catsdown’s dictionary corner a couple of times, was very funny both times. I think I mixed him up with Adam Buxton at first because they both sat in dictionary corner, wore glasses, and discussed something vaguely nerdy.

- I also saw him in an episode of 8 Out of 10 Cats, where I think he said almost nothing.

- Got referenced sometimes on Russell Howard and Jon Richardson’s radio show, and I think he co-hosted the show with Jon sometimes after Russell left, though I haven’t actually heard any of the post-Russell episodes.

- Does a radio show with Ed Gamble, which I also haven’t heard.

- Is wearing a 30 Rock t-shirt in his Wikipedia picture, which immediately makes me like him.

- Co-created and co-wrote Hypothetical. I thought I remembered him appearing on the show at some point, but I just looked it up and he hasn’t.

- Did an episode of Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled, in which he talked a lot of shit about Cliff Richard and discussed how he used to be a terrible teacher.

- Used to date Josie Long, so he has to be pretty cool, right? I assume that if Josie Long likes or has ever liked someone, they have to be, at minimum, all right. Like how I don’t know much about Ellis James but I assume he must be cool because Isy Suttie likes him.

- Was referred to by Daniel Kitson, in 2007, as his hipster friend. Given what Kitson himself was like at that time, I cannot imagine how hipster Matthew Crosby must have been to get that title.

- Is in a sketch group called Pappy’s Fun Club that has existed for a long time. They turn up a lot when I watch videos from comedy festivals, even the ones from many years ago. They also have a podcast that I haven’t listened to, but have heard a couple of episodes recently (a regular one and this Christmas special they did) and really, really enjoyed both.

- Did one of those radio show episodes with Daniel Kitson, as part of a series of episodes that Kitson did from 2-6 AM, while at the Melbourne Comedy Festival in 2008, with a different comedian as a guest each time. Crosby spent much of the episode rolling his eyes (or doing the audio equivalent of that) about Kitson’s insistence on playing an entire Lucksmiths album all in one go, and trying to show off for his then-new-ish girlfriend, whom he said was listening from England.

My main thought about that one is that Matthew Crosby came off as the most normal of all the guests on those radio episodes, though that might just be because he was following Steve Hall, who wasn’t so much a human radio presenter as a hundred balls of self-loathing stacked on top of each other under a trench coat. Matthew Crosby managed to come off as relatively normal compared to that.

It’s like – okay, you know how everyone in comedy, very much including the heterosexual men, sort of has a crush on Daniel Kitson? It’s like that Heat Magazine thing that people made a lot of jokes about for a few years, with Jon Richardson and Russell Howard being declared people’s weird crushes. Well Daniel Kitson is everyone’s weird crush, in the sense that it causes everyone to be a bit weird while working with or talking about him, and in each case that comes out in a slightly different way. Steve Hall might be in the top position as the person with the weirdest crush on Daniel Kitson (I’d put Stewart Lee in second place, in case anyone’s wondering, though David O’Doherty has to be in the running), and Matthew Crosby on the more normal end of the spectrum. He was able to spend a night doing radio with Daniel Kitson and be, especially compared to the others, almost a normal person about it. My main takeaway from the episode was “Wow, that was surprisingly normal.”

- Did a really accurate parody of annoying fight hype reporters at The Wrestling event yesterday.

Anyway, I think those are all the things I know about Matthew Crosby, before actually listening to any of his comedy, which I shall do soon.

[heretiics]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

FULL NAME: Ozias James Fischer NAME MEANING: Ozias is a Latinized or Greek form of the Biblical name Uzziah of Hebrew origin meaning 'my power is Yahweh.' NICKNAME(S): Ozzy, Oz AGE: Twenty-four SPECIES: Human GENDER: Cis man (he/him) ORIENTATION: Bi OCCUPATION: Handyman, amateur sleuth, podcaster BIRTH DATE: 16 December 1998 BIRTHPLACE: Hatteras Island, North Carolina HOMETOWN: Hatteras Island, North Carolina ETHNICITY: American MARITAL STATUS: Single RELIGION: Christian (raised, non-practicing) EDUCATION LEVEL: Technical school (handyman) PREVIOUS RESIDENCE: Stone Mountain, Georgia CURRENT LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: With a roommate RAP SHEET: Assault (juvenile, dropped)

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

FACECLAIM: Rudy Pankow HAIR STYLE: Dark blonde. Naturally wavy and thick, often messy and tousled. Has medium-length hair that falls just below his ears, sometimes reaching his chin. EYE COLOR: Blue HEIGHT: 6' 1" / 185 cm BUILD: Lean, wiry, and athletic SCARS: A short thin line running horizontally on his left cheek. A long white line on the inside of his right wrist due to a fracture. A scar running from his left arm to elbow caused by a deep cut. Several scars on his hands and feet from cuts and lacerations caused by his profession. TATTOOS: Has a large tattoo of the tree of life on his upper back. It features intricate details and branches that extend down his spine and onto his shoulders. Has a tattoo of an eye on his right forearm. It is a realistic-looking eye with blue and green colors and belongs to an ex-girlfriend. Has a small tattoo of an arrow on the side of his left wrist. The arrow is a simple black outline with no additional details. PIERCINGS: Has piercings in both of his earlobes. Has two piercings in the upper cartilage of his left ear and one piercing in the lower cartilage. STYLE: Casual, beachy, and rugged. His tank tops and t-shirts often feature graphic designs, stripes, or solid colors. Often wears board shorts if the weather allows, but usually in a denim overalls or cargo pants when working. Backwards caps, bead bracelets, and cannot be seen without his shark tooth necklace. SCENT: Sawdust, faint smell of paint, hint of saltwater VOICE: Deep, smooth, and slightly raspy, with a hint of a Southern accent. A low pitch that adds to his rugged and charismatic image. He enunciates his words clearly, but there's a casualness to his delivery that makes him sound relatable and approachable. USUAL EXPRESSION: Cheeky dimpled smile that highlights his affable and playful personality. Tends to have a warm, friendly, and has an infectious energy that can be seen in his expressions, whether he's laughing, joking, or engaging in a serious conversation. Has an expressive face and comes across as approachable and engaging, with a genuine interest in connecting with people. POSTURE: Casual and slightly slouched DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: Dimple on his right cheek. Bright and upbeat. Expressive body language, using his hands and arms to emphasize his words and convey his emotions.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇 & 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄.

PHYSICAL AILMENT(S): Back and joint pain PSYCHOLOGICAL CONDITION(S): Intermittent Explosive Disorder (undiagnosed, currently coping well enough), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (undiagnosed) DRUG USE: Never ALCOHOL USE: Moderate, won't say no to a drink SMOKING: Not a fan

𝐏𝐄𝐑����𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.

TROPES: Grease Monkey / Mr. Fixit / Handy Man / Jack-of-All-Trades / Hot-Blooded / Dark and Troubled Past / Missing Mom / Magnetic Hero / Ragtag Bunch of Misfits / The Face / You Meddling Kids, and That Dog Too / Amateur Sleuth / POSITIVE TRAITS: Plucky, charismatic, loyal, humorous NEGATIVE TRAITS: Nosey, unpredictable, recalcitrant, reckless MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic good ZODIAC SIGNS: Sagittarius sun, Sagittarius moon, Leo rising THEME SONG: Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

cw: child abuse

Ozzy was born and raised in the community of Buxton on Hatteras Island, North Carolina, where his love for the mystery and the unknown was first nurtured. As a fishing community on an island, there are bound to be stories. Ghost ship sailors, lost colonies, and a hidden treasure by Blackbeard are only among a few of the many urban and local legends associated with Hatteras Island. It served as his escape from a troubled home life, with an abusive father and an absent mother. The only thing he knew of his mother was that she came from a small town in Texas.

When Ozzy turned eighteen, he left home— stealing his father’s old and beat-up Ford F-150 along with a few bucks— and moved two states over to enter a trade school and train as a handyman. However contemptible of a father he might’ve been, Ozzy still learned a thing or two from him, having grown up watching his dad fix things. From an early age, he had been the tool fetcher for the odd jobs his father took to the house. This sparked his interest in fixing things and became another outlet for his frustrations.

After Ozzy’s training, he set a course to the West, intending to meet his mother. When he arrived in Babylon around a year ago, the first thing he did was to ask about her whereabouts but to his dismay, no one has even heard of her, as if she never existed. Was his father lying? All things considered, he wouldn’t put it past him. With nowhere else to go and zero leads, he decides to stay in Babylon to investigate. He knew something was up, he just couldn’t place what it was. Besides, the place was rife with the sort of mysteries and tales that tickled the nostalgic parts of his brain. It was comforting.

Relatively new to town, Ozzy has quickly become a familiar— but not particularly trusted— face amongst the locals, an easy feat with his cheerful and helpful personality. While he might not look like the part, make no mistake because he knows his way around different tools. He advertises his business as “Mr. Quick” and his services as a handyman are sought by many and always given praise for how faithful to the name it is. 

Ozzy is part of a group of four young people* that is determined to uncover the secrets in town, mainly investigating the paranormal. They’ve been using part of an abandoned site that was supposed to be a mall that never pushed through as a “covert” gathering place. Although nowadays, they’d just resort to meeting in a member’s place— Ozzy’s most of the time, being the pseudo-leader of the group. While he’s probably the least responsible out of them being a loose cannon and all, his natural charisma makes up for half of it. Besides, he was the one who initially formed their mystery gang anyway, or at least made them into a ‘thing’ and creatively (lamely) named them The Mystery Solvers. They’ve recently started a podcast that tackles the stories and legends in Babylon, making a spectacle out of it.

Although it doesn’t happen often and only when highly provoked, Ozzy has underlying anger issues and violent outbursts. It was worse when he was still in high school— often getting into fights because of it— and the tendency seems to have died down ever since he left home and his father. While he seems carefree and happy-go-lucky— and for the most part, he is— Ozzy often covers up his emotions and pain with humor. 

Ozzy has a brown Great Dane dog he picked up along the way to Babylon that eerily looks like Scooby-Doo and has unoriginally (and predictably) named “Scooby.”

*This group is a wanted connection. If interested, feel free to message me!

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒.

I’d definitely want him to turn into a non-human in the future. If anyone wants to volunteer, please, by all means.

Not everything can remain fun and games. I can see him getting personally involved somehow in a few crime or missing cases, perhaps even getting accused in them. As a handyman, he has been to a lot of houses and has had access to them, so it’s not too far-fetched. Plus, he’s a new face in town. Always easier to blame the new guy.

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒.

header quote

[tittaha]

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[misslisterkeepsajournal]

1826 Tuesday 14 March

7 1/2 11 25/60

Went into the stable - Sent off my letter to 'Mrs. Betsy Harrison Mr. Fisher's, Petergate, York' - Went out at 8 3/4 to James Sykes for a few minutes - at 9 down the o.b. [old bank] to H-x [Halifax] 1/4 hour with Mr. Parker giving him directions for advertising Northgate house with or without the whole or part of six days work of land or ten if wanted (taking the 2 fields Thomas Greenwood has) - to be let from year to year or for a term of years - to be advertised twice in the Leeds Intelligencer and Leeds Mercury - then asked Mr. Parker to consider of the best means to recover the £66 odd from the commissioners of the Brighouse and Denholme Gate road - mentioned seizing the tolls - Mr. P- [Parker] thought the law would not bear us out in this - said it was my fathers proposing - bade him speak to my father on the subject -

Got home in 54 minutes Went down to Jackman preparing to begin wearing at the great bend in the brook at the bottom of the Dolt wood - Came in to breakfast at 10 50/60 - Mr. Carr came a little before 12 - He will take my price £160 per days work for the quantity of land we wanted yesterday - Mr. Samuel Washington to come over and stake out and measure for us as soon as possible - Staid perhaps 10 minutes with Mr. Carr, then talked it over with my aunt - she seems quite satisfied - Including this purchase and the ground at Northgate and the cottage building there, I do not think, if we borrow the money (about £1400) at 5 percent, it make a loss of income of more than £35 a year - came up stairs a little before one - Calculating what money we should probably receive and probably spend before the next rent day - the receipts ought to be about £300, the expenses will be about £2000 - I hope we can do with borrowing £1500 - If this be the case, I think we shall have about £950 a year - then wrote the above of today - all this has done me good -

On coming in from H-x [Halifax], found a letter from Mrs. Milne (Langton) - read it at the breakfast table my aunt saw that something was the matter and at last inquired - I merely mentioned from whom I had heard - and my aunt began innocently wishing I had no friends etc. etc. they never left me at rest, etc. etc. - I felt as if I could not say much, or think much on any subject - would write immediately even tho I felt it would be wisest to drop the matter here and write no more my heart misgave me I did not expect just such an answer and yet she was right the first page and two lines on the second were probably seen by Charlotte thanks for the regles d'ecarte 'of which I cant understand one word' etc. etc. 'I am full of astonishment at Mariana's hop'....Mrs. N- [Norcliffe] hopes she will make Langton in her way, etc. etc. then on the second page as follows

Langton March thirteenth strange and inconsistent but I have done never more shall letter of mine hurt your eye or wound your heart you have indeed with a ruthless hand snatched and destroyed the blossoms you yourself planted in my bosom but it is ever so with me it matters not however a few short moments of weal or woe and this scene must close on the wretched and on the happy I have it under your own hand otherwise no power could make me believe that my friendship and love could make such desolation forgive me the mischief was unintentional your happiness not your misery was my hope and prayer but I have done best best loved tho latest known farewell for ever

the copying this letter makes me feel a strange sinking at heart how pathetic brevity affects us I know her all her scrapes with others and have been taught she has no heart nor principle and yet my heart is sad and her lines affect me she is indeed a dangerous woman at this moment I could kneel to her yet have I before said to myself she is a bad one she would only make a fool of me or Pi [Mariana] has often told me so it must be true how could indifference turn to such love so soon I will take no notice of this letter the matter shall rest where it is let us see what she will do she will give me up now and give herself no more trouble about me she cannot in reality care much and by and by I shall forget her and all this will be the best for us both surely there is not much harm done yet yet I catch myself sighing deeply what means it I will quit the subject and my journal for the present -

Had just finished the above of today at 2 25/60 - then went down to my  aunt for 1/2 hour - Told her I thought we should manage very well - that I had been calculated, and, at all rates, we should have, as I said, £900 a year, and should not borrow more than £2000 - Came upstairs and from 3 to 5 wrote 3 pages and the ends, and crossed the 1st page to Miss Mc.L- [Maclean] said I had written to MacDonald - hoped Miss Mc.L- [Maclean] would bring her down with her - Fearing she has had some unpleasant news from Mrs. Bury 'for me there is no peace between the prudence of some, and the fatal imprudence of others' observed in answer .....

'Be thankful for the extreme that is on the right side; and bless their sister's prudence, tho' it be sometimes clad in all the cautious coldness of reserve - Send your heart to me, my love and leave the rest to jog on with the world, as its own pace - yes! yes! we know each other by letter, at all events; and, thro' all these years, as all my pages that are kept can prove, my sentiments of esteem and admiration, and regard, have been, like everlasting, fresh at their latest as their earliest hour - Go where I may, Sibbella, a nameless charm will wrap you round my memory for ever - I have often mentally blessed our drive to Otley - our meeting at Esholt completely changed the style of my regard - I wish I had been present when you wrote this: - it was the moment, above all others, which I should have chosen for 'peeping into your heart' - I have often thought of, and wished I could scarce define what - that drive to Otley was indeed 'a delightful dream', too delightful to be dreamed of before it came'.......

Then from 5 to 5 10/60 wrote 2 1/2 pages to Miss Pickford thanking her for her inquiries after my aunt - she is worse - 'more enfeebled and worse than she was a 12 month ago' - ask if she can 'give us any hints for our journey on the Continent our place of settlement for the winter is still undetermined - Let us have your opinion as to climate comforts, etc.' - In my 1st page I had mentioned going to Buxton in July and August for 5 or 6 weeks, and 'Thence to the South of France, or some good climate for the winter' ask her as well as Miss Mc.L- [Maclean] 'By the way, do you think you can, by any convenient means, get us what might turn out a pleasant introduction to any one abroad' -

Dressed - dinner at 6 1/4 - Cold, rather hazy rawish morning - began to rain about 10 1/2 - a smartish shower and continued till between 12 and 1, when it gradually abated, and, from about 2, was fine for the rest of the day - Barometer 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 43° at 9 55/60 p.m. at which hour came up to bed E..O.. - Read from page 17 to 25 Quarterly review no. [number] 65 on the Reformation in England 'Mr. Todd (vide this no. [number] of the Quarterly review page 19) 'in his able preface to the republication of Cranmer's work on the Sacrament, has hunted Dr. Linyard thro' his many mistatements with severe and unrelenting vigilance' -  

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/9/0070 - SH:7/ML/E/9/0071

[proprhettcies]

Season 5 Episodes 111-120 (466-475)

S5 Ep 111 (466)- Friday the 13th Facts

Aired Friday June 13th 2014

True or False game

Wheel video from Dayton, Ohio

EB Guest- iJustine

S5 Ep 112 (467)- Amazing Coincidence

June 2001- Laura Buxton from England launches a balloon. Seven days later it arrives 140 miles away to another Laura Buxton. They meet and lots of things match down to their guinea pigs.

Rhett and Link try it for themselves

S5 Ep 113 (468)- Weird Ways to open a bottle

-Carabiner

-Fork

-Toothbrush

-Drill

-Yo-yo

-Another bottle

-Paper

* They were twist offs the whole time

Link calling Rhett “Bo”

Talking about their parents watching GMM

S5 Ep 114 (469)- OCD

My OCD song/ video

OCPD- Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder

Link- Gave myself the label anal retentive

My pucker string is tight

My anus is tight

Encounter with Howie Mandel

When Link went to feed Tucker he would have to pet him on the head seven times

Commercial Kings

Famous People with OCD

-Billy Bob Thorton

-Donald Trump

-Cameron Diaz

-Meghan Fox

-Leonardo DiCaprio

S5 Ep 115 (470)- Never say these on a 1st date

- My boyfriend just broke up with me, you look just like him

-Hold on, I just have to answer this message on OkCupid

-Sometimes I hear voices and one just told me to call you sweetcheeks

- I don’t like burritos

-I love you

- I have 15 cats

- I’m bored

-You ever see a third nipple?

-The mothership is coming back for me and need a human toe

- Be right back, gotta go take a huge dump right now

Gilette Week 4- Massage

TimTam Slam

S5 Ep 116 (471)- Bizzare Assassination Attempts

EB Guest- Felcia Day

- Death by Chocolate Bar

- Bulgarian Umbrella

- Luted to Death- music instrument

-Emperor Nero to kill his own mother. Failed attempts led to hiring guys to stab her

-Gun on Regan

-Two guys with x-ray gun on Obama

-1639 some Swiss dude by a guy in a bearsuit with axe

- Prime Minister of Spain- 80 kilonewtons of underground explosives

S5 Ep 117 (472)- Who’s more famous? Game

MIT Pantheon Project

-Brad Pitt vs Johnny Depp- Depp

- Albert Einstein vs Issac Newton- Newton

-Madonna vs Britney Spears- Madonna

- Chuck Norris vs Arnold Schwarzenegger- Arnold

- George Washington vs Ben Franklin- Franklin

- Lindsay Lohan vs Amanda Bynes- Lohan

- Burt Reynolds vs Tom Selleck- Reynolds

- Van Gogh vs Picasso- Van Gogh

- Mozart vs Skrillex- Mozart

- Jimi Hendrix vs Mother Theresa- Hendrix

- Vin Diesel vs The Rock- Vin Diesel

- Nostradamus vs Walt Disney- Nostradamus

Their IG account

- John Wayne vs Clint Eastwood- Eastwood

- George Clooney vs Nic Cage- Cage

- John Lennon vs Paul McCartney- Lennon

-Mick Jagger vs Ozzy Osbourne- Ozzy

- Spielberg vs Scorcese- Scorcese

- Putin vs Obama- Putin

- David Copperfield vs Chris Angel- Copperfield

- Jack Nicholson vs Robert De Niro- De Niro

Rhett and Link’s individual Twitters

S5 Ep 118 (473)- Pool Pants

- Pool Boots

- The Pool Shirt

- Pool Pants

- Pool Head

S5 Ep 119 (474)- World Cup of Cups

1st and last World Cup of Cups

- GMM Mug

-Bacon Glass

- Toilet Bowl Mug

- Half-Full Half-Empty Glass

-Ninja Mug

-Red Solo Cup

-Extra Large Mug

-Unofficial Lego Mug

-Unicorn Mug

Lego Cup wins!

S5 Ep 120 (475)- Gilette Week 5- Nail Salon

Playing Bean Boozled

Mail Boulder Retirement Announcement

Link-” I don’t like licorice or coconut.”

Rhett- “My momma said that’s a dead polecat (skunk).”

[retrofuturistics]

Zero Waste Housewife in the kitchen.

The 1950s housewife was well known for her thriftiness, still picking up habits from home life in World War II. This period of scrimping and “making do and mend” gave birth to many hints and tips about reducing waste and reusing what was already avalible to them which we can be inspired by today. The end of World War II sparked a new era of prosperity with the introduction of new appliances and convinces which we so readily take for granted today.

Unfortunately our world is changing. The marvels of Formica and Celephane wrapped vegetables that sparked such joy in the pre war housewife during this boom now lie in our oceans. What can I learn from the past to help combat my reliance on single use plastic and other household waste that I previously would not have blinked an eye at?

The refrigerator was a wonder for the bride in the 1950s who would use a pantry. The popularity of the gelatine mould arose from the proud housewife’s showing off their ability to afford such a fantastic new invention. 69 years on, I find that about 60 percent of my plastic consumption starts in my fridge.

The food that I eat and the way I purchase it and store it accounts for over half of my Waste and single use plastic consumption. When I read into the horrors of what I was doing I looked into the tips of the pre and post war housewife to see how I could be inspired to change.

1. Get rid of Plastic Carrier bags.

In the UK a charge for plastic carrier bags has been implemented, but this is only a recent thing. Carrier bags have been a supermarket staple for the last 30 years, but they must have used something before that right? The simple answer was to bring your own basket, in order to carry home your groceries. In modern terms that would equate to bringing your own bag, whether it is an old supermarket bag or a canvas tote. Personally I like the idea of using a basket myself, but if you have some old plastic bags about it is better to reuse them and give them a new purpose.

Most canvas tote bags, baskets or bags for life tend to be hardier than the standard single use plastic bags sold in the supermarkets, and are ideal for bringing back groceries to the home cost free.

2. Buy loose Produce.

Unfortunately a good majority of food in grocery stores come wrapped in plastic. Sometimes the plastic wrap is needless. The supermarket Marks and Spencer appeared in UK newspapers for selling a Cauliflour “steak” which was just half a Cauliflour wrapped in plastic shrink wrap. The clincher was it was sold for over 3 times the price of an ordinary Cauliflour.

The easiest way to avoid single use plastic is to buy loose produce. Many markets sell plastic free vegetables and even supermarket giants offer their own selection. Cheese and meat counters often have a “bring your own container” policy which can bring down your consumption of single use plastic significantly.

Markets of the 50s often sold unwrapped produce and meat and cheese was often sold wrapped in brown paper which was then reused by the housewife.

Brown paper isn’t environmentally sound in itself but many modern alternatives are readily avalible. Bringing wax wraps or compostable greaseproof paper to wrap produce in and store away is the modern alternative to brown paper wrap.

3. Use Glass instead

One simple swap is to use glass instead of plastic. Milk was often delivered to vintage housewives by the milkman, in glass bottles left on the doorstep. Condiments and sauces also came in glass. Making the change from plastic to glass can help the recycling effort and in the case of the local milkround, support local business.

4. Storage

When pledging to buy loose produce I struggled with the concept of going packaging free. The answer came in the form of Day Zero, a zero waste shop in Buxton. They sold food such as pasta, cornflakes, flour and rice in bulk, where you weighed your container and filled it.

The 1950s housewife would use old tins and jars for storage so why was I finding the concept so difficult? My home is now filled with pink storage jars I got secondhand, and old tins, which thanks to a zero waste shop opening in my homerown, are now filled with cupboard staples.

For the fridge, I use beeswax wraps and compostable parchment and for meals I have my trusty friend pyrex. Pyrex and the 1950s housewife are almost synonymous, and although the designs have changed, it is readily avalible today.

Although only a few of my kitchen and grocery habits have changed, my plastic waste has reduced significantly. Being the thrifty 1950s housewife is not easy and this is only the begjning of my journey to becoming the zero waste housewife that I aspire to be.

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 28: Making a Mark (Transcript) - 22nd February 2016

tw: graphic violence

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

I talk a lot about New England folklore. One of the biggest reasons for that is because the north-east part of the United States serves as a sort of cultural bridge between the old world and the new. It was there, more than anywhere else, where the old tales and superstitions first set root on American soil. The witch hysteria of the late 1600s was an aftershock of a larger tremor that shook Europe for decades. The American version of the vampire has roots in eastern European folktales and legends. Even holidays like Christmas and Hallowe’en were really just old-world injections into the cultural soft tissue of America, and the needle pierced us in New England first… most of the time. There are other parts of the country that played host to pioneers and adventurers as well, people who risked their lives and loved ones to travel across the cold Atlantic and build a new home here on these shores, and the age of colonization brought more than just settlers and supplies. It brought lore. Settlers up and down the east coast of what would one day become America came ashore with heads full of superstitions and a propensity to attach meaning to things we might overlook today. Put another way, they brought food for their journey, and the seeds to grow more here. They came with minds that were perfectly wired to build new folklore on the backs of old tales: new fears, new legends, new hauntings, and we can still find those creations in many places along the eastern seaboard - places like North Carolina. Before the vacation homes and sun-baked tourists crowded along the sandy shores of the Outer Banks, pioneers were attempting to carve out an existence there. Those that survived left behind more than buildings and descendants, though. Today, the Outer Bank is home to tales that still send shivers down the spines of locals and tourists alike, because folklore, whether its new or old, has a way of leaving its mark. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore. Brigands Bay sits on the northern coast of the southern part of Hatteras Island, between the towns of Frisco and Buxton. Hatteras is part of the Outer Banks, which, on the map, look like nothing more than a thin string of earth and sand a few miles off the coast of North Carolina. Imagine the island as a backwards capital L, hugging the coastline near the Pamlico River. But don’t let that thin strip of sand and stay-parks fool you – Hatteras, like many of the other islands out there, is still big enough for stories to take root, and that’s because it has a long history, longer than most parts of the country, in fact. Near the northern tip of the island, just to the west, is Roanoke Island, the site of England’s first settlement in the new world. Although the colony there disappeared sometime between 1586 and 1587, Europeans didn’t stay away long, and it was their constant activity in the region that gave rise to so much of the local stories, still told today. There’s a legend in Hatteras of the horrible deeds of one particular captain. According to the story, in 1710 an English ship crossed the Atlantic carrying refugees from Germany. They were known as “palatines”, and they had initially fled the middle Rhine area to settle in England, but there were so many that the English decided to help them move to the new world. When these refugees boarded the ship, they hid their valuables, afraid that they might be stolen by the ship’s crew. After a successful journey, the ship entered the waters inside the Outer Banks, heading toward New Bern on the coast. Their new home was in sight, and after such a long journey it must have been a relief to see it. Sensing they would soon disembark, the palatines removed their valuables from hiding and gathered them together for the final leg of their journey. Now, maybe it was the sight of all that treasure – the jewellery and coins and precious heirlooms – that triggered what happened next, or perhaps the crew had planned it all along. But here was their chance, and they decided to act. Claiming that the weather wasn’t good enough for a landing, they told the passengers to return to their cabins and wait until morning. During the night, the crew moved systematically throughout the ship, killing the sleeping refugees and stealing their treasures. After killing the passengers, the captain and crew set fire to the ship and headed to shore in lifeboats, but the ship didn’t sink. Instead, the legend claims that the flames grew higher and higher while the ship began to move forward into calm waters. Fearing for their lives, the crew abandoned the lifeboat and were never seen again. To this day, locals whisper of a ghost ship that can be seen under the first full moon of September. This ship, orange with flames, passes near the Ocracoke inlet three times, and then vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Another prominent local story involves the capture of the legendary pirate, Edward Teach, also known as Blackbeard. Teach patrolled the Atlantic and Caribbean in his ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge, for a little over two years, and in the process became one of the most feared pirates of his day. As history records, Blackbeard was finally cornered by Lieutenant Robert Maynard and his men in November of 1718, just inside the Outer Banks near the southern tip of Hatteras. In a battle that was horribly bloody for both sides, the great Blackbeard suffered no fewer than 20 sword wounds and five gunshots before he was finally brought down. The English beheaded his corpse and tossed the body into the sea. His head, though, was kept. Maynard hung it from the bowsprit of his ship, and it was turned in later to collect his reward. Locals there near Ocracoke tell of a spot known as Teach’s Hole, where the legendary pirate once anchored his ship. If the stories are to be believed, Blackbeard’s ghost haunts the location – there are those who have claimed to see strange lights, both above and below the water there on the coast. They say it’s Blackbeard, swimming through the waters he used to patrol. Others say you can hear voices there. When storms blow in and waves crash against the shore, locals claim you can hear something besides the rain and thunder. It’s the sound of a man crying out in pain, the same words, over and over: “Where is my head?”

Hatteras is still popular with visitors today, though I would assume none of them are pirates. People still build homes there, they have streets and restaurants and parks and trees, tourists flock there every summer to take in the scenery, but right there on Snug Harbour Drive, near Brigands Bay, is a tree that’s called the island home for centuries. In fact, it was most likely ancient when the colonists first arrived hundreds of years before, and although most of the people driving by it are completely unaware, this tree has a story to tell. According to local legend, it starts with the arrival of a women near Frisco back in the early 1700s. They say her name was Cora, and she brought along a baby. They were always seen together, the child held tight to her chest or strapped into a sling. For an area frequented by sailors or widows of those who were lost at sea, this wasn’t an unusual sight. The Brigands Bay area was even more wooded then than it is now, and it’s said that she took up shelter in the forest there rather than in the small community that was forming on the coast. But it wasn’t living on the literal outskirts of society that earnt her a reputation as an outsider, it was her knack for the… unusual. Some have said that cows she touched would dry up and turn sick; when the fishing got rough and the nets were empty, Cora still managed to bring in enough to feed herself and the child; and when a local boy decided to poke fun at the baby, legend says that he got so sick he nearly died. Naturally, people talked. People always talk when things don’t fit the norm, and that talk spread. In an era when it didn’t take much more than an unpleasant disposition or off-colour comment to earn a woman a reputation as a witch, it seemed Cora was making it a little too easy for the locals to be suspicious.

The legend also tells of how during Cora’s stay, a ship called the Susan G ran aground off the northern coast of the island. The captain and his crew left the ship and came to town, and from there they made plans to repair it and continue their commercial journey. It sounds simple, right? Just repair the damage and move on – but doing so meant unloading all of the cargo, piece by piece, and bringing it to shore. The captain’s name, according to the legend, was Eli Blood. Now, that better have been his real name, because… come on, how perfect is that, right? Captain Blood. This captain enlisted the help of locals to move the cargo off his grounded ship and in the process, he got to know quite a few of them, which was a good thing judging by the repairs, he and his crew from Salem, Massachusetts, were bound to be there for a very long time - and it was during this long stay that he and his crew heard the stories of Cora and her baby. The heart of the rumours pointed to one, single, sensational conclusion: Cora was a witch, and the child she brought with her was her familiar, her supernatural pet. And, as it turned out, Captain Blood was probably the last person on earth that this mysterious Cora wanted to draw the suspicion of. The captain, it seems, was not just a sailor from Salem, Massachusetts. He claimed to know Cotton Mather, the puritan minister who was a passionate voice in support of the Salem Witch Trials. He had read Mather’s books, he was a student of Mather’s methods, and apparently shared the man’s intense hatred for the dark arts. So much so, in fact, that he considered himself a “white witch”, someone trained in combatting the forces of darkness with their own brand of magic. He claimed to have his own familiars, which he fed with drops of blood, and those familiars acted like spies for him, informing him of black magic nearby. Captain Eli Blood considered himself a witch hunter. Now, I realise this sounds incredibly hypocritical, which it is of course, but back then it was also heroic – it gave the people of the island a feeling of safety. At last, they might have said, we have someone here who can deal with Cora, the witch, if she gets out of hand. And that’s when the body of a man washed up on the beach.

The body wasn’t one of Captain Blood’s men, but it drew his concern nonetheless. It was the body of a young man from town, and although no makes could be found that pointed to the cause of his death, there were a number of other clues. Local legend tells of how the man’s face was twisted into a horrible expression of fear. His hands, they say, were clasped together, as if he had been kneeling before someone powerful, begging for his life. The man even had the numbers “666” carved into his forehead. The most damning evidence of all, however, were the footprints in the sand near his body. They were smaller than a man’s, and they moved away from the body in a clear, definable direction: the woods. Someone needed to investigate the man’s death, they said, and who better to do it than the witch hunter himself, Captain Eli Blood – he had little else to do while he waited on the ship’s owner to send help and supplies. This sounded like the perfect job for his idle mind. Captain Blood, for his part, agreed. He gathered his men, mostly slaves from Barbados who all had a healthy cultural fear of black magic, and together they went in search of Cora’s shack in the woods. When they found her, she was inside making breakfast for herself and her child; the men seized them both and brought them back to town. They accused Cora of witchcraft and murder, of course – how could they not, in a society governed by deep suspicion and intense fear of people who failed to fit in? Now, before you write them off as barbaric, remember that this is a flaw we have yet to overcome – we still fear those who are different from us. Maybe it’s genetic, or maybe it’s culturally ingrained. That fear is like a snake hiding in the bushes, always ready to strike, and it struck hard for Cora.

Captain Blood had her bound, left hand to right ankle, right hand to left ankle, and then carried her to the shore. There, he ordered her to be thrown into the water – it was a test, he said. If she floated, she was a witch, and seeing as how the tide was low and the waves were calm, of course she didn’t sink, how could she? Satisfied with the results, the captain moved on to his second test. Pulling his knife free, the man tried to cut a handful of Cora’s hair, but the blade failed to do its job. More proof, he declared, that she was, in fact, a witch… or at least proof that he needed to sharpen his knife, but hey, I’m no witch hunter. The final test was the most creepy and ambiguous of them all. Taking a bowl of seawater, the captain asked each of his crew to cut their fingertip and drip blood into the bowl. When they had all done so, he stirred this mixture with his knife until it foamed and swirled, and then he chanted words that no one else understood while staring hard into the bowl, and then raised his face in triumph. “She’s a witch,” he exclaimed, and then, as if needing a second opinion, he passed the bowl around to the others. Each of them, according to the story, saw two things in the bowl: the devil and the face of Cora. That was all the proof they needed – Cora was a witch, pure and simple, and now her execution would be completed.

The captain had his men gather firewood and branches and pile them at the base of a large oak tree near the bay, and then Cora and her child were tied to the tree, ready to be burnt alive. Now, what happened next will sound unusual. That’s the fingerprint of an old story – they sometimes take on a patina of oddities and otherworldliness. Sometimes, the patina adds texture, even value, to an antique – I’ll let you be the judge. According to the locals who tell the tale to this day, Captain Blood approached the tree with a lit torch in his hand, ready to set fire to the wood and burn the witch and her familiar alive, but another captain, a local man named John Smith, held him back, asking instead for Cora’s trial to go through the proper, legal channels. Smith, you see, being a sane man, wanted to do things right, but as the men argued, two things happened. First, the child in Cora’s arms twisted and writhed as it transformed into a large, black cat with shimmering green eyes. Second, a dark, ominous cloud began to gather overhead in an otherwise cloudless sky. Both men cried out in horror, and then Captain Blood lunged forward with the torch to ignite the kindling. It was at that very moment that the cloud overhead rumbled, and a lightning bolt flashed down, striking the tree and blinding everyone around it. When the smoke cleared, the tree was empty. The ropes were still there, as was the pile of branches and firewood, but the woman and the cat were gone without a trace. Well, that’s not true, there was one clue, and it’s difficult to believe. There, etched by lightning into the bark of the old oak tree were four, clear letters, which spelled out one single word: C, O, R, A. Cora.

The Outer Banks is just like any other place in the world on many levels. It has a history, and over the centuries that comprise that history, stories have been told. In a lot of ways, story is one of our greatest legacies. Wherever we’ve been, we’ve left story in our wake like footprints in the mud. Some stories are true and act like time capsules. Some are exaggerations of the truth and are meant to entertain later generations more than anything else. Some, though, serve to fill in the blanks, to answer those lingering questions or to explain the things we can’t wrap our minds around. Are there really fiery ghost ships and headless pirates haunting the Outer Banks? Was the word on the Cora tree, a word that you can still go see for yourself if you want, really carved into the bark by lightning? The chances are pretty good that it’s all just a collection of old, entertaining folktales, but some stories do both. Beneath their decorative paint and fantastical flourishes, they conceal a grain of truth deep in their core. The most famous local legend in the Outer Banks, by a mile, is the story of the lost colony of Roanoke. The island is located of the west coast of Hatteras island and, when the English settled there in 1585, they knew they were on the edge of the world. Building a settlement there took a lot of guts, but it came with a lot of risk and danger. When John White and a hundred new settlers landed in July of 1586, the first settlement was gone, so they stayed to investigate. They set up their own fort there, and also worked to establish relations with the local native American tribes: the Croatoan on what is now Hatteras and the Coree on the mainland. White left for England one year later to get supplies, but didn’t return for three years. When he did come back, no sign of the English could be found. He’d left them with a plan, though: if they were forced to leave, they’d been told to carve a cross into a nearby tree so White would know they’d been attacked, and he did find a carving, but it wasn’t a cross. It was a single word: Croatoan. This was good news because it meant they’d departed peacefully. White wanted to search Hatteras immediately, but when a terrible storm blew in, his men refused to stay. However painful it might have been – after all, White’s own granddaughter was among the missing – they left the very next day. It’s interesting to note that the Croatoan lived in southern Hatteras, in the area between modern day Buxton and Frisco, right by the Cora tree, and if it wasn’t really lightning that carved those letters, perhaps it was an actual human being. Sure, it could be nothing more than a centuries old prank or just a bit of lover’s graffiti, anything’s possible. Or maybe, like a myth with a grain of truth at its heart, this tree is the last hint in a chain of clues that point to the final destination of the settlers from Roanoke. You see, the Coree tribe on the mainland went by a few other names. Some called them the Cores, or the Coranine, or interestingly enough, the Cora.

[Closing statements]

[formulatrash]

hey hazel i know you said you're swamped so seriously no obligation to answer but do you have any thoughts on will buxton's recent chronic inability to stop digging himself into holes, esp on twitter? i'm not so much of a buxton-hater as a lot of people i've been seeing but he has been dropping the ball constantly as of late. what's up with him

Hmm, well. I want to couch this in saying I think some of Will’s meltdowns have been truly appalling (the ‘racism is now about me’ one, in particular) and that however nice and human compared to a lot of F1 people he seems, he does come from an enormously privileged background. I really like Will - but I think it is worth acknowledging both that his behaviour goes well beyond having a bad day sometimes and that one of the reasons he’s been able to present a personable, friendly attitude in the paddock is that he’s from a class where that’s a comfort zone.

I really empathise with him at the minute. He’s been quite publicly open about struggling with mental health issues and this year has been really difficult for most of us in the industry, especially freelancers. Losing the thing your life revolves around is a major disruption, especially when doing your work in it is what gives you a sense of reward and worth and idk if that’s the problems Will’s having (I’m not his psychologist) but I know it’s hit me and other people in motorsport really hard. Like what do you do, wait? Give up on the thing you’ve been fighting to stay in for so long (and it’s always a bit of a wrestle) - and then to go back in weird, stressful circumstances is hard too. 

But I think what gets to Will is what gets to me, too, which is just like skull-caving-in overwhelmedness at the internet. If you can’t post anything without a million people jumping on you then it’s really hard to tell if you’ve actually posted something bad or if it’s just the standard pile-on, which lets things escalate into the sort of Dick Tantrum incident* which was like, mostly harmless but all got a bit silly. (the person arguing with him was also being genuinely unpleasant and brought Will’s daughter into it, which is very uncool)

And I see the things that used to drive me mad when people asked me about when And We Go Green was coming out and I’d be like “I don’t know, I’m not the production company, I don’t know anything please stop asking me it’s not funny” because I was worried about it myself. So when the F1 show moved from YouTube to wherever (as far as I can tell it’s still on YouTube) and a load of people were moaning at Will, whose job it is to present it not schedule it, I really sympathetically winced. Like it’s hard enough having work at the minute, let alone being held responsible for all of FOM’s decisions.

There’s also just a sort of assumption that media people are invincible. Like there’s these irrelevant anime fanboys I should spend absolutely 0% of my brain ever thinking about on Twitter who are convinced I hate men because I don’t think fangirls should be bullied for liking Lando Norris or think their shit edge lord memes are funny. I should not care about this, it shouldn’t bother me and the more I let it the more they crow about getting rent-free space in my head and like. Fine, you fuckers, you have managed to irritate me. Because I’m just trying my fucking best and having a seriously bad time doing it and when I was on an upwards career trajectory I could ignore it but right now everything feels like a kick. Like if I can’t get the jobs, do I have to take the bullshit?

When I got people nitpicking my Tumblr I stopped posting here because it made me so miserable. I had to basically get off the whole internet because I was so wound up because if I had an up moment and said something enthusiastic, it felt like it would get chewed out and dissected and disapproved of. And I’m nowhere near as famous as Will, obviously so I do get that he feels very under it.

And he loves being online and interacting with people and being able to be meme-y and jokey and a bit more human and sympathetic than some other presenters, a little less hardline masc in the traditional F1 sense than the strict shirts-and-slacks Sky Sports team. So when that then turns into something miserable it’s like well how much fucking more of me are you going to take: I can’t work or work is complicated, can’t tool around online...

So yeah. I do get that Buxton is Going Through It. And I’ve used examples of me there because I don’t know what’s going on in his head and I’d rather not speculate but to give you an idea of how it is. 

Will’s a nice person, he’s not as educated on social issues as, idk, me or Chainbear or whoever but he is a long way ahead of a lot of F1 and I also get that it’s been very distressing in the last few months having to argue with colleagues and discovering the true, unpleasant colours of people you know. 

So I have a lot of sympathy for him. I have to walk away from the internet a lot at the minute, which is really hard when we all live on it all the fucking time and it’s like ok taking a break to maybe speak to friends and oh fuck here I am again in a Grandpa Simpson taking his hat off gif loop.

Anyway, short version: lot of people really going through it right now. I really hope Will can get some support and also maybe someone to do his social media for him for a bit, which sucks because he obviously enjoys it but like, I think I would if I was in a position to right now. Even though people’d probably phone the police in suspicion I’d been kidnapped when my tweets started being spelt right and shit.

*Dan is literally called Dick Tantrum in the paddocks and by his engineers so Will was actually right that it’s a nickname. Not a nice one but there it is. 

[theblovel]

The Blovel Season 3: Episode 5

Joan was all the physical wonder God could have created for Buxton. She embodied all of the qualities that would make any man yield to her. Her hips were rounded and her butt was plump. Her breasts weren’t too big nor too small; they were just right! Her smile was immaculate. Her kisses always tasted like honey. On top of her physical wonder, they had a connection that was actually more magnetic than he and Amber’s. Though Buxton never forgot about Amber, Joan made Amber a memory that Buxton wouldn’t have to reflect upon.

They began the way any couple does. They went out often, they held hands, Buxton opened every door and wouldn’t think to ask Joan to pay for anything whenever they were together, and they never seemed to get agitated with one another. They genuinely enjoyed each other’s company and spending time together. They waited a while before they were intimate. Joan was clear about her preference to resist intimacy before they knew each other well. She admitted to Buxton that she made mistakes in her past with men and wanted to avoid making those same mistakes by moving too fast towards a physical relationship before establishing an emotional one. Buxton wasn’t resistant to her wishes. He understood her position clearly and wanted to a positive in Joan’s eyes and not another mistake. Besides the magnificence of her prototype form, Buxton really liked Joan and wanted to know her as well as he could.

They waited nearly five months before they had sex. They kissed often and laid together prior to but didn’t sleep together. Buxton was happy with getting to know Joan first and thought he knew quite a bit about Joan but some things aren’t ever revealed until they are ready to be.

Throughout their relationship Buxton was the consummate giver. He lived for himself but Joan was a very close second though he often put her needs before his own; that was just the kind of person Buxton knew to be. Buxton was raised to be the kind of man that catered to his woman’s wants and desires and wanted nothing more than to quench the thirsts of his Loved one. He gave unto Joan and frequently gave into her. Buxton never wanted Joan to forget just how much he Loved her. He wanted everyday to be a reminder of his devotion; sometimes people don’t see what’s right in front of them.

Over the years that Buxton and Joan dated, Jeremy and a few of Buxton’s other friends would let Buxton know their opinions of Joan. Buxton’s friends are the friends that don’t impose and never interject with their own assessments of other people’s relationships but they kept it straight with Buxton about what they saw between him and Joan. Jeremy said to Buxton candidly on a number of occasions that he believed he was giving a lot of himself to Joan and it didn’t seem as though she was giving nearly as much. From Jeremy’s perspective, he saw his friend giving up his time, money, often sacrificing sleep and even letting go of some of the things that made Buxton who he is. Buxton used to be outgoing and charismatic and jovial but with Joan, Buxton was more reserved, introverted and often made excuses about why he couldn’t do certain things and it was either because he was spending time with Joan or “low on funds” at the time. Jeremy wanted to ensure that his friend wasn’t losing himself in his relationship but it seemed as if Buxton was all but gone in his relationship with Joan.

Joan wasn’t naive. She knew she had Buxton by the short and curlies. It was obvious that Buxton was head over heels for Joan and anyone could see it. Joan had a man willing to do any and everything she asked of him and things she didn’t have to wait to ask for were done. With such an exceptional amount of selflessness at her disposal, one would think that Joan would harness such a powerful aspect of a person and allow them to blossom into something great by helping them to rechannel some of that energy into themselves; that’s not what happened. Joan was selfish. She loved the attention and never saw how much Buxton forgot about himself whether intentionally or unintentionally but it was clear to others that Joan was obsessed with being the center of Buxton’s world.

Jeremy tried to help Buxton see what he was immersed in by gathering their friends and staging an intervention of sorts. Jeremy planned a weekend getaway to a cottage up in the mountains were they and six of their friends went away and just had time with the fellas to reflect and reconnect or at least that’s how it was explained to Buxton. On the first night at the cottage, Jeremy gathered everyone around the fire place and led a discussion about how every man in the circle would commit to being the best man that he could be not only for himself but for the people he loved. Everyone in the circle talked about their relationships, families, children, jobs, passions, community and money. All of these brothers poured out of their souls into the space created. While every man in the circle was able to share no one was above reproach. This was demonstrated most notably when Buxton began sharing about Joan. All of the brothers knew about Buxton and Joan and all of them knew that Buxton was giving a lot more than he was receiving and chose to let him know about it. Buxton wasn’t able to refute their claims because he knew it was true. He revealed to them why he gave so much of himself:

When Buxton was a kid, a young girl walked up to him while he was playing in the sandbox at a playground and told him that he was ugly. It was as if her sole purpose was to diminish any self-esteem Buxton had. The girl came out of nowhere and said only those words plus a phrase he’s never forgotten, “If you ever find a pretty girl you better keep her.” The little girl walked away and he never saw her again but the damage was already done.

Buxton was fixated on the beauty of his counterpart because he isn’t able to see the beauty within himself.

[newstfionline]

Seeking America’s Quietest Spots

By Jess Bidgood, NY Times, Sept. 23, 2018

BENTON, N.H.--The hiker trudged up a logging road and into a valley, tracing a route that seemed unremarkable. There were no sweeping views of the mountains that towered nearby. There was no summit to scale. Yet he stopped suddenly, jubilant, after about four miles of walking. He had found exactly what he was searching for: quiet.

“Let’s see,” said the hiker, Dennis Follensbee, “how we experience three minutes of silence.”

In these loud times--with political foes yelling on television, trucks rumbling through streets, and smartphones chirping all around--who doesn’t want a little peace and quiet? But some wilderness lovers have taken their aversion to the cacophony of the modern world a step further, traveling to some of the country’s most remote areas in a quest for utter silence.

Armed with Google Maps, bushwhacking tools and 16 years of experience hiking in the area, Mr. Follensbee, a programmer from Lebanon, N.H., is on an exhaustive search for the noiseless hollows and dells of New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

“I know there must be places I can go to have peace,” said Mr. Follensbee, 39, who has mapped 23 quiet places so far, though he has shared the exact locations only with family members and close friends. (If quiet places are widely known, he reasons, “they cease to be quiet.”)

Connoisseurs of quiet say it is increasingly difficult, even in the wilderness, to escape the sounds of vehicles, industries, voices. A study published last year in the academic journal Science found that noise pollution was doubling sound levels in much of the nation’s conserved land, like national parks and areas preserved by the federal Bureau of Land Management.

Noise that humans create can be annoying but also dangerous to animals who rely on hearing to seek their prey and avoid predators. “We’re really starting to understand the consequences of noise and the importance of natural sound,” said Rachel Buxton, a conservation biologist at Colorado State University who worked on the study.

In Washington State, Gordon Hempton, an acoustic ecologist--part of a small field of experts who study natural soundscapes--has made it a mission to preserve what he calls “one square inch” of quiet in Olympic National Park. He and other advocates have raised concerns about noise from loud Navy jets and other air traffic, but says he believes that Olympic National Park is one of only about 12 places in the continental United States where a person could listen for 15 minutes and hear no man-made sound.

“We need to defend quiet places that remain as well as clean up places that should be quiet,” Mr. Hempton said.

To some degree, those efforts are already underway. The National Park Service has a policy requiring park managers to measure “baseline acoustic conditions” and determine which noises have an adverse effect. There is even a branch of the Park Service known as the Natural Sounds and Night Skies Division that is dedicated in part to preserving the untrammeled soundscape.

At Muir Woods National Monument, officials have taken steps to lessen noise, like posting signs urging people to keep their voices soft. Low-flying air tours are banned over Rocky Mountain National Park. In 2015, at Grand Teton National Park, officials installed a noise meter--similar to a roadside speedometer--that showed passing vehicles how much noise they are making. And earlier this year, parks officials repaved a road in Death Valley with different kinds of surfaces so they could compare how much noise each one produced.

Efforts to regulate noise have never been as broad or well organized as some environmental causes, and they sometimes have lost steam or been met with opposition from industry groups.

And people whose passions make noise--like snowmobilers and motorcyclists--say they, too, have the right to enjoy the wilderness.

“The sound, it’s thrilling when you’re a motorcycle rider,” said Peter Spinney, 75, a New Jersey resident who rode through the White Mountains last month. “That’s part of the attraction.”

But even in out of the way places, silence can be fleeting.

When Mr. Follensbee, the hiker whose quest to find quiet places was featured on public radio, found one of his preferred spots the other day, he pulled out his phone to record sounds. He is not looking for a complete auditory vacuum, but a place without man-made noise, wind or loud rushing water, where you can hear the sounds you only can hear when it is quiet.

For three minutes, a soft hum of insects, a rustle of leaves, the calls of birds was all there was. Then came the whine of a vehicle, its motor growing louder as it came over a ridge. It ruined everything.

“It is a little disappointing,” Mr. Follensbee said, shaking his head. “We’re so far out.”

[thederivativeofrad]

Dear Devon,

It has been an absolute pleasure to work with you over the past few months. Your humor and kind, caring nature made my days so much brighter and made me look forward to work each day. I sorely missed you when you were gone, and I’m sure to miss you even more now. Thank you for all the times you showed selfless caring for my health, well being, and happiness. You are truly one of the kindest people I have met, while still being a knowledgeable and competent worker. I hope and pray your career progresses as you wish, and that you finally get that degree you have worked on so hard and long. Keep Wokecking and don’t let them get you down!

- B. Buxton

With my name written in his red glitter gel pen, an envelope resides under my dress shirt that I had discarded for the afternoon. He had to have snuck it underneath after he walked back from going to the top of the parking garage with me to watch the storm roll in. I went outside after he left to say goodbye to the other coworkers he liked. 

I climbed another three stories to get closer to the sky. I let the rain soak me. I stood for a half hour as my scrubs became heavy with water, coming from many sources containing varying levels of salt. 

Each drop of rain becomes colder, each pellet of hail feels like a bee sting. Like a bee can only sting once--taking his life to do so--the hail ceases to be ice once it comes in contact with skin. 

The hail resides high in the clouds, blown back into them by high gusts of wind until eventually the pellets become too heavy for the wind to lift. The ice falls toward the surface of the Earth, only rarely finding its destination unscaved. The pellets fall from the clouds where they were created and land on whatever is below them. They melt. 

They are never the same. 

Buxley isn’t in good health. He fell very ill as a child and has never truly recovered. He knows every inch of the pediatric unit in the hospital [we] work in. He gave me a tour once, asking to come with me to the third floor of Southeast campus so that he could again see the rooms he was recovering in throughout his life, so he could see the paintings on the walls, so he could say hello to the staff with familiar faces. He wouldn’t be back there for any other reason--he’s not a child anymore. 

It’s arguable that he hasn’t been since long before he was a legal adult. Facing the reality of how fragile you are so young, not knowing if you’re just going to drop dead every day, will age you. Quickly. 

From what I understand, he can’t consume much of anything besides beans (only fresh, organic beans) and water. He needs infusions on a regular basis to stay alive. He uses his epipen like an inhaler. The smell of microwave popcorn will send him into shock. 

The emergency department knows him too well. 

I’ve walked him to the infusion center after work a couple of times. He almost fell once, but I caught him in time with some help from the wall railing. I’m thankful for that. 

I can’t imagine how people felt when they couldn’t catch me in time.

He’s a brilliant, amazing, snarky, dark, loving, caring, enduring person going to college for health informatics. He has a job lined up for him at Mary Free Bed as soon as he’s done. I know he’ll love it there. I hope he can enjoy it for a very, very long time.

He’s tough. A lot tougher than me in many ways. I don’t know if we’ll keep in touch, but I won’t forget him. I wouldn’t be able to. 

I can’t just let someone go from my life with what seems like so little thought. 

I can’t so soon disregard what’s been sent on a hand-written card, written with so much love, just the right words to make you cry no matter how little you thought you had left. 

Friends make each other cry. They don’t try to make each other cry, but sometimes they say things, do things, that ring true within every part of you. Even when they sting, you know they’re supportive--they couldn’t possibly be anything else. 

These friends smile, they hug you, they say I love you, and they keep talking. They give a good heads up before they go, they don’t pull away as the time gets closer. They say goodbye with a smile, a hug, and an “I love you”, even if they’re not going to talk anymore.

His reassurance won’t cease to fade away.

Thank you, B, for being such a bright light in my life. I’m not going to stop fighting, and I hope you never do, either. I’ll keep Wokecking, and maybe it’ll work for once.

So long for now, so strong forever.