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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ [Thanksgiving Special! 🦃]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 4,439

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〈“Oh, oh, oh, it’s Thanksgiving, we’re gonna have a good time. With the turkey ey! and mashed potatoes ey!. We are gonna have a good time. It’s Thanksgiving~” Nicole Westbrook, “It’s Thanksgiving”〉

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Oh look, the Author’s Note is at the top this time. I bet you’re thinking, ‘Well shit, this can’t be good!’ And you’d be right 😂 Okay so, I wanted to write a special for Thanksgiving right and I had these plans to make it this shit fest of just absolute crack and humor right. WELL if you know anything about me you know that I go back to angst by default. Like, you know how when you play online games, sometimes your settings just reset on their own and then you gotta go and turn off the music and turn the subtitles back on and why the fuck is PVP ticked on?? That’s basically me okay. I auto default back to angst unless I changed the settings again lmfao

So, I started this off, full fucking intent on being funny right. Yeah, no. Runaway while you fucking can. It got so fucking heavy in the middle and it’s just… I’m sorry bro. That’s all I can say. It might make you cry? I mean, I’m a sensitive lil bitch and I cried while I wrote it sooo~ But fear not! I gave it a cheerful, happy and somewhat enlightening/inspiring ending?? At least I think so anyway… Also, you don’t have to celebrate Thanksgiving to enjoy this! Oh yeah, and don’t @ me about facts, I literally used Wikipedia because I’m an uncultured fuck that knows nothing about Thanksgiving even though I live in the USA lmao Don’t fucking @ me about the song I chose either 😂 I ain’t adding that shit to the playlist tho.

So yeah! Read this shit, cry into your snuggie or your dog that looks like a mop and then go enjoy some turkey or hug your mum. Don’t forget to reblog this chapter because I’m a hoe for them reblogs ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

☔ Rain

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The door to class 1-A slammed open with so much force, it bounced off the wall and came back, stopped only by a gloved hand. An obnoxiously loud voice filled the room, “Are you ready, kids?!”

“Aye aye, captain!” I jumped up, automatically answering only to curse myself a moment later when he smirked. “Bitch, this ain’t Spongebob!!”

He clicked his tongue and gave me double finger guns. “But you responded!”

I slumped into my seat in frustration.

Present Mic approached the board, picking up a piece of bright orange chalk before writing a word on the board in English: Thanksgiving. He slapped his palm under the word, making several pieces of chalk fall to the floor. “We’re going to be talking about the meaning of Thanksgiving in Western Countries, most notably in the United States!”

“Sir!” Iida’s hand shot into the air.

“Thanks for calling, listener! What is your request?!”

Iida stood tall. “With all due respect, sir, we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Japan, we celebrate National Labor Day.”

“You’re correct… almost! Many people consider National Labor Day to be Japan’s Thanksgiving! Plus, I’m your English teacher, so why not take this time to talk about a wonderful holiday where you get to stuff your face with as much food as you can handle without being looked at like a weirdo?!”

“It doesn’t matter what you do,” I commented blankly. “People will always think you’re a weirdo, cockatiel.”

“Hey, aren’t you American, Winchester?” Kaminari questioned, tilting his head back to look at me.

I shrugged. “My mom was American, but I was born in Japan. I mean, Gramps taught me English and we had a small dinner every Thanksgiving to ‘celebrate my heritage’ or some shit, but I don’t really know the details about the holiday.”

“Which is what I’m here for!” He slapped the board again, giving up a grin. “Now pay close attention, listeners! In America, Thanksgiving occurs on the fourth Thursday of November every year! In Western Countries, this holiday is known to be the moment to thank the Native American people for helping European pilgrims to survive their first winter in the United States! Typically, this is a day when families come together from across the country to be with their loved ones and feast!”

I hummed. “Gramps used to always make me watch these American pageants where grade-schoolers put on plays reenacting the interaction between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. I remember one year, this kid was dressed in a fucking black trash bag stuffed with newspaper.”

“Plays are very popular in schools all across the states!” He nodded his head. “Can anyone tell me what year that Thanksgiving became a federal holiday in the USA?” He cupped his ear, but the only thing he got in response was a cricket that had snuck into the room a week ago to avoid the approaching chill settling over Japan. That fucker is really good at hide-n-seek because we still can’t find him and he’s at the back of the room so it’s like he’s in my fucking ear. “That’s right, the year is 1863! Before that, it was celebrated off and on since 1789 but the third president, Thomas Jefferson, just wasn’t feeling the holiday so he put a stop to it!”

“Seems suspect,” I responded.

“Now, who can tell me about the First Thanksgiving?!”

Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp.

My eye twitched and I turned in my seat, eyes scanning the back wall. Where the fuck is that goddamn cricket?! I swear to Deadpool I’m gonna roast that bitch when I finally fucking find it.

“Right again, my impressionable listeners! The First Thanksgiving was created by the Pilgrims after their first harvest in the New World in October 1621! The feast lasted a total of three days and, according to one attendee named Edward Winslow, there were one-hundred-forty-three rockin’ attendees – ninety Native Americans and fifty-three Pilgrims!” He continued to drone on about the history of Thanksgiving in the states, listing off several different dates and names I couldn’t be bothered to remember.

I mean, History is cool, I guess, but when am I ever gonna need to know this stuff to function as a member of today’s society? Especially here in Japan, where American norms aren’t focused on at all? Plus, that fucking cricket is all I can think about!

“By the way, there will be a test on this and if you fail, you get remedial lessons with me, your chart-topping host!!”

Oh, fuck me.

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I stepped out into the chilly night, my breath coming in puffs of smoke as I walked. Aizawa didn’t like us to leave the dorms after dark, but there was no specific rule about it as long as we stayed on campus. It was two in the morning, and I had been tossing and turning in my bed since I got there. It hadn’t bothered me at first when Mic brought up Thanksgiving, but now that it was just a couple days away, I’m starting to get restless.

This would be my first Thanksgiving without Gramps…

I fell onto the icy cold stone bench, letting my head fall back to stare up at the navy sky. It looked like ribbons of velvet, bright stars dotting across it like sequins caught under the light. The moon was a perfect crescent.

“Jen?”

I glanced over, seeing Zuku with his arms wrapped tight around his body. Even with the thick sweater he wore, it was obvious he was cold. I patted the bench beside me and he sat down, letting me throw my arms around his body. I focused on my quirk, raising my body temperature to warm him up. “Why are you awake?”

“I got up to use the bathroom and spotted you out the window.” He frowned up at me, his brow furrowed. “You look so… sad. What’s wrong?”

My grip tightened around him and I smiled sadly. “I guess I am a bit sad… This is my first Thanksgiving without Gramps, so… it kinda hurts, you know?”

“Oh, I see… I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Just something you gotta deal with, ya know? It’s life, and life is full of unfairness.”

“Will you… tell me about it?” He asked softly, playing with his fingers in his lap. “About what the two of you did each year? If it’s not too painful, I mean…”

“I’d love to,” I ruffled his hair and closed my eyes. “Let’s see – Gramps thought it was important for us to celebrate Thanksgiving because my mother was American. ‘It’s part of who you are, kitten, so we must celebrate!’ is what he’d always tell me. He spent the first five years learning everything he could about the holiday because he wanted it to be authentic and at age five, he started hosting a small feast for the two of us each year.”

“It sounds like he loved you a lot.”

“Yeah… Yeah, he did. We were each other’s world, the only two people we had in life. It was just us against the world!” I chuckled, but it held no humor. “Gramps was a hell of a good chef. He always used to attribute that to the fact that he worked for near six years in a restaurant with his father before the man died and the place had to be sold. Cooking reminded him of a simpler time, so he took pride in everything he cooked. Now that I think about it… that was the first time I met Skye and Heather.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Nah, they made my life hell growing up.” I waved my hand. “I don’t think they remembered this, but I met them once when I was seven. They lived a couple blocks down from us and Gramps had met them on several of his midday walks. Skye was half-Japanese on her mother’s side, while her dad was American and Heather was full American but her family moved to Japan just a year or two previously. Since Gramps wanted to make Thanksgiving as authentic as possible, he went to them for advice. Sky’s father had asked his grandma back home to send a few of her recipes for the holiday and that’s when I met Skye for the first time. He stopped by on his way to work to drop them off and she was with him, but she took one look at me and turned her nose up.”

“You were bullied?” He asked softly, lowering his head. “I never would have thought that.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t start until I was twelve.” I chuckled. “Anyway, we didn’t have much money to work with, but he saved up with every paycheck for months in advance. Just small amounts from each check and then the week before Thanksgiving, he’d take the money he saved and go all out, buying a Turkey, potatoes, pumpkin pie, the works. Some of the shit he couldn’t even get in our town, he had to travel to specialty shops or order the ingredients online from overseas. I kept telling him it was too much work, but he was a stubborn old man.”

Izuku shifted in my arms, his head on my shoulder. “Tell me more about him,” his voice was soft and growing husky as sleep started to claim him.

I hummed softly. “He liked what the day symbolized – families coming together to be thankful for the people in their lives and for the things they were gifted with. To be honest, I often wondered as a child if he regretted raising me, but I knew that was wrong as I got older. It was almost like… raising me gave him a purpose, a reason to face every day with a smile. And I guess in a way… he was the same for me. I remember it so clearly, waking up at one in the morning on Thanksgiving day to sounds in the kitchen. I’d sneak down the hallway, careful of that stupid ass board on the right that always creaked when you stepped on it. And there he was, seeming to radiate warmth and happiness as he bustled around the kitchen getting all the dishes ready for that day.”

I smiled, my hands fisting around his jacket as I took a shaky breath. “He always wore that stupid ass apron I gave him on his birthday in fifth grade. It was this god awful snot yellow color with lime green stripes. If you stared at it too long, you’d go fucking cross-eyed. And it had this… hell, even to this day I don’t know what it was. I think it was a Rhino in a chef’s hat but I guess it coulda been a hippo? Or a fat giraffe with a short neck. He was convinced it was a Thanksgiving Zebra, but I still think he’s nuts. There’s no way that was a damn Zebra, and I would literally list the reasons why it couldn’t be, but he’d just listen intently with a bright smile, nodding his head to show that he was listening. And once I was done ranting, he’d pat my head and simply say, ‘Thanksgiving Zebras are quite special’. I swear he was batty.”

Zuku chuckled. “What makes a Zebra a Thanksgiving Zebra?”

“They have to be fat as fuck apparently. And orange. At least I think it was orange. It coulda just been a really dark yellow. I’m telling you, this apron was all kinds of wrong! I will never understand what I was thinking when I looked at that thing in the store and was like, ‘This is feckin’ awesome, he’s gonna love it!’. But he did love it, wore it every time he cooked, even on the rare occasions we had guests over. He wore it without shame and always with a smile.”

“Because it was from you, so it was special.”

“Hmm, probably, yeah.” I sighed deeply. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I wanted to hear more stories,” he pouted, but he was clearly having trouble holding his eyes open.

“I promise to tell you some more later, okay?” I stood up, putting my arms under his body and lifting him into my arms. He snuggled closer, mumbling something under his breath before sleep finally claimed him. I held him closer, feeling my eyes sting with tears, but I forced them back. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t cry, not until I’ve earned the right to do so.

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“Hey, Jen, wait up!”

I paused in the hallway, glancing over my shoulder. Ryuu was dodging students as he headed toward me, smiling brightly. When he finally reached me, he threw his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. “Hello to you, too. What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” He questioned, pulling away.

“Uhh, I got a shit-ton of homework that I probably won’t do and might accidentally burn but that’s about it.” I grinned.

He huffed, putting his hand on his hip. “You better not! You’re not allowed to get kicked from the hero course because you refuse to do your work.”

“Yes, mother.”

He nudged my shoulder but I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched up. “What do you say we hang out at the library for a bit and work on it together?”

I hummed. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to lure me away, Hiryuu Rin~”

“As if,” he teased, tugging on my hand. “Come on, let’s get to it!”

“But learning is so boring~”

“You won’t be a hero with that attitude~”

“Last time I checked, pros don’t have to go around dividing letters with numbers to defeat villains,” I grumbled, throwing my head back.

He hummed. “True, but what if you come across a math villain?”

“Punch him in the dick.”

He sweatdropped. “What if he has hostages and he’ll only release them if you solve his math problems?”

I looked at him blankly. “What are the actual chances of that fucking happening, Ryuu?”

He huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “It could happen!”

I poked his inflated cheek with a chuckle. “Anything is possible, I guess.”

Ryuu led me to the back of the library, settling down in the corner. The next few hours were spent taking turns on our homework assignments. I was able to help him with a couple subjects, while he had my back for some of the harder ones, like math. And then there was physics, which left us both fucking stumped.

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The librarian peeked her head around a large bookshelf, her tired, dull eyes landing on us. “Library’s about to close. Time to leave.”

I glanced out the window and clicked my tongue. “Damn, we were here for a while. It’s dark out.”

He nodded, stuffing his books into his bag. “They say time flies when you’re having fun, but…”

“We weren’t having fun at all,” I pointed out and he shrugged, stifling a yawn.

“Can I come back to your dorm?”

“Ho~? I didn’t know you were so forward, Ryuu.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, rubbing his arms as we stepped out into the cold.

“I was thinking more along the lines of hot chocolate and a movie.”

“Well, that’s no fun.”

“Just what were you thinking…” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head at my grin. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know!”

The walk to 1-A’s dorm passed in comfortable silence, Ryuu practically glued to my side as he soaked up the warmth from my body. I wonder if his body reacts negatively to the cold because of his reptile-like quirk. I should ask him about that later.

We stepped inside and I immediately froze in the doorway, my eyes wide.

Ryuu took his shoes off, looking back at me curiously. “Jen? What’s wrong?”

“I, uh…” I swallowed hard, covering my mouth and closing my eyes. As soon as I stepped into the building, the smell of food had wafted to my nose, almost as if it were waiting at the door to tease me. It smells just like… like the house did every Thanksgiving morning. It’s the exact same smell.

A hand rested on my shoulder, Ryuu looking at me with worry. “Do you feel sick?”

“No, I just…” I took a breath, forcing a smile as I tried to ignore the smell. “Sorry, just remembered something.”

“Are you sure? You look pale…”

I chuckled, pushing past him. “I was born pale. You up for grabbing the hot chocolate and heading to my room for the movie? Not really in the mood for socializing.” I stepped into the kitchen and froze for the second time. What the fuck?

“If you’re not in the mood for socializing, that might be a problem, Winchester.” Kirishima grinned.

“You better fucking get in the mood, bitch!” Katsuki scowled, his face twisted up.

“Welcome home, Jen.” Izuku greeted, brightly.

“Huh, class A certainly loves going over the top for everything, don’t they?!” Monoma laughed, but it didn’t have its usual mocking undertone to it.

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you guys,” Kendo smiled, tilting her head.

My eyes scanned the faces of classes A and B, all stuffed into the kitchen around the table that had been covered in various dishes of food – turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole… Am I dreaming? I don’t… I can’t…

Ryuu embraced me, his hand finding my cheek. “You’re crying…”

“What? No, I -” I lifted my hand, wiping at my eyes. I am crying. I’m crying in front of both classes. They’re supposed to look at me and be reassured and feel safe, how can they do that if I’m crying my eyes out? Why am I even crying?

Momo and Ashido rushed over to me, pushing Ryuu away as they fussed over me, squishing me between them. “We’re sorry, we should have asked first!”

“Yeah, don’t cry, Jen!” Ashido squeezed me tighter.

“I don’t… know why I’m crying…” I sobbed, rubbing at my eyes furiously but the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Izuku smiled sadly as he approached, pulling my hands away from my face. “All Might thinks you haven’t properly grieved for Gramps. That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to do this, to give you a chance to… to… properly grieve and to realize… to realize that you’re not alone!” His shoulders shook as his eyes filled with tears.

“Damn it, Deku! You’re supposed to make her feel better not start crying with her!!” Katsuki slammed his hand on the table, the silverware rattling.

“Can I… have a minute, please?” I asked softly.

The two girls exchanged a look before hesitantly pulling away. I bowed my head and stepped out of the kitchen, heading back out through the doorway. As soon as it clicked, I leaned back and slid down, my body shaking from the effort it took to hold back the rest of my tears.

‘Remember, kitten, life isn’t always easy. More often than not, you will face hardships and pain that will be so bad, you will begin to question why it has to be that way. However, just as happiness is often fleeting, so, too, is sadness. You may think that crying makes you a weak person, but I assure you it does not. Crying is a sign that you’ve been strong for too long, and there is no shame in it. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions, kitten. They are not your weakness, they are your strength.’

“Young Jen?”

“Toshi…” I sobbed, tears flowing down my cheeks as my body shook.

Warmth flooded me as I was brought into a strong chest, arms wrapped tight around me. A tired voice sighed from somewhere behind him, “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Shouta…”

He kneeled beside us, his hand gently rubbing the top of my head. “Sorry, I should’ve stopped them.”

I shook my head. “No, I… I just…”

Toshi rubbed my back comfortingly. “When young Midoriya came to me and told me about his conversation with you the other night, I saw this as a teaching moment. He wanted to get together with the rest of your class, as well as class B, to have a Thanksgiving dinner in honor of your Gramps. I knew this would be hard for you, but I was sure that it was the right thing to do. You accepted the fact that he was gone, but you never grieved for him, did you?”

I shook my head, clutching his sweater between my fingers.

“When we lose someone we love, closure is important for us to heal and move forward. And… I worry that you might feel alone in this new world, but you have impacted those around you, even those from class B. They were more than happy to help out when young Midoriya explained things to them.” Toshi pushed me backward, grasping me by the shoulders and giving me his signature smile. “You are surrounded by people who love you, my dear Jen. Never forget that.”

And I smiled back, even with the tears still falling from my eyes.

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When I returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later, several worried eyes snapped to me, no doubt noticing my red and swollen eyes, but I smiled brightly at them to ease their worries, stepping aside to let the two teachers inside.

“Hey, All Might made it!” Kaminari cheered.

“And Aizawa-sensei, too!” Kishima grinned.

“Does that mean we can eat now? I’m fucking starving,” Katsuki complained, his arm thrown over the back of the chair as he glared at the ceiling.

“Yes, let’s dig in!” Momo clapped her hands excitedly and the room sprung to life, everyone squeezing into the chairs around the table. Not everyone could fit, of course, and they ended up sitting off to the side or on the counters. All Might himself took up two and a half seats as he sat at the head of the table, laughing and chatting with the students as he told them stories from his youth.

I sat at the opposite end, between Shouta and Izuku, both of whom kept glancing at me with worry, though the greenette wasn’t trying to hide it like our teacher was. I chuckled, taking each of their hands with my own. “Thank you for this. It really means a lot to me.”

“Of course!” Izuku squeezed my hand, giving me a bright smile. Aizawa didn’t say anything, but he squeezed my other hand.

“You Sparky fuck, that turkey leg was mine!!”

“Huh? I don’t see your name on it, Bakugo.”

“Do you wanna die?!”

“Ahahaha! What deplorable manners class A has! Pathetic!”

“Be quiet, Monoma!”

“So many beautiful girls packed into one room, I just wanna touch them…”

“You’re disgusting!”

“Can you pass the cranberry sauce? Ribbit.”

“Here you go, frog girl!!”

“You’re too loud, Tetsu!”

“Hey, All Might, what was your favorite thing about America when you lived there?”

“That’s easy, young Kaibara! I loved seeing the -”

“Hey, you guys started without us!!” The room turned their attention to the doorway where Midnight, Gran and Present Mic stood. Midnight, who had spoken, huffed in annoyance. “There better be a turkey leg left!”

“Itps mjinre!” Katsuki mumbled around the turkey leg that he had stolen from Kaminari.

“You little brat, give it here!” She demanded, nearly jumping across the table to tackle him. His eyes grew wide and he took off, yelling obscenities at her as she chased him around the kitchen.

Gran approached me, putting her hand on my shoulder and smiling kindly. “Happy Thanksgiving, deary.”

I looked around the room, watching the chaos that was ensuing around me. And I smiled, my heart full of happiness and warmth. Things haven’t been easy, and I’m sure the road ahead of me is far from clear, but I’m surrounded by people that care about me, that I care about. Gramps… wherever you are right now, I want you to know that I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me. These idiots may not be entirely sane and they may drive me up a wall sometimes but… they are home. My home.

“Hey, hey!” Mic raised his voice, making the glasses rattle. “Let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for! Start us off, Uraraka!”

She pulled a surprised face at suddenly being called before tilting her head and smiling. “I’m thankful that we can all be here together!”

“Excellent! Iida, you next!”

“I’m thankful to be with friends during this time of giving thanks!”

“That’s the same as what Uraraka just said but good job! Let’s keep this train a-rollin’, folks!”

“I’m thankful for music.”

“Boobs. Definitely boobs.”

“I’m thankful Bakugo didn’t kill me for that turkey leg…”

“I’m thankful that everyone here is so manly!”

“I’m thankful I’m not sitting next to Mineta…”

“Anime and manga, definitely.”

“I’d be thankful if this bitch would stop chasing me!!”

“And I’d be thankful if you’d give me that turkey leg you brat!”

“I’m thankful that all of you dears are healthy~”

“Hah, I’ll be thankful when class A finally goes down!”

“I’ll be thankful when I don’t have to babysit Monoma anymore…”

“I’m thankful I got to meet Kirishima!!”

“I’m thankful that I sparkle so beautifully. I am magnifi -”

“I’m thankful for this awesome food!”

“What about you, Jen?” Izuku asked, curiously.

“Me?” I hummed as several people looked at me expectantly. I grinned brightly. “Ain’t it obvious? I’m thankful for tacos!”

Zuku sweatdropped. “I shoulda guessed…”

“Well, you stick to your guns, at least, young Jen!”

“Speaking of,” I looked Zuku dead in the eye, my expression deadly serious. “Where the fuck are my tacos, bro?”

His body tensed and he swallowed hard. “Um, I… I didn’t see any mention of tacos when I was researching Thanksgiving…”

I clicked my tongue. “That’s fucking shameful, Zuku. No holiday is complete without tacos.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

I grinned, ruffling his messy hair. “Make sure you don’t forget next year, ‘kay?”

His face lit up and he nodded. “Of course!”

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「“Give thanks for a little, and you will find a lot.” – Hausa Proverb」

「“People cry, not because they’re weak. It’s because they’ve been strong for too long.” – Johnny Depp」

「“Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.” – William Shakespeare」

「“Love doesn’t make the world go ’round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” – Franklin P. Jones」

「“We fall, we break, we fail. But then, we rise. We heal. We overcome.” – Unknown」

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meanstreetspodcasts · 3 years

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"Frontier Gentleman" - Ten Great Episodes

Frontier Gentleman, the story of an English reporter traveling the wild west, premiered on this day in 1958. Along with Gunsmoke, it's one of the best "adult western" dramas of the radio era. While the entire series (an unfortunately too-short run of 41 episodes) is well worth a listen, here are ten episodes that – if you’re new to the show – are a great place to start.

“Kendall’s Last Stand” – It’s the eve of the Battle of the Little Big Horn, and Kendall, a small party of soldiers, and an Indian scout break off from the 7th cavalry under the command of General Custer. But Kendall and company may meet the same fate as Custer and his men after they’re pinned down by a war party. With limited ammunition, Kendall and the scout seek refuge with a brave widow in her cabin, and they face a long night with their adversaries lurking outside. (Originally aired on CBS on February 23, 1958)

“The Powder River Kid” – Kendall comes across an infamous gunfighter and robber, but the man is wounded and succumbing to gangrene. Knowing his time is running out, the man asks Kendall to kill him and collect the reward on his head so his wife can collect the money. This one features a great supporting performance from Larry Dobkin as the Powder River Kid, and the story is a perfect example of the drama that could come from a well-written “adult western.” (Originally aired on CBS on April 6, 1958)

“The Trial” (also known as “Kendall for the Defense”) – J.B. Kendall, reporter, becomes J.B. Kendall, attorney in this humorous story of a murder trial held in a makeshift saloon courtroom. There’s a defendant who refuses to surrender his shootin’ irons, a hostile judge, and a dubious eyewitness that Kendall must overcome to see that justice is served. (Originally aired on CBS on April 13, 1958)

“Aces and Eights” – This is my pick for the best episode of the series. Kendall makes his way to Deadwood just in time to grab a seat at the table for the west’s most infamous game of poker. He meets legends Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane, and he gets the chance to see the real people behind the tall tales. If you’ve ever wondered why “aces and eights” is known as a “dead man’s hand,” this story will give you the answer. (Originally aired on CBS on April 20, 1958)

“Random Notes” – Another great episode with several stories in one. Kendall is taking the stagecoach and takes advantage of the time to recount some of the tales that didn’t make it into his regular reports. He’s in the audience for an amateur western production of Othello, he witnesses a duel between two women fighting over the same man, he talks to a condemned killer, and he watches as a Chinese shopkeeper gets the last laugh on a group of men who try to cheat him. (Originally aired on CBS on April 27, 1958)

“School Days” (also known as “Duel for a School Marm”) – Kendall has barely arrived in a town before he’s being pressed into voting for a schoolhouse. The town and its rival city are competing for the attentions of a beautiful young teacher – even though the towns are devoid of children. The teacher doesn’t appreciate the predicament and the fact that the men of the towns are willing to go to war to get their educations. (Originally aired on CBS on June 1, 1958)

“Gambling Lady” – Jeanne Bates gives a great performance and has tremendous chemistry with John Dehner in this story of a new gambling palace run by the mysterious “Madam Verdi.” As Kendall becomes fascinated with this beautiful, independent western woman, her secret (and deadly) past resurfaces with tragic results. Bates would return as Madam Verdi, also known as “Belle Siddons,” in a memorable three-part episode later in the series’ run. (Originally aired on CBS on June 29, 1958)

“Justice of the Peace” – In this powerful episode, Kendall meets one of the few women acting as a justice of the peace on the frontier (voiced brilliantly by Paula Winslowe) and he witnesses firsthand as she stands up to a mob hoping to lynch her prisoner – an Indian accused of murder. (Originally aired on CBS on July 13, 1958)

“Mighty Mouse” and “Mighty Tired” – One of the things that I love about Frontier Gentleman is its continuity. Characters recur, Kendall’s previous adventures are referenced, and sometimes stories stretch across multiple episodes. In this two-parter, a stagecoach carrying Kendall and a miner is robbed. A blustery lawman is on the case, but all he manages to do is let the thieves (later revealed to be Jesse James and his gang) slip through his fingers. In the follow-up story, Kendall and his miner friend get a chance for justice when they spot some of the robbers on a train. (Originally aired on CBS on July 20 and July 27, 1958).

Check out this episode!

#old time radio #golden age of radio

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antique-ro-man · 4 years

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Can you tell me about the characters in your the little mermaid retelling? It sounds really interesting :)

Sure!

Let’s start with the main group:

First of all, there’s Aleksander, the all-important Mermaid.

Alek is very introspective and inquisitive, almost philosophical. He has an impeccable intuition. He is very soft, shy, and is very bad at confrontation, with a tendency to crumple under stress. He is very emotional and tends to make decisions on instinct and intuition, oftentimes getting very mad at himself for not making better choices. He is an artist, but shy about his work because of the way his family treated him. He also has a tendency to lash out because he was raised in a very violent environment.

Next, let’s do Nicoli, the pirate (and Alek’s lover)

Nicoli is highly confrontational and has a deep hatred of authority because of their history with members of the monarchy and the bourgeoisie. Whilst they are very standoffish and brash at first, they are actually very caring, though they have a tendency to repress their emotions and are not great at dealing with them. They are a natural-born leader and have a hidden talent for music. They’re incredible with a sword, but next to useless in hand-to-hand combat, despite their offensive nature.

Thirdly, Peach, the servant (and Alek’s closest friend)

Peach is very sweet, caring, and reserved. They do not think very highly of themself because of a lifetime as a servant. However, this life has also made them very fast on their feet and has given them great knowledge of the inner workings of the palace and the society of the nobles who live within. Whilst they are cripplingly humble, they are dearly beloved to most people around them because of their compassion.

Now, let’s do Maria, the sun witch (Nicoli’s closest friend and Peach’s lover)

Maria is clever and tough. She is very talented in her magic and very confident in herself. She can use her magic combatively but much prefers to use it for good, leading her to become quite interested in botany (this makes sense with the way her powers work). Fiercely loyal, she can and will call out her friend’s (and other’s) bullshit, as well as take none of it. She has a softer side but does not often show it. Most often, we see it displayed around Peach or Nicoli, who have a way of breaking down her barriers.

Then there’s Beau, the steward, and Cecily, the handmaiden (more friends of Alek, etc.)

Beau is chaotic, loud, and protective. He loves himself and being the centre of attention. He enjoys taverns and parties. He is very funny, although a little tone-deaf, and stubborn. He is deeply loyal and will defend his friends to the grave, although he does tend to take on too much responsibility and not let others help. His lack of a filter does not help with this, as he is often getting into fights and onto people’s bad sides.

Cecily is shy and tends to stay in her shell, playing her part. Behind this facade, though, she is very capable. She knows when to seek help and when not to, as well as how to handle herself. She cannot fight but gets others to do it for her. She’s quite good at manipulating scenarios because she’s an expert at reading people and the room. She is an aspiring writer.

Let’s move on now the members of court and other inhabitants of the palace:

Firstly, Antoni, the prince

Antoni is extraordinarily careless. He has never made any attempt to understand other people or the world around him and he never will. He cares more for himself, his pleasure, and his power than anything else, even the people he loves. He is stubborn and proud. However, he is deceptively handsome and charismatic, with a certain way of forcing people to forgive or excuse all of his wrong-doings.

Not technically a noble, but she doesn’t really fit anywhere else, Clarissa, the priestess (and Antoni’s lover)

Clarissa is a selfless individual. She does not often know how to operate in any given scenario, but she does her best and remains strong. Because of her general unawareness and sheltered upbringing, she has a tendency to come across as rude or condescending. She is very trusting and caring, and will always put others before herself, no matter the cost.

Second, Valerie, the shrewish Baroness

Valerie is vain, promiscuous, crass, and proud. She has no inhibitions around speaking her own mind and telling people off. She is one of the most intelligent people at court, for she knows how the system works and how to play the game to get ahead. Whilst she will always be her first priority, she also deeply treasures her friends and family, as long as they treasure her back.

Then there’s Dominic and Winslow, the lords.

Both shunned lords serving as Antoni’s servants, they refuse to accept that they are no longer nobility. They are mean, obnoxious, proud, and violent. Strictly loyal to one another and to Antoni, they are completely horrid otherwise, taking out their anger of anything and anyone. Dominic is Cecily’s husband and is incredibly possessive over her, as her dignity and grace are one of the last things that make him feel like the royal he once was.

Also, shout out to Prince Leopold and Princess Danya. They are not important enough to get a full paragraph, but they are also there.

Finally, let’s end this on a bit about the mermaids.

Thalia, the moon witch.

You may have noticed I referred to Maria as “the sun witch” earlier, well she’s not the only one. Hence, the moon witch, my version of the sea witch.

Thalia is stoic and straight-forward. She is not afraid to say the truth and take the difficult path, leading her to live on the edge of society. Whilst she is not evil onto herself, her magic often requires great sacrifice and bloody methods, which she is not afraid to perform. None of this is to say that she’s a particularly nice person though, as she will not beat around the bush and her first priority is herself and her business, morals be damned.

Next, The Sea King (Alek’s father)

There’s not much to say about him. He’s cold, mean, and ruthless. Uncaring towards his family or his subjects.

The Dowager Sea Queen (Alek’s grandmother)

Basically lifted right out of Anderson’s story, she is wise and sweet, but also harsh and straight-forward, concerned with status and tradition over anything else.

And then, Alek’s sisters:

Astrologa the Fierce is the eldest and the cruelest, constantly putting down her sisters and everyone around her.

Celestia the Cunning is the second eldest and the most ambitious, with more sly insults. She cares only for herself.

Meteora the Loyal is the third eldest and the most loyal to both her father, the kingdom, and tradition. She is proud and will not hesitate to shame or hurt someone if they break from tradition.

Nova the Enchanting is the third youngest and best singer of them all. She is obnoxious and catty.

And finally, Selena the Beauty is the second youngest and the most beautiful of all of them. She is vain and has a deep desire to be loved.

(Alek’s name was Urania the Young before he became human)

So yeah, that’s all of them. Feel free to ask more about any of them or anything else related to the story!!

#the little mermaid #the little mermaid retelling #writers #writing #author #tmg #the merman's gambit

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another-chorus-girl · 6 years

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Erik House - Chapter 20

OHMYGOODNESS quite a milestone! I will try to update quicker than this and extend the chapters to be much longer in length. Rest assured this story is far from over my friends!

Erik was not in a pleasant mood at all. After calling down several residents of the house they were all gathered before the pipe organ.

Taking a seat, Erik attempted to play a simple funeral march only for the instrument to wheeze and screech violently at the press of his fingers on the keys. Behind the black mask, Erik's gold eyes were locked in a glare crossing his arms.

"Who broke it?" The original asked, standing upright. "I insist I'm not angry-as I have my own personal instrument of disposal to me. I just want to know."

Crawford heaved a breath, "I did it, Monsieur. I br-"

"No. No you didn't." Erik interrupted, knowing full well it was not the elder Merik, despite his humble action to take the heat for this. But he did take notice to several Meriks that were also in attendance. "Perhaps however it was one of your boys..."

Panaro shook his head seeing the novelized original's steely gaze fall over him.

"See here now, don't look at me! Look at Gerik."

The film adapted tenor turned to the Broadway Merik defensively. "What?! I did NOT break it."

"Hm, that's funny. Well then how did you know it was broken monsieur?" Karimloo chimed in

"Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken!

Panaro stared him down, shaking his head. "Suspicious..."

"No it's not."

'If it matters.' Lerik signed, Erik as well as many of the tenants were well flent with this language by now with the black and white mute in the house.

Sometimes Lerik didn't always have his board handy. 'Well probably doesn't matter. But Monsieur Y was the last one to use it'

Mr. Y made his presence known and was outraged by the accusation. "I don't even play on this floor!"

'Really? Then pray tell what were you doing by the pipe organ earlier this evening?' He signed, his dark eyes skeptical.

"I study the inner mechanism workings so I can apply them to better my automatons. Everyone in this house knows that Monsieur!" The older man exclaimed.

"Ok, let's not fight gentlemen." Crawford intervened holding his hands out defensively, "I broke it, let me pay for it Monsieur F'antome."

"NO! Who. Broke. It?" Erik gritted through his teeth, thoroughly annoyed.

"Sir..." Cherik mumbled timidly, "Destler's been awfully quiet-"

"REALLY?!" Destler all but shouted, as the parlor erupted in debate and swears in both English, French, and even Persian resounding as half argued and a few tried to fiddle with the instrument to find the root of the problem.

Just by the stairwell, Kerik chuckled aloud watching the chaos. Winslow-whom had to fix his voice box which had been acting up again, had missed the drama unfolding.

"What is happening?" Noticing the novelized man laughing.

"I broke it," Kerik confessed to the helmet adorned maestro. "It wasn't hitting the correct note on the middle C and was quite frustrating so I punched it."

"Shouldn't you let the others know?"

Kerik shook his head, "And go out into that? I predict ten minutes from now they'll be at each others throats with war paint on their masked faces and a Hannibal prop head on a stick."

Winslow blinked quizzically as Kerik began heading upstairs.

"Besides," The masked man laughed, "It was getting a little chummy around here."

Kerik smiled at his little lady, curled up in her bed, only tonight she wasn't alone. Curled beside her were a litter of newborn kittens.

Kerik had called Nadir for some assistance, having experience in Persia when one of the Shah's feline's was expecting. Ayesha made it through the labor with little to no hitch, and the kittens appeared healthy.

Gerik crouched down, staring at the small mounds of fur, currently hungry for milk.

"What do you plan to do with them?" He asked.

Kerik scratched his head, readjusting his mask as he did so. "I haven't quite decided. Ayesha was allowed board here, but I'm not sure how they will sit with the hermit in the basement."

Charles, whom had come to see the Siamese new litter watched the mewing fluffs of fur. "Perhaps if not a shelter? Or I could ask around to find them a home if he will not allow them to be kept here?"

Gerik blinked, "Kerik? Weren't there six kittens?"

Kerik sighed, "Yes, I can count. Why?"

"I only see five."

Yellow gold eyes were wide. "What? That's not-"

With horror he whipped around to the doorframe which was slightly ajar.

"You didn't shut the door behind you?!" He exclaimed, a string of Persian curses on his tongue.

"I did, but your door has a habit of falling open if it isn't locked."

"Well don't just stand there Gerry, help me find it!"

Panaro gave his partner a sideways glance. The two Meriks were seated in the kitchen, the Broadway counterpart snacking on a bowl of dark chocolate spheres watched Karimloo quietly.

"What's going on?" Panaro asked, to which his West End fiancee jerked up.

"Beg your pardon?" Karimloo asked.

"You heated your pizza rolls more than ten minutes ago and barely touched them," Indicating to his now cold plate.

"I guess I'm not hungry."

Panaro wouldn't let it go so easily. "Is it about the wedding? You arn't having second thoughts are you?"

"No! Of course not Pan"

"Then what's happened?"

Karimloo's shoulders were tense. "I...found something in Monsieur Gerik's room."

Panaro groaned at the reminder his partner was staying with the film adapted tenor. Of all the West End wing's rooms that were affected theirs was the last room to be fixed, leaving them still seperated.

"I hardly think stumbling upon his makeshift barbies' was overly traumatizing."

"He made something. It looked like me..." Karimloo grimaced.

Panaro's attention snapped fully to the West End Merik.

"Excuse me?" His eyes narrowed not liking where this was going.

Reaching into the breastpocket of his lapel, Karimloo tossed photographs on the table.

"I imagine he used these for my likeness..." He said shakily, feeling exposed and overwhelmed.

The Broadway Merik's brown eyes scanned over each photo-obviously taken without the man's knowing.

Panaro stood, abandoning his chocolates.

"I'll make him curse the day he did not do well enough to leave us alone!" The Broadway Merik out for blood now.

Gerik however was outside the manor grounds, helping Kerik find the missing kitten, whilst Charles and his masked father searched inside. To cover more ground Kerik decided to search the third floor and the roof, while Charles checked the first floor and then the second.

All while the discreet search was happening, Crawford stepped out of his room and into the parlor. He took note of Panaro whom stormed up passed him and toward the third floor stairwell looking livid. Deciding to stay out of the Broadway man's affairs for the time being, the elder Merik settled on a seat in the parlor.

He opened the newest Playbill, an impressive casting he deduced from reviews in New York.

"Wait, Crawford who?" The Merik stammered aloud, continuing to read.

But while reading he was interrupted by a tug on the tail of his suit jacket. Confused he glanced down toward where the pulling sensation came from and was surprised to say the least.

The kitten stared up at him, Crawford's mismatch eyes contorted in confusion.

"Where did you come from little one?" He asked the small mound of fur, unhooking it's tiny paw from his suit.

It was all black, save for it's little feet and a white blotch over it's right eye-the Merik chuckled as it looked as though it adorned it's own pint size mask.

The kitten walked as though it were it's first day on new feet-though it had been over a week already on these feet. To avoid the tiny creature toppling out of his hand, Crawford set the kitten on the adjacent cushion. This only leading to the feline wobbly walking and seating itself on his lap.

And everytime it climbed back on him, it smushed the Playbill out of his hand, seeking out affection.

With a chuckle, Crawford rubbed behind the kitten's ears.

"Well I suppose I won't be getting any reading done." Standing up, the Merik scooped up the kitten and sat down at the bench in front of the organ.

Seating the furry creature beside him, he poised his hands over the keys.

"Did you find it?" Kerik asked as he and Charles met at the stairwell.

The younger man sighed, "No"

"Well it has to be somewhere around here. I mean surely it-"

But the masked man was halted when Charles raised a hand shushing him.

He glared yellow gold glow eyes at his son, "Boy what are you-?"

"Shh! Do you here that?" He asked as Kerik too listened.

The masked man shrugged, pushing a stray hair out of his face.

"It's just one of the Meriks' no doubt, this is their floor."

"No not the music, listen again."

It was faint over the haunting bellows of the organ, but a small mewing could also be heard.

"You don't suppose?" Charles asked, as the two creeped to the parlor.

They could see Crawford had his back to them, and seated by him was a tiny dark ball of fur, appearing to try and half mew half howl feebly to the music.

Pausing his aria, the older Merik chuckled, rubbing under the kitten's chin-whom purred and rubbed against his hand in response.

"If I could teach Sarah, perhaps we could learn you a sense of pitch as well hm?" He said, before continuing where he'd left off.

Charles smirked, "Well I suppose we only have to worry about giving five kittens a home."

Kerik stared at his son, "You can't be serious? You want to let the old man keep it?"

"From the looks of things I don't really think it's up to either of us. Or up to him it seems." Charles said, watching the kitten scoot closer, rubbing the man's occupied hand on the keys for

Footnotes as always!

-The first scene was highly inspired and quotes this scene from the popular tv series “Parks and Recreation” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auK3t0MSsCA

-Playbills for those who may not fully understand is indeed a magazine focused specifically on theatre and given as programs at some theatre production, Phantom being no exception.

-Yes, Crawford was indeed reading about Broadway’s latest Phantom currently Ben Crawford (no relation to Michael)

#Erik house AU #erik house #Gerik #Merik #Kerik

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tipsycad147 · 3 years

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Three East Anglian Witch Hunts

The 16th century was a time of religious upheaval caused, in part, by the Protestant Reformation and the Catholic Counter-Reformation. As the aftershocks of religious division extended across Europe, fear spread that the Day of Judgment was nigh. Catholics viewed the rift as a sign that the antichrist was increasing his works in the world, while Protestants saw the corruption of the Catholic church as proof that the devil was near.

Fuelling concerns about the pernicious influence of magic and the devil was the revolution of print, which saw an influx of written texts from the continent, such as the Malleus Maleficarum (c1486), urging people to take decisive action in the battle with witches and magic. It was against this emotionally charged backdrop that Henry VIII introduced the first English statutes addressing witchcraft in 1542, followed by new, stricter, legislation by Elizabeth I in 1563 and James I in 1604. No one was safe from an accusation of witchcraft, even clergymen. However, marginalised women bore the brunt of the accusations – particularly elderly spinsters, widows, and those living alone. In fact, 80 per cent of those tried in Britain were women.

Begging, a standard method of survival, lay at the root of many witchcraft allegations, and beggars were often blamed for misfortunes that occurred after they were refused help. More often than not, accusations of witchcraft resulted from neighbourly disagreements, inextricably bound to a deep-rooted fear of malevolent magic and the devil.

As stories of continental trials spread and as the new witchcraft laws filtered down through society, some took it upon themselves to lead the witch hunts, gathering evidence before trial as self-proclaimed ‘witchfinder generals’. The most notorious of these in England was a Puritan called Matthew Hopkins who launched an unprecedented campaign of terror against suspected English witches during the 1640s. These led to some 300 trials and the deaths of around 100 people in eastern England. Hopkins was by no means the only witch detector, but his reputation spread far and wide and he had a profound impact on those around him. One source from the time commented: “It is strange to tell what superstitious opinions, affections, relations, are generally risen amongst us, since the Witchfinders came into the Countrey.”

Although the use of torture to extract a confession was illegal in England, less ‘formal’ types of torture were often used by men such as Hopkins at a local level, often presided over by a magistrate or local constable. One such method was sleep deprivation, whereby the accused would be forced to walk back and forth until exhausted and then denied rest. Another, more public and informal type of trial was ‘swimming’ the accused to prove their guilt. The victim’s right thumb would be tied to their left big toe and they would be thrown into a nearby pond or river. If they sank, they were innocent; if they floated, they had been rejected by the water as a servant of the devil, in a type of reverse baptism.

As a capital offence, witchcraft trials in England were held before a judge and a jury under the common law system, during which evidence against the accused was presented. Court records reveal extraordinary stories of witches flying out of windows on broomsticks or cavorting with satanic imps. There are many theories to explain why the accused related such fantastical stories to open-mouthed juries – some historians cite mental health disorders; others attribute it to attention-seeking.

Contrary to popular belief, witch trials were not a foregone conclusion for only 25 per cent of those tried across the period were found guilty and executed. It has been said that the total number of people tried for witchcraft in England throughout the period was no more than 2,000.

By the late 17th century – thanks to a combination of judicial scepticism, low prosecution rates and the costs of pursuing a case through the courts – the number of accusations of witchcraft had plummeted. Many people turned instead to ‘cunning folk’ (‘wise’ men and women who practiced ‘good’ witchcraft) and healers to combat the malevolent forces they believed to be at large. Witchcraft was finally decriminalised in Britain in 1736 – though people were still being accused of it as late as the 19th century.

Three East Anglian Places Where History Happened:

1) Brandeston village, Suffolk

As the witch hunting momentum grew, self-appointed ‘witchfinder generals’ sprung up around Britain, devoted to extracting confessions of guilt. Matthew Hopkins, the most notorious of these, was responsible for one fifth of the total number of executions in England over the period. One of his targets, John Lowes, was the elderly vicar of Brandeston who was accused of witchcraft in 1642.

Framlingham Castle

After being ‘swum’ in the moat at Framlingham Castle, and proclaimed guilty after floating to the surface, Hopkins “kept [Lowes] awake several nights together while running him backwards and forwards about his cell until out of breath… till he was weary of his life and scarce sensible of what he said or did”. Ultimately, Lowes ‘confessed’ to sending imps to sink a ship near Harwich and allegedly proclaimed that he “was joyfull to see what power his imps had”. Lowes was hanged at Bury St Edmunds in August 1645.

All Saints Church has a plaque dedicated to Lowes and an image of his hanging is depicted on the village sign.

2) Sible Hedingham, Essex

Right through to the 19th century, magic and witchcraft were still very much a part of everyday life, and although trials by swimming were frowned upon in the eyes of the law, they continued to be used by the population at large long after the repeal of the witchcraft statutes in 1736.

The last recorded case of swimming in England occurred in the village of Sible Hedingham in 1863 when an elderly man by the name of Dummy was dragged from the taproom in The Swan public house to a nearby brook. The man, who was deaf and dumb, gained a living by telling fortunes and was a figure of curiosity in the village. He was accused of bewitching the wife of the beerhouse owner, Emma Smith, who complained that she had been ill for some ten months.

After Dummy refused to ‘remove the curse’, Smith struck him “several times” with a stick and pushed him into the brook, encouraged by other villagers, in particular master carpenter Samuel Stammers. Dummy died a few days later from shock and pneumonia caused by the constant immersion and ill treatment, and both Smith and Stammers were sentenced to six months’ hard labour.

Dummy’s Death Certificate

Although no longer a working pub, The Swan Inn still stands, and the stream in which Dummy was swum flows nearby.

3) Tring Hertfordshire

Long after the Witchcraft Act of 1736, people continued to administer their own justice on those they suspected of being witches.

Sometime in 1745, a Ruth Osborne went to a farmer by the name of Butterfield, who kept a dairy at Gubblecut, near Tring, in Hertfordshire, and begged for some buttermilk. Butterfield, with his brutal refusal, angered the old woman, who went away muttering that the Pretender would pay him out. In the course of the next year or so a number of the farmer’s calves became distempered, and he himself contracted epileptic fits. In the meantime he gave up dairy-farming and took a public-house.

The wiseacres who he met there attributed his misfortunes to witchcraft, and advised Butterfield to apply to a cunning woman or white witch for a cure. An old woman was fetched from Northampton and confirmed the suspicion already entertained against Ruth Osborne and her husband John.

Notice was given by the crier at the adjoining towns of Winslow, Hemel Hempstead, and Leighton Buzzard, that witches were to be tried by ducking at Longmarstone on 22 April 1751.

A LARGE AND DETERMINED MOB MUSTERED AT TRING ON THE DAY SPECIFIED, AND FORCED THE PARISH OVERSEER AND MASTER OF THE WORKHOUSE BY THREATS TO REVEAL THE HIDING-PLACE OF THE UNFORTUNATE COUPLE IN THE VESTRY OF THE CHURCH, WHERE THOSE OFFICERS HAD PLACED THEM FOR BETTER SECURITY.

The Osbornes were then stripped, and, with their hands tied to their toes, were thrown into Longmarstone pool. After much ducking and ill-usage the old woman was thrown upon the bank, quite naked and almost choked with mud, and she expired in the course of a few minutes. Her dead body was tied to her husband, who was alleged to have died shortly afterwards from the cruel treatment he received, but who ultimately recovered, though he was unable to give evidence at the trial.

The authorities determined to overawe local sympathy with the rioters, and to make a salutary example. At the coroner’s inquest the jury brought in a verdict of wilful murder against one Thomas Colley, a chimney sweep, and against twenty-one other known and unknown persons. Colley had taken a leading part in the outrage, and had collected money from the rabble for ‘the sport he had shown them in ducking the old witch.’ He was tried at Hertford assizes on 30 July 1751, before Sir Thomas Lee, and his plea that he went into the pond as a friend to try and save Mrs. Osborne being unsupported by evidence, he was found guilty and sentenced to death.

“Good People I beseech you all to take Warning, by an Unhappy Man’s Suffering, that you be not deluded into so absurd & wicked a Conceit, as to believe that there are any such Beings upon Earth as Witches.

It was that Foolish and vain Imagination, heightened and inflamed by the strength of Liquor, which prompted me to be instrumental (with others as mad-brained as myself) in the horrid & barbarous Murther of Ruth Osborn, the supposed Witch; for which I am now so deservedly to suffer Death.

I am fully convinced of my former Error and with the sincerity of a dying Man declare that I do not believe there is such a Thing in Being as a Witch: and I pray God that none of you thro’ a contrary Persuasion, may hereafter be induced to think that you have a Right in any shape to persecute, much less endanger the Life of a Fellow-Creature.

I beg of you all to pray to God to forgive me & to wash clean my polluted Soul in the Blood of Jesus Christ my Saviour & Redeemer.

So Exhorteth you all the Dying

Thomas Colley

Signed at Hertford Augst the 23rd 1751”

He was escorted from Hertford gaol to St. Albans and the next morning, 24 Aug., was executed at Gubblecut Cross in Tring, and afterwards hanged in chains on the same gallows.

“The infatuation of the greatest part of the country people was so great that they would not be spectators of his death; yet many thousands stood at a distance to see him go, grumbling and muttering that it was a hard case to hang a man for destroying an old wicked woman that had done so much harm by her witchcraft”

. Half Moon Public House, Wilstone

The inquest into Ruth’s death was held at the Half Moon pub in the village of Wilstone, The pub still stands, as does the church of St Peter and St Paul at Tring.

The Church of St peter & St Paul, Tring

https://norfolktalesmyths.com/2018/03/21/three-east-anglian-witch-hunts/

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cobbsandra1989 · 3 years

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We have deals so sweet on car insurance in Mississippi, you might skip your next glass of tea.

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Car Insurance Requirements in Mississippi

Car Insurance Requirements in Mississippi MOST drivers in Mississippi with at least 10/5 rate experience to be uninsured motorists (in 2014): Geico: 84 Progressive: 89 Auto Owners: 89 MetLife: 89 While this shows how insurance rates change as more drivers on the road share the driving, the lowest rates are generally found in small cities. The table below demonstrates the monthly rates for the minimum required auto insurance coverage and industry-standard commission rates. Minimum Auto Insurance Requirements StateRequirements in Mississippi Mississippi requires its drivers to have liability coverage of at least: $20,000 bodily injury liability per person $40,000 bodily injury liability per accident $10,000 property damage liability per accident This coverage is not legally required in every state, but many drivers must. Uninsured/Underinsured Motorist Coverage Although it is voluntary in Mississippi, the mandatory minimum liability coverage is not enough to cover all.

What is the average cost of car insurance in Mississippi?

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oliverdone-johnson · 4 years

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Context of contemporary fine art practise, Lecture 5: Fons Americanus notes

Below is my typed up notes from Wednesdays context of contempory fine art practise lecture that focused on Kara Walkers Fons Americanus sculpture at Tate Modern. I have added it to my Tumblr page for my protest project due to its relevance to protest. The notes below explain Walkers link to protest through her work.

“I am and shall continue to be the monster in your closet. Prodding at your

tightly wound arsenal, your history.

Let me out.

And. You. shall. seek. to. put. me. back. in.

And together we will: in and out and in and out together HAHA!”

Kara Walker 2000

Overview of the piece

Kara Walkers work is a focus on the institution Tate Modern. She focuses on the history of the institution and what secrets they sometimes do not want to be spilled to the public. Fons Americanus is in the Turbine hall inside Tate Modern. The term Fons Americanus could mean all things American’ or it could also mean ‘American Bum hole Fountain’ according to Stuart. The sculpture also comes with an announcement plaque, the announcement is written to be a fun ready and provides entertainment, but the subject matter on the announcement when ready covers a very dark story. This could be showing Kara Walkers sense of what art is, art is there to provide entertainment at certain times in peoples lives i.e. going to a gallery on the weekend. But she is also looking at the cost of art in life- she is pointing towards slavery that was the main fund of these institutions through the sugar or coffee industries. As over 1.5 million are known to have died being transported by boat in slavery going from Africa to nations like the UK and USA. Therefore, showing how in this piece there is much more of a focus on the content rather than the materials used. She is focusing on how it is the cost of the lives lost to create these institutions and how institutions are often made from wealth and corrupt powers, so wealth is key.

Kara Walkers early work focused on making playful cut outs that portray slavery, the artwork is presented in a way to show quite entertaining and sometime funny images i.e. a man farting but this is met with much harsher undertones and aspects of her work. Showing the balance between entertainment with the content of the project. Her work tackles serious subjects but is still inviting to an audience.

Fons Americanus was based of Queen Victoria’s Memorial monument at Buckingham Palace and was opened in 1911. The memorial shows Victoria’s life and how she commanded the largest empire in history. It also has a very nautical appearance as the navy and oceans were key to the empire. After the death of Victoria slavery was abolished. But Kara Walker uses her own statue to show the darker side of the empire and all the aspects that were forgotten in this memorial, such as slavery which was key to Victoria’s empire.

Slavery operated in a triangle between Europe, especially countries such as the UK, Portugal and Holland, America and Africa. The slaves would come from Africa and travel to the UK and USA in exchange for exports of goods. Kara Walker is also known to have taken inspiration from packaging and images from the past such as Cotton plantations in South Carolina, 18th century tobacco adverts and One of Ten Views in the Island of Antigua 1823.

The boats that transported the slaves were more like prisons that housed the slaves under deck with thousands being crammed in. Turner painted a piece called- Slavers Throwing overboard the Dead and Dying—Typhoon coming on 1840. That shows a slaver throwing the slaves overboard as a way to claim insurance as he would not get money if they died on the ship but would if they drowned of the ship. Therefore, murdering hundreds of innocent humans just because their slaves.

In the Fons Americanus exhibition there is not just the large sculpture and plaque but also a Shell Grotto that depicts a man crying inside. The Shell can be shown to link to Sandro Botticelli The Birth of Venus 1484-86 and Voyage of the Sable Venus. The link can be shown from the shell as the shell is used in both just like Venus to popularise the slave trade and make it seem pure but Voyage of the Sable Venus was originally published for the book: History, Civil and Commercial, of the British Colonies in the West Indies. The text of the book was written by a British politician Bryan Edwards who justified slavery on the grounds of the huge economic benefits for England. The crying figure inside the shell is linked to Sierra Leone as during slavery it was a very advantageous location due to the many islands surrounding it, they were used as various slave keeping prisons and camps. Bunce Island was the most notorious due to its Hole of the brave, which was a giant hole that slaves were thrown into to die if they refused to board the ship, hence why Walker portrays a man crying out of what seems to be a hole.

Breakdown of the sculpture

At the top of Fons Americanus stands Venus with a cut through her neck and breasts that both shoot water. Walker said that this represents the blood and milk of the Black Atlantic, becoming a reminder of the lives lost due to slavery. Walker is also known for studying in Rome where she observed Piaza Navona and the Trevi Fountain, these being two historic fountains in Rome. Below the statue of Venus there are 4 smaller characters: The Captain, The Tree, Queen Vicky and the kneeling man.

The captain represents many figures both real and fictional it has been perceived there are influences from Marcus Garvey (Jamaican 1887-1940) Political activist and entrepreneur who encouraged a sense of pride and self-worth among Africans and the African diaspora amid widespread poverty, discrimination, and colonialism. And Toussaint L’Ouverture (French 1743-1803) Revolutionary leader who helped transform the slave insurgency into a revolutionary movement. As well as Captain Paul Cuffee & The Emperor Jones (fictional) A synthesis of real & fictional heroes/characters who fight against colonialism whilst revealing contradictions – desire for their own power.

The tree represents the thousands of trees used for slave hangings and lynching’s and Walker draws upon how these hanging locations had become tourist hubs just like her monument. Trees are innocent, wordlessly submitting to the weight of injustice, witness bearing.

The Kneeling man represents the ideology of self-obsess, where people sucked up to traders i.e. black traders to improve their own financial situation over helping their people, it represents greed. “He begs a slave owner an amalgam of European Colonial Interests, full of Capital and Promises and Religion Lies, deceit and corruption.”

Queen Vicky is placed in the piece as she was the reigning monarch through slavery and profited of it the most, and because Kara Walker based her statue of Victoria’s memorial. Victoria is shown in the image to be holding a coconut and it is unclear weather Vicky is about to hit the person below her or feed them. This can represent the argument of her rule. She is a Maternal character, holding a coconut. Is it a fruit of life, or could it fall on the head of the man beneath?

Lower down on Fons Americanus there is a rowing boat surrounded by sharks. The rowing boat is linked to Winslow Homer the Gulf Stream 1899 that depicts the dangers of the waters. The sharks are also a notable link to Damien Hirst, but it is unclear weather this is appreciation of his work or a critique. Kanye Wests initials are also used on the bottom of the boat to link the past the present and show how sucking up and greed can elevate a person to a position of power.

Kara Walker could be linked to artists like Andrea Fraser and Hans Hucker with her evidential critiques in the art world.

History of Henry Tate and the Tate institute

Henry Tate 1819-1899 was a remarkably successful businessman. At the age of 50 he owned a sugar refinery company. In his later years he donated his paintings to the government. Th building that resulted was Tate Britain which was opened to the public in 1897. The institution would not be a thing if it were not for Henry Tate’s wealth. Tate is known for being involved with the sugar business, which is where Tate Lyle comes from. The sugar trade was built from slavery. And even though he did not start in the sugar trade until after slavery was abolished but he did profit from its history, which was built from slavery. The Tate recently started a project looking back at its origins and history, which is why they invited Kara Walker to create a sculpture for Tate Modern.

In 2014 created a sculpture titled ‘A subtlety or the marvellous sugar baby’ At the Domino sugar factory in Brooklyn NYC. Walker was offered an old sugar factory, so she made a giant sphinx sculpture that was covered in sugar. The sphinx was also heavily sexualized to link its humanity to other aspects such as greed and power. In this exhibition there was also smaller sculptures which were of child slaves made completely out of sugar. This represents ‘Subtlety’ as in the past little sweets were shaped to look like important people such as royals, it is a power play. So, Walker made these subtleties of slave children as a way to relook at this concept in a much darker light.

When you contrast Walkers first quote about being a monster with her invitation from the Tate it seems like a brave thing for the institution to do. As Walker unearthed and reminded the nation of much worse times and put a negative shadow over Tate and its origins. And although it could be shown as very noble of Tate to respect the artist and allow her critique of there institution Tate has since had other critiques in articles, such as there wage inequality for lower paid staff such as security and shop workers. Showing a stark difference within the institution of how they are willing to allow attention to some aspects of corruption, but others struggles such as modern-day wage inequality is shrouded in secrecy.

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theragamuffininitiative · 7 years

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some Winn Schott Jr. meta

I found a continuity error in Supergirl (surprise, surprise) that I'm basically just going to fit into some headcanon so it doesn't bother me anymore. This post also features other Winn!Content with a heavy dash of Meta and Trauma, so be warned:

Okay, so. In the episode “Childish Things”, in Winn’s first confrontation with his father, he says “I watched my dad get dragged off to prison when I was eleven for murder.” <<<pay close attention to the wording of that, as we’re going to revisit it twice.

Howeverrrrr, in the s2 episode "City of Lost Children” he says, in typical Winn fashion, “if somebody had given me action figures when they interrogated me about my dad, when I was ten? I would have sung like a canary.” Ten, folks, not eleven.

Now.

Is this merely a continuity error?

Well, it’s highly probable. I’ll save my rant against CW/DC writing for the sake of this post, but let’s just leave it at the fact that continuity errors in even the fairly important (and simple) details are definitely not out of the question.

It could also be, in the Supergirlverse, that the events leading up to Winslow Sr.'s incarceration did not occur in as timely a manner as we immediately assume. We’re quite accustomed to dramas showing us crimes being committed and the perpetrator getting arrested, convicted, and sentenced in the span of 40 minutes. But that’s not how it often works irl, and not the way it necessarily has to go in fiction.

Consider the Toyman. He's a clever guy, and obviously he was smart enough to spend time planning the attack on his boss, even if it was still ill-conceived and ultimately did not work. But if he played his cards right, it's entirely possible that the investigating law enforcement did not have enough evidence to convict him right away. Because yeah, the angry employee who got slighted is the first person the feds would seek to convict, but that doesn't mean they had evidence to do so.

On the surface level this would in the least explain the age difference: a young Winn may very well have been interrogated by police when he was 10 and his father was not ultimately arrested until up to a year later when he was 11.

Now, if this is true, what it means potentially for the character is that there was a period of 1 month to 12 months where an angry and unhinged father who has crossed the line and snapped and actually killed a minimum of 6 people (during that first supervillainy event, although a 7th is later confirmed by Agent Chase and I’m gonna talk about that too), is still living at home, with his wife and kid. Hence the Schott family having to live through that legal and emotional nightmare on top of the crime itself and no wonder his mom just took off.

The idea that Mr. Schott’s arrest and conviction was not immediate would also help explain the fact that the cops had to interrogate a 10 year-old-boy:

Winn doesn't say "question" or anything that implies this was a chill "we're here to protect you from your dad and we just need to hear it from you so we’ve crossed all our T’s" kind of conversation. He uses the word “interrogated” very deliberately, and in fact makes this reference to his childhood during a time when his coworkers are being pretty (albeit mostly unintentionally) cold in questioning a young boy, stating as a kid he might have been more inclined to be cooperative if someone had just been kind to him.

On the OTHER hand, it is slightly possible that Winn Schott is like most of us and doesn't remember childhood events all that well when it comes to the passage of time. (I had years growing up I wasn't even sure exactly how old I was until I counted but I'm a nincompoop so) However, being as old as he was and the events being as big and traumatic and memorable as they were, this is doubtful.

Okay, now ONE MORE THING:

Going back to that first line (”I watched my dad get dragged off to prison”), because I only realized this when I went back to the episode to check and see if I was right about the inconsistency-

During the raid at the docks, Agent Chase tells Kara they’re not taking any chances (which they’re actually taking like a lot of chances with this terrible plan of action they have, like, wow, they are the worst agents ever, somebody fire them). Why is she so uptight about all this? Because Winslow Sr. “killed an agent the last time we apprehended him.”

Go back and read the lines again.

Read them.

Winn was there.

Winn was heckin there when his heckin dad was hecking getting arrested and being dragged off to prison immediately following an event in which he heck hecking killed an agent, if not literally in front of, in the very near vicinity of, his small son. (!!!)

I am. very calm. writing this now. I was not. calm at all. when I first realized it earlier.

Someone

Protect

This

Smol

Bean

Don’t you talk to me about any of the other characters’ traumas or excuse their behavior because of their childhood or family history - ever again. Appreciate Winn Schott Jr. folks. The purest sunshine child, who constantly overcomes so much, always forgives, automatically seeks the good of others first, is seldom thanked and always called upon to show up, and has so much empathy and caring he’s about as opposite from his dad as he can be. He deserves nothing but to be valued, cared for, and loved.

#supergirl meta #supergirl #continuity and character development is everything guys #dc tv universe #arrow!verse #cw shows #the cw #winn schott #win schott jr #toyman #winslow schott #winslow schott sr #childish things #oh yeah and they're going to use all this to turn him into the villain i know it so yay for that

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dorcasrempel · 5 years

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From summer research program to PhD dissertation

One of the most important aspects of MIT’s educational mission is preparing students to be effective members of their scientific and technological communities. For Raspberry Simpson, that process began when she was a 17-year-old participant in the MIT Summer Research Program (MSRP); it is reaching fruition today as she pursues her doctorate in nuclear science and develops novel diagnostics for inertial confinement fusion and high-energy-density physics experiments at some of the country’s most advanced research facilities.

In 2010, Simpson (then a student in Bard College’s Early College program) worked with MIT physics professors Lindley Winslow and Janet Conrad at the Laboratory for Nuclear Science. In addition to their academic work in the MSRP, she recalls, “they put it into my mind subconsciously that MIT was a place for me, that I could do science and be accepted in this space. I can’t emphasize enough how important that is.”

Shortly afterward, Simpson transferred to Columbia University to complete her bachelor’s degree in applied physics. During that time she took a year off from study to assist Winslow with development of a neutrino detector, and work on astrophysics experiments at Los Alamos National Laboratory, where she received important mentoring.

“I really enjoyed the national laboratory environment; it’s really special to have that many scientists in one place working towards a similar goal,” says Simpson.

In large part because of her experience in MSRP, which seeks to motivate members of under-represented groups to pursue graduate education, Simpson applied to the MIT Department of Nuclear Science and Engineering (NSE) for her PhD studies. “I felt I had a science family here,” she says. “Also, Mareena Robinson, who did the MSRP at the same time I did, was in the PhD program. Having representation from women, especially black women, in the department was a huge factor in me wanting to come back.”

Today, a primary focus of Simpson’s is working on developing diagnostics that allow the assessment of the performance inertial confinement fusion (ICF). There has been a recent surge in optimism about fusion becoming a practical, plentiful, carbon-free energy source, with increased private funding and several private companies (including MIT spinout Commonwealth Fusion Systems) announcing roadmaps for demonstration fusion power plants by the mid-2020s.

To achieve that, ICF compresses pellets of hydrogen isotopes deuterium and tritium to such extremely high temperatures and densities that the isotope nuclei fuse. This creates a heavier nucleus while releasing large quantities of heat in the form of neutrons. Work to date has been promising, but researchers have struggled to extract the full measure of energy from the process.

“The problem we’ve noticed is that there are lots of asymmetries in the implosion; if you think about trying to compress a basketball to the size of a pea, it would be difficult to keep it perfectly spherical,” explains Simpson. “That leads to inefficiencies.”

Simpson is working to develop new ways of measuring and characterizing these asymmetries during the implosion, using a pair of orthogonally positioned charged-particle instruments to measure the spectra of deuterons (deuterium nuclei) scattered during the process. The approach allows inference of variations in density and symmetry.

“Fusion is very complex, and you need as many diagnostics and as much information as you can get to understand the dynamics of these experiments,” notes Simpson, whose role at MIT’s Plasma Science and Fusion Center also connects her to the center’s research into magnetic-confinement fusion, the other leading potential path to energy production.

The project is supported by grants from the U.S. Department of Energy (DoE) and the University of Rochester’s Laboratory for Laser Energetics (LLE); Simpson has worked on several projects at the LLE’s Omega laser facility, a key research resource for fusion and other high-temperature high-density phenomena.

In addition, Simpson was chosen this year for the inaugural class of the DoE’s National Nuclear Security Laboratory Residency Graduate Fellowships, which support long-term security-related study and research at national labs. She will build a charged-particle spectrometer for a group under Tammy Ma at the National Ignition Facility at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, which is using a high-intensity petawatt-class laser to generate highly accelerated ions for use in radiography of a variety of targets.

Simpson recently passed her NSE qualifying examinations, and will be turning her attention to her dissertation, writing about the two pieces of work mentioned above, and an additional project that utilizes knock-on deuterons for imaging of ICF asymmetries.

“Our group in the High Energy Density Physics Division has lots of fingers in lots of pies, like fusion, high energy density science, and astrophysics, so my dissertation will include multiple projects,” says Simpson. The group recently received a prestigious Center of Excellence award from the National Nuclear Security Administration

Looking ahead, Simpson says she would enjoy working at a national laboratory, because of both the research culture and labs’ role in cultivating new generations of scientists. “The national labs have a deep understanding of the value of students, and they wouldn’t exist without continued stewardship of student talent, and I’d like to position myself in that environment. I’m not mentoring yet, but eventually I would like to give back in that way.”

She’s also a big fan of the 32-year-old MSRP, and of Institute efforts to make the science and engineering communities more inclusive.

From summer research program to PhD dissertation syndicated from https://osmowaterfilters.blogspot.com/

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universeinform-blog · 7 years

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Inside Kirsten Dunst’s Glamorous Oscars Beauty Photo Diary

New Post has been published on https://universeinform.com/2017/03/20/inside-kirsten-dunsts-glamorous-oscars-beauty-photo-diary/

Inside Kirsten Dunst’s Glamorous Oscars Beauty Photo Diary

How does one choose the right pink carpet hairstyle—making sure a foolproof appearance which could stand up to the flurry of cameras on the Oscars, even as concurrently retaining its personal against a hanging Christian Dior Haute couture robe hailing from 1952? For the answer, Kirsten Dunst, who costarred in the award-nominated film Hidden Figures, turned to movie star hairstylist Adir Abergel, who long-established her blonde lengths right into a romantic low bun with a deep aspect element. “My vision becomes an easy French-inspired updo,” stated Abergel. “I started out off developing the proper extent and texture by means of adding waves to the hair all over.” Then, he started working, pinning and spraying the look at the place for last-all-night tiers of keep and shine. As for Dunst’s makeup? Her soft hair turned into complemented by means of a softly shaded smoky eye and a red lip, courtesy of makeup artist Jillian Dempsey. Before heading out the door. The actress reached for one crowning glory: a fave pair of Christian Lacroix heels, which she has worn for past red carpets, consisting of the Met Gala and the Cannes film Competition. Here, see how Dunst prepped her splendor search for the Academy Awards.

Business to Business – Look For the Less Glamorous Accounts

As a former franchisor and service zone operator, I have a crucial piece of recommendation to talk about with you these days. You notice, in recent times I do a bit of consulting and for this reason, am continuously studying enterprise plans for small business start-ups. One aspect I continually locate is smaller corporations usually appear to want to right away go after excessive-give up customers, purchasers, and clients – and, if they plan on doing business-to-enterprise contracting, the younger and frequently naïve marketers tend to head after big brand name corporate clients. Still, I suggest a one of a kind tactic on this realm, permit’s speak.glamorous fergie

Sure, it makes the experience to move the excessive-cease clients and call brands, however, do not brush aside the less glamorous businesses to do commercial enterprise with. Have you ever heard the saying; “Sell to the hundreds and live with the instructions?” Makes feel proper. In fact, whilst running my groups we by no means forgot this method. I discover many entrepreneurs need to get their product into Home Depot, Target, Wal-Mart, Sears, and so on. Or they want to partner with Starbucks, Apple, Nike or Google, however, be cautious, the one’s companies have the pick of the litter, each person desires to do business with them, so that they always get the exceptional fee, meaning you will make much less money and ought to work on quantity to make a profit, and you may make investments massive to improve simply to handle the account – so, in essence, you are buying the account, no longer just getting the account.

In my preceding organization, we did on website online contract cleansing and had income groups and worked off of a Bonzai-Blitz Challenge advertising strategy, one that works for any organization doing B2B offerings. What we discovered was the less glamorous type debts; cleansing rubbish vehicles as an instance genuinely paid the most cash because no person else ever bid at the account.

Indeed, we ended up cleaning all styles of matters that no one else turned into competing for including cleaning off Solar Panels, Eating place Patios, Storage Doors, Awnings, Rain Gutters, Driveways, Gazebos, Artificial Drought Resistant Grass, Jacuzzi’s at Lodges, Hurricane Drains, Locomotives and Rail Automobiles. It changed into absolutely awesome how clean it become too cozy a sturdy coins go with the flow without ever having to lower our bid to get the paintings. It really is now not to say that turning into a dealer for a large agency will not be beneficial, it, in reality, can be, however additionally realize how many agencies have long past broke seeking to perform with razor skinny margins as a seller of Sears or Wal-Mart.

Lance Winslow has launched a brand new collection of eBooks at the Mobile Vehicle offerings commercial enterprise. Lance Winslow is a retired Founder of a The Oil

How Can Bridal Makeup Transform You Into Stunning Beauty

The marriage is genuinely a completely critical life occasion. In the maximum of the international locations, that is taken into consideration because of the most events of pomp and pleasure. Humans love to take part in the celebration as the collection is complete of entertainment and satisfaction. The marriage includes guidance of plenty of factors like shopping for outfits, handling visitors, arranging photographers, booking of feast halls, dresses, and numerous different things.makeup amazon

The association of the bridal make-up artist is likewise very crucial. It’s far the preference of every single man or woman living on earth to have impressively appeared. It offers enormous pride when Human beings surrounding, experiment you in praise and pay attention to you attentively. The maximum essential personality of The wedding dinner party is the bride. It’s far the dream of every lady to look lovely on this unique day. The reason at the back of this is that she is the showstopper and each eye might be watching her.

Why hire a make-up artist? that is truly a completely pertinent query. The answer to this question is quite simple. Our pores and skin wish to care and pampering. this is the most important organ of a human body. There are several factors which adversely affect our pores and skin. A number of the maximum not unusual elements are solar rays, UV radiation, pollution, dust, harsh climate circumstance, and so forth. These factors offer the unfavorable impact on the skin texture. The impact of UV rays on my own at the pores and skin is very intense. These rays without delay have an effect on the collagen and warp its molecular structure. This ultimate outcome in degradation inside the coloration of the skin.

The makeup artists use cosmetics so as to hide the imperfections of the pores and skin. They do provide pores and skin treatment so one can carry again the lost attraction of the skin. There are numerous splendor products and techniques available in the marketplace that could easily fight the outcomes of the skin.

The makeup classes of the bride start pretty early. in the first actual consultation, the artists appearance after your skin and prepare the chart about the matters what ought to be finished to present you the most captivating appears for the auspicious occasion.

Throughout the very last session, the artist uses unique objects like foundation, face percent, moisturizer, and many others. These items help in improving your splendor and charm. It’s miles very vital to hire a professional artist as this occasion is absolutely vital. You can not take danger by means of making a bet on the novice artist.

How to locate the expert make-up artist? There are several artists rendering this service. You must discover the one who has significant experience in this area. At instances, whilst searching the offerings you stumble upon experts who sell you the products in preference to offerings.

Dad Diary: Completing Our First Trimester

Hormones! Now not a pregnant lady’s excellent pal I’d say. I pay attention it regularly from my family, buddies, and co-workers. This is a ‘regarded’ occurrence however even understanding that did No longer put together me for the actual thing. Most of the literature that I’ve to examine thru usually has a section at the various modifications that a pregnant girl goes through, each physically and hormonally. For this reason, I notion I would help my spouse through this satisfied however attempting time. Some extra love and care commonly does the trick.free online diary

However, that does not work while my wife’s hormones are at work. The books have honestly undersold the whole idea. Pointless to mention, hormones are the ones guilty for these heightened emotions in my wife. There’s a small bushy location near my house and where a dead frame may want to potentially move undiscovered for some time. I clearly did No longer want A few fitness nerd in some months’ time stumbling on to my skeleton.

Approximately six weeks into the first trimester I learned to stroll faraway from a controversy. Arguing again, albeit with heaps of good judgment isn’t always a choice for expectant dads like me at this point in time. I universal the truth that my days as a quite worldly, opinionated man had been over at the least for the following six months.

Here’s an instance of one of the arguments that I had with my spouse for the duration of the first trimester. We were looking tv together, very happy, excellent and nonviolent. I simply popped over to the kitchen to seize her a drink that she wanted me to get. On my return, I see her sitting at the threshold of the sofa, arms clenched into fists and with eyes that are sending me the message that I would higher begin strolling. You’d be thinking what had occurred in literally a minute that definitely modified her temper. Apparently, she had seen a commercial on tv that reminded her Approximately what a horrible individual I was.

And bang! The hormones start doing their activity.

It isn’t always my purpose to paint my wife as A few loopy person. however what I’m trying to convey is that, yes, they may go crazy at some point in time. So all I try to do is don’t forget how tons I like her and that this wasn’t the time to convey out that recognize-it-all patriarchal masculinity character. simply assume, if pregnancy turned into sincerely that easy anybody might be doing it. No, wait. Scratch that one.

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another-chorus-girl · 7 years

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“Erik House” Chapter Two

Here’s a new installment! Fair warning to Gerik/movie phans for what lays ahead. This chapter was also inspied by a Discord chat had previously.

Also to explain the different Erik origins:

“Erik”: Novel Erik “Phantom of the Opera” by Gaston Leroux

“Merik”: ALW musical Erik

“Kerik”: Phantom by Susan Kay

“Lerik”: Film, “Phantom of the Opera” (1925) starring Lon Chaney

“Jerik” Rat Phantom, film Dario Argento version (1998)

“Destler” Film (1989) starring Robert Englund

“Gerik” Film (2004) starring Gerard Butler

“Winslow” Film (1974) “Phantom of the Paradise”

“Cherik” Film (1990) starring Charles Dance

Life in the Phantoms' household was developing. Their way of life and habits were very quickly established. As advised Erik was almost never seen by the other residence since the meeting and no one dared to break one of the rules of his ultimatum in disturbing him.

The mass of Meriks clung together, finding comradery with each other sharing similar quirks and getting along quite harmoniously-though Crawford found himself at one point breaking apart a bickering Panaro and Carpenter, the former having quite the temper. And there was some confusion between a few of them, as their floor was multicultural what with the Meriks Asian and European counterparts being present. The second floor alone was a full house

Destler, like Erik, kept to himself. He seemed to appear and reappear out of nowhere, rarely was he seen without his scarf and hat adorned. Of all the men in the house, he seemed to be the one that enjoyed going out most. Cherik was hesitant at first to mingle with the others, however very quickly he found himself conversing more with the Meriks in the parlour. Warlow and Mauer were rather charming to talk to.

Kerik seemed to slunk around anywhere but seemed to find a way of sneaking away into the crowd of masked men. None of the of the other residents were sure how he did it, but he was the only one not in the Meriks inner circle that had a room on their floor.

Jerik refused to stay inside if it meant his rats weren't welcome and found himself blissfully wallowing in the dumpster out back...And that was that.

Lerik and Winslow spent most of their time in their rooms, composing. However the droning of organ music seem to clash against the electronic grinding note emanating from the latter's chambers.

And Gerik was often seen around, and unfortunately seeking out the wrong attention. The film adapted man should have known when o leave well enough alone when the Meriks would shoot him icy glares. Even Crawford, who was one of the very docile and resigned, scowled at Gerik. And one day things took a rickety turn.

The men were seated in the parlour on the main floor. Most were upstairs-the Meriks succeeding in turning the second floor's parlour into a lair like setting as they all agreed they wanted-but a few enjoyed mingling on the main floor. But the musical men's conversation died when Gerik sat down.

"We don't want you here," Panaro glared.

Gerik held up his black gloved hands defensively, "I just wanted to talk."

"We would rather not," Karimloo said coldly.

"Technically you shared a part in my adaptation"

"Hey! We don't bring that up!" The musical phantom exclaimed.

"It should be plainly obvious monsieur that you're not welcome here," Wilkonson said flatly.

The others agreed in unison.

"But I just-"

"YOU CAN'T SIT WITH US!" Panaro snapped.

Clearing his throat, Mauer spoke.

"That's your queue to get up before the situation gets worse," He said with warning.

Realising there was no hope in finding some common ground, Gerik sat elsewhere, avoiding their mismatch eyes.

But that night the situation did in fact get worse.

Gerik didn't realise what had hit him, quite literally. Groggily he woke up after being tossed unceremoniously on the floor.

"What's going on?" He asked, realising from the dark paint job, the massive portcullis, and several candelabras that he was on the second floor.

"You just don't seem to get the point." He heard a voice in the darkness.

And before he realised who was there or what was happening, Gerik was pulled from behind to his feet and something tossed around his neck. No need to be an unseen genius to know what that something was. Karimloo stepped back after wrapping the red lasso around Geriks neck, they knew Erik was right that it was impossible to kill another of the phantoms in the house.

But murder was not what they had in mind, the noose only being used to restrain him.

Stepping out of the shadows Gerik saw three familiar figures. Accompanying Karimloo were Panaro and Crawford, all of which sneered at him from beneath the brim of their fedoras.

"What's this all about?" Gerik croaked against the noose.

"You're still oblivious? I thought it was quite obvious." Crawford said, his mismatch eyes glaring back at Geriks blue ones.

"I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't! Nothing you do makes sense!" Panaro snapped, "Why is it you're the first thing the public sees when they hear our name?!"

"I have a Tony and still you're the face that's on shelves," Crawford remarked distastefully.

"Never mind the fact that you still HAVE a face!" Karimloo barked, reaching out and swiping the mask off Gerik's face.

"Give me that!" Gerik reached but in vain.

"You treat that sunburn as if it were something like this!" Panaro argued, removing his own mask revealing a much more grotesque deformity.

"At least I don't look like I got peppermint smeared on half my face," Gerik jabbed back. This only fuelling Panaro's rage as Crawford and Karimloo held him back.

"Now the point of our little chat is this," The eldest phantom explained. "We would rather you stop seeking us ou on a regular basis. The fact that your shoddy adaptation is all people originally see for the last thirteen years is annoying to no end for us. Surely you understand our side of things. We've all worked hard to get to where we are, and yet are overshadowed by your film." Gerik nodded, feeling some guilt that his words were true.

"Now as much as I wish we could leave it at that," He continued. "I'm afraid one last thing is necessary before cutting you loose."

As the Meriks removed their fedoras and cloaks, the blood drained from Gerik's face realising Panaro had a knife outstretched and Crawford wielding a blunt bat.

"I said you should have brought something," Panaro sighed as Karimloo was unarmed aside from balled fists.

"I don't need a weapon." Karimloo scowled.

"Is this necessary?" Gerik asked nervously.

"Sadly yes, our point will not look as though it was made unless you're roughed up a bit." Crawford explained. This being the last thing Gerik heard before his head made contact with the bat.

The following day the other Meriks seemed appeased seeing their film counterpart walk with a slight limp. The trios job of 'roughing him up' seemed to be convincing enough to appease the others.

Gerik fumbled trying to open the door, his arms still aching.

Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed the door for him. He looked over confused.

At first he was startled by this new man. Like he and the Meriks this rather tall man wore a white half mask. But was dressed in a dark suit and black cravat, a long flowing coat overtop.

"You looked like you needed a hand," He explained kindly.

"Thank you," Gerik nodded, "Who are you?"

"My apologies, I'm Mr. Y. I arrived late you see so this is my first day here, pleasure to make your acquaintance monsieur."

So a few footnotes:

-As there are worldwide performances of Phantom of course the international guys are in here too.

-Gerik’s reference @ Karimloo is a shoutout that Ramin played Gustauve Daee in the 2004 film

-Some poke fun that Panaro’s deformity looks like peppermint colors and the reasoning for Gerik’s jab at his face.

#PotO #Erik house AU #Erik headcanon

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tipsycad147 · 5 years

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A Hertfordshire witch-swimming

One day in 1745 in the hamlet of Gubblecote, near Tring in Hertfordshire, an elderly woman named Ruth Osborne went to beg for some buttermilk at a local farm. She lived in poverty with her husband, John, neither of them able to get much work or support from their neighbours. The Osbornes were shunned for the dual reasons that they were thought to be both witches and Jacobites (1745 also happened to be the year of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s rising). The farmer she approached that day, John Butterworth, sent her away, angrily claiming that ‘he had not enough for his hogs’, let alone for the likes of her. Osborne shot back at him that ‘the pretender would have him and his hogs too’.

A few months later some of Butterworth’s calves died, a disaster which he blamed on Ruth Osborne’s witchcraft. By 1751 Butterworth’s farm had failed and he was running the Black Horse alehouse in Gubblecote. He was also suffering regular epileptic fits and these too he attributed to Osborne’s sorcery. Thomas Colley, a chimney sweep and regular at the Black Horse, suggested that Butterworth consult a cunning-woman to get to the truth of the matter. A suitable Northamptonshire woman was invited to Gubblecote to advise Butterworth. Without naming the Osbornes, she identified ‘two of his neighbours, a man and a woman’ as the source of his bewitchment. This verdict was sufficient confirmation for Butterworth and led Colley to agitate for the Osbornes to be tried by means of witch-swimming.

Gubblecote Farmland at Gubblecote: somewhere near here was John Butterworth’s farm and Marston-Meer.

Britain in the eighteenth century maintained a kind of collective cognitive dissonance about witchcraft. On the one hand, the Witchcraft Act of 1736 repealed both English and Scottish statutes against witchcraft (the Irish statute lingered on until 1821). The Act stated:

No Prosecution, Suit or Proceeding, shall be commenced or carried on against any Person or Persons for Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment or Conjuration or for charging another with such an offence, in any Court whatsoever in Great Britain.

The Act also made it an offence to ‘pretend’ to practice witchcraft. In line with almost every wealthy, powerful European state of the time, Britain was seeking to demonstrate its transition from Medieval superstition to Enlightenment rationalism. On the other hand, belief in the existence of witchcraft and its real effects continued in all classes of society, from eminent figures like Samuel Johnson the author and William Blackstone the jurist, to the common country folk in settlements like Gubblecote, who reflexively sought supernatural explanations for their regular misfortunes. And especially among those common folk, the ‘enlightened’ state’s apparent indifference to the matter of witchcraft, which they saw operating in their daily lives, was baffling, frustrating and occasionally infuriating.

So it was that, against the law of the land, the Osbornes were brought to trial by popular demand. There was nothing surreptitious about it either. Town criers in the nearby towns of Winslow, Leighton Buzzard, and Hemel Hempstead spread the news that ’on Monday next [22 April 1751] a man and a woman are to be publicly ducked at Tring, in this county, for their wicked crimes’. For the reality was that despite the repeal of the witchcraft statutes, popular trials of this kind were either tolerated or ignored by the authorities. In most cases there was little that magistrates could or would do in the face of popular justice, short of calling in the army, a measure reserved for more extreme circumstances than the persecution of an unfortunate couple like the Osbornes. The unofficial policy for these occasional outbreaks of violence was to let the mob have their way for fear of provoking something worse.

The church of St Peter and St Paul at Tring, where the Osbornes tried to hide.

In the case of the Osbornes, one person in authority did intervene. Matthew Barton, Tring’s overseer of the poor, who knew the couple, lodged them in the town’s workhouse for protection. But this did nothing to stop the trouble that was brewing and the Osborne’s location was impossible to keep secret. The workhouse master Jonathan Tomkins, ‘believing both the man and his wife to be very honest people’, took the Osbornes to the vestry of the church of St Peter and St Paul in Tring, presumably hoping that some lingering folk memory of the concept of sanctuary might save them from harm. It did not. The appointed day of 22 April came, and a mob, some five thousand strong, advanced on the workhouse. Having broken into the building, ransacked it (‘they were so infatuated, that they searched the very salt-box for them’), and found no sign of the Osbornes, they threatened to burn it to the ground unless the couple were handed over.

Tomkins reluctantly gave in. The illusion of sanctuary was dispelled and the Osbornes were marched from the church in Tring back to Gubblecote. It’s a distance of about three miles, and the route today is as it was then: down Tring’s High Street, along what are now Brook Street and Wingrave Road, past farmland and cottages, until Gubblecote is reached. It must have been terrifying for the couple, that passage back to the hamlet, knowing what was to come. They were held at the Black Horse, while Colley and the mob considered where the witch-swimming was to take place. Later that afternoon they were taken to a pond, Marston-Meer, between Gubblecote and the next village, Long Marston.

Here, under Thomas Colley’s supervision, the couple were partially stripped and had their thumbs tied to their toes, cross-wise, as was the protocol. They were wrapped in sheets and each was tied with a rope before being dragged through the pond. The procedure of witch-swimming was simple: if the suspect floated they were a witch; if they sank and drowned, then there was the cold comfort of knowing that they were innocent. The Osbornes floated, despite being dragged through the water several times while Colley pushed them under the water with a stick. But having ‘been suffocated with Water and Mud’, Ruth was unconscious by the time she was pulled back to the bank. She was brought to the Half Moon pub in another nearby village, Wilstone, where she was laid out on a bed by the landlord. Meanwhile outside the pub Colley was collecting money from the mob ‘for the enjoyment the ducking had provided’. John Osborne ‘being a lusty strong man, survived the inhuman treatment of these barbarous miscreants’, but Ruth died shortly after being brought to the Half Moon. She is the last known person to be killed in England by witch-swimming, though not the last to be tried in this way.

The Half Moon pub at Wilstone, where Ruth Osborne died.

In the days and weeks afterwards, the news of the events at Tring and Gubbelcote gradually spread through the country, eventually making the London newspapers. The enlightened part of society felt obliged to act. Thomas Colley was one of a small number of the mob to be arrested, drawing most of the law’s attention as the ringleader and as the man who had collected money from the crowd afterwards. He was tried for murder at Hertford assizes on 30 July 1751. Despite claiming that he had gone to the pond to save Ruth Osborne, there were enough witnesses to testify to the contrary. Colley was found guilty and condemned to hang. The sentence was carried out on 24 August 1751 at Gubblecote Cross, the crossroads of the hamlet. And belatedly, the authorities made a show of force. Colley and the hangman were ‘escorted by 108 men belonging to the regiment of horse blue, with their officers, and two trumpets; and the procession was slow, solemn, and moving’.

Colley had made a signed declaration while in Hertford Gaol and this was read out before the execution. It is unclear how much of this was sincere and how much had been dictated by the priest in attendance, but no doubt Colley was by this time regretting his actions:

Good people: I beseech you all to take warning by an unhappy man’s suffering; that you be not deluded into so absurd and wicked a conceit, as to believe that there are any such beings upon earth as witches. It was that foolish and vain imagination, heightened and inflamed by the strength of liquor, which prompted me to be instrumental (with others as mad brained as myself) in the horrid and barbarous murder of Ruth Osborne, the supposed witch, for which I am now deservedly to suffer death. I am fully convinced of my former error, and with the sincerity of a dying man, declare that I do not believe there is such a thing in being as a witch; and pray God that none of you, thro’ a contrary persuasion, may hereafter be induced to think, that you have a right in any shape to persecute, much less endanger the life of a fellow creature. I beg of you all to pray to God to forgive me, and to wash clean my polluted soul in the blood of Jesus Christ, my Saviour and Redeemer. So exhorteth you all, the dying Thomas Colley.

Despite this, the sympathies of the local population still seem to have been very much with Colley and against the Osbornes. According to one witness:

The infatuation of most of the people in that part of the county was such, that they would not be seen near the place of execution, insisting that it was a hard case to hang a man for destroying an old woman that had done so much damage by her witchcraft. It was said, he was to have been executed a week sooner, but when the proper officers came to convey him from the goal, a prodigious mob assembled and would not suffer him to be taken out of prison.

Gubblecote Cross, where Thomas Colley was hung and gibbeted. The house behind the trees is from the 16C and so was standing at the time of the execution.

Colley was not only executed at Gubblecote Cross but his corpse was gibbeted (hung in chains) there for months afterwards. There is almost inevitably a ghost story associated with him, and it was said that a large black dog came to haunt the lanes around Gubbecote. Nothing, though, was ever heard of again from Ruth Osborne.

PS Most of the factual information in this post is gleaned from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography entry on Ruth Osborne and an article from the 1751 Monthly Chronologer, which is reprinted on the Tring Local History Museum website, and from which the illustration at the top of this post, of the Osbornes’ ducking, is taken.

https://theseislands.blog/2018/09/30/gubblecote-witch-swimming/

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dorcasrempel · 5 years

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From summer research program to PhD dissertation

“I really enjoyed the national laboratory environment; it’s really special to have that many scientists in one place working towards a similar goal,” says Simpson.

She’s also a big fan of the 32-year-old MSRP, and of Institute efforts to make the science and engineering communities more inclusive.

From summer research program to PhD dissertation syndicated from https://osmowaterfilters.blogspot.com/

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