#William Greely

[jesslovesboats]

I guess it's time to start moving some content from twt over here! For those who don't know me, I'm a public librarian with a special interest in polar and nautical history, and I love nothing more than connecting readers with good books. I've managed to convert some friends to my way of thinking, and one of them coined the phrase "sad boat books" to describe the types of books that I'm always reading and recommending. Here is my first list of sad boat books-- I can personally vouch for all of them!

New to sad boat? Start here to see if it’s for you!

Endurance by Alfred Lansing

Madhouse at the End of the Earth by Julian Sancton

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard

Frozen in Time: The Fate of the Franklin Expedition by Owen Beattie and John Geiger

Terra Nova, A GREAT first expedition!

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard

The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard

A First Rate Tragedy by Diana Preston

Robert Falcon Scott Journals- Captain Scott’s Last Expedition by Robert Falcon Scott

“I Love Ernest Shackleton” starter pack

Endurance by Alfred Lansing

Shackleton’s Boat Journey by Frank Worsley

The Endurance by Caroline Alexander

“I Hate Ernest Shackleton” starter pack

The Lost Men by Kelly Tyler-Lewis

Polar Castaways by Richard McElrea and David Harrowfield

Roald Roald Roald!

The Last Viking: The Life of Roald Amundsen by Stephen Bown

The South Pole by Roald Amundsen

The Last Place on Earth by Roland Huntford*

*DISCLAIMER: this guy hates Captain Scott and gets most of the Scott details wrong, read for Roald only!

The Franklin Expedition

Frozen in Time: The Fate of the Franklin Expedition by Owen Beattie and John Geiger

Erebus by Michael Palin

May We Be Spared to Meet on Earth: Letters of the Lost Franklin Expedition edited by Russell A. Potter, Regina Koellner, Peter Carney, and Mary Williamson

Non-polar sad boats

The Bounty by Caroline Alexander

Batavia’s Graveyard by Mike Dash

The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger

In The Heart of the Sea by Nathaniel Philbrick

Sometimes a sad balloon can be a sad boat

The Expedition by Bea Uusma

The Ice Balloon by Alec Wilkinson

Karluk/Wrangel Island, the expeditions of my heart

Empire of Ice and Stone: The Disastrous and Heroic Voyage of the Karluk by Buddy Levy

The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven

The Karluk’s Last Voyage by Robert A. Bartlett

The Last Voyage of the Karluk: A Survivor’s Memoir of Arctic Disaster by William Laird McKinlay

Ada Blackjack: A True Story of Survival in the Arctic by Jennifer Niven

Miscellaneous sad boat books that are well worth your time

The Ship Beneath the Ice: The Discovery of Shackleton’s Endurance by Mensun Bound

In The Kingdom of Ice: The Grand and Terrible Polar Voyage of the USS Jeannette by Hampton Sides

Madhouse at the End of the Earth by Julian Sancton

Alone on the Ice: The Greatest Survival Story in the History of Exploration by David Roberts

Labyrinth of Ice: The Triumphant and Tragic Greely Polar Expedition by Buddy Levy

If you read and enjoy any of these, please let me know!

[digitalnewberry]

Arctic exploration

Arctic toy theater set, between 1881 and 1889

This time of year, my mind turns to the holidays the 1800s European and American expeditions to the Arctic. The icy landscape captivated the imagination of many artists and explorers, including the creator of this Arctic toy set. It possibly depicts the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition (1881-1884) into the Canadian Arctic led by Adolphus Greely, and features icebergs, ships, animals, and people, some of whom are in native Inuit dress.

Penguins, Arctic toy theater set

For a more grounded artistic rendition of the area and its people, you can peruse the 1820s drawings made by members of expeditions led by Sir William Edward Parry and Sir John Ross.

Arctic Life Portfolio, 1821-1828

And of course, there are the numerous letters and journals written by the people on these journeys. This 1876 diary from Lieutenant Rawson includes the memorable line "If any one had told me during the cold weather that I should be kept awake, out sledging, from being too warm, I should have told him he did strictly adhere to that sacred article called truth."

–Quinn Sluzenski, Digital Initiatives Assistant

See all of these and more at Newberry Digital Collections

[kani-cove]

i think greely would kin william afton

[the-meri-rose]

Just finished Ghosts of Cape Sabine last night. Folks who are interested in the final days of the Franklin Expedition might find the account of the Greely Expedition to be informative. Ghastly, but informative!

Outside of artefacts and details from Inuit testimony, we don't know what the Franklin party final days were like or why they made the choices they did. But the Greely Expedition had survivors, and the letters and diaries of both the living and dead to tell us what it was like for them. One can imagine that the private reflections, outward disputes, and gradual breakdown of discipline at Cape Sabine likely had a lot of similarities with the events on King William Island.

Polar exploration seems to have a lot of lessons in leadership. The author, Guttridge, is pretty blunt in his assessment of Lieutenant Greely's leadership abilities. The Greely party diaries agree that their commander was terrified of losing control, and this, coupled with a petty vindictiveness that genuinely astounded me at times, probably did affect the outcome of their retreat from Fort Conger in some way. I stand by my previous post: it's more than a little surprising that Greely was counted among the survivors.

There are leadership lessons in the various relief attempts, too, but good luck picking them out of the pile of speculation, ass-covering, and finger-pointing that ensued during and after each failed attempt. It's hard to say which mistake was the point of no return for Greely and Co.

Regarding the book itself, Ghosts of Cape Sabine gets a little tedious towards the middle before becoming very, VERY engrossing very quickly. I have enough questions remaining that I will definitely pick up Buddy Levy's book, Labyrinth of Ice. And there's a PBS American Experiences episode on the Greely Expedition!

[pitvipcrs]

(   anson  mount.  cis  man.  he + him.   )   ⸺   🐏   greetings,  bighorns !   walking  around  campus,  sporting  a  lean  and  hungry  look,  we’ve  spotted  WAYLON  FORD,  a  forty - five  years  old  who  contributes  to  our  thriving  community  as  a  CHIEF  GUARD.  according  to  our  intel,  he’s  been  around  the  sanctuary  for  nearly  three  years  and  what  we  know  about  him,  aside  from  the  fact  that  he  does  agree  with  the  decision  to  close  the  gates,  is  that  he  is  a  wayfarin'  stranger  with  a  strong  southern  drawl  and  a  stronger  affinity  for  graphic  violence.  Everything  he  was  or  could  have  been  is  dead.  Ask  him  what  he  used  to  do  for  a  living  and  he'll  tell  you  he  was  a  bartender  if  you  get  that  far  in  conversation,  but  his  demeanor  says  somethin'  different.  Lastly,  don't  touch  his  goddamn  horse—  doesn’t  that  make  them  fantastic ?  we  think  it  does,  and  that’s  why  we  appreciate  him  so  much,  grateful  for  what  he  gives  to  our  community.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 legal name — waylon thomas ford name meaning — land by the road; courageous fighter nicknames — wiley, sir age — forty-five date of birth — april 11th, 1978 ethnicity — white home town — vicksburg, mississippi current location — uec occupation — head guard

𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖘 parents — thomas william ford (deceased), anne-marie louise ford (deceased) siblings — n/a partner — n/a. children — molly rose ford (daughter, deceased) other — lucy pauline brandt (ex-wife, deceased)

𝖕𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 face claim — anson mount eyes — blue-green hair color — dark brown shot through with grey height — 6'1" tattoos — daughter's birthday in roman numerals over his heart, military cross backpiece. scars — a pretty gnarly burn scar that starts from his right shoulder down to his belly button, old knife scar on ribs, scarring across his knuckles.

𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 content warning: war mentions, murder, death 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

Where was he when the world ended? Not with the boys runnin' and gunnin', that's for goddamned sure. No, he's running a rag over the beer-splattered counter of the bar he'd bought with a few buddie — a double investment in boozin' and retirement like he'd had a choice in it.

He moves to start sweeping peanut shells off the floor and taps Tanner Greely on the shoulder to rouse him from his drunken stupor. "I'll give you a ride back to your motel. Reckon Jessica would kill me if I let you drive yourself."

"Thanks, Wily," the other man mumbles, holding his head in his hands. "Damn, I didn't think I was gonna drink that much."

Waylon tries not to bristle at his old nickname, stormy gray eyes cut in something akin to guilt because in all actuality he could have cut him off after the fifth drink. To his mind, it seemed as though Greely had traveled all this way for a reason, check up on him maybe? This ain't no Vah Beach, no whinin' ring of a phone he can never not answer. No swishin' BDUs, no shit-talking in the locker going through their kits.

"S'alright brother, you know I've always got your six."

"Even if the Lord ain't willin'?" Tanner mumbles, opening bleary, alcohol-glossed eyes.

"Even if the creek don't rise." Waylon responds out of habit as he dumps the contents of his dustpan in the trash.

He's just about done, nose full of stale beer and celery salt and sweat. Just about to start flipping light switches with Tanner swaying just behind him, mumbling half-sentences about missing Grayson; his entire reason for coming the teammate that had fallen. Anniversaries. Death dates. About done and the phone starts trilling on the wall and Waylon's eyes fly to it, a sense of dread forming a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach.

It's habit.

Luce had Molly, they were in Georgia spendin' time with the new husband's—

"'—he's a real estate agent. He sticks around."

Family.

He answers.

"Hey, Wiley. Turn on the news, man," Bradbury, exhausted and jittery. Waylon hadn't spoken to his CO since—

Horror unfolds in the jump of static across the screen.

"What is this?" He's fumbling for his keys, his wallet, thinking. Lucy. Molly. Dad. Uncle Court.

"I don't know brother, but we can't stop it. Get here if you can, man. We're going to need you." 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

He's alone now and has been for a while. All the ghosts lined up at either shoulder like a macabre procession as he plods over the Wyoming state line with all the grace of a drunken line dancer. There are two promises in his ruck and one emblazoned in the forefront of his mind. Despondent, head bowed, he appears only dimly aware when a few highwaymen come up from a culvert and surround him and his horse.

"You passin' through here, you gotta pay a toll, man." Their speaker is caked in road dirt and hard-living, squinting up at him and patting his Colt Python against Bailey's flank. "You hear me?"

Waylon does not respond, head bowed and eyes half-lidded. "Hey motherfucker, you hear me?" The would-be raider attempts to tug Waylon out of the saddle and then…then it just…happens.

Waylon lifts his head, eyes finally opening as though he had just been awoken from a deep slumber. Not a word left his lips as he calmly raised the Glock and scrambled the offending party's brainpan without so much as a tic of the jaw.

And then he levels it at the others.

As he leaves them to twitch and froth blood he turns his face to the dull warmth of the cloud-covered Wyoming sun, a glob of spittle landing on the first of them to die. "Yeah," he says finally. "I fuckin' heard you." Colorado, here I come.

𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖊𝖓 Every day he wakes up same as so many others, the clutching hands of nightmares threatening to rend what little is left of his sanity —decency havin' taken a long walk off a short pier. Don't rightly know why he stayed, still carryin' that damn letter like some lovesick soldier clutching an unread Dear John. But that ain't what it is, is it? Every day he startles awake, drinks a cup of coffee, the only real hazard is listening to his younger co-workers wolfin' breakfast and pepperin' him with guesses 'bout what he done in his old life. "Used car salesman!" One shouts, spraying chunks of egg. He fixes 'em with a dead-eyed stare. "Anybody e'er tell you t'keep your damn mouth closed when you're chewin' your damned food, son?""And no, I weren't no used car salesman.""Well, you weren't a bartender either." This is what life is now. Ain't stopped, ain't started either. Just a long kind of pause, the kind y'take after a long run. Palms bitin' into the tops of your thighs, calves burnin' like a sonovabitch. The bottom will inevitably fall out. Will he be around to watch?

[xintract]

So what about doomed arctic expeditions?

not sure where to start lol

Honestly love it all not just the doomed stuff.

The franklin expedition is the one with the most to talk about certainly, and what really got me interested in the whole thing, but its a fascinating subject with over a thousand years of history and so many wild stories and characters. it can also be extremely emblematic of western colonial attitudes and approaches to exploration and indigenous peoples.

you have everything from amundsen (who i would argue was the greatest explorer of all time and who reached both poles, sailed the northwest passage, and crashed a plane into the arctic and survived) to andres, the guy who tried to fly a hot air balloon to the north pole and died for his trouble.

and its all set against the spectral alien world of the arctic.

so yeah any questions let me know, but i love all arctic expeditions especially doomed ones. franklin, greely, andres, the airship italia, william barrentz whole thing, henry hudson, shipwrecked whalers, norsemen, ect. not all doomed but suffering and death for many.

[botchedandecstatic]

Books Read/Reread, July/August 2024

Italo Calvino, The Baron in the Trees* Kenneth Silverman, The Life and Times of Cotton Mather Karl Ove Knausgaard, So Much Longing In So Little Space Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound Stacey D'Erasmo, The Long Run: A Creative Inquiry Virginia Woolf, Jacob's Room* Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway* Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse* Elisa Gabbert, Any Person Is the Only Self Sara Gran, Come Closer* Cassandra Shaw, Nothing But Blackened Teeth Kathleen Jamie, Sightlines Christiane Ritter, A Woman in the Polar Night* Mary Oliver, Upstream Remedios Varo, On Homo Rodans and Other Writings Patricia J. Williams, The Miracle of the Black Leg: Notes on Race, Human Bodies, and the Spirit of the Law Monica Black, A Demon-Haunted Land: Witches, Wonder Doctors, and the Ghosts of the Past in Post-WWII Germany* Jon Greenaway, Capitalism: A Horror Story Philip Hoare, The Sea Inside Barry Lopez, About This Life: Journeys on the Threshold of Memory Ned Blackhawk, The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History Leonard F. Guttridge, Ghosts of Cape Sabine: The Harrowing True Story of the Greely Expedition * = reread

[uwmarchives]

We are sharing this image today because we are again experiencing a winter storm here in southeastern Wisconsin. The image above is of an original painting titled “Caching Equipment Along Telegraph Line Fort Egbert - Valdez Alaska” by William “Billy” Mitchell and comes from the George Hardie Papers (uwm mss 65, box 17, folder 7)

In the early 1900s, then a first lieutenant, William Mitchell was called upon by Brigadier General A.W. Greely to assist the Signal Corps in setting up telegraph lines in Alaska.

Until Mitchell was assigned to the job, the men did all of their work during the summer months. Summer in Alaska, though more temperate meant that man and beast were tormented by mosquitoes and black flies. There was also an issue with the condition of the trails which were often compromised by mud and slowed the progress of the horses and mules.  

Mitchell reasoned that doing some of the work in the winter would solve those issues. There are no mosquitoes or black flies when it is 65 below zero. The trails were covered in frozen snow so, as depicted in the painting, the mules could haul sleds which meant moving more equipment more efficiently. They did have to combat the brutal cold, limited access to food and challenging terrain. And there was still work to be done in the summer, like digging the post holes. In spite of all the struggles, the telegraph line across Alaska was complete between 1901 and 1903.

americanheritage.com has an article from February 1961, vol 12, issue 2 titled “Billy Mitchel In Alaska,” which recounts some of the triumphs and tragedies of this endeavor.

[wiredlogan]

Vine Swinging

A trip to the jungle.

One of the upsides of living with multiple wealthy fictional characters was that you had plenty to spend on extravagant summer vacations like a trip to the jungle.

All of us were perched on a deck of bamboo, lounging beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the massive, vibrant green leaves. The air was heavy and humid, but for some reason what would have felt oppressive back at home felt refreshing here.

I, of course, was writing. But how could I stop? The jungle was brimming with inspiration! Birds chirping, creatures scampering... so many colors, so much potential. It was just the relaxing vacation we all needed.

At least, it was relaxing. Until Ishani began to eye one of the vines hanging from above with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She pulled on the vine a bit, then glanced down at the crystal blue pond below.

She clenched her fingers around the vine, and then she jumped off the edge.

We all gasped, Aila yelped, nearly falling out of her lounge chair, and Hawthorne leaped to his feet. We crowded around the ledge just as Ishani resurfaced. She whipped her hair back in an elegant arc and howled, “That was great!”

I made the mistake of glancing up at the vine she had swung off of, and she immediately called to me, “Come on, Logan! Try it!”

A lump immediately formed in my throat.

“No!” Zenna butted in front of us all. “This is way too dangerous—”

“Your turn!” Simon cried before she could even finish her sentence. He shoved her over the edge, and she went sailing.

As she hit the water, Onrenya snickered, “Ohhh, she’s gonna kill you, Snotrag.”

Sure enough, Zenna resurfaced, her face completely red. “SIMON, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” she spluttered.

“Zenna, are you ok?” Hawthorne called, leaning over the edge.

“I’m fine… but that little punk is gonna get it.”

Hawthorne cracked his knuckles. “Leave it to me.”

But before he could even turn around, Simon, Runa, and Onrenya jumped on him, and pushed together. Somehow, he still managed to pull off a graceful dive and plunged under the water next to Zenna.

He resurfaced and shook out his blonde hair, spraying Zenna in the face. She cracked a smile as she wiped the water from her cheeks.

Back on the deck, Simon, Runa, and Onrenya high fived and guffawed. Runa raised her eyebrow at Simon. “Your turn now, big shot.”

“What?”

“You scared?” she teased.

Onrenya scoffed, then whispered to Sandy, “They’re flirting again.” Sandy rolled his eyes and chuckled into his palm.

“No!” Simon exclaimed. “Of course I’m not scared! I ride a dragon.”

Hookfang, who was perched in the trees above, sunbathing, grumbled sarcastically.

“Hey, watch your mouth, mister,” Simon snapped, and Hookfang gurgled a throaty laugh.

“Alright, guess I’ll just go,” Runa sighed dramatically as she grabbed the vine. She winked at him, to which his cheeks turned red, then leaped, howling the whole way down. She crashed into the water. A few seconds later, she resurfaced and called up, “Come on, babe! You can do it!”

Simon rolled his shoulders and shook his arms out. “Watch and learn,” he snickered.

Sandy and I rolled our eyes, and Onrenya yelled “Boo!”

Simon cracked his neck and grabbed the vine. He let out a breath. “Alright, it’s not that high. I’ve been higher up.”

“Please,” Aila, who was still sitting in her reclined tanning chair, finally spoke up. “If we have to wait for you to reassure yourself, we will be here all day.”

“Alright, alright!” Simon huffed. “Geez.” He clenched his eyes shut and, finally, jumped.

Squealing and shrieking erupted from his mouth, but it slowly melted into laughter. His hands slipped. He plunged into the water with a scream.

We watched for a spell, but he never broke through the surface.

“Oh geez, not again,” Zenna moaned, head flicking back and forth nervously. “I swear, I have to babysit you all like you’re toddlers.”

“Is he dead?” I joked, only half joking.

“Simon?” Runa called. She started searching the water. “This isn’t funny!”

Suddenly, he shot out of the water underneath her, hoisting her onto his shoulders.

“Simon!” she screamed. “That’s not funny!” She tried to sound angry, but her laughter broke through.

“Your turn, Onrenya!” Ishani called.

Onrenya pursed her lips and squinted. “Nah, I think Greely will go first.”

Greely perked up from where he was sitting, reading a book as usual. “What?”

Before he could say anything else, Onrenya grabbed him by the arm and shoved him. He plunged, stiff as a board and somehow still in his wool trench coat in the jungle heat, and belly flopped.

He resurfaced, coughing, and Ishani tried to stifle a giggle as she plucked a twig out of his hair.

Onrneya came next, totally disregarding the vine and instead cannonballing into the pond, close enough to get Greely soaked with her splash. She shook her hair to spray him yet again, then called out, “Your turn, Logan!”

“Are you kidding?” I guffawed indignantly. “I’ll literally die.”

“You can do it!” Runa insisted.

“What about Aila?” I said. “She hasn’t gone yet.”

Aila sighed and set her book down. She flicked her reading glasses closed and stood. “Good thing I’m wearing my bathing suit.” She slipped her robe off her shoulders to reveal her forest green bathing suit.

She cracked her knuckles and stretched for a few moments, and then bolted across the balcony. She leaped. She swung in a graceful arc that would have been perfect if Sandy hadn’t somehow been swinging directly towards her on another vine.

“Aila, look out!” Ishani shouted from below.

The two crashed together in a tangle of arms and legs and fell from the vines, screaming. Sandy waved his hands and, just before Aila hit the water, he built up a cushion of dreamsand under her. She landed on the cushion a foot above the water.

Sandy floated down and gave her a sheepish grin, which she met with a glare. Sandy’s expression quickly changed to mischievous, and, just as Aila opened her mouth to complain, he snapped. The dream sand cloud disappeared, and Aila plunged into the water.

Sandy silently laughed, but his mirth only lasted a moment before Aila’s hand shot out of the water, grabbed his leg, and yanked him below with her.

The pair burst from the water, soaking wet and doubled over with laughter.

“Logan, you can’t avoid it anymore,” Onrenya shouted. “You’re the last one up there.”

She was right. I was all alone now on the deck.

Onrenya began to chant in a huffy, low voice, “Logan, Logan, Logan!”

The others took up the shout, “Logan, Logan, Logan!”

I took a step closer to the vine. “This is insane,” I muttered to myself, feeling dizzy as I glanced down. The pond suddenly felt a million miles away.

I took the vine in my shaking fingers.

The chanting grew more intense. Simon and Runa, who was still on his back, began to smack to the beat on his chest, and the others clapped.

“I’m gonna die,” was the last thing I said. Then, without giving myself another moment to overthink, I took the leap of faith.

I swung into the open air, screaming. I had actually jumped! I was so enthralled by the accomplishment that I almost forgot to let go. The vine began to swing backwards.

I flailed right before slamming my back against the deck, and I plunged. The cold water slapped my body.

I resurfaced, laughing until my lungs ached. I let out the loudest bellow I could muster and fist pumped as everyone around me cheered. “Let’s do it again!” I shouted.

We frolicked in the water all afternoon, under the shade of the trees. We swung on the vines, had a few chicken fights (which Runa and Simon always won, and ended the day laying in the sun to dry off. Eventually, it started pouring out of nowhere, and we had to book it back to our jungle house that we rented. We were all soaking wet by the time we stumbled in through the sliding glass door.

I washed off in the stone shower full of plants, admiring my new tan and feeling that warmth beneath my skin. Then, I threw together a sandwich, made some tea for everyone, and met the group in the living space, which had an open wall so we could watch the rain pour down over the river and splatter across the huge trees.

There was no internet, no TV, no computers. Just a group of kids hanging out, sometimes chatting quietly through the fatigue, but most of the time relaxing in silence, just listening to the rain and watching the life of the forest.

We didn’t stay up very late tonight, as we were all exhausted. We slowly drifted off to our own separate rooms, with the exception of Onrenya, who passed out right there on the floor. She looked so peaceful nobody could bring themselves to move her.

I made my way to my room, which was cozy and cool despite the humidity outside. I curled up under the covers of my velvety, gray, king-sized bed to write about the day and scroll through some of the amazing pictures I had gotten. Memories. Memories that I would hold onto forever.

I fell asleep watching the stars through the skylight above my bed and listening to the pitter-patter of rain on the ceiling.

[sexymen-laboratory]

WTF is this????

First of all, read description of blog <3

So I though to myself, hey what if I did that?? Ppl have made human bill cypher and Tony the Talking Clock before, so why not I try? But like, take it seriously and not actually humans, more just anthropomorphised.

Hi, I'm Zango [They/Them], and I am very bored. I got a list of rules and characters for this challenge I gave myself; here they are.

Characteristics I CAN allow

Objects with limbs, e.g. Bill Cypher, Lollipop, Cagney

Quadrupedal animals such as MLP characters

Capes with hands, e.g. Green Mage and Magolor

Blobby/Orb characters, e.g. kirby

Characters that despite being humanoid are so crudely drawn/modeled that they make no sense, e.g. Mouse fitzgerald and Little King John

Bugs with NO legs, e.g. Queen Sectonia, Taranza

Characters missing most limbs, e.g. Gaster, MadCom characters

Characteristics I CAN'T allow

Humanoid but non-human characters, e.g. Rouxls Kaard, Sans

Low-poly humanoids, e.g. Herobrine, William Afton

Podcast/book characters unless provided with an obviously non-humanoid design.

Bipedal animal characters, e.g. madagascar characters

Bipedal bugs either, e.g. Hopper and Hornet

Humanoid robots, e.g. transformers

Cookies, e.g. Cookie Run Cookies

Shadow creatures, e.g. Shadow Dan, Snatcher

Narrators or walls of text with no physical description

Character List

Archibald Asparagus (Veggie Tales) ✓

Ashfur (Warrior Cats) ✓

Auditor (Madness Combat) ✓

Audrey II (Little Shop of Horrors)

Bill Cypher (Gravity Falls)

Cagney Carnation (Cuphead)

Count Bleck (Super Paper Mario)

Dimple (Mob Psycho)

Four (BFB)

Glados (Portal)

Greely (Animal Jam)

Green Mage (Everhood)

Invisible Man (Hotel Transylvania)

Juan Carlos Bodoque (31 Minutos)

Judgement Boy (Gregory Horror Show)

King Boo (Super Mario Bros.)

Lightning McQueen (Cars)

Little King John (RatBoy Genius)

Lollipop (BFDI/BFB)

Magolor (Kirby's Return to Dreamland)

Mapleshade (Warrior Cats)

Marx (Kirby Super Star)

Master Shake (Aqua Teen Hunger Force)

Meta Knight (Kirby)

Mortikiy Robinson (LPS: A Life of Revenge)

Mouse Fitzgerald (12 oz mouse)

Mr. Peanut (Planters Commercials)

Nick Shift (Cars)

Ozvaldo von Hrafnavines (Genshin Impact)

P03 (Inscryption)

PAL (The Mitchells vs The Machines)

Princess Luna (MLP)

Queen Sectonia (Kirby Triple Deluxe)

Rectangular businessman (12 oz mouse)

Sauron (Lord of the Rings)

Scar (Lion King)

Scourge (Warrior Cats)

Sketchbook (DHMIS)

Sol (Warrior Cats)

Starlight Glimmer (MLP)

Tamatoa (Moana)

Taranza (Kirby Triple Deluxe)

The Boss (JS&B)

The Imposter/Crewmate (Among Us)

Tony the Talking Clock (DHMIS)

Tricky the Clown (Madness Combat) might not do this one

Two (TPOT/BFB)

W.D. Gaster (Undertale)

Wallace Street (Mii Plaza)

Wheatley (Portal 2)

Yung Venuz (Nuclear Throne, Technically not on the list)

If u wana add a character, send an ask with the name and source, I may or may not add them

If u wana remove a character for whatever reason, send an ask with the name, source, and reason

Despite the name of this blog, this is more like a design crafting blog than a 'sexy character' blog. Feel free to submit characters that aren't on the sexyman list. I don't plan on actually sexualizing any of the characters here.

[swynlake-rp]

“Run like the wind, Bullseye!”

FULL NAME: William “Bullseye” Short BASED ON: Bullseye (Toy Story 2) FACE CLAIM: Adam Page PRONOUNS: He/Him BIRTHDAY: July 29, 1840 CURRENT STATUS: Taken

Character Information

Before William Stoddard was even born, his parents took Horace Greely's advice to heart and went west, gaining a plot of land, working a farm and settling down to raise a family. But times were tough, and in order to make ends meet, Mr. Stoddard turned to some less-than savory-connections and ended up committing hold-ups to make ends meet. His wife was not pleased, and their marriage grew strained--until their son came along. Knowing that he had to set a good example for his child, William's father swore off his criminal ways and threw himself into working the farm, putting enough blood and sweat into it that the family prospered.

Thus William grew up doted on by his parents, and his father taught him all about how to work the farm and to care for the animals. He was especially fond of horses, and would often say when he grew up, he wanted to have a large ranch with lots of horses. His father also taught him how to shoot, which William took to very well, so much so that his father gave him the nickname which he has kept for the rest of his long life--Bullseye.

This happy existence was not to last, however. Though Mr. Stoddard had moved beyond his life of crime, that life caught up with him when some of the outlaws he had worked with came looking for him, wanting him to come back and rejoin the fold. He refused, which prompted the outlaws to kill not only him but his wife as well, then to set fire to their house and barn. William only survived because his father had hidden him away in a secret trapdoor under the house when the outlaws arrived, and he managed to crawl out from under the house while the fire raged.

Having lost everything--his family, his home--William had no idea what to do or where to go. He managed to make it to the nearest town, but no one seemed interested in taking pity on him. Occasionally someone would give him some food, but even young as he was, he knew he could not survive like that. Then, in an cruelly ironic twist, a different band of outlaws eventually crossed his path. The leader, Pete, took a shine to the boy and allowed him to tag along, thinking an impressionable lad like him could be a useful part of the gang when he got a bit older.

So, having no idea that his father had done the same thing, William became an outlaw, though in his mind, he could only see it as having found a new family. As time went on and he got older, he became more and more attached to them, especially Jessie, and they in turn saw him as a vital part of the gang, and as he proved his skill with shooting, they too dubbed him the same nickname that his father had--Bullseye. While he might have wished to never have to leave the gang, Bullseye had not expected the offer Pete eventually made to them all. He did not like the idea of becoming a creature like a vampire, but he did like the idea of being able to stay with the gang forever. So he agreed, was turned, and things went on with the gang, albeit with a few different needs and abilities having been added into the mix.

But it was not to last. The other gang members began to grow disillusioned with being vampires, and while Bullseye was not really happy being one either, he still wanted them all to stay together. But the rest of the gang did not, and eventually, they all left Pete, Bullseye included. Once again he found himself not knowing what to do or where to go, especially now that he was a creature who was shunned by most of society. But even through his time with the gang, he had never forgotten his dream of owning a horse ranch, and so he found an uninhabited place near the Rocky Mountains and set himself up with a plot of land and several horses, and for a time, he was as content as it was possible for him to be in his current state.

This too was not to last. As the twentieth century wore on, more and more people began to encroach on his previously uninhabited area, and eventually Bullseye knew he would no longer be able to hide what he was and still be able to live there in peace. So he pulled up stakes and ended up crossing the ocean, finding a place in England called Swynlake, where he has attempted to settle once again, mostly keeping to himself and doing what he loves--caring for horses.

✓  Loyal, good-hearted, playful

✖  Shy, dim, easily led astray

Character Suggestions

None

Current Relationships

None

Possible Relationships

click here!

Magical Abilities

Vampire

[weemsbotts]

The Ballad of Barkentine Bear: The Wooden Ship with a Stout Broken Heart

By: Lisa Timmerman, Executive Director

In 1975, Rear Admiral Richard Blackburn Black presented HDVI with a ballad he wrote for the USS Bear, a feisty Coast Guard ship with an amazing history! According to beautifully printed sheet, Black watched “as the barkentine BEAR backs away into the sea smoke” in 1934. So why is this treasure in our Archives?

Alexander Stephen & Son constructed the United States Revenue Cutter Bear in Dundee, Scotland, completed in 1874 and commissioned on 03/02/1885. The USS Bear began its incredible career shortly afterwards by heading to the Artic to rescue the stranded Greely expedition, an expedition that experienced serious misfortunes leaving then First Lieutenant Adolphus Washington Greely and his command with inadequate amounts of food and clothing. The ship saved the remaining survivors many already deceased from the poor conditions and even suicide. In 1885, the Treasury Department commanded the ship to patrol the Alaskan waters and the Artic Ocean. Commanded for a time by “Hell Roaring” Mike Healy, the ship: delivered mail, government agents and supplies; transported Federal prisoners; served as a court; assisted in investigations and criminal prevention and law enforcement; provided much needed medical services; and imported Siberian reindeer for the indigenous peoples in need of food (sorry Santa). In 1897, the USS Bear once again rescued stranded crews although the ship itself could not get as close as possible. The “Overland Expedition for the Relief of the Whalers in the Artic Ocean” translated into a 1,600-mile journey with dog teams, sleds, guides, and tasty reindeer. After serving in WWI, the Bear was decommissioned and used as a museum (woo!) until the early 1930s when Admiral Richard E. Byrd purchased her use ($1,050) for his Second Antarctic Expedition and later used the Bear again in 1939-1941. While the Bear entered WWII, the Navy took the ship off the list of active vessels and in 1948 a Canadian steamship company purchased the ship with plans for a sealing vessel but changing economics led to Alfred M. Johnston’s purchase with designs for a commercial museum (woo!) and restaurant near Philadelphia. However, the Bear sank during its final journey by tow to Philadelphia.

The ship’s amazing history can only come alive with the help of those who actively served on her or benefitted from her service. What was it like to see the mighty USS Bear after eating moss? Receiving court justice on the decks? The smells of the herd of rein – wait, never mind on that one. Black was an Antarctic explorer and part of Byrd’s second Antarctic expedition. He eventually purchased Rippon Lodge and came to know the William and Anne Flory, sending them this ballad “with high regard and best wishes”. Take a deep breath (if you are alone) and let Black help bring this ship back to life:                                                                     

If wooden ships have hearts of oak

            And I believe they do

I know of one whose stout heart broke!

The BEAR, an ancient barkentine

             Whose years topped eighty-nine,

Was limping southward, old and green,

             Upon a tow-tug’s line

Her destination? “Shame!”, she cried,

             I’m going to be a pub,

A rest’rant – (Chicken? Stewed or fried?)

             A gin-mill! That’s the rub!”

She lay back on the cable then

             And dreamed of all her past –

Of gales and ice and shouting men,

             Taut canvas in the blast,

The shriek of wind, the sting of sleet,

             The green seas sweeping back,

The clinging seamen with their feet

             Braced on the foot-rope track,

With bellies pressed against the yard,

             Chilled fingers clutching sail,

And elbow movement slowed and hard

             By wind on raincoat’s tail.

She thought of evenings still and bright,

             Locked in Antartic pack, -

Ice-blink ahead, and blue-black night

             Behind her in her track,

When Byrd and English paced her deck

             With anxious eyes ahead,

While Ben Johansen said, “By heck,

             Ve’ll push trow or ve’re dead!”

Then Crusen – (now it’s forty-one) –

             Fought through to Biscoe Isles,

To free the men on Stonington.

             One hundred forty miles

Of ice-locked sea BEAR could not break,

             So in a patched up plane

The East Base men – a chance to take –

             All reached the ship again.

Her thoughts then flew back sixty years

             To Bering Sea Patrol,

Her fights with poachers, British jeers,

             And heavy whale-ship toll,

Her years of aid to Barrow town

             And starving Aleuts,

And murderers at her yard-arm

             A-hanging in their boots.

Now, back to present, and the gale

             Off Nova Scotia’s shore:

The seas run high, the tug men pale,

             “OLD BEAR can’t take much more!”

Old ships have souls, some sailors say,

             And some have died of shame, -

I’ll not contend this, either way,

             And I will place no blame

But tell you just what seamen saw

             Aboard that towing ship;

The BEAR heaved back, began to yaw, -

             Her bow commanded to dip.

Then with a muffled, mighty sigh

             Her seams all opened wide,

And with her colors gaff-tip high

             She plunged beneath the tide!

“West Over Sea,” the Vikings said

             When funeral was planned,

With chieftain lying midships, dead,

             Full armored, sword in hand.

I’ll always feel, as some with voice

             Who worked that ship with me,

That she went down by her own choice –

             The BEAR – West Over Sea!”

Note: Winter lore featuring monsters, the history of holiday traditions, and new ideas for your Holiday 2020 will abound in our “Gingerbread Tales” virtual program held on Saturday, 12/05 @ 10am and Tuesday, 12/08 @ 1pm! Click here for our “you decide” price tickets. Teachers, want us to present this to your class with featured activities? Email for details: info@historicdumfriesva.org

(Sources: HDVI Archival Files: Blackburn, Barkentine Bear; United States Coast Guard Historian’s Office: US Coast Guard Cutter Fact Sheets: Bear, 1885)

[blastar-blr]

"Roswell, New Mexico" zapowiedź odcinka S01E13: Recovering the Satellites

“Roswell, New Mexico” zapowiedź odcinka S01E13: Recovering the Satellites

W następnym odcinku “Roswell, New Mexico”…

(more…)

[sometimesalwaysmusic]

SURRENDER

Surrender is a duo of Dave Williams (DW) and Scott, veterans of the Ottawa music scene. They are set to release their debut album soon; in the meantime, give their first single, Hold On, a spin, and read on about their vast experiences in music, top albums, and thoughts on the Ottawa music scene. (Photo: Rémi Thériault)

VITALS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/surrendersounds

Bandcamp: https://surrendersounds.bandcamp.com/releases 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/surrendersounds/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/davemonomania (Dave)

Upcoming shows:  Stay tuned!

SA: How did Surrender come to be as a band? DW: Scott (Surrender vocalist) and I had been playing in the band Crusades for the past ten years, and in early 2018 we all quite amicably realized that the band had run its course. We did a final tour in the UK/Europe, one hometown show, and played our final two sets at The Fest in Florida. Toward the end of all that, with things winding to their conclusion, Scott and I began discussing working on something new together - something outside of the punk/hardcore scene that we’d been deeply involved in for the previous twenty-plus years. We’re both hugely into pop music, and of the synth-driven variety specifically. I had inherited a Roland Juno 106 when my best friend’s father passed away a few years earlier - it was a fixture in the home studio that I initially learned how to record in - and I sorta longed to make something with it. So, I started writing some songs on it at home, sent them to Scott, he sent some vocal ideas, and we were off. SA: What bands or musicians would you cite as the biggest influences on your sound? DW: Whew. I’ll do my best to keep this as brief as possible. There are some obvious touchstones: Kate Bush, Peter Gabriel, Tears for Fears, all of Vince Clarke’s 80s output - Erasure’s The Innocents is a big one, Eurythmics, OMD, Cyndi Lauper, The Cure... essentially the more ‘serious’ side of 80s synth-driven pop music. Later 80s/early 90s stuff like Björk/Sugarcubes, New Order and the ‘Madchester’ scene, Jesus Jones, Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and the other Grebo bands. I probably can’t overstate the impact of the quintessential 80s soundtracks: The Lost Boys, Footloose - Kenny Loggins’ “I’m Free” might be my favourite pop song of the decade. I’m a sucker for some of the big producers of that era too. Desmond Child was unstoppable for a while - Cher’s Heart of Stone is another BIG one. As for more modern stuff, I’m pretty obsessed with a lot of the Norwegian pop scene. Cold Mailman is a HUGE influence, as is Hanne Kolstø, Pyke, the new Misty Coast record, there’s a ton of amazing stuff coming out of that country. Some straight-up dance stuff too: Toulouse, Robyn, Pet Shop Boys, ABBA obviously. And of course, the still relatively-new Synthwave scene has some amazing artists: Kristine, FM-84, Michael Oakley, the whole culture of nostalgia surrounding the NewRetroWave world - music, movies, fashion - certainly runs parallel to what we’re doing, and I really dig a lot of it. SA: Thus far in your career, what has been your biggest success? DW: Hm. It’s safe to say that there are MANY variations on how one might measure artistic ‘success’. Coming up in a community where monetary success was never the goal (or at all likely), I’d say that getting to travel all over the map multiple times with my closest friends, meet and befriend people we’d have otherwise never crossed paths with, and see things most folks don’t get to see - all because we wrote some pretty cool songs - is probably my greatest personal success.   SA: On the other hand, what is the biggest challenge you have faced, and how have you dealt with it? DW: I think, for me anyway, the biggest challenge has been balancing my creative life with my personal one. I’m married with three small kids - 7, 4 and 2 - and that can obviously present a different set of priorities than simply hitting the road for most of the year and really pushing a project to its fullest potential. Admittedly I’ve been envious of friends and peers who just throw their gear and clothes in the van and make it happen ‘the old-fashioned way’. But that’s just not the life that I set up for myself, nor is it for Scott or the other folks we’ve played with - and I’m far from resentful of that - it just means we need to take a different approach. Amassing a substantial following or getting the attention of a bigger label isn’t terribly easy when you can’t be doing the literal legwork that other bands can. But I do my best to stay close to the people I’ve worked with all along, to show my gratitude and appreciation, and I work endlessly (to some peoples’ chagrin) on the music we make.   SA: How do you guys approach the song-writing process? DW: Since it’s just the two of us, it’s pretty easy to just bounce things back and forth before we actually get together in a room. Basically, I’ll come up with some chord progressions, leads, arpeggios, whatever on my Juno or my wide array of Arturia soft synths, then I’ll record the rhythm section tracks, typically writing most, if not all, of an instrumental song. I’ll send that to Scott and he’ll come up with vocal melodies and record a demo to send back to me. Then I’ll kind of edit the parts around his vocal ideas until we’re happy with the dynamics and how the song sorta lives and breathes. Then we’ll get together at Scott’s with a selection of wine and beer and a pizza, usually with extensive notes on harmonies and how to punch-up the existing vocal parts. We’ll track that stuff, I might do a few more edits at home, and then we send it to the wildly talented Alex Gamble at The Hive in Toronto for mixing, producing, extra instrumental layers, added drum machine stuff, whatever he hears. That’s pretty much how this first LP has gone, and it’s been an absolute pleasure.   SA: What are your thoughts on the Ottawa music scene? DW: I imagine like anyone who’s spent twenty-plus years in a community, subculture, what have you, I’ve got a lot of thoughts and feelings about the Ottawa music scene. My personal involvement tends to ebb and flow as new waves of participants arrive and others exit - years will go by where it feels like home and then there might be a few where I’m not quite as active - but it’s always very near and dear to me. There’s certainly never a lack of quality artists in this sleepy city. I started going to punk shows when I was thirteen - Punchbuggy (featuring a young Jim Bryson) at the Greely Legion was my first show ever - and twenty-five years later there are still a ton of the same faces mixed in with a ton of different ones. That’s a pretty special thing.   SA: As I understand it, you guys have been active in other bands of quite different genres in the past. Why SURRENDER, and why now? DW: As I mentioned, Crusades finished our ten-year run this past October. Black Tower, the sorta traditional heavy metal band I play drums in - with Scott on bass and his partner Erin on guitar and vocals - also decided to take it easy for a while, and although I still kinda ‘moonlight’ with The Steve Adamyk Band, that wasn’t happening at the time. Scott had also just wrapped up the “album cycle” with his band The Creeps and didn’t have much on the horizon there. I briefly played in a hardcore band called Power of Fear that did a few shows, but the current hardcore scene is very... let’s say... ‘youthful’, and it became apparent pretty quickly that it wasn’t something I wanted to stick with. Mostly I just wanted to make music with Scott, and based on our mutual love for 80s/90s pop music (and Scott’s equally toned down schedule), we decided to take a crack at doing something closer to the music we listen to the most. And honestly, I’d been writing and playing fast and/or aggressive music for so long, I really just wanted to make something upbeat and positive that people could dance to.   SA: A question for fun: your three desert island albums. What would they be and why? DW: Alright, this isn’t gonna be easy. Or brief. Note: these aren’t necessarily my favourite albums of all time (certainly they’re in the Top Ten), but if I’m gonna be listening to these on whatever hi-fi system this hypothetical island has until I wither away, here’s what I’d hope washed ashore with me (also, I’m gonna cheat using a nostalgia loophole):

1. Alice Cooper - Love It to Death / Killer (my Dad’s old dubbed cassette version) These two albums, both released in 1971, were my first love. They were on a single cassette in my Dad’s collection and really still exist as a single entity to me. I always cite my discovery of these two albums, probably at 4-5 years old, as the foundation for my entire musical life to come. Not only were they mysterious and rather frightening, but there was an eclecticism in this batch of songs that made everything I fell in love with afterward - metal, punk, prog, pop, garage, etc. - seem somehow part of the same cloth. Alice and that original band showed me very early on that there’s no need to limit oneself to the confines of a style, sound, genre, whatever. Most important records that ever happened to me.

2. Misfits - Walk Among Us / Earth A.D. / Legacy of Brutality (also a homemade cassette version c/o my friend Judd’s older sister, fully decorated with black Sharpie and White-Out) If early Alice Cooper set me on the weirdo path as a youngster, it was a single afternoon taping CDs in my friend Judd’s bedroom that locked me into the punk rock subculture forever. We’d been Guns N Roses turned Pantera turned Sepultura fans like many a shitty kid of the 80s/90s, and Danzig’s ‘Mother’ was in heavy rotation everywhere at the time, so we were no stranger to that beautiful beast’s howl. When Judd’s sister borrowed a stack of Misfits CDs from a pal at school and explained to us that this was Glenn Danzig’s old band (of course we recognized the name and logo from Rockabilia ads and Cliff Burton photos), we dove in assuming we knew what was coming. We most certainly did not. The Misfits became my favourite band that day and have been for every day since.

3. Peter Gabriel - So Every time I listen to this incredible record, I discover new things I love about it. A perpetual go-to and a true monument to the possibilities within pop music (shout out to Daniel Lanois there too). I was going to choose his Shaking the Tree compilation because it contains my favourite PG track - the piano version of “Here Comes the Flood” - but I figure I’d cheated enough with the first two answers. ...also Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love, The Hellacopters’ High Visibility, Cold Mailman’s Everything Aflutter, Cave In’s Jupiter, and The Lemonheads’ It’s A Shame About Ray. This is an unfair question.   SA: Finally, what comes next for Surrender moving into 2019 and beyond? Best of luck! DW: First on the agenda is to find an ideal home for the LP. We’d kinda like to step out from beneath the umbrella of labels we’ve worked with in the past, but there are no specific plans thus far. Just release the second single, hope the feedback is good and see if anyone wants to partner up for the long haul. As far as any live performances go, that’s a big question mark. It’s been so great doing this with just the two of us, it’s hard to imagine inviting anyone else into the fold. That said, it’s even harder to picture just the two of us on stage like Yazoo on “Top of The Pops,” so who knows? Thanks so much!

[midnightactual]

William Munny: Who’s the fella owns this shithole? William Munny: You, fat man. Speak up. Skinny Dubois: Uh, I own this establishment. William Munny: [cocks shotgun] Skinny Dubois: Bought it from Greely for uh, a thousand dollars. William Munny: You better clear outta there. Unknown: Yessir. Little Bill: Just hold it right there. William Munny: [takes aim] Little Bill: Hold it! William Munny: [shoots Skinny] Little Bill: Well, sir, you are a cowardly son of a bitch. You just shot an unarmed man. William Munny: Well he shoulda armed himself, if he’s gonna decorate his saloon with my friend. Little Bill: You’d be William Munny out of Missouri, killed women and children. William Munny: That’s right. William Munny: I've killed women and children. William Munny: Killed just about everything that walks or crawled at one time or another. And I’m here to kill you, Little Bill. For what you did to Ned. William Munny: You boys had better move away.

[temerchanshirt]

Horse manche mädchen werden mit pferden in der seele geboren shirt

The Library of Congress is the nation’s oldest federal cultural institution and maintains the world’s largest library catalog, containing more than 35 million records for titles and holdings. William Safire, New York Times columnist and head of the Dana Foundation, moderates a keynote discussion on neuroethics between Michael Gazzaniga, director of the Center for Cognitive Neuroscience at Dartmouth College, and Hank Greely, professor at Stanford Law School who specializes in medical ethics, at 5:30 p.m. in LJ 119. This event, part of a two-day symposium titled “Hard Science, Hard Choices: Facts, Ethics and Politics Guiding Brain Science Today,” is cosponsored by the Library’s Office of Scholarly Programs in collaboration with the Dana Foundation.

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